After Hours (9 page)

Amera sighed and spoke slowly. “I’m. Not. Getting. Married. And if I were getting married it wouldn’t be to him.”

“Right, I won’t say a word until it’s announced.”

An attendant approached Crystal and called her away.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Crystal said and gave Amera a knowing wink before she left.

Amera inwardly swore and again tried to take the ring off. It stubbornly refused to move.

“Ma’am can I help you?” An attendant, with enviable smooth skin and long lashes, asked with genuine interest. “Are you looking for someone?”

“No,” Amera said wondering if she should warn Curtis about Crystal’s assumptions. This was all wrong. But she decided she didn’t need to worry. There was no way the two of them would meet.

“If you don't have an appointment, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

Amera glanced at the clock. Her hour was up. “Right.” She turned to leave then the strap of her bag broke and the contents of her purse fell to the floor.

The attendant came from behind the counter and bent to help her then froze when she saw something. “Oh wow.” She snatched up the membership card. “You're one of those?”

“I’m sorry?”

“A member. Why didn’t you say so? Who are you here to see?”

Amera took the card back. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay,” the attendant said snatching the membership card back, without appearing rude, then she scanned it with her phone. “You’re here to see Dalia. Oh wow, you’re getting the works.” She called another assistant. “Get her another purse immediately.”

“But I--”

“Do you have a particular color or designer you’d prefer?”

“Not really,” Amera said confused by the question.

“Then don't worry, we’ll take care of everything.”

After being given a brand new designer handbag, Amera was ushered into a changing area and provided with a luxurious spa robe and slippers. She settled in quickly. Rejuvenation Spa lived up to its name. While waiting for the stylist to arrive, she was treated to an assortment of herbal teas, sliced fruits and freshly baked pastries.

“Oh, there you are,” a tall, willowy woman said as she entered the solarium. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. My name is Dalia.” Amera followed her into a private room, where she immediately began assessing Amera’s hair. “You have soft, fine hair, I can see why you haven’t put a perm in it.” Dalia, then spent the next fifteen minutes peppering Amera with questions about what she did, how she liked her hair or didn’t, what special events she liked to go to, etc. “I know just what you need,” she said with a flourish.

After shampooing Amera’s hair, Dalia applied a very gentle relaxer, to make it manageable, and then used a flat iron and curler to style her hair into a sleek, stylish design that allowed Amera’s features to be seen. Amera’s hair was in good shape, so Dalia didn’t have much trouble taming it, but she did have to cut some of the length. Initially, Amera wasn’t sure she wanted to have her hair trimmed. She was used to just pulling her hair back, and based on her strict upbringing at the orphanage, remembered the importance of not using any of her ‘womanly’ appeal as a distraction. She had never spent time styling her hair, and was totally shocked when she finally looked at herself. She looked stunning! A temporary darker brown color had been applied to her light brown hair, giving the impression of highlights and providing a nice contrast.

Next, Amera was sent to the makeup artist, but not before getting a wonderful facial and full body rub. Niki, the makeup artist, loved working with Amera.

“You’re a perfect canvas,” she said when she first saw Amera. “I love your bone structure; high cheek bones, full lips, and my, oh my, what do we have here? Light brown eyes. Quite unusual.” When Amera had been at the orphanage, she had been called ‘white girl’ because of her eyes and hair color, and had overheard one of the caretakers refer to her as a product of the ‘occupation’. It wasn’t until she was older that she came to understand, that at that time, foreigners from Europe had been working in that part of the country and many assumed she was the product of a union between her mother and one of them.

Niki spent the next hour showing Amera how to get a ‘natural’ look, without using too much or too little make up. Amera liked the basics, and primarily only used an eyebrow pencil to fill in her light brown eyebrows and lip gloss. “Make-up is important to a woman’s image,” Niki told her. “It says, you care about yourself. That you are a professional.” With her new hairdo, Amera was open to all the information Niki shared with her. One makeup trick she showed Amera, was how to give her eyes a subdued smoky look and which lipsticks worked best for her. At the end of the session, Amera left the spa feeling, and looking like a new woman.

***

Amera stared at her reflection that Monday morning completely in awe of what a spa visit and a great pair of stockings could do. She’d paired the lace patterned stockings she had selected with a dark blue pencil skirt and white blouse. Initially she had felt odd wearing a pair of expensive stockings to work, that wasn’t her style. She was used to wearing her uniform. She had a total of ten pieces that made up her work attire: A brown and dark blue tailored suit, two long sleeve tailored blouses, one black sweater dress, two pairs of fitted slacks (brown and blue to match her suit jackets), and one grey wool sweater. She wasn’t sure if what she had selected went with the stockings. But she didn’t have many other items, so what she selected would have to do. She still hadn’t been able to remove the ring, but felt less worried about it. In a week she’d be gone anyway, so if someone asked, she’d just say her boyfriend had proposed. No one could argue that. Besides, somehow the ring seemed to add to her new look. She even felt more confident about getting additional funding for Peale House. She’d left a message for Florence that she wanted to see her and go over the numbers again and fix the proposal.

Amera left her apartment ready for her final week with Curtis. She was ready to put her plan in action. She had decided that she was going to make his life a little hectic for that week, so that he’d regret getting rid of her. She was no longer going to fade into the background.

Once Amera entered the office building, several men held doors open for her, greeted her with ‘hello’ and a smile when previously they walked past. Amera found the new attention a little disconcerting, but then felt flattered. Maybe, Susan was right. She didn’t have to be alone. She walked into her office with a new spring in her step. She saw a box lying by the side of her door that had been delivered to the wrong department. She bent down to pick it up and move it out of the way.

