3. Welcome Home #3
“Got it.” Halston sipped the wine.
“I almost forgot,” Evangeline said. “We got you wheels. You’ll have to take rideshares between here and the embassy, but when you go out, you’ll use a bulletproof SUV.”
“Gotta like that,” she said with a smile.
“The organization has a fleet of them and yours is parked by the loading dock in the rear of the hotel.” Evangeline handed her a key fob before rising. “Check your closet. I bought you a few things.”
Caroline stood. “She’s my ride, plus I’ve got an early-morning meeting. Do you remember my sister Sydney?
“Of course,” Halston replied.
“We’ll have you over for dinner. Girls’ night in.” Caroline hugged her goodbye.
Evangeline wished her good luck.
After showing them out, Halston locked the suite door, then made her way into the bedroom.
The luxury hotel room was first class all the way, but when she entered the closet, she smiled.
Evangeline had purchased several work outfits, two little black party dresses, a sexy jumpsuit, and four pairs of heels.
One of them stilettos. She lifted them, admiring the top-grain leather and skinny heel.
Not on day one. I’ll twist my ankle.
Most of the clothing was perfect for work. Blacks and grays, but every garment was stunning. Evangeline had also included some evening wear. The suits—along with the little black dresses—were Santini Originals.
Small world.
Evangeline had also provided several wigs of varying colors and lengths.
Halston entered the bright white bathroom with the giant oval bathtub and two-person shower. There was an electric toothbrush plus so many moisturizers, facial products, and makeup. Halston grinned.
She retrieved her phone, sent Evangeline a text.
Thank you for the clothes and wigs! You bought me makeup. I love you for that
Seconds later, a reply.
Enjoy! The wigs are from Caroline. Take a minute and check out the Bohemian lounge. Got a great vibe. Car said she’ll be in touch. Welcome home
Curious about the eclectic lounge, Halston showered, then dressed in the black jumpsuit with a halter neckline and a pair of three-inch heels.
This was the first time she’d shown any skin in months.
Though feeling deliriously free, she had to guard her identity, both her real one and her Minka one.
After pulling on a short, light-brown wavy wig, she brushed on powder blush, ran a dark lipstick over her lips, then slid on her new glasses.
My James Bond eyes.
She stopped in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. “Barbi, are you ready to have a little fun?”
So ready.
After dropping her keycard and the Barbianna Bogdanova credit card into the jumpsuit pocket, she left her suite.
Despite the late hour on a Monday night, the front desk clerks were busy helping guests.
As she walked toward the lounge, she loved hearing the tap-tap-tap of her heels.
As Minka, she’d been expected to dress in high-quality clothes and attractive shoes, but she’d chosen flats.
They got the job done without attracting any attention.
Tonight, however, she strutted through the lobby like a boss lady. Shoulders back, head held high. Being here, in this boutique DC hotel, energy flowed through her like lava from a volcano. Aside from seeing Wolfie and her parents, this was the most fun she’d had in almost a year.
She stood at the entrance to the lounge and soaked up the décor, the melodic beat of the music pulsing through her.
Rose-light sconces on the walls, stunning chandeliers hung from the ceiling, but it was the plush purple sofas and bright orange cushioned chairs that wowed her.
A vintage-looking room that made her feel like she was stepping back in time.
All she needed were bellbottom pants and a tie-dyed shirt.
The sofas and chairs were jammed with adults chatting it up. In the center of the room stood several four-person tables for traditional-style seating and, off to the side, a small dance floor off. The bar filled the left side of the room.
For Halston, it was the hundreds of vinyl records neatly arranged in cases on the right that intrigued her. As she entered, she paused to watch the turntable spin to a song she didn’t recognize, but the hypnotic rhythm had her breathing deep and swaying to the music.
The song ended, the arm of the record player lifted off the vinyl and returned to its primary location. Rather than select an album, she continued toward the bar, finding a vacant barstool. A woman sat to the left, a man to the right.
The woman was busy talking with the woman beside her, but the man glanced her way, his light brown eyes drilling into hers. His almost jet-black hair brushed against his shoulders, his striking face made her breath catch in her throat.
In that second, everything went into slow motion while adrenaline powered through her like a locomotive.
Oooh baby, he’s a looker.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
“Join the party,” he replied as he pulled out the leather stool for her.