Vain (8 page)

I dazily walked outside and down the steps, not really knowing where I was going.

“No call,” I heard Spencer tease beside me.
“Typical Sophie Price.”
I looked his direction and the joshing smile on his face fell when he read my expression.

“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad. A few hou
rs of community service, tops.”

“Not quite, Spencer.”

Spencer looked visibly nervous. “What’d you get?”

“Six months in Africa.”

Spencer laughed out loud. “Hilarious, Soph, a jab at my parents. Funny. Now, seriously what’d you get?”

“I’m not kidding. I’ve been sentenced six months work
ing in an orphanage in Uganda.”

Spencer’s face fell, his brows narr
owed. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m really not. I wish I was.”
Spencer took me by the hand and we sat at a stone bench in front of the courthouse. My back laid flat against the rest and Spencer angled himself toward me, his arm strewn across the top.

“Where?” he asked.

“Uganda.”

He sank back a bit. “I wish I had any idea
if that was dangerous or not.”

“Me too,” I stoically added.

“When,” he said, before clearing his throat, “do you leave?”

“Next week.”

“Holy shit, Sophie.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I ope
ned them and turned toward him.

“Make this week for me, Spence. Make it so damn fun it’l
l hold me over for six months.”

“Of course, Sophie.”
 

The club he’d taken me to was new, so new I’d never been there and that was saying something
, but it was packed, sardines packed. I could tell even though we hadn’t even stepped a foot inside. Spencer’s Aston Martin pulled up to the curb outside the door and I could practically feel the stares of the club patrons in line, heavy and full of wonder. The impossibly sexy Spencer casually stepped from his car and handed the keys to the valet. A second valet attempted to open the door for me but Spencer waved him off and came to my side, swinging my door open softly and reaching in for my hand. I heard the cottony sighs of the girls in queue when they saw Spencer and it made me wonder why I couldn’t get into him the way he was into me.

My hand gripped his as he
culled me from my seat. My hair blew away from my face and I got a good glimpse of the glinted eyes of admirers for almost half a block. My heel hit pavement and the collective groans from the men in line at the sight of my leg made Spencer wink discretely. He lifted me and closed my door behind me. In the seconds it took to turn, a secret thrill blew through my chest at the envy emanating from their faces, but our expressions would have never conveyed such. No, we were trained from birth to assert disinterest. We were the ultimate snobs and realizing this, that secret thrill quickly dissipated into shame.
What is wrong with me?

The doorman opened the door for us and ushered us inside and the people in line didn’t question the move, assuming we were more important than they were and that made me think further into why society accepted such nonsense
, but there I was, letting it happen anyway. I was turning into a massive hypocrite and all I wanted was to go back to how I was.

“Can we make out a little, Spencer, and not have it turn into anything?” I asked him, knowing that was such a bitch move but needing a little of my old life to come back in o
rder for me to feel sane again.

“Are you kidding, Sophie Pri
ce? I thought you’d never ask.”

“That was diplomatic.”

“I wasn’t being tactful. When Sophie Price asks you for a kiss, you perform. Now, if you need any other, uh, performing, I’d be happy to oblige as well.”

This stopped my heart. “Maybe
making out is a horrible idea.”

“No, no, forget everything I just said.” He hurriedly led us to our private table and whipped
me toward him. “Dance with me.”

I threw my small bag in the booth in answer, knowing security in VIP would cover it since Spence handed the guy a hundred and I let him pull me toward the floor. I took the lead and wound my way through the crowd with Spencer just behind me and found a spot two people could fit comfortably. Darkness surrounded us other than the dancing lights that touched the top of the crowd bu
t bounced off just as quickly.

The first song was slow and sexy. Spencer laid his hands on me and I let him. They perused my body in appreciation as I used him. We swayed with the erotic tempo and his mouth found mine, answering my earlier question. The warm feel of his tongue soothed away any raw feeling of moral contradiction that had taken residence so obnoxiously in my heart. I groaned in response and his arms found my rib cage, encircling me tightly before giving me a slight squeeze and lifti
ng me slightly from the floor.

I kissed Spencer like my life depended on it. I hoped every exhale into his mouth shed a littl
e of my newly found struggles.

“Hold me tighter,” I whispered against his teeth. He clutched me closer
, yet not tight enough. “More,” I demanded.

Spencer drew me firmer against him and I felt every ridge of his body. “Is that close enou
gh?” he laughed into my throat.

“Perfect,” I told him.
I didn’t feel as alone anymore.

Spencer kissed me again but softer, as if he knew I needed that. He read my body well, giving when I drew back, drawing back when I gave. All I could think was he was going to make some girl
very
happy one day. He ran his hands through my long curls, gripping my waist just above the hip before enfolding me against him once again.

And just as suddenly, the very heated kiss turned lighter, tapering off into a desperate embrace. I felt it in that moment as did he. It was glaringly obvious to us standing there in the middle of the crowded dance floor. I needed to be needed by him and he needed to be needed by me. We clung to one another, not sure exactly what it was we required from one another but acknowledging it all the same.
When the song ended and a more upbeat tune replaced it, Spencer pulled away.

“Let’s just get the
fuck out of here,” he told me.

We went back to my house but parked his car in the employee lot just in case my father was on the lookout, though I doubt he was. My room had been serviced since I’d left it last so I tossed the covers back and tumbled inside, whipping my clothes off under the covers. Spencer tossed his jeans on the chair in the corner along with his shirt, tucking himself with me in only his boxers.
We held each other the entire night, no words spoken but the still, silent night uttered so much.
 

