“Well, I don’t know shit about this kind of stuff. Listen, I’m gonna go find some digs for Tom. Find something then I’ll come find you.”
“All right,” I sighed.
Perusing the stores was a lot of fun but Jason was right, I was afraid of the price tags.
“If Seven doesn’t care, neither do I,” I bolstered myself.
I called the attention of a woman in a store full of couture, but she didn’t shy away from me. In fact, she was extraordinarily kind and seemed excited to help me. She told me I was the perfect model for the clothes in her store, but somehow I doubted that. I told her to work her magic and an hour later, Jason found me with a few new things in hand, including a few essentials that I believe I would have rather died than buy in front of Jason but I had no choice.
“What is this, La Femme Nikita?” he asked, picking the lacy object up with one finger.
I shoved it all down back on the counter and knew the blush that burned my face would take days to calm down.
“Jason, I swear. Don’t embarrass me.”
“I’m sorry, kitten,” he smiled. “Mwar!”
“Oh my God, you’re never going to let me live this down.”
“No, I’m not. In fact, I might just rub it in Tom’s face.”
“Why would that affect Tom?” I asked, prying. Does Jason know?
“Oh nothing,” he dodged.
The woman wrapped my things and we walked out of there with one dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. My mother would kill me if she knew.
Jason dropped me off at the hotel and when I reached my room, I dropped my things inside before knocking on Tom’s door.
“Tom?” I asked the door as I rapped lightly with my knuckles but there was no answer.
I sighed in frustration, and thought it was probably a good idea to take a nice long bath in my room’s huge tub before I got ready for the evening.
I showered and shaved first, then soaked for at least an hour and almost fell asleep the water was so warm and the tub so deep. When I got out, I’d never been so clean. I rubbed the condensation away from the mirror and took a good long look.
“Right, you’re a mess, January.” That’s when I realized. I had absolutely no curling iron or straightener or even a blow dryer to my name. I started to panic before remembering a salon downstairs. I rang Jason to ask him if I could charge a mani and pedi as well as a styling and he approved without thinking. I’m sure he had no idea how much it all would cost. I was positive I’d be fired over the whole thing but Jason was so blasé, I decided I could be as well.
I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a button-down and headed downstairs. In French, I told the lady I needed "the works" and she understood the American idiom. Maybe it was universal. I decided I didn’t need to do anything too crazy with my hair and opted to leave it down and in large, loose curls. I have to admit I allowed them to go a bit insane with my makeup, especially on the eyes, but it was a night out and I didn’t want to feel like my dreary usual self.
My dress was black, super short, and insanely sexy and the last thing I needed was for someone to whisper "it’s too much." I thought the dress was still a bit over the top, in fact, but the sales girl assured me I looked great in it and it was just understated enough so I trusted her. I was doing that a lot, giving everyone carte blanche, but lately the check was proving bad. Hopefully, the girl hadn’t steered me wrong.
When all was said and done, I had to admit I looked pretty damn hot. I walked away from the salon feeling like a brand-new woman, heading straight for an empty room probably down the hall from yet another presumably empty room belonging to the elusive Thomas Eriksson. I was tripping myself out. I felt bipolar. One minute I was high as a kite, the next, I was down in the dumps. Don’t let a guy make you feel like that, January, especially one who claims he loves you. Rise up, girl! I decided I was going to have fun that night even if I had to beg Jason to be my date.
At nine o’clock that night I was ready, dress on, makeup, hair, and nails done. I stood in front of the mirror and did a double take at the reflection. I was staring at one sexy mama and I felt really damn good about that. I smiled at myself.
Knock! Knock!
I jumped at the sound at the door. Time to pay the piper, Tom. He was going to eat his actions if I had to stuff them down his throat with the painfully gorgeous heels strapped around my feet.
I flung the door open but my carefully constructed smile fell at my knees when I saw who it was.
“Jesus, January,” Jonah told me, eyeing me up and down.
“What do you want, Jonah?”
“I’m here to escort you. Jason sent me.”
“Jason sent you?” I asked, shocked.