Dirty: The Complete Series (Secret Baby Romance Love Story) (89 page)

I told her my sizes, and she was back in a
few minutes with a bra and underwear the likes of which I’d never seen. On top
of the nice fabric they were made of, they were exactly the same shade of green
as the dress I’d chosen. I slipped into the dressing room and peeked at the
price tag on the bra. My heart nearly stopped. I wasn’t sure I had enough boob
to stuff into a bra that cost a hundred and fifty dollars. I had to force
myself to put it on and once I did, I wasn’t certain that I’d ever take it off.
It was the most comfortable thing that I’d ever had next to my body…besides
Drake. I pulled on the underwear next. I didn’t bother looking at the tag on
those. I slipped on the off-white dress first, but as soon as I got it over my
head I knew that it wasn’t for me. It had a plunging neckline and even in the
pretty new bra, I had nothing for it to plunge into. I pulled it off and put
the green one on. My breath caught in my throat when I looked at myself. The
dress was gorgeous and in it, so was I.

I left the dress shop with the underwear,
the dress, and a pair of shoes with four inch heels I wasn’t sure I’d be able
to walk in. The girl tried to talk me into a three hundred dollar bag, too, but
what the hell was I going to put in it? I figured I’d spent enough of Drake’s
money already. I had no idea that he wasn’t even close to finished.

He’d written directions down for me, first
the dress shop and then the salon. I was more nervous about that than I was the
dress shop, but after Drake finished making the girl at the front desk blush
with whatever magic words he uttered over the phone, she insisted that Phoebe
and I both would be treated to “the entire spa experience.”

Not long after, I lay submerged in hot,
bubbly water that smelled like a field of wildflowers and wondered if I had
died and went to heaven. When I got out of the sensuous bath, I was treated to
a massage and then a facial. I wore a fluffy robe and slippers while my nails
were buffed, lengthened, and polished, and then I was treated to something I
hadn’t had in many years – an actual shampoo and condition of my hair. I’ve had
the dreads for so long, I had almost forgotten how good it felt to have a scalp
massage and I’d never had one from a professional. A girl could definitely get
used to this. I was so relaxed while she was trimming and dyeing and fluffing
my hair that I almost fell asleep in the chair. When she pronounced that we
were done, Phoebe was staring at me with her mouth wide open. She looked great.
I actually hardly recognized her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You look…you look like one of those girls
on the front of the magazines. God, Summer, you’re beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“So are you, have you seen yourself?”

I think she actually blushed when she smiled.
I’ve never seen her do that before. “I do look hot, don’t I?”

I laughed. “Yeah, you do.”

“Okay, honey, here you go.” The girl who
had been tirelessly working on my hair for the past three hours handed me a
mirror. My gaze was caught on the reflection in the glass I was holding, but
the girl staring back looked nothing like me. She has my green eyes and tanned
skin, but the long, soft hair with varying shades of blonde from platinum to
honey layered on top of each other that hung down across her shoulders and
framed her face certainly wasn’t mine. This girl’s green eyes looked happy and
relaxed. They sparkled with the kind of joy that I’d personally not seen or
felt in years.

“Wow…”

The girl and Phoebe both smiled. “Just you
wait, honey, our make-up artist Lulu gets to have a go at you next. You really
won’t believe your eyes when she’s finished.”

“I already don’t believe them. I’m not
sure my date will even recognize me tonight.”

“Speaking of your date,” the girl said, “I
have a message for you.” She handed me a note. I unfolded it and read it twice.
I shook my head and folded it back up.

“What?” Phoebe asked.

“This man is crazy,” I whispered to her as
we followed the girl towards the make-up room.

“What did he do?”

“Besides all of this, you mean?”

She giggled. “Yeah, besides all of this.”

“He rented a hotel room for me to finish
getting dressed and ready in when I’m done here at the Indigo in San Diego.”

“Wow! Nice!”

“It’s too much, Phoebe.”

“Honey, did you ask him for any of this?”

“No, of course not.”

“Does he expect anything in return?”

“I don’t think so. He’s not like that.”

“Then it’s not too much. It’s what he
wants to do for you. He obviously believes that you deserve it. At least for
today, Summer, let yourself believe it, too.”

*******

I held onto Phoebe’s words throughout the
rest of the afternoon as my make-up was done to perfection and a car that cost
more money than I might ever see in my lifetime took me to the Indigo hotel.
Drake hadn’t rented me a room – it was a suite. I stood aghast in the center of
it, afraid to touch anything. For a moment, I forgot how clean I actually was.
When I remembered how I’d been washed and scrubbed today from head to toe, I
allowed myself a feel of the soft, plush cushions on the sofa and recliner in the
sitting room. I walked into the bedroom and slid my hand across the down
comforter on the bed. It was softer than butter in my hands. I almost expected
it to melt between my fingers. I sat down and, forgetting about my perfect
hair, I laid back on it and spread my arms open like I was making a snow angel.
I was so overwhelmed by it all that I could hardly breathe.

When it was almost time for Drake to pick
me up, I reluctantly pulled myself up off of the luxurious bed and put on my
pretty dress and shoes. I turned on the bright light and examined myself. The
colorful tattoo sleeves were slightly visible through the sheer lace, but they
definitely looked classier than they did uncovered. I used my fingers to smooth
the soft, silky hair I still didn’t recognize down my back. I had butterflies
in my belly the size of full-grown dragons and more than once as I stood
staring at the unrecognizably pretty girl in the mirror, I asked myself what I
was doing. Fairytales don’t exist…do they?