“Miss Price?” A voice woke me. “Miss Price?” the voice asked louder.
My eyes barely opened and I took in my position, sprawled over a softly snoring Spencer.
Brilliant
.

I turned over and peered into the eyes of Dr. Ford and his nurse Cassandra.
Just splendid,
I thought. He was going to report this little incident to my father. I could see it in his face.

Cassandra was too distracted by the exposed chest of Spencer to give me her usual eye roll.

“Good morning, Dr. Ford.”

“Afternoon,” he corrected me.

I glanced at the clock and saw it was indeed three in the afternoon.

“You’re right on time,” I sarcastically spat at him.

“Miss Price,” he began, ignoring me, “would you prefer it if Cassandra and I left the room for you to dress?”

“Not necessary,” I told him.

Spencer woke and stretched beside me, causing Cassandra’s eyes to bulge from her round face.
“Don’t most of these go in the posterior region anyway?” I teased, making Dr. Ford close his eyes in disapproval. Spencer tried to hide his laugh behind a closed fist, but it wasn’t fooling anyone.
“I’ll just use your shower, Soph.” Spencer slid from beneath the covers and strode across the floor in his boxers without any sense of shame. Winking, in fact, toward Cassandra and causing her to choke on nothing.
“All the same, Miss Price, I’d prefer you in at least a robe.”
“As you wish, Dr. Ford.”

Cassandra grabbed the silk number that hung at the end of my door and brought it to me. Dr. Ford turned his head and I stood, sinking my arms through the sleeves of the robe Cassandra held out for me.

“Yummy, isn’t he?” I whispered low, teasing Cassandra.
Her face flushed and she narrowed her brows at me in obvious disdain. I smiled.
“You smile now,” she caustically bit, “but you have no idea what you’re in store for today.” She smiled in return and my own fell.

I swallowed hard and stared at Cassandra’s mean expression, shocked at myself for being unable to show no emotion.
The truth? I
was
scared, terrified really because I had absolutely no idea what I truly was in store for. Not concerning the shots and certainly not Masego or whatever the hell they called it.

“Miss Price,” Dr. Ford said, “if you’ll sit down. I have several forms here for you to sign.”
He handed me a stack of papers.

“What are all these?” I asked him, perus
ing from one form to the other.

“Liability wavers.”

“Ah, so what exactly do you need liability protection from?”
Spencer walked in at that moment and sat beside me on the bed, drying his wet hair with a towel.

Dr. Ford sighed and pulled my vanity stool closer to me. He opened his leather satchel and inside, strapped tidily within a pouch,
was an ungodly amount of syringes. I sucked in a breath and Spencer tucked his hand around my shoulder.

“
Adacel,” he began, reading from a list on his lap, “which prevents tetanus, diphtheria and acellular pertussis. Hep A and B I’ve given you several months ago.”

“Why?” I asked curiously, just now wondering why
I never asked questions before.

“Because of your,” Dr. Ford said, clearing his
throat and glancing at Spencer, “increased activity as of late.”

“I see,” I said simply. Spencer laughed
and I elbowed him. “Continue.”

“I’ll give you a revamp of the flu shot. Let’s see,” he said, glancing down at a few different sheets of paper.
“A meningococcal booster dose, MMR or measles, mumps and rubella. Uh, pneumococcal, very important, polio you have, rabies,” he said, looking over a chart, “you’ll need a refresher on. You’ll need typhoid but varicella you’ve had.” He looked up at me. “Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s it!” I excl
aimed, grasping Spencer’s hand.

“Calm yourself, Miss Price. You’ll need to follow strict food and water precautions while abroad. Consume only canned or commercially bottled drinks. Avoid using ice cubes, though I doubt they’ll have refrigeration where you’re going
, which is also why you should only eat fruits and vegetables you peel and wash yourself. Avoid cold cuts, salads, watermelon, puddings.”

Dr. Ford looked up at me.

“It goes without saying, Miss Price, but do try to avoid casual sexual contact. I cannot stress that enough.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Never use needles or syringes used by other people. Avoid sharing a razor or toothbrush. No tattoos or piercings while there. Remain in well-screened or air-conditioned areas when possible. Wear clothing that adequately covers your arms and legs and use DEET-containing insect repellent on both your skin and clothing. Refuse blood transfusions unless in a life or death situation and try to ensure they’ve been properly screened first.”

“Yes, if I’m dying and in desperate need of blood, I’ll be sure to ask if the blood’s been properly screened first.”
Deflecting your fear through sarcasm. Nice, Soph. He’s only trying to help you.

Dr. Ford’s face became deadly serious. “You do not understand, Miss Price. This is no joking matter. You are visiting a highly
-diseased area. The things I am trying to protect you from can be the difference between dying a painful, horrible death...or not.”
Right, thanks for that visual, doc.

“Cassandra will be bringing by an immunization record to keep with your travel documents. Don’t lose it. They may not let you back in the country if you can’t prove you’v
e taken preventative measures.”

“You’re
shitting me,” Spencer piped in.

“Hardly,” Dr. Ford replied, now rolling his own eyes. “Shall we get started?” Dr. Ford asked, turning to me.
 

“You will be feverish and sore in the injected areas but Tylenol should help you there. Get some rest,” Dr. Ford added after the shockingly painful administrations, right before closing the door behind him and Cassandra.

“You should probably take those pain meds now,” Spencer said. “My mom always made me take them right before my shots as a kid so I’d avoid getting ill later.”