Lucky Number Four Page 4

  Dinner, to my surprise, turns out to be a wonderful affair. The food is delicious as always, and the company keeps me laughing with the tales of the life of a male model. Even Liam chimes in, telling us of his photo shoot with an amorous kangaroo. I haven’t laughed this much in years. I suddenly feel so comfortable with these guys.

  Papa’s equally rotund wife joins us at one point, and with the wine and the company, I really don’t want this night to end.

  On the ride home, Drew turns on the heat, and with the wine and the smooth ride of the car, I feel my eyes closing. The next thing I know, I’m being carried from the car into our building. The arms hold me snugly, and my eyes are so heavy that I keep them shut. I hear voices, but I’m too tired to answer. My bed feels wonderful when I’m placed gently on it. I feel lips touching mine and then I feel myself drift off.

  I loved having her in my arms. Tonight I wanted her complete attention. She is so amazing—warm and giving. Watching her with the people at Papa’s makes me believe I can feel again. I wonder how long she was in that relationship Papa mentioned. Who ended it? Does she have a broken heart? Will she even give me a chance? I felt so much jealously when that Giuseppe guy kissed her hand. I would love for her to look at me the way she looked at him. I need her. God, I sound like a stalker. It’s been such a short time, but I feel…she makes me feel alive.

  I haven’t seen the guys in a few weeks, and I still don’t know who put me to bed that night. I can still feel his lips, and then nothing. I’m not going to go there. Life is hectic with my classes seeming to stretch for hours, and work, well, let’s just say it’s work. It seems like I’m always rushing, like right now to go meet Julie. She’s waiting by her car, and I can tell by her face she thinks I’m late.

  “It’s about time. You’re late,” she quips as she hits the button to unlock the doors.

  “Yep, three whole minutes,” I respond, loving the scowl she sends my way. “Turn that frown upside down. We’re going on a big adventure. Oh, how I love Halloween!” I watch as she tries not to smile and then rubs her hands together, breaking into a huge smile.

  “I want to be something totally different this year. I’m tired of vampire teeth and zombie stuff,” she says as she backs out of the parking spot.

  “I thought you looked awesome last year. You had that dead look down!” I say.

  “I know, I was pretty hot as a zombie babe, huh? But different is what I’m going for this year. This party’s going to be epic, don’t you think? Drew says they rented out that whole floor, and that anybody who is anybody is going to be there.”

  “Then why are we going? We’re the biggest nobodies I know,” I reply with an eye roll.

  “They won’t know that since we’ll be in costume. They’ll believe we’re famous,” Julie argues with a grin.

  Now don’t get me wrong, I am excited about going to the party. I guess I just have reservations about feeling out of place. I don’t like feeling insecure, and since my life’s upheaval in September, that feeling has crept up on me more than I would like.

  “We’re here!” Julie’s excited voice interrupts my musings as we pull in front of the biggest costume shop in the city, aptly named “Biggest Costume Shop in the City.” So unique, huh?

  The store is like a decorated two-story haunted house with racks of clothing separated into sections. They have a werewolf section guarded by the biggest stuffed werewolf I’ve ever seen. I swear it’s more than fifteen feet tall. Then there’s the vampire section with—yes, you guessed it—a fifteen-foot bat. You thought I was going to say vampire, but no, it’s a humongous, jet-black bat with glowing red eyes. Creepsville, for sure.

  I already know what section I’m heading for, so I leave Julie pondering while I enter the Victorian section. I know. Lame. But I feel like I belong back in that era. My mom says I must have lived there in a previous life. Anyway, here I am, surrounded by long, flowing dresses and low-cut bodices that would make any woman feel feminine. I spot a light lavender dress with fake pearls patterned on the bodice and make a beeline for it, praying it’s my size.

  “May I help you?” A voice stops me in my pursuit and I turn to find a small, even-shorter-than-me female dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, basket and all.

  “Yes, this dress.” I move forward and place my hand on it.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it? We just put it out yesterday. It comes with a mask. Let’s see what size it is.”

