Submersed (8 page)

             
My muscles succumbed to fatigue from holding me up and I fell back onto the bottom of the tub with a pitiful splash.

             
I would never be able to come because I was repulsive.
Repulsive and Ugly.
And dirty. The nasty words slithered around in my brain. I would never forget them. I would never forget him. I would never forget the laughing. The laughter and the words fought for space in my head, winning over everything else.

             
Though my hands were trembling and my legs shaking, I managed to flick off the faucet. With a bitter cry of frustration, my soaking wet head fell back against the rim of the tub.

             
My release wouldn’t come today.

Chapter Five

             
I spent the entire day working on my painting of the little blonde girl from the lobby. I envied her for seeing the world as she did with fresh eyes. I wanted the painting to symbolize that bright-eyed innocence of youth. She would be delicate and lovely and the light would hit her just right. With all my heart, I wished the image on my canvas would match the one in my head.

             
First, I sketched her face to get an idea of exactly how I would capture her. Pencil didn’t do justice to her little cherub face and I was actually excited when it came time to choose my colorful paints. I squeezed paint on a palette, selected a brush and went to work.

             
Her hair would be golden, the color of daffodils in spring. A fringe of black lashes would fan over those cornflower blue eyes and she’d have
pinchable
peachy flushed cheeks.

             
From the moment I first dipped my brush onto my palette until I finished my first application, I was excited to see how she would turn out. With each dab and stroke, I could feel her purity leap off the canvas and fill my soul with happiness.

             
There would be no debating the painting’s symbolism. No doubts about meaning or hidden mermaids. There was no question about it
. S
he was pure light.

             
After countless hours, I set my brush down for the day and took a break from
Princess
. There wasn’t much more I could do until the first application dried. I cleaned my brushes, scrubbed the paint from my hands and fingernails and went into the kitchen for a drink of water. I chugged down half the bottle and it hit me how tired I was. I rotated my neck to ease some of the tension and eyed the room service menu.

             
When I plopped down on my couch, I noticed I had two new messages. The first one was from my father to tell me he had a wonderful time at the dinner and was glad I came and brought Dillon. I smiled and made a mental note to call him in the morning.

             
The second message was from Cornelia Davenport.

             
“It was so lovely to see you and your friend Dillon last night,” her sticky sweet voice purred out from my machine. “I look forward to seeing you at the Cocktails and Cars event next Friday. It starts at seven. Also, there will be a silent auction with all proceeds going to our childhood cancers charity. So bring your checkbook!”

             
I leaned my head back on the cushion and sighed. It would be difficult, but I knew then that my
Princess
wouldn’t be staying with me for long.

             
I vaguely remembered Cornelia mentioning the event at the charity dinner, but everything from the night before was somewhat of a blur, thanks to Dillon
’
s pheromones. I was glad Cornelia called and reminded me because I’d tossed the invitation aside as soon as it came in the mail weeks ago.

             
After some digging, I found it under a pile of fashion magazines and art books. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I stared at the invitation.

Cocktails and Cars for a Cure

Please join us for a night of exotic cars and fine wine and spirits

Featuring a silent auction to benefit children with leukemia.

             
I nibbled on my bottom lip and thought about it. If
Princess
was ready to make an appearance into the world by next Friday, then I just might feel up to it too.

             
Each time I called Dillon, it got a little easier. The first time I called, it was for my father and the second time was for me.

             
He answered his phone on the third ring and I felt a jolt at hearing his voice again.

             
“Hi
,
Dillon.
It’s Olivia.”

             
“Hey! How are you?”

             
He
actually
sounded happy to hear from me.

             
“Good.
Great
,
actually.
Hey,
I know its last minute, but I wondered if you were up for another charity event.” What was I doing asking if he was “up” for it? I wiped my sweaty palm on my pants.

             
“Definitely,” he said and I smiled into the phone.

             
No matter how many times I’d spoken to Cornelia Davenport, I was still a nervous wreck doing it on the phone. But I did it anyway.
For
Princess
.
And f
or children everywhere who were fighting for their lives, battling against a disease with no cure.

             
“Olivia! Thanks so much for calling. The charity dinner was fabulous, wasn
’
t it?”

             
“Yes. I think everyone enjoyed themselves. Listen, Cornelia, I’d like to donate a painting for the auction on Friday.”

             
Even though I’d already made the decision, I still cringed at the thought of my art going out into the harsh world. But I knew without a doubt it was the right decision.

             
“That’s marvelous!” Cornelia squealed.

             
“And I also…I also wanted to RSVP for the car show event,” I said, laying all my cards out on the table. This was Vegas, baby. Go big or go home.

