Secret Shopper (33 page)

I opened the second package. It was Thomas’s screenplay. It looked to be about a hundred pages. I ceremoniously turned the first crisp page. It was entitled, “Firestorm.” At first glance, I thought tha
t it might have been about firefighters. Thomas never shared the storyline, and I wondered if he was hurt that I never asked. But as I read the first scene and dialogue it was apparent it was about Thomas and
me
, well more like Toby and Phoebe. I didn’t realize I was the subject of Thomas’s screenplay. A feeling of honor mingled with fear in me and it left a sour taste in my mouth. I buckled down to read.

I found myself at the edge of my chair. I finished reading the established scenes a
nd dialogue. It ended at page 86.
Toby stands in front of Phoebe bared with a fiery red phoenix emblazoned on his chest.
It didn’t read like a romantic comedy, but a tragic love story. I was the clueless princess in the storyline--flawed because of my hesitation to open my heart.

The incomplete screenplay was confirmed as the last page read, “TO BE CONTINUED.”

It was almost nine in the evening. I knew what I needed to do, what I
had to do
and I called Pharaoh. I needed to get something accomplished tonight. I needed to stop being the stupid girl in the screenplay about to lose the best man in the world. I had to create the proper ending.

“Hello?” Pharaoh’s gravelly voice was draped in sleep.

“Hey, Pharaoh. I need a favor tonight.” I heard him groan.

“Tonight?” He whined.

“I want a tattoo. Call your godbrother, Christian. I don’t care what he’s doing. I have to get this tonight.” The shock of my announcement woke Pharaoh up quick and within the hour, I met him in
Hagåtña.
I was suddenly on my back, staring at pictures of gorgeous tattooed pin up girls taped to the ceiling. Christian prepped the skin on my hip.

I left Thomas asleep and unaware. I knew his jet lag and the stress of my emotional rollercoaster ride taxed him enough that he would be out until sunrise.

The scar on my hip was a three inch s-shape, not as raised and angry as before. I asked Christian to pull up a Celtic knot on-line to match the one I had memorized from Tamara’s movie cover. Christian printed up a black inked copy. He sized it to five by five inches and was able to match the curves of the knot to my scar.

“
Phoenix, are you sure about this?” Pharaoh asked, concerned. “What is up with the Celtic knot? We’re not Scottish.”

“It’s Irish. Crack open a history book sometime.” I joked.

“Whatever. Why did you have to get this tonight?”

“Sorry I distur
bed your sleep, brother. But did you know Thomas got a tat a few days ago? A phoenix. For me.” I let that sink in. Pharaoh was intrigued. He wanted the scoop about Thomas and me. I spared no detail, starting from my humble beginnings as a field agent secret shopper to the karaoke missions and Thomas’s Guam admiration. It was nice to share all this with my wide eyed brother. I never spoke to him about Bradley with such honesty. After I filled him in on our beginnings to the present, Pharaoh impressed with Thomas, finally understood the meaning of this one tattoo I was allowing myself.

“Pretty deep, sis. I love the guy already. Of course, in a future-brother-in-law kind of way.” Pharaoh clarified. It was nice to have him on my side with this. He vowed not to tell mom about my tattoo. The process was not as painful as I expected, but then again, I was stabbed in the hip. Christian was a true professional, gingerly handling the area around my battle wound. An hour later, I received my first tattoo. I gazed at my hip with confidence and certainty. It was my ultimate declaration of love for Thomas.

Christian had another customer waiting and he allowed me to use his computer to type something up. I wanted to create an ending scenario for Thomas’s screenplay. It took me an hour to gather my thoughts. I didn’t know typical screenplay formatting, but I was sure Thomas wouldn’t hold it against me. I created a scenario that would do the story justice.

I drove back to the cemetery. The gates were locked, but I prayed in Thomas’s rental. I spoke to my father. “Daddy, I’m in love. I miss you. I’m sorry I got a tattoo, but I’m sure you understand. Please guide me. I think of you always.”