  I cross my fingers. Spying the tag she pulls out from the sleeve, I know it’s too big.

  “I venture to say this is tooooooo big for you,” she says in a singsong voice. I guess she’s getting into character.

  “Damn. I mean, crap, it’s the one I want.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll check in the back. We have a couple more sizes in this one.” She takes off and disappears behind a partition in the section after I tell her my dress size.

  Looking around, I see an elaborately dressed footman, like you see in Cinderella stories, guarding this section. He’s standing on a pedestal and looks to be about six feet tall and very lifelike.

  “Good afternoon, madam,” the footman says, making me jump.

  “God, you almost gave me a heart attack,” I say a little more loudly than I should have. But damn, he almost scared the pee out of me.

  “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to startle you.” His tone is very solemn, but the gleam in his eye gives away his lie.

  “Guess what? We have it in your size. If you follow me, you can try it on back here.” Red is back and takes one look at my face, which must be pale, because she goes up to the footman and smacks him on the leg. “You creep. Get down from there. Next time you’ll scare the wrong person and be in big trouble.”

  “Geez, Red. I was just shaking things up a little. I’m tired of walking the floor. She looks too young to have a heart attack. I do pick my victims well.” The handsome, even with the white wig, footman gracefully jumps down and bows low to both of us.

  “Ignore him and follow me.” Red takes my arm and guides me to a bank of dressing rooms behind an elaborately painted scenic backdrop of a Victorian ballroom. “Here we are. Now the corset comes with it, so you’ll need help with that. If you want to disrobe, we’ll get to it.”

  Red puts down her basket and waits for me to undress. I’m praying my underwear is up to par. She laces the corset tightly, which makes my waist even smaller and pushes my boobs up. I must say, I have magnificent cleavage. I pull the dress over my head, and it flows down my body, fitting perfectly. Okay, so the bodice is a little low, which is okay because my family won’t see me in it. No worries. So what if I want to look a little slutty? Everyone should, once in their lifetime.

  I put on the lavender mask Red hands to me, and then she turns me around so I face the full-length mirror. I can’t believe it’s me, but it is because Red is standing beside me, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  “You look so beautiful, and your red hair is perfect for the lavender color. It’s like you just stepped out of a Victorian painting,” she gushes. Watching her eyes, I know it’s not just a sales pitch. She means it.

  “Thank you, I’ll—”

  “There you are!” Julie says as she walks up. “I swear some fucking idiot dressed like Cinderella’s hand boy just scared the daylights out of me. Oh my, Dora, you look…well, you don’t look like you, that’s for sure! You look fucking great!”

  “She does, doesn’t she?” Red nods her head in agreement.

  “Now get out of that so we can go find me something just as fucking awesome!” Julie says as she exits the fitting room. I look at Red and apologize for the language.

  Several frustrating hours later, we make it home. Julie’s costume is, well, it’s Julie, and she’s happy with it, but I can’t wait until Kevin sees it. The loft is quiet when I enter the front door. There’s a part of me that hopes the guys are here because I want them to see my costume I’m carrying in a see-thru bag, but I’m glad they’re not. I kind of want
them to see it on Halloween.

  “Will you effing stand still so I can pull this tighter? I swear, it’s like dressing a toddler.”

  Julie’s frustrated tone makes me want to laugh, but I know if I do, I’ll be finding someone else to lace me up. We’re standing in front of my mirror and I’m trying not to look at Julie, who looks like a high-end streetwalker. If her outfit was any tighter, she might get arrested. I thought my cleavage was over the top, but she has me beat by a mile. Her blonde hair is piled up on her head in a messy knot. Her makeup is overdone, with thick black eyeliner on her top and bottom lids. Her eye shadow is a hideous teal color, and her cheeks, lips, fingernails and toenails are the red of all reds.

  Her outfit, what little of it there is, is a jet-black leather halter top with a leather micro mini skirt. Nine-inch—okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating—red, fuck-me—her words, not mine—pumps complete her outfit. They’re so tacky, but hey, it’s Halloween. When she smiles, which she hasn’t since arriving at the loft, she has realistic vampire fangs, which would scare away any john in a heartbeat. But she loves the look, and it’s not like any of her co-workers will see her, so that’s all that matters.

