Page 11 of Peasants and Kings
“But my shoes—”
“Will you stop?” she asked in exasperation. “I’ve got it covered, all right?”
“Why do I feel like you’re not telling me everything?”
“Because I’m not.”
Chapter Three
An hour later, I was wearing a black floral print dress with a belt that cinched my waist and a pair of black ballet flats that Tiffany had sent out for. I knew she was doing well at The Rex—a downtown luxury condo was nothing to sneeze at—but the fact that she could send out for breakfast and shoes gave me pause.
“You look great,” Tiffany said, as she looked in the hallway mirror and tied a pink headscarf into a makeshift headband.
“Me? You’re the one that looks amazing.” She was dressed in an A-line blush dress with a sweetheart neckline and three-inch matching high heels. She looked completely out of time and place in the 1950s getup, and she rocked it easily.
“Let’s go,” she said, grabbing her matching clutch and opening it to ensure she had her favorite lip gloss.
We rode the elevator down to the underground parking garage, and I followed Tiffany to a corner space with a shiny, candy-apple red Audi TT RS backed into its spot.
“No way,” I said softly. “You bought it?”
She grinned. “Yep. Signed the papers last week.”
Tiffany hit the clicker and the doors unlocked. I climbed into the passenger side, my body melting into the black leather. I had to stifle a moan of pleasure.
Tiffany turned the key and the car’s unique five-cylinder engine came to life. She grabbed a pair of black cat-eye sunglasses resting on the console, made sure they were clean, and placed them on her head.
She put the car into drive and wove her way through the parking garage at far too high a speed. Bright sunshine caressed my face when we got out onto the street, and I squinted at the change in light.
“There’s a pair of spare sunglasses in the glove box,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said gratefully.
They were a little big for my face, but I didn’t care. She pressed a button and a radio station playing jazz filtered through the speakers. I reached over and lowered the volume so we could talk.
“You’re doing really well, Tiff. Aren’t you?”
“I do okay,” she averred.
“I’ve been hiding away, and you’ve been buying cars and sending out for breakfasts…”
“I got a promotion. I want to enjoy it.” She turned up the music so we couldn’t talk anymore.
What the hell wasn’t she telling me?
I’d bared my soul to her and come to her for help, but clearly, it wasn’t a two-way street. It made me embarrassed that I’d been honest with her and she wouldn’t do the same.
The rest of the drive was silent and charged with tension. Finally, she turned into the department store parking lot. Tiffany cut the wheel and revved the engine loudly before parking the car directly in front of the Folson’s store entrance in the closest spot she could find, surrounded by other cars.
“Why didn’t you park farther away? Aren’t you afraid the car is going to get dinged?” I asked, as I grabbed my purse and opened my door to get out.
There was a whistle from a group of guys, followed by, “Sweet ride!”
Tiffany tilted her sunglasses down on her nose and then looked at me and said, “Thatis why I parked near the front.”
When we arrived at the entrance to Folson’s, a young man darted in front of her and held the door open, gazing at her with open worship. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gave her a long, lingering look.
Tiffany smiled and blew him a kiss, and despite my uneasiness, I grinned in amusement.