             
“Oh, this is such good news. Howard and I look forward to seeing you. Will you be bringing Dillon along?” she asked hopefully.

             
I couldn
’
t help but grin. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am. It turns out he’s free on Friday after all.”

             
“Splendid.”

             
“Great, I’ll have the painting sent over when it’s finished.”

Chapter Six

             
On Friday afternoon, Michelle
stocked
fresh towels in my bathroom
while
I perched on the edge of the tub
.
Princess
was finished and had already been delivered to Cornelia
and
I had a few hours before I needed to start getting ready for my next huge embarrassing failure.

             
“So how was the charity ball?” Michelle asked.

             
The fact that Michelle called the dinner a “ball
”
had me thinking of Cinderella.

             
“It was nice,” I told her. “My father told me the dinner raised over two hundred thousand dollars for the foundation.”

             
Her eyes widened in surprise. “That’s wonderful.”

             
I could tell she was debating whether or not to ask me if I’d used the website, so I decided to throw her a bone. “Thanks for your help with…everything. I ended up going with a friend.”

             
The lie didn’t come easy, but I couldn’t hand that kind of juicy information over to her to use at her own discretion.

             
“Well that’s good. Did you have fun?”

             
I thought back to the dinner and the dancing and smiled. “We did.”

             
“I’m glad.”

             
“Well,” I said, getting up from the tub. “I’d better get back
to
painting while the vision is still fresh in my mind,” I said tapping my temple.

             
There was no painting, but Michelle didn’t know that. There was the small matter of deciding what to wear to the Davenport event
,
though.

             
Silently, I wished Michelle would hurry up so she didn’t run into Dillon in the elevator. One look at him and she would know my dirty little secret for sure.

             
“You must find a lot of inspiration from the city,” Michelle said thoughtfully.

             
“Yeah,” I answered somberly, resting my head against the doorjamb. “There’s a lot going on down there.”

             
In fact, I’d never painted Las Vegas in all the time I’d lived here. There was no shortage of subject matter and a plethora of colors, but I’d never once captured any of it on canvas. Maybe it was time I did.

             
But first, I had to get ready for Dillon.

             
At precisely 6:30, Dillon arrived and I waved him inside the suite. He was wearing an exquisite suit, shiny shoes and an ultramarine blue tie that matched his eyes. It was incredible how he always showed up wearing exactly what he needed to be. Then again, at his rate of three hundred bucks an hour, I guess he’d show up on my doorstep wearing a Superman costume if I wanted him to.

             
As for me, I had chosen a classic little black dress and Dillon noticed it right away.

             
“Great dress,
Livi
.”
He pulled me in for a quick hug and then held me at arm
’
s length to look me over. “You look beautiful.”

             
“Thanks.” I still wasn’t used to receiving so many compliments, but Dillon really seemed to enjoy doling them out. I scrunched up my nose and gnawed at the inside of my cheek. “I’m kind of having second thoughts about this whole thing.”

             
“Why?” he asked, concern replacing the excitement on his face.

             
“Oh, I don’t know.” I started pacing the floor. “It seemed like a good idea at the time because we had so much fun the other night.”

             
He took my hand to keep me from pacing and warm bolts of electricity shimmied up my arm. “What’s wrong,
Livi
?”

             
I blew out a nervous breath, but didn
’
t tell him about
Princess
. “I don’t even have to go to this thing tonight. My father isn’t even going to be there. It’s just for the Davenport’s stupid charity.”

             
He brought my hand to his lips and lightly kissed my knuckles. How was it that he could turn the simplest things into pure eroticism?

             
“Tell
ya
what,” he said rubbing his thumb over where he
’
d just kissed my hand. “Let’s go and mingle for a little bit and then duck out and go to a club or something.”

             
Panic swirled through my belly and the tender kiss was forgotten.
“Oh, God, Dillon.
I can’t go to a club.” Just the thought of that many people crammed into one small space sent my anxiety into a tailspin. “The first part sounds good, though.”

             
“Okay. We’ll go and make an appearance at Mr. and Mrs. D’s
,
then come back here.”

             
I took a deep breath.
“All right.”
I could do that.

             
“So, what kind of shindig are we going to anyway?”

             
I handed Dillon the invitation along with his envelope and sat down to put my shoes on. “I promise I won’t drag you to anymore charity events after tonight.”

             
“That’s all right.” He pocketed the envelope and read over the invitation. “This thing sounds
kinda
cool. Fast cars, free booze.”

             
“Just be careful you don’t let Mr. D talk you into buying some fancy race car.”