Weekend Warriors (Sisterhood #1)(39)
Kathryn shook her head as she stared up at him. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. And he had perfect teeth that he liked to show off. All the better to bite with, you son of a bitch. She stared up into his eyes, wondering what he was thinking. She saw absolutely no recognition. She smiled.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched him pull on latex gloves. To protect himself from her. She almost lost it then. He was afraid of her mouth but he hadn’t been afraid to stick his dick in her without a condom. Hatred bubbled within.
“Do you have a fear of dentists, Monica?”
Kathryn struggled to take a deep breath. “Yes.”
“I’ll make this as painless as possible. I promise,” he said in a reassuring voice. He flashed his pearly whites for her benefit. Kathryn almost gagged.
I promise you pain like you can’t imagine, Kathryn thought to herself.
“Did I miss something here? One minute you’re petrified and the next minute you’re smiling. Share with me.”
“My mother always said to think about something pleasant and wonderful in the dentist’s chair. I was trying to do that.”
“I see.” Clearly he didn’t see at all. “Open wide and say ahhhh.” Kathryn obliged.
“I don’t see a problem, Monica,” Wagstaff said, poking and picking at her gums and tooth line. “I would recommend using a water pic if you aren’t already using one, and flossing regularly. Your gums look sound and healthy to me. I’d like to see you in a year.” He stepped back and allowed his assistant to tilt the chair into its upright position.
The doctor stripped off his gloves and handed them to his assistant, but not before he patted her rear end. Kathryn watched as she swished her way to the waste container, a smile on her face.
As she was ripping at the paper bib she noticed a framed newspaper article on the wall. She stared at it for long seconds. Dr. Wagstaff astride his Indian, his feet planted firmly on the ground, staring straight into the camera. She pointed to the picture. “Do you ride, Doctor?”
“A bit. I organized a bike run for a local group here to raise money for underprivileged children. I’m proud to say we raised close to fifty thousand dollars. A lot of children benefitted from that run with dental and medical care. As a matter of fact, this afternoon I’m doing a benefit ride to aid a battered women’s group. Do you ride?”
Kathryn flipped her Britney Spears hairdo and said, “Goodness no. I don’t even ride a bicycle.”
“Now that I see you standing up, you remind me of someone.”
Kathryn waved her hand. “People say that to me all the time. Just this morning someone told me I look like Britney Spears’s older sister,” Kathryn said, forcing a laugh.
Wagstaff shrugged. “See my receptionist and we can make an appointment for you in, let’s say, ten months or you can call us around that time. It’s up to you.”
“That’s fine. Thanks. I feel a lot better knowing my gums aren’t receding.”
“It happens to the best of us,” the doctor said over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” the young assistant gushed. “He’s always doing something for someone. He’s very civic-minded. He usually makes the newspapers once a month at the very least. It was nice meeting you, Miss Lowenstein.”
“Likewise,” Kathryn said as she opened her wallet to pay for the visit. She raised her eyes at the hundred-and-fifty-dollar office visit. She plunked down three fifty dollar bills and waited for her receipt. “I’ll call when it’s time for an appointment. I travel a lot and I’m not sure where I’ll be in ten months.” She stuck the receipt into the pocket of her yellow jacket and left the office.
Outside in the fresh, spring air, Kathryn took deep gulping breaths until she felt calm enough to head for the parking lot and Alexis’s rental car, where she shed the yellow jacket in favor of a green one. She replaced the Britney Spears wig with an Orphan Annie one. Next stop, Samuel La Fond, CPA.
According to Charles’s map, La Fond had a suite of offices two blocks west. She looked at her watch. She might be a tad early, but so what.
Kathryn stepped into the CPA’s offices and fought with herself not to turn around and leave. On display, between the coffee table and two dark blue chairs, was an Indian motorcycle with a sign on it that said, DO NOT TOUCH. DO NOT CLIMB ON THIS MOTORCYCLE. The walls were peppered with framed pictures and newspaper articles attesting to Samuel La Fond’s prowess on cycles. The only magazines on the table were biker magazines and biker catalogs. She wondered if he would set his pickled balls on one of the shelves when they arrived in the mail. She felt chagrined to see that there wasn’t a lifesize wax figure of Samuel La Fond. She asked the receptionist.
“Mr. La Fond thought that would be a bit much. Mr. La Fond is free now. Walk through the door on the right.”
He was a big man. Real big. He lumbered when he got up from behind his desk to walk around it to shake her hand. He’d put on a good twelve pounds, maybe fifteen, since that night in the parking lot of the Starlite Cafe. He had big hands. Those same hands had squeezed her breasts so hard the bruises stayed with her a full month.
“I need a good accountant for my business. A friend recommended you. I didn’t bring anything with me on this trip but if you are taking on new clients, I would be happy to schedule a second appointment. I have an S Corporation and my corporate year ends the end of September. We have plenty of time, the way I see it.”