A sudden knock at the door pushed the
panic button deep inside of me and I actually considered locking myself in the
bathroom and refusing to come out. It took every shred of courage in my body to
walk like a baby deer in those four inch heels over to the door and open it. As
soon as I saw Drake, there was no question in my mind any longer. Fairytales do
exist…and Prince Charming was standing at my door.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

DRAKE

Every particle of oxygen in my entire body
was sucked out when Summer opened that door. I have seen women across the
world. I’ve intimately known women who spend nearly every waking hour primping
and preening and doing something simply to make themselves more beautiful. I
know women who have literally paid tens of thousands of dollars re-make what
God gave them. What I have never known or seen and might possibly ever see
again, is any woman who was one tenth as beautiful as Summer is tonight.

“I don’t even have words.”

She blushed, which was a miracle in and of
itself, I think. “You look really, really nice, too.” I looked down at my suit
and suddenly remembered the flowers I had in my hand. I wanted to tell her how
dull they looked next to her, but I knew that was just too cliché. Instead, I
held them out to her and for a second ,I thought that she wasn’t going to take
them. When she did, her eyes were filled with tears. She dipped her head down
to inhale them, but I also think it was to gather herself before she looked
back up at my face. A strand of that gorgeous hair had fallen across her
forehead and everything inside of me was screaming, itching, and aching to
touch it. But tonight, I was going to be her gentleman. Tonight was the night
Summer deserved, her opportunity to see that she’s every bit as good as
everyone else there, and better than most. I want her to know I think of her as
more than a sex toy. I have enjoyed every minute of getting to know her. She’s
smart and funny and tough and she has a great heart. She’s so different from
the spoiled, petulant women I’m used to.

“Are you ready?”

“I have no idea,” she said with a nervous
look, but she took my hand and went with me. The drive to the hotel where
Mother was holding the gala was a short one and we were both silent. Summer
because she was nervous, I think…and me because I was literally intimidated by
how beautiful she is. When we got there and I helped her out of the car, she
clutched my arm and I could feel her shaking. I almost wanted to turn her
around and take her home. This frightened girl wasn’t the little spitfire I
knew. The last thing I wanted any of this to do was change her. Her personality
is as sexy as she is – if not sexier.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” she
whispered as we walked through the double doors and towards the welcome line
where my mother stood. I looked down at Summer and I must have looked worried
because she laughed and said, “Now you look like you’re going to throw up. I
feel better.”

I shook my head at her, but I had to
smile. She is the most amazing little creature I’ve ever met.

“There’s my handsome son.” The sound of my
mother’s voice made me cringe involuntarily. I pasted a smile on my face that
she would easily know was fake. The beauty of my family is that no one cares.
As long as you act the part in public, no one cares how artificial you are.

“Hello, Mother.” She was elegant as
always, dressed in a cream-colored ball gown with her pretty hair done up in
some kind of braided twist. Her figure was as perfect as it had been in her
twenties and her skin as smooth and clear as a newborn’s. It was all bought and
paid for, of course, but the result was pure beauty. She leaned in and I kissed
her cheek as her crystal blue eyes landed on Summer. Summer’s back was straight
and her head was high. I could only hope she would leave here with the same
posture and me having to disown any members of my family.

“Who is this gorgeous creature?”

“Mother, this is Summer French. Summer,
this is my mother, Ellen Spencer.”

Summer smiled and as usual, parts of me
surged with blood – not all of these parts were ones that you wanted surging in
the presence of your mother. She held out her little hand and my mother took
it. “It’s lovely to meet you, dear.” I saw my mother’s eyes take her in from
head to toe, pausing almost imperceptibly as she ran them down her arms.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs.
Spencer.”

“French…that name doesn’t sound familiar.
Are you from San Diego or La Jolla?”

“Neither, ma’am, I grew up back
east…mostly.”

“Oh, how nice. So how long have you been
in California?”

“Mother, you have other guests waiting.
Maybe you can interrogate my date later.” My mother gave me a tight smile
before turning back to Summer.

“We will talk later, dear. I suppose my
son is right and I should greet my guests.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I saw Summer take a heavy
breath as my mother walked away. It was a sigh of relief, no doubt. She grabbed
hold of my arm again as we walked deeper into the ballroom. I could see my
sister standing next to the dessert table sipping from a glass of Dom Pérignon.
I knew what it was without tasting it or seeing the bottle. It’s the only
champagne she’ll drink and my mother caters to her every whim. I wanted to do
my best to steer Summer in the opposite direction. For the most part, my sister
Chrissy is not a bad person, but she can be a snob and, when she drinks, a
bitch.

I glanced at Summer as we walked across
the room. Her green eyes were taking in the giant crystal chandeliers overhead
and I tried to imagine what she was thinking. I guessed if I came from where
she did and I walked into this place, I’d wonder what the collective cost was
and think about how many people on the street that money could feed. I saw her
looking at the table laden with food. The gala was a buffet-style benefit
supposedly, but the caterers were there, fussing over their wealthy guests.

“Are you hungry?” She shook her head, but
never took her eyes off of the food. “Are you sure? Did you eat today?”

She put her free hand across her stomach.
“I couldn’t eat anything. I really would throw up. I just want to look at it.”
I noticed that she wasn’t just looking at the food. Her pretty green eyes were
taking in the glossy ballroom floor and the people milling around in their
expensive party attire. A waiter walked by and I grabbed two flutes of
champagne off of his tray and tried to hand her one. “I don’t drink.”

“Oh…okay, good.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“I know that.”

“You’re trying to provide alcohol to a
minor.”

I laughed. “You’re not a minor.”

“True, but I’m not of legal drinking age,
either.” I rolled my eyes and downed both glasses of champagne before sitting
the delicate flutes down on one of the tables.

“There, better?” She raised an eyebrow at
me, but she didn’t say anything. “Let’s find a table and sit down.”