  Kevin, who at the moment is in the main living room, is dressed as Frankenstein. He’s Frank and she’s Frank’s vampy slut. A perfect match.

  “Earth to Dora! Step into the fucking dress.” So much for her effort in curtailing the language.

  “Slutty Julie, language, please?”

  “You would make anyone cuss. Let me button you up. They could have put a zipper and put fucking fake buttons on top. There must be a hundred,” she complains.

  Now some people would think from Julie’s tone that she hates to do things for me, but no, she loves me. She just shows it in a different way than most people. She’s kind, giving and a sweetheart,—oh hell, who am I kidding? She’s a pain in the butt.

  “There, done. You can handle your shoes, right?” she asks as she walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

  I found the perfect shoes to match the color of the dress. They’re not Victorian, but they won’t be seen, as the dress sweeps the floor when I walk or stand. But they match even though they’re hidden. Mine are not “nine” inches, but a sensible two. Walking out into the common living room, I take a seat by Frankie waiting for the slut to finish in the bathroom.

  We can hear the music as soon as the elevator opens on the top floor of the majorly upscale hotel. A long hallway with burgundy—sink-your-heels-in plush—carpet leads up to a door at the end of the hall.

  We’re late—half an hour, to be precise. All because Julie rubbed her eye and her fake eyelash fell in the sink. Kevin, aka Frank, had to run to their apartment and get the glue to put it back on, which for some reason was harder for her to do the second time around. But it’s fashionable to be late, right?

  So here we are, and all I want to do is turn around and go to a normal party where people are only known to each other. Julie’s radar picks up on my hesitation and she grabs my long, white-gloved arm and pulls me down the hall. The walls are mirrored, so I glance at myself and then relax as I remember I’m masked, and thus anonymous. I gently touch my hair that I was going to leave down, but Julie pulled it up for me and produced a tiara, which is nestled in the middle. I feel like a princess.

  As we approach, the doors magically open, and I look up and see one of those security cameras in each corner above the door. No magic, just someone manning the cameras. As we enter, the party is indescribable, a definite system overload. Yes, appropriate scary music, decorations and a mass of dressed-up party-goers. Even the waiters are dressed up in Grecian togas, sandals and laurel headbands.

  Within seconds, Julie loses her grip on my arm and Frank and Slutty Vamp are sucked into the crowd. Great, just great. Maybe an escape should happen. I turn to leave right before I feel a hand wrap around my wrist, and I’m pulled onto a marble dance floor. I turn back and find myself facing a topless construction worker with eighteen abs, or maybe twenty. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and tight jeans with pristine work boots that completely make his outfit seem phony. Anyone knows a construction worker doesn’t have dirt-free and scuff-free boots. It’s a slow dance, so he pulls me closer and starts humming in my ear. His cologne assaults my nose, making me want to sneeze as my eyes water. I definitely need unpolluted air right now, and just as I think it, it happens. I’m pulled away from construction man and into the arms of a vampire, whose devilish grin and wicked teeth make me shiver. His cologne, thank goodness, is subtle and his arms feel comfy.

  “Do you come here often?” His corny fake Transylvanian accent whispering in my ear makes me giggle. “I vant to drink your blood. Your neck is begging to be bitten.”

  He continues his corny lines, making me laugh loudly, which unfortunately for me, happens at the same time the music stops. I feel a thousand eyes staring at me. Geez, who knew laughing was prohibited at a monster’s ball? The music starts up again and I turn my head to find that Mr. Vamp has disappeared and has been replaced by a half-mummy, half-zombie. It’s kinda cool, and since it’s a fast song, I get to look all I want.

  The costume must have cost a pretty penny. It looks like someone really cut an actual mummy and a zombie in half before fusing them seamlessly together. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy my last dancing partner, Mr. I Want to Drink Your Blood, pouting with his arms crossed, staring straight at me. Is it wrong of me to feel a little satisfaction at him wanting little ol’ me? I think not.