I drove with urgency, the roads now open and free of traffic.
Tumon’s
roads were still in party mode with tourists. I rushed to the room. As I expected, Thomas was still asleep, still real. I placed the ten pages I composed at the end of the screenplay and rewrapped it as best I could. I placed a hand-written note on the repackaged love story and placed it on the desk in the room next to Thomas’s laptop.

Thomas was in the exact same position as when I left. His face finally relaxed and as glorious as ever. The room was frigid, so I turned down the thermostat. I undressed quietly, remaining in my lavender bra and panty, and lay on my left side on top of the sheets next to this golden god. Thomas’s linen shirt splayed, I gazed at the fiery phoenix intricately designed on his chest. The steady rise and fall of the bird made it come to life.

I wanted to stay in the moment forever; but it was almost one in the morning. Thomas had been asleep for four hours and I wondered if it was selfish of me to wake him now. As I gently ran my fingers in his amber locks, the exhaustion I accumulated from the day caught up with me. I touched the bandage over my new tattoo and let my hand rest on my hips. I had gotten used to sleeping without hurting my wound. My right hand stayed near my fresh tattoo like a guard. This new day, my own crazy actions should seal the deal with Thomas. I would no longer be that stupid reluctant princess.

Chapter 20

We Have Lift Off!

I had one of those moments when you think you’re doing something in real life, but you’re still asleep and dreaming. Like in the mornings, when you’ve hit the snooze button on the alarm clock and doze off, believing that you’re taking a shower, dressing, eating breakfast only to find that you actually shut off your alarm. In reality, you finally wake up and you discover that you’re still in bed and almost late for work or school or whatever. I hate when that happens. I call it the dreaming to live phenomenon. I wondered if I exhausted the snooze button on my relationship with Thomas.

My dream was of me seducing Thomas like a pro, which I am not. We finally consummated our relationship. The fact that we were tattooless should have told me it was just a delicious dream.

At sunrise, the smell of coffee wafted through the room and stirred me from sleep. The windows were open, but the curtain was still drawn, keeping the room dim. Something considerate Thomas was responsible for, I thought. A thin sheet covered my nearly naked self. My hand was covering my bandage protectively. Did he see it?

The warm Guam morning crept through the room and the humidity was comforting. I wondered how long he had been awake. His internal clock most likely still on California time. I smoothed my hair back, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and realizing more fully where I was, did a breath check. Thomas was nowhere in sight, so I made a quiet break for the bathroom. The soreness on my hip reminded me that what I did last night was real.

The gift near Thomas’s laptop was left untouched. I needed him to read my words before this day could proceed. I crept back to bed and drifted back into unconsciousness.

After what felt like seconds, I was pulled out of the throngs of sleep by the sensation of cool fingers on my hip. I immediately reached to the bandage to feel Thomas’s hands there instead. I met his gaze and he looked at me so tenderly.

“Good Morning.” He said in a deep voice. “Actually,
neni
, it’s Good Afternoon.” Thomas calling me
baby
in Chamorro rocked me to the core. He looked refreshed and happy despite our rocky evening. I was certain, as probably he was too, that this morning should have played out differently. We would have been in each other’s arms, completely spent from all the love making that would have happened. But, expectations don’t turn into reality often enough.

“Good afternoon, Thomas.” My voice came out huskier than I expected and I giggled, then cleared my throat. “Let me try that again. Good Afternoon Thomas.” I exaggerated a high-pitched girly voice. Thomas smiled in response, but his eyes became fixated on my bandage. I glanced at the desk and saw the red foil wrapper in a scrunched ball. The pages of his screenplay flipped to the last section that I wrote. So, Thomas knew I got a tattoo and he probably wanted to know what was inked on my hip, since I didn’t reveal it in my writing.

“May I?” He traced the white square bandage on my hip. His touch shot energy through my veins. A smile sizzled on his lovely mouth.

