I Became Her

Chapter 22 -The Message-

Only three people have my number, and I just came from Shai’s, so I doubt it’s from her. It leaves Kane and Jen. Kane always calls when he has something to say. Jen has my number because I filled out the application to join the gym and to be honest, she has no reason to text me.

While I try to figure out who sent this, I get another message from the same number.

‘I’ll help you get ready. See you tomorrow around 3. Is that OK?’

No, it’s not okay. Who is that? Maybe they have the wrong number? That would explain everything. I should probably text back and clear up this misunderstanding, but I take the low road instead and ignore whoever is texting my number. The worst that could happen is that they show up at somebody’s doorstep tomorrow and have a laugh about this. Hopefully.

Anyway, this is none of my concern, so I detach myself from this whole wrong number debacle and go to bed. It’s time to end this day full of confessions and realizations.

-

I wake up way before my alarm like most mornings and, as usual, I shower and get myself ready for another day.

Since I don’t have much going on, I dive headfirst into the books I leased about bookkeeping. It’s just basics that has to be supported by current tax laws and a lot of math, but I like math, so why not see if I can actually understand it when it is mixed with legal procedures and practices.

One coffee after another I keep reading and, since I now have my own coffee maker, I can drink it without guilt. No more sneaking into Kane’s apartment to get my daily dose, now I can even overdo it.

After a quick lunch, I was lost in one of the books when the doorbell interrupted me. I checked the time, and it was too early for Kane to be here, so I went to open the door for Shai.

But there was no Shai.

“Hi! I am here like I promised, and I brought goodies,” she holds up three abnormally large bags.

“Talia?” My brain is trying to understand what am I missing here.

“It’s 3 o’clock, so I came.” I step aside when she pushes herself inside my apartment.

“Why?” That sounds rude so I try to rephrase. “I am a little confused, sorry.”

“I texted you yesterday,” she says while placing her bags on the sofa. “You didn’t get my messages?”

“It was you,” I say with a long breath out when the messages from yesterday come back to me. “I got them. I just didn’t know they were from you.” If she just added her name like a normal person would do, I would have known.

“Of course, me, who else, silly,” she jokes and starts to go through what she brought.

I ignore her comment that sounds like I have no life or no friends. And I ignore it because she is right. I have no life and the only two people in my life can’t really be considered as friends. They are forced to deal with me, so I suspect it can’t be labelled as friendship.

“What is all this?” I point to the piles of clothing she is pulling out from one of the bags.

“We are going on this birds or nests or something with feathers event tonight.” She gives me what seems to be the flashiest smile I have ever seen. Teeth white as porcelain rimmed with perfectly painted ruby-red lips.

“Event?” She’s been here for a minute and already my head is spinning with questions and puzzlement. What birds? What event? What?

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me sternly, finally understanding that I am at a loss here. “You wanted to come with me when I am escorting, right? Well, now I have this client who asked me to find someone for his son. So, I am taking you.” Her explanation is very slow, and she pronounces the words perfectly like I am not the brightest pencil in the box.

I can’t hide the little pinch that nags on my spine when she says the word ‘son’. There is no way that this is how I will meet one of them again. This can’t be how my life turns belly up after I finally managed to find some solid ground to walk on. This is not possible. It can’t be. All these denials spin in my head like a merry-go-round.

“Why me? Who are they?” Hoping she can spare me a name or something to assure myself that this is not going to be what I am afraid of. Face-to-face with one of Satan’s minions.

“You wanted to try, didn’t you? And it will be like a double date, I can guide you through this event. How to act and so on.” She speaks like the double date is taking place at the Dairy Queen, not at this high society event with people judging and competing with one another. How stupid of me to stick my nose in her business.

“Who are they?” I repeat my question because the initial fear is still present.

“Isaiah and his son. I’ve never met his son, so I don’t have any juicy details for you.” The possibility still stands. It could be one of them. I need to refuse. I cannot put myself in this situation.

“Talia, I don’t think I can do this.” Her eyes shoot up at me while I am still talking. “This isn’t for me.”

“I already promised him, and the event is tonight. What am I supposed to do now? Split in half and escort them both? Last I checked I am not an amoeba to pull that off.” She sits down in between the piles of clothing she brought and starts biting her nails while looking into nothingness. My best guess is that she is trying to cook up a new plan and I start to feel bad, so very bad that I am letting her down after I asked for that myself. Well, in my defense, I never actually agreed, she kind of put me on the spot, but I feel culpable, nonetheless.

“Tell me his name and I might do it.” Knowing he is not one of them is the only way I would even consider it.

She jumps up from the sofa squealing the sweetest way a grown woman can and gives me a tight hug. “Yes madam! One name coming right up!” And with a blink of an eye, she is already on her phone talking with someone.

While she is trying to get the name, I pray to whoever is listening. Please, just please let it be someone else.

“Isaac, his son is Isaac. Isaiah and Isaac Nazarian,” she says even before hanging up the call.

The rope around my neck loosens and colors regain their brightness. It’s not one of them.

“So, where do we start?” This time her squeal is not sweet, and I am pretty sure people at the gym might have heard her.

“Dress! We start with a dress,” she says and pulls me closer by my hand and I am now facing the stuff she scattered on the sofa.

I choose a dark gray sleeveless lace dress with a high neckline and covered back. Most of what she showed me had a little too much cleavage or open back with a chance of seeing something private if not careful, definitely not something I would feel comfortable with. I don’t say her taste is bad, but I can see why she gets paid what she claims.

Then, she sits me down in front of a mirror and starts on my make-up and hair. When she finishes, I can hardly recognize the woman staring back at me from the mirror. She has dark smokey eyes and deep red lips that make me look strong, powerful even.

We get dressed and after finishing touches, she declares us ready for the show. I just hope it won’t turn out to be s**t show of some type.

Talia drives us to the venue and my nerves are starting to act up. I feel nauseous and tired. My body is trying to make me bail, but I can’t do that to her, not now.

“They are waiting for us in the foyer,” she says when we approach the building.

I just nod and keep walking, trying to concentrate on the pavement, so I don’t trip and break a leg.

Just a few more steps and we reach our destination. Talia waves at someone and when I look up to see who I am supposed to be escorting tonight, I freeze.

It feels like the earth has opened up underneath me and I will be swallowed whole any second. And that wouldn’t be so bad actually, because anywhere else would be better than here.

Because there he stands.