Louie rolled a suitcase into the room, parked it next to the sofa. “You’re a seven, right?” Ken smiled at her. “I asked your service to send a seven.”
Lauren nodded dumbly. “It’s his birthday,” Ken was saying. “I didn’t want him to be all alone.”
She was getting an idea about Louie. He was one of those teddy-bear types, maybe. A nice guy, but no game with girls. She watched him pull at the zipper on the suitcase, take out a long dress, and hold it out for her to see.
“This is for you, Lauren. Honest. It’s yours to keep. No strings.”
Lauren stared at the navy-blue reembroidered lace gown with a jewel neckline, the sheath silhouette that flared out below the knees to the floor. It was a Monique Lhuillier. Cost a ton. She could keep it?
“I have connections in the wholesale business,” Louie explained.
Could she do this? Could she?
She didn’t feel so tense anymore. Two nice guys . . . let them do it to her . . . pay off her debts . . . beautiful dress . . . Suddenly she felt euphoric.
Ken was holding up a necklace, a curving chain with diamond chips, light bouncing off the facets.
“This is really your lucky night,” Ken was saying.
Lauren tried to step toward him, show him that it was okay, but her vision blurred and the room tilted. Her legs folded, and she dropped to the floor. The champagne climbed back into her throat.
I can’t open my eyes! What’s wrong with me?
She felt the two men jostle her onto the bed . . . their hands pulling at her clothes . . . thumbs hooked into her panties . . . her legs over someone’s shoulders . . . rough bumping and . . . what was happening?
/> Air burst from her lungs. She felt a tremendous weight on her chest. She couldn’t breathe!
“Please,” she cried out. “Stop . . . please . . .”
Lauren heard someone laugh.
Something tightened around her neck. She tried to fight, but she couldn’t move!
She strained for air, sucked plastic into her nose and mouth, stared up at Ken’s contorted face through the film over her face, his kind brown eyes horrifically transformed.
Why?
Why are you doing this to me? I should never have come here. Oh, God, you’re killing me! It’s not too late, please . . . stop. . . . God, give me another chance, and I’ll never do anything like this again, no, nooo, I don’t want to die. Please. Not like this.
Chapter 79
JAKE HADLEY GLANCED at his wristwatch, something he was doing about every sixty seconds now. Quarter to 9:00. He’d been standing with his boys in line outside the convention center since half past 7:00 that Saturday morning, catching their excitement as they squeezed his fingers, chased around him making car engine noises, asking, “When, Daddy, when? Is it time?”
Today was the day his two boys had been waiting for all year—the opening of the International Car Show.
And finally, the line was moving.
“Dad! Oh boy oh boy oh boy. They’re open.”
Jake smiled as he pulled the tickets out of his shirt pocket and handed them to the young man at the turnstile.
“Have fun in there,” the ticket-taker said. He was wearing a red-and-black T-shirt, the car show logo across his chest in a speedy-looking type font with racing stripes, Jake thinking he’d get a couple of those for the boys.
“Thank you. Plan to,” Hadley replied, holding his kids’ hands as they jumped up and down, about to pull his arms out of their sockets.
Air-conditioning, soupy music, and the indescribably delicious smell of car wax and new leather enveloped them as they entered the glittering automobile extravaganza.
Where to look first?