Chapter 16
Chapter 16
W hen the big night finally arrived, Maggie felt strangely calm. In fact, she was almost having fun. It felt a little like prom. Marla whisked her away and dressed her in the designer gown, and she finally got why people had designer gowns made instead of buying off the rack. It was a cliché, but the dress fit her like a glove, so much that she had to be sewn into it. It was strapless, another first for Maggie. Previously she had never had the type of body that would allow her to wear something she considered revealing, but she didn’t look bad. In fact, since the dress had literally been made for her, it showed off the best parts of her while obscuring the worst. Her slightly poochy tummy, for instance, was well hidden under the voluminous folds at the bottom of the dress. It was some kind of metallic gray fabric that caught the light, as well as the gray highlights in her blue eyes and, without a doubt, she had never looked better.
“How much would it cost if I bought this dress?” Maggie asked as she turned to admire the stranger in the full-length mirror.
“Somewhere between seven and ten thousand,” Marla said distractedly while she finished sewing the back of Maggie’s dress.
“Dollars?” Maggie exclaimed.
“We don’t deal in pesos,” Marla said in the dry, deadpan way Maggie was growing used to. Marla had seen a lot, if her unaffected style of delivery was any indication.
“Do I get to keep it?” Maggie asked and, for the first time since she’d known her, Marla laughed and laughed.
They argued over her hair. “The style of the dress demands it be worn up,” Marla said.
“He likes it down,” Maggie insisted. Finally they compromised on a side-swept updo that left most of her hair cascading down the side of her neck.
“You really have fabulous hair,” Marla said. “Too bad you have no idea what to do with it.”
“Thank you?” Maggie tried, not sure if it had been a compliment.
Her makeup was another argument. Marla did it for her, and Maggie wasn’t pleased. “It’s too much.”
“It’s an evening ball; it’s supposed to be dramatic. You don’t wear enough anyway,” Marla reproached.
“He’s from an extremely conservative family, and he knows me. He’s going to be suspicious if I show up with my nose contoured like a Kardashian,” Maggie said. “Can you take it down a notch?”
“Fine,” Marla huffed. “I’ll take off the contouring and some of the blush, but I’m leaving your eyes.”
“Good, I’ll need them to see,” Maggie replied, earning another rueful smile from Marla.
“Jewelry time,” Marla said, sounding excited.
“I’m not really into jewelry,” Maggie told her.
“What a shocking surprise,” Marla said, deadpan again. “Are you sure you’re a woman?”
“I’ve never been able to use the bathroom standing up, despite repeated failed attempts, so yes,” Maggie said. But when Marla opened the briefcase of loaned jewelry, Maggie thought she might finally have found her missing female DNA. “Ho-ly cow.”
“I know, right?” Marla said and the two women came together in a moment of mutual fawning appreciation over the stunning diamond and sapphire necklace. Maggie reached out a hand, Marla smacked it away, and the moment was over. “You’re not allowed to touch it until you sign all the papers.”
“I have to sign papers?”
“You have to sign your life away. If anything happens to this, the government will hold you personally responsible and probably put you in some kind of work camp until you’re able to pay it off, which will be never.”
“Are you a motivational speaker in your downtime?” Maggie asked.
“No, I’m the keeper of the keys for this necklace, and if anything happens to it, I will hunt you down like a dog in the street,” Marla said. She handed Maggie a stack of papers to sign and then, when they were all in order, gently removed the necklace and placed it on Maggie’s neck.
“Wow,” Marla said as she fastened the necklace and stepped back. “Is it bad that I’m jealous of you right now?”
“Well, there’s a chance I could die, so that should tamp down the envy some,” Maggie said.
“You’d think so, but no,” Marla said. She reached out and lovingly touched the necklace, practically drooling over the sight of such large gemstones.
“Do you need a moment alone with the necklace?” Maggie asked.
“Just don’t get blood on it,” Marla said, and Maggie didn’t know her well enough to know if she was joking.
After Marla, the sound tech came in to fit her with a tiny and obscure microphone. “They couldn’t have sent a woman?” Maggie complained as the guy worked furiously to tape the tiny device inside her bra.
