“Don’t breathe on me,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Sorry.” He put some of the foundation on first, using only his third and fourth fingers. He was extra tender. And I had a strong desire to lean into his hand. With the powder, he brushed it over my face in an upward and outward motion. On my cheeks, he ran the blush brush in exactly the right spot. “I’m going to line your left eye first.”
“Good.”
He lined my lids and then did the shadow. I heard him pull the mascara wand from the tube. He touched it to my upper lashes and brushed it on several times. Repeating the same process on the other side.
“Now for the balm and then you’re finished.”
For some reason the idea of him touching my lips made me nervous. “I’ll do the lip balm, thank you very much.” I opened my eyes and came face to face with Adam. He must’ve been holding his breath because I didn’t realize how close he was.
“Oh,” I said, breathing in, catching hold of the scent of his body, like cedar wood and something sweet yet earthy—pineapple.
“Would you like to see how I did?” He kept his features composed.
“Sure.” I guessed I needed to now. I took a deep breath and held it.
Adam turned me toward the mirror and pushed it so I could see myself. I was too high though. Adam realized this and pressed the lever to lower my chair.
I kept my eyes forward, slowly watching my reflection come into view. First impression was, wow. My face glowed with freshness. The makeup wasn’t overly done. I pulled my braid over my shoulder. Each of the three sections was exactly the same.
“How did I do?” Adam asked. I bent down so that I could see his reflection in the glass as well.
I let out my breath. “You did a—” the word awesome almost left my lips, but I clamped a hand over my mouth. “Acceptable.” I shrugged, pressing some lip balm against my lips. “I guess.” I stood. “Let’s go sign that contract.”
“And then you’ll free my mother?”
“Yes. I said I would.” I kept my features blank. Inside I was glad he’d done so well. Glad! And happy! I remembered the bird singing while I lay out next to the pool. It’d been only two days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. I’d wanted to know what it felt like to be happy enough to sing. And suddenly I knew. Knew the feeling soaring through my chest was happiness. But it couldn’t be. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let Adam see it.
Six
Loopy Letters And Chicken Scratch
The contract lay on the black desk in my father’s office. Adam sat in a modern sleek chair across from me. A foot rested on his opposite knee.
My father’s office was designed in the same color scheme as the rest of the house, but that was the only similarity. Where the rest of the house was decorated in a classic traditional in style, his office was sleek and modern. It smelled like sterilizer and metal. Chrome shelves lined the top half of the wall behind me and behind Adam. Books lined the shelves. To the right was a window. The black curtains with white stripes were pulled open. The view outside the window showed our tennis courts. An urge to play bubbled up inside and I thought about demanding Adam play with me.
Maybe tomorrow. Right now I needed to make a phone call.
I picked up the phone and dialed the police station. I’d brought my cell phone downstairs and noticed Eva and Cassidy had left messages.
Eva sent me a text: You didn’t screw Greg did you?
I wanted to roar with frustration. No! I texted back.
Well then what were you and him doing in the wine cellar? And where is he?
So dramatic. I didn’t answer.
Another text from Eva: ???
Getting wine. Duh. And I don’t know where he is. I couldn’t tell her that he was somehow in my phone and that he/she/it might be a ghost.
I turned off my cell. Then placed the office phone on speaker so Adam could hear.
“Salt Lake County police station,” a voice said.
I sat up. “Who do I need to speak to if I want to drop the charges against someone who was arrested?” My eyes roamed over the signed contract. Adam’s signature was in black. It was a series of loopy letters and chicken scratch. I could read the A, the H, and the X. Everything else was scribbles.
“Let me transfer you.”
I was put on hold for several minutes. While we waited, I glanced out the window. A bird was perched on the tennis net. I had the sudden urge to chase it.
“This is Officer Mack. How can I help you?”
I took a deep breath. “I’d like to drop the charges against Celeste Haddox.”
“Her last name is Simmons,” Adam said, leaning forward.
“I mean Celeste Simmons. I had her arrested yesterday, but have changed my mind.”
“I see. And your name?” His voice was laced with sarcasm.
I huffed. “I’m Beatrice Cavanaugh, Officer Mack. Just in case you didn’t know, my family donates tens of thousands of dollars to the police department’s annual charity events.”
The officer coughed. “And you want Celeste Simmons to be released?”
“Yes, I do. Right away.” I glanced at Adam. His face was still stoic.
“Very well, Miss Cavanaugh. She’ll be released immediately.”
“Thank you.” I hung up.
“I appreciate you doing that,” Adam said. Tension seemed to leave his shoulders and he rolled them back. “I’ve been so worried about her.”
“It’s done and now it’s time to go to work. You may want to take notes.”
“Right.” He sat back in his chair and took out a small notebook and clicked a pen.
I was impressed, but didn’t let it show. “Every morning you will do my hair and makeup. Sometimes, if I go to an event, it may need to be done more than once in the same day. You’ll need to drop off and pick up my dry cleaning. Drucinda is in charge of the laundry and Nelle is in charge of cleaning my rooms, but it will be your job to make sure it’s been done.” I paused and watched him write. “You can use any of the cars in the garages, except my yellow LaFerrari. That is off limits, no matter what.”
He nodded.
I opened the drawer, pulled out a black American Express card and slid it over to him. “Use that for purchases, for gas, and to pick up anything I ask for.” He picked it up and turned it back and forth. “Don’t even think about using it for anything personal. Understand?”
“Yes, Miss Cavanaugh.”
I stood and walked out of the office. He followed. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”
We went down the hall, through the large industrial kitchen. Everything was slate or stainless steel. There were no colors but gray, except in the windowsill where we allowed Mrs. Dotts to grow fresh herbs. Mrs. Dotts was cutting up cucumbers. She was still humming. “Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes. It’s your favorite. Cucumber sandwiches.”
“As long as it’s accompanied by a steak, cooked rare—very rare—that’ll be fine.”
Mrs. Dotts frowned, wiping her hands on her apron and opening the refrigerator to retrieve a steak. “Very well.”
“Adam Haddox, this is Mrs. Dotts. She’s in charge of the kitchen. If you’re allergic to anything, or have special dietary needs, Mrs. Dotts is the person to talk to.”
“Hello, dear.” She smiled at Adam as she unwrapped the package of meat.
Adam didn’t smile, but nodded his hello.
“Would you like a steak as well, Adam?” Mrs. Dotts asked, eyeing the two T-bones on the butcher’s paper.
My mouth watered. “Adam will be massaging my feet while I eat. After that he’ll need to put away whatever stuff he brought. He can eat with the staff later.”
Mrs. Dotts’ smile fell. “Very good, Miss Cavanaugh.”