I responded by sitting up, pulling his face to mine and kissing him. I then fell back onto the plush pillows, taking a moment to be conscious of the movement of my hips
—my inner belly dancer emerging. I raised my arms over my head seductively and smiled as I pulled my hair up and let my locks fall over my chest. If my life was a movie, this would be the slow motion sequence. I didn’t want to fudge it up.

Thomas noticed and his eyes wandered up and down my body in appreciation. My blood raged throughout my body in anticipation. Thomas shook himself out of his state of hypnosis and began to slowly, considerately peel away the clear medical tape.

My tattoo lacked the color of Thomas’s phoenix, but it was bold and definite and never-ending like the Celtic knot of his heritage. I watched his face intently, the sunshine peeking through the fluttering curtains, bouncing off his flawless face. As he removed the gauze, the realization that there was a tattoo over my scar, the scar Thomas witnessed coming to being, was evident on his face. His gray eyes watched me. I couldn’t read his face now. Did he approve? Was this an immature move on my part? God, what if we broke up? I didn’t want to think of those things. I wanted to be rooted in today. With him. Thomas’s mouth gaped open slightly and he reached for his golden pendant. He pulled the pendant to his muted, beautiful mouth and I desperately wanted to know his thoughts. Thomas answered me with a flow of tears. Thomas bent down to my body and began to kiss me. He was cautious and gentle around the tattoo. I squirmed at each soft kiss. My back arched in response. Thomas viewed my puffy tattoo up close again and after realizing that I had truly done this, he created a path of kisses up my body. Each kiss Thomas planted on me brought him closer to my lips. He became more insistent and certain.

“I love you,
Phoenix.” Thomas’s voice was so bold.

I placed my hands in Thomas’s thick hair and brought his face to mine. Eye to eye I spoke from my heart.

“Thomas Patrick Roberts, I love you too.” I kissed him tenderly. “Forever.”

Our passionate evening that should have been turned into the passionate afternoon that was.

Chapter 21

The Princess and the Hot Frog

              “Thomas and Phoenix, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Thomas sang into my ear as the plane took off that cool paradise morning on Guam. I rested my head on his shoulder and couldn’t get over the triumph I felt in my heart. After three glorious weeks with Thomas on Guam, I bid farewell once again to my family, my beloved father and my Rachel. It was like we were just coming home from a honeymoon.

             
Thomas completed his screenplay while on Guam, in between our many love making sessions and sight seeing for new photographs and tying up loose ends with my dad’s affairs. I even started my business plan for a customer evaluation company of my own. Angelica and Ty were still going strong and excited that we were finally coming home. Angelica signed on as my business partner, glad for the opportunity to be working in Oceanside closer to the Camp Pendleton Marine base, therefore nearer to Ty.

             
Throughout the flights we needed to finally get back to San Diego, Thomas was constantly holding my hand. Was he afraid that I was going to bolt again? 

              “Are you worried about anything?” I asked matter-of-factly, as we sipped coffee on our wait in Los Angeles.

             
“No. I was just wondering since we’re together forever, coordinating tats and all, if maybe we were going to take this to the next level.” Thomas stated tentatively. I wasn’t sure what other level there could be. We branded each other after all. We made love enough times in these last few weeks to make up for the angst of the last six months.

             
“Pray tell, kind frog. What would the next level be?” He couldn’t be talking marriage. In my eyes, we were committed. We were soul mates. Marrying in church wasn’t a guarantee, Bradley and me as evidence.

             
“Let’s make it official on all levels.”

             
“What? Like wear each other’s blood in vials around our necks?” I joked. His face was stone serious. I conceded. “Tell me, Thomas. What can we do?”

             
“Marriage.” He stated it so confidently. He took my hands in his. Thomas knelt in front of me for all present to see. I closed my eyes. God, was this really happening? On a grand scale? It wasn’t the first time I was engaged, but it was the first time it was done with such emotion, where the spotlight was on me and not on the groom to be. Thomas removed his sweatshirt and revealed a cheesy tuxedo t-shirt. He winked at me and I welcomed his kitschy sense of humor.