The Last Mrs. Parrish(42)
Was Daphne seriously justifying what he did? She was even more gullible than Amber thought.
“I’m not saying what he did was right. But he was sorry after and swore it would never happen again.” She gave Amber what looked like a forced smile. “And he never has.”
“Wow. That must have been so hard for you. But at least you bounced back. The two of you seem very happy,” Amber said. She looked at her watch. “Well,” she said. “I guess we should be going. I have a salon appointment to get to.”
After their lunch, Amber went home and ordered a bottle of Incomparable online. She looked up from the computer and smiled to herself, relishing her new piece of intel. He’d cheated before! If he could do it once, he could surely do it again.
*
Monday brought with it drowning rain and cold winds, which soaked Amber as she waited for the train. The only thing Amber disliked about her job was the long commute into the city. It was fine to come in for a leisurely day of checking out museums, but rush-hour travel was its own special torture. As she sat, still windblown and wet, wedged between a large man who smelled of cigars and a young boy with a dirty backpack, she read the advertisements above the windows across from her. She could practically recite them by heart now. She wondered what it was like to see your picture on the walls of trains or the side of buses. Did the models get a kick out of it? She fantasized about being the object of desire for thousands of men. Her body was certainly good enough, and with the right hair and makeup, she bet she’d look every bit as good as those stuck-up models, even though she was just five-seven, a few inches shorter than Daphne. They probably thought they were so special, sticking their fingers down their throats just to stay skinny. She would never do that—but then again, she was lucky to be naturally thin.
By the time she arrived at Fifty-Seventh Street, the hems of her pants were almost dry. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still whipping furiously. She nodded at the doorman and said good morning to the guard at the front desk.
“Good morning, Miss Patterson. Filthy weather out there. You still manage to look perfect though. New hairstyle?”
She loved that they all knew who she was. “Yes, thanks.” She swiped her ID badge and walked to the elevator. Her first stop when she got upstairs was the ladies’ room. She pulled out her cordless flat iron and smoothed her hair, now shoulder length and a light-champagne blond. After she dabbed a drop of Incomparable on her wrists, the tennis shoes came off, and on went the nude Louboutins. She wore a black turtleneck sweater dress and a black lace push-up bra that beautifully enhanced her ample assets. On her wrist was a wide silver cuff bracelet. The only other jewelry were her earrings, hammered silver and stylishly simple. She smiled in the mirror, confident that she looked like she had just completed a Ralph Lauren photo shoot.
When she entered her office, she saw that Jackson’s door was closed and the windows still dark. She made it her business to be there early every day, but Jackson still managed to beat her. Today was a rare exception. She started answering e-mails, and the next time she looked up, it was eight thirty. Jackson sauntered in after ten.
“Good morning, Jackson. Everything okay?”
“Morning. Yeah, fine. Had a conference at Bella’s school.” He unlocked his office door and then stopped. “By the way, we have a show tonight. Would you make a six o’clock dinner reservation for two at Gabriel’s?”
“Certainly.”
He started to go inside but stopped again. “You look very nice today.”
Amber felt the heat rise on her neck. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
“Nothing kind about it. Just the truth.” He walked into his office and closed the door.
The thought of Daphne and Jackson having a romantic dinner and then sitting side by side in a Broadway theater pissed her off. She wanted to be the one sitting next to him in those primo seats, everyone looking at her with envy. But she knew that she had to keep her head about her. It wouldn’t serve her to lose her cool and do something stupid.
Later that afternoon, she and Jackson were going over his itinerary for next week’s trip to China when Daphne called his cell. Amber heard only his side of the conversation, but it was apparent he wasn’t pleased. He clicked off and threw the phone onto the desk. “Shit. Totally screws up the plans for tonight.”
“Is Daphne all right?”
He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She’s fine. So to speak. Says Bella’s not well. Doesn’t want to come in for the play.”
“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “Shall I cancel the reservation?”
Jackson thought about this a few seconds and then gave Amber an appraising look. “Any chance you’d be interested in dinner and a show?”
Amber felt her stomach drop. This was too easy, falling into her lap like a gift from the heavens. “I’d love to. I’ve never been to a Broadway show.” She hadn’t forgotten that he liked innocence and first-timers.
“Good. These tickets for Hamlet are a hot item, limited run, and I don’t want to miss it. Let’s finish up by five thirty or so and we’ll grab a cab to the restaurant. Reservation’s at six?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s get back to work.”
Amber went back to her desk and phoned Daphne, who answered after one ring.