“No, let me help you,” she heard a male voice say. The man rushed forward and took the box from her. “I'm Owen, by the way.”

She straightened and looked at him. “I know.”

He stared at her, stunned, loosening his hold on the box. She caught it before it hit the floor. “Ms. Thurston?” he said in awe, his gaze trailing the length of her.

Amera set the box aside. “Yes, it’s me,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I know it’s a shock.”

“It’s incredible. I mean, I knew you weren't bad looking, but...” He groaned. “And I should stop talking before I start the beginnings of a sexual harassment suit.”

Amera grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, it’s nice.”

He blinked and started to grin back. “Now I get it. I knew they said love changes things but I’d never seen a transformation like this.”

“ Love?”

“Yes. Who’s the lucky man?” He nodded to her ring.

She’d briefly forgotten about the ring, but at least now she knew what to say. “He surprised me too.”

“Everybody thought Bishop was the only man in your life. I guess we were wrong. You’re a sly one,” he said playfully nudging her with his arm. “Having another life when a man like Bishop dominates it. I’m happy, but I guess that means we’ll soon lose you.”

I was already out the door.
“I guess so.”

“It makes sense. Your fiancé wouldn’t want you to work at the same pace you’ve been working. Available after hours, especially when you can get something better.”

Her phone rang.

“Bishop?”

“Of course,” Amera said heading to his office.

Owen followed her. “I have to meet this man.”

“Because you don’t believe me?”

“No, because I need to meet the man who could steal you away from Bishop.”

“Hmm,” Amera said, then opened the door to Curtis’ office.

“I don’t care how small the wedding is. I expect an invitation,” he said

“An invitation to what?” Curtis asked, not looking up at them.

“Nothing,” Amera said.

“Ms. Thurston’s getting married,” Owen said at the same time.

“Is that right?” Curtis asked, but she could tell by his tone that he knew the truth.

“She’s certainly one for keeping secrets. It’s amazing, right?” Owen said.

Curtis looked up, made a quick sweep of her new look then held her gaze. “Almost unbelievable,” he said, stroking his chin with the lazy motion of a predator.

She glared at him.

“You’d better be nice to her to convince her to stay with us,” Owen said.

Amera glanced at Owen confused. Didn’t he and others know this was her last week there? Surely word had gotten out about her being let go. But if he didn’t know, she didn’t plan on telling him.

“Have you met this mystery man?” Curtis asked with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

Owen shook his head. “No.”

“Then why would she leave?”

Amera rubbed her fingers together, daring him to mention the pink slip.

Owen’s gaze darted between them and he shifted awkward, as if he felt a sudden tension in the room. “I should go.”

“Yes,” Curtis said, his gaze never leaving Amera’s face.

Owen opened his mouth to say something to Amera, then thought better of it and left.

Curtis leaned back in his chair. “So you’re getting married?”

“Did you want something?”

“I find it amazing that you succeeded where I failed. Perhaps I should get some advice. How should I go about getting a fiancée?”

“Sir--”

“What persuaded you to say yes? The candlelight or the flowers. Or maybe he did something different.”

She folded her arms. “Yes.”

“What?”

“He made me want to show up.”

It was a low blow and hit its target. Curtis’ eyes darkened dangerously, but she stared back with boredom. “Now let’s review your schedule for this week.”

***

“Did I get you into trouble?” Owen asked over the phone towards the end of the day.

“No,” Amera said staring out at the falling rain, it was too warm for snow. “I know how to handle him.”

“I would have loved to see that,” he said with a smile in his voice.

Amera bit her lip then said, “Stop by my office before you leave, and I’ll give you a brief recap.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Amera hung up the phone then closed her eyes. She really shouldn’t do this, but she’d always liked Owen and wanted to tease him. She’d give them both a good laugh. She opened the top two buttons of her blouse and sat on the corner edge of the desk with her legs crossed. She looked down at her midnight-black sheer, thigh high stockings, with a laced pattern that made her feel bold. She heard his footsteps and grinned. “Come in,” she said before he could knock.

Curtis walked in.

Amera gasped in horror and toppled off the desk, landing with a thud. She scrambled to her feet and smoothed down her skirt, her face burning with embarrassment. “Excuse me, sir. I didn’t expect--”

He quickly closed the distance between them, and stood close enough for her to smell his cologne, and feel his breath on her skin. “Do you think I haven’t noticed the change?”

Amera cleared her throat, wishing he didn’t smell so good and annoyed that she even noticed. “Sir, I--”

He lifted her hand and ran his thumb over her ring. “Are you going to make me regret giving this to you?”

Amera opened her mouth to say ‘no’ then she saw Owen in the doorway, his face a caricature of shock--his eyes bulging and his mouth open. “You didn’t give me anything,” Amera corrected in a low voice.

“You’re actually going to deny it?”

She gripped his hand and lowered her voice even further. “Just this once, don’t say another word.” She held his gaze then glanced behind him before looking at him again, hoping to make the message clear that they were being overheard.

Curtis stared at her for a long moment, his eyes cold and insolent. As the seconds slipped passed, she boldly held his gaze, although her heart raced in anticipation. If he ruined this moment for her, she’d certainly make him pay. Then, as if she’d spoken her warning aloud, his dark gaze shifted from ice cold to blazing hot, and her heart started beating fast for an entirely different reason. Soon she not only found the scent of his cologne distracting, but also his nearness.

Finally, he released her hand then looked around the office before grabbing her umbrella from its stand. He mumbled ‘thanks’ as if that was what he’d come in for then nodded at Owen, before he left.