With forced optimism, I carefully examine the shoes in the box as well.
Just like the dress, they fit perfectly. It’s as though James knew everything about me from my bust size to my shoe size just from our brief encounters.
There’s also a pair of long gloves too and a mask for the ball.
“The perfect disguise,” I joke to myself out loud.
Suddenly sitting upright as it hits me.
My lips turning to a scheming smile.
Yes. The perfect disguise.
Snapping to attention again in front of the mirror, I move my hair this way and that, holding it roughly in place with some clips before I put on the mask and even the gloves.
Narrowing my eyes, and glancing sideways at myself, hell. I hardly recognize myself, and who else in the world has ever seen me dressed like this?
I feel my hands shaking again, this time with an excitement that’s bubbling up from deep down inside me.
Down in the James center of my body. The place I know I need him the most and the place I know he wants to be as well. The place in me he’s awoken simply by looking at me, igniting it with his touch.
Knowing my outfit actually fits, and makes me look none too shabby if I do say so myself, I carefully slip out of it and back into my regular day clothes.
Making my way downstairs, I feel nervous still, like my dad will appear any second and start shouting again. But once I get some breakfast into me and a strong coffee under my belt, I set to work finding the number for the only salon in town and call them up.
“What do you mean?” I ask the busy sounding woman on the end of the line.
“I mean, we’re fully booked out. The dinner and ball tonight…?” she adds as if she’s talking to someone from another planet.
Crap.
“Ah, of course,” I agree, trying to think.
Think!
“…It’s just my Dad said you might be able to squeeze me in… Mayor Newland?” I ask, wincing a little and hating myself for name-dropping but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Oh,” she exclaims. “I didn’t know it was you, Krystal,” she gushes. Both of us know we’ve never met but everyone knows who Krystal Newland is in town.
I can hear the flitting of pages in her schedule as she stifles a groan.
“What did you want done Krystal? I can spare an hour if I skip lunch,” she says, trying to sound enthusiastic but I can feel the annoyance down the phone.
“Oh, just fix my hair and face. Maybe tidy up my nails,” I half sigh, trying to sound like I go to the salon every week but having no idea what I actually want.
Could you just disguise me as somebody else?
After an awkward silence, she exhales. “Alright then, Krystal. If you come in later in the day, we’ll see what we can do for you,” she says before hanging up.
It’s better than nothing and gives me the rest of the day to figure out what to do about my dad.
With my masked ball disguise in the works, I don’t think it would be wise to go to the dinner part of tonight’s plans.
Dad’s seen the dress, and I know he wouldn’t recognize me in it, but he’s forbidden me from even going to either the dinner or the ball.
So I guess I’ll just have to try and sneak into the ball and find James.
Chapter Ten
James
Rubbing shoulders with local business owners who are obviously token candidates for Mayor, as well as the Mayor himself is about as much as I can take.
After about an hour of their banter, I can feel my own question forming on my lips but know better than to ask.
Fortunately, somebody else eventually asks for me, once the breakfast meeting seems to be well and truly running out of steam.
“Where’s young Krystal, Bob?” One of the men asks, and I can see the change in her dad’s face that tells me so much more than the man himself ever would.
He looks pained, then angry, and finally, upset.
“Uh… I’m not sure really, Mike,” he stammers as he glances at his watch.
“She wasn’t feeling too great last night, I might give her a call if we’re done here?” he asks, looking at everyone except me as he ushers us all towards the door.
I feel his hand on my arm, me being the last one about to leave his office.
I tense for a moment but force myself to relax. My reflex is to give him a free lesson in don’t touch James Silverthorn if you like your teeth that way, but I’m playing a longer game here and I know what my prize is.
I crease a smile and cock my brow in question.
“Mr. Silverthorn, I’ll say this just once,” he says with an intensity that grabs my attention.