“I always get the hard jobs,” the guy said, grinning at Maggie in a way that made her want to punch him more than a little. Sensing her wrath, he wiped his smile and became all business. “Remember this is an extremely sensitive instrument. You don’t have to tilt your head down or speak into it in any obvious manner. It will not only pick up your conversation, it will pick up what’s happening in the room around you.”
“What if I have to use the bathroom? How do I turn it off?” she asked.
“There is no off,” he said. “So I will hear everything you say and do. Everything.”
“I do not get paid enough for this,” Maggie said.
“Neither do I,” he agreed.
“Neither do I,” Ridge agreed as he entered the room. He tapped his ear. “Mic’s live.”
“Oh, you get to be in on the eavesdropping, too? Goody,” she said.
“About forty people get to be in on the eavesdropping,” he reminded her, and Maggie went silent. In theory, she knew how many people were watching and listening to them. But now it was reality, and she felt suddenly shy. The sound tech finished taping her and left. “Where exactly were his hands?”
“Everywhere,” Maggie said.
“How do I get his job?” Ridge asked.
“According to his level of enjoyment, I think you need to be a sex offender,” she said.
“I’m halfway there,” Ridge said. He withdrew a notebook and pen from his inside breast pocket and scrawled her a note.
You look spectacular.
“And you look…” She scanned his outfit and tilted her head. The suit was nice, but it was topped by a bolo tie with silver tassels and a giant silver belt buckle. On his feet were leather cowboy boots. “Well, you look like a male Annie Oakley. Does Marla hate you? Where did she find that hideous getup?”
He took her face in his hands and touched his forehead to hers. “These are my real clothes.”
She burst out laughing. “I am so going to make fun of you later.”
“Something to look forward to. Ready?”
She nodded. He released her face and they walked to the car in silence, an ostentatious luxury vehicle with vanity plates. “It’s kind of unfair that I get to be a princess and you have to be Yosemite Sam,” she noted.
“Oh, the people in the trailer are loving you right now,” he said, and she was once again reminded they weren’t actually alone.
“I keep forgetting,” she said.
“I don’t,” he said, his eyes scanning her with more than a little appreciation. They had staged near the event, so it was only a short drive to the party, but still long enough for Maggie’s nerves to begin to jangle.
“Can we listen to the radio?” she asked.
“Only if you want everyone to run screaming from the trailer. Too much reverb,” he said. “We could sing.”
“I could try, but it would probably have the same effect on the people in the trailer,” she said. “You sing.” She poked him and, to her surprise, he opened his mouth and sang “Friends in Low Places,” the entire song with all the words. And he was good.
“I went through a big Garth Brooks phase in high school,” he told her.
Maggie sat back astonished. “You think you know a person, and then it turns out he’s a genuine rootin’ tootin’ cowpoke.”
“I am from Texas,” he reminded her.
“I’m not sure the people of Texas want you broadcasting that tonight. You look like the county fair ate too much and spit you out,” she said.
“You’re going to be the audio they play at the company Christmas party for sure,” he said, tapping his ear. Maggie winced. She had forgotten again. When she was with him, it was too easy to be herself.
The party was being held on a massive gated compound. They arrived at the gate and were greeted by two security guards, Saudi.
“Identification,” one said to Ridge in a heavily accented and commanding tone. The other bade Maggie roll down her window and stuck his head in, inspecting the vehicle and her body. She tried not to fidget while the men looked everything over and spoke to each other in their native tongue. After a brief, laughing exchange, they tossed Ridge’s license back to him and waved them through.
“What did they say?” he asked.
“Eh, are you sure you want to know?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“They said you look like an American cartoon character and, let’s see, how can I clean it up, they wondered exactly what was holding my dress up and took bets on how easily it would come off.”
“Hmm,” he said. His expression told her he wanted to say more, but he was reining it in for the sake of all the listening ears. He parked in the spot being designated by yet another guard and came around to open her door and help her out of the car. He kept her hand on the walk to the house and paused under a streetlamp. He reached into his jacket again, withdrew the little notebook, and penned another missive.
So much I would say, if no one was listening.
Maggie smiled, kissed her fingertip, and pressed it to his lips. Knowing it would make her laugh, he stuck out his tongue and licked her finger. As anticipated, she laughed and wiped her finger on his sleeve. “Weirdo.”
He took her hand again. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she replied, trying not to sound as breathless and petrified as she felt.
He gave her hand a squeeze, and they stepped up to the door.