Shana
Back in my hotel room, as I prepare for my escape weekend with Trevor, I contemplate what to throw into my carry-on suitcase. There might have been a time when I would have felt guilty about leaving two hotel rooms in the Financial District of Manhattan unoccupied for two nights on Saks’s dime, but as I take a deep breath to expel the negativity from the last week working with Witch Vicky, I’m filled with nothing but anticipation.
Even though Trevor told me the concert venue is nude, I throw a few tops, a pair of jeans, and even a skirt and blouse onto the bed. It’s then that I see the black Saks Fifth Avenue bag with the small black and white bow that brings a much-needed smile to my face.
The negligee inside isn’t exactly like the one I wore on the runway. That one is for next season’s sales. This one caught my eye as I was leaving the offices on the tenth floor this evening—the mannequin near the elevators was wearing it. Reaching nearly to the floor, the sleek satin fell loosely from its shoulders, held in place by delicate spaghetti straps. What caught my attention were the lace accents strategically arranged for optimum viewing.
It was Stephen who encouraged me, telling me to go for it. “This is our weekend,” he said. “Last Saturday, you wore lingerie for Saks. This weekend, do it for you.”
When I shrugged, he whispered, “This time, you’ll not imagine those sexy green eyes. All he’ll see is you.”
“Do you think it’s a little forward?”
For the first time since leaving the offices, Stephen smiled. “Girl, bunny-rabbit sex is forward. That right there...” He tilted his head toward the mannequin. “...is wrapping. It’s anticipation...it’s—”
I placed my hand on his arm. “Stop. I’m going to need nipple tape if you say any more.”
“Go get it.” The door to the elevator opened. “Bye, boss lady. I need to get straight to the train station.”
It was as the doors were closing that I realized he wasn’t packed for a weekend with his parents. “Where are your things?”
Stephen winked. “Not to worry. A friend is bringing them.”
“A friend...?” The doors closed.
Now, as I’m packing, I remember that at lunch he told me he had a secret.
Damn, I’m a bad friend. Instead of thinking about work or daydreaming about Trevor, I should have asked. Lifting my phone, I send a quick text.
Me: “I KNOW YOU’RE ON THE TRAIN. TELL YOUR MOM AND DAD I SAID HI. ALSO, WHEN DO I GET TO KNOW YOUR SECRET? IT ISN’T NICE TO MAKE ME WAIT.”
I hit send, fully expecting to not hear a word back from him until Sunday or at least tomorrow.
As I’m about to finish packing, my phone rings.
KIMBRA is on the screen.
“Hi,” I say.
“Are you really leaving next Friday?”
Letting out a long sigh, I sit on the edge of the big bed. “Stephen and I have return airplane reservations for next Friday night leaving out of JFK. We’re headed back to London, no matter what happens with the position. Either we need to pack and get juniors squared away or we are simply moving back home to our places in Shepherd’s Bush, just a tube ride away from our jobs.”
“Am I a bad friend if I don’t want London to be your home?”
“No,” I say with a grin. “I think that makes you a good friend.”
“So what are your plans for your last weekend in the Big Apple—until you move back here?”
I recall Trevor’s comments last night as we dined at yet another fabulous restaurant in the sky. “Well, I’ve been told that I have and can make no plans.”
“Oh! I like that. And how are you supposed to pack for this no-plan weekend?”
I giggle. “I was told the venue is a strict no-clothes zone.”
“Well, hot damn. Quiet Trevor needs a new nickname.”
I laugh, thinking I could give him a few. Of course, none are ones I’m willing to share.
“Shana?” Kimbra says when I get lost in my own erotic thoughts.
“Sorry. Yes, he’s definitely not quiet or shy or any of the other adjectives you’ve mentioned.”
“Babe, I’m so happy for you and for him,” she adds. “I don’t want to impose on your weekend, but can we see the two of you?”
“I guess I better pack clothes.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. The thing is that on Sunday afternoon Christopher and Beth are coming over for dinner. They’re in the city for a concert. That’s a good thing because they can’t stay too long. Duncan and I were thinking this would be a good time for them to meet you.”
My mind is filled with names and people. I think about friends I used to work with here in New York. I’ve seen a lot of them here at the offices. I try to recall people from Kimbra’s circles. “I’m sorry, I’m drawing a blank. Who are Christopher and Beth?”
“Oh shit. Well, you met them once.”
I shake my head. “Can you give me another clue? I’ve been a little crazy lately.”
“First, tell me if you can come over Sunday?”
“I need to check with Trevor. Remember, he said no plans. Now my curiosity is growing. When did I meet these people?”
“At my wedding,” Kimbra responds.
“At your wedding?”
“They’re Duncan and Trevor’s parents.”
I fall back onto the bed, landing on the pile of clothes waiting to be packed as I let out a long breath. “Kimberly Ann!”
“It won’t be bad. They’re great people. They’re much saner than my family, and you’ve survived them. Besides, I may have mentioned to Beth that Trevor was seeing my very best friend in the whole world and how you were going to be leaving for a while but the two of you are trying to make it work and how this started at the wedding and how Trevor is totally smitten, and she is so excited.”
“Whoa, take a breath.”
“Please?”
“I passed on spending the weekend with Stephen’s family and now this?”
“Like I said, it’s not like with my family. There will be no strip poker or discussion of sex toys.”
I giggle. “That’s so good to know.”
“Oh,” she says, “I need to go. So I’ll tell Duncan that you and Trevor will be here Sunday at three. Love you. Bye.”
“Wait—”
Pulling my phone away from my ear, I look at the screen. “Bitch, you hung up.” Of course, she doesn’t hear me.
There’s a number by my text message icon. I must not have heard the notifications when I was talking to Kimbra. I tap the screen.
Trevor: “MY LADY, IF YOU DON’T ARRIVE SOON, YOU’LL MISS THE OPENING ACT.”
I shake my head.
Me: “I’VE ALWAYS BEEN MORE OF A HEADLINER FAN.”
Trevor: “THE OPENING ACT IS FOOD.”
My stomach growls as I recall that I only ate some of my salad today for lunch.
Me: “ON MY WAY!”
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I’m pretty sure that works for women too. I quickly fold everything I have on the bed and place it in my suitcase, making room for toiletries and my little black and white bag.
Leaving my work clothes on the floor of the closet, I slip into the tight jeans I wore Saturday night, a comfortable long top, and my tall boots. Running a brush through my hair, I secure it in a low ponytail and pull the length over my shoulder.
This is supposed to be my escape weekend. Looking at the clock, I see it’s almost seven on Friday night. That gives me until Sunday at three. I plan to enjoy every minute.
Goodbye, Ms. Price, professional fashion buyer. Hello, Shana, someone looking for an escape.
I may have told Stephen I was going to use this weekend to assess my mess of a life, but as I’m turning off the lights to my hotel suite, I decide that assessment isn’t what I need. Instead, for once, I want to simply enjoy. I want to forget about whatever is going to happen with my job, not think about Stephen’s secret, and even put off thinking about Sunday’s dinner at Kimbra’s. For the next forty-plus hours, I want to relax and enjoy.