  The music ends and a hush falls over the crowd. They all look at the entrance to the huge room. I stand on my tiptoes to see what’s causing all of the commotion. The crowd parts, and I see three identically dressed, all in white…Musketeers? I say this because of the tight pants, elaborate white capes with a crest on the left side, high black boots, realistic swords, a blousy undershirt, and cavalier-looking white hats with a huge black feather sticking out the back. Their faces are covered with a full cloth mask with only their lips and eyes showing, definitely creepy and theatrical at the same time.

  “Great, the Modelteers are here. The party’s finally started!” a voice yells.

  The crowd roars. Yep, light bulb goes on as Julie stands beside me, grinning.

  “Aren’t they something?” She moves in closer so I can hear.

  “Show-stoppers for sure. These guys love to perform. Maybe they missed their calling and should have chosen acting.”

  “I know I would pay to see them in a movie.” Julie seems to have missed my sarcasm and has gone over to the dark side with everyone else in the room.

  “I’m off to pee.”

  Julie just nods her head.

  “Excuse me, could you direct me to the bathroom?” I ask a waiter juggling a full tray of drinks.

  “Hallway at the back. Turn right and you can’t miss it.” He smiles and then moves on—delightful butt, muscular arms, and all.

  It takes a few minutes to reach my destination, dodging clusters of gyrating bodies. When I had tried on my costume, my first thought had been how I would actually go to the bathroom. But low and behold, the skirt is velcroed on. I quickly peel it off and toss in over the door. The slip I’m wearing underneath is easily raised and I finish in record time. Leaving my skirt on the door, I wash my hands, not having to touch anything while doing so. Modern technology amazes me. When the towel machine dispenses its prescribed item with a wave of my hand, I wonder why we don’t have them in our loft. I grab my skirt and go to put it back on when the bathroom is suddenly filled with a group of Amazon women in various costumes and a cloud of obnoxious expensive perfume.

  I exit the room and stop in the hallway to put my skirt back on, but before I have a chance, I look up and see one of the Modelteers standing in front of me. He bows and then takes my left hand and kisses it. He straightens up and his mouth pulls up in a grin.

  Then I’m gently pushed up against the wall. My skirt falls to the floor and his mouth meets mine—oh lord, he tastes like pepperm
int—but that thought quickly disappears as his arms pull me closer. My heart can’t beat any faster without giving out. I try to keep my eyes open, but they fall as his lips place feverish kisses around mine. His body is hard against mine, and I feel his tongue lick my lips. I moan and his tongue plunges inside my mouth. My whole body goes into a total meltdown. I want to wrap my legs around his waist as his tongue wildly mates with mine, but my legs are like jelly, and I know his arms are the only way I’m still standing. His hands roam up and down my back, pulling me so close I can feel his apparent desire as another moan rips from his throat.

  Colin. It has to be him. I grab his waist and hold on as wave after wave of hot desire washes over me. If only our clothes could magically disappear…

  What am I saying? I’m in a hallway—dark, yes—but still with enough light for anyone to see us, and I can hear the women in the bathroom still chatting away. The door opens and I push him away as the Amazon women walk back into the hallway. His breathing is as heavy as mine as he stands in front of me, his head bent as if trying to gain control.

  Suddenly, I realize I don’t need this, don’t need him. I’m attracted to him, but I’m not willing to be a one-night stand, and with all the women drooling over him, that’s what I could only expect. As the voices fade, he looks their way and I sigh, glad that they were so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn’t even see us. I reach down and grab my skirt and quickly move back into the bathroom, leaving him standing outside. My face is flushed and my hair is gently mussed. I don’t remember him touching my hair. All I can remember is our tongues making love and his body making mine feel like a boneless mess. Splashing cool water on my face helps a little, but the feeling of loss fills me. What would it be like if I was a model, tall and beautiful, and having Colin filling my passionless body every night?

  Get a grip, Dora. He’s so out of your league.