The House Always Wins - 8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

The next day was...aggravating. It might have had something to do with his mother's impending arrival (I think that was part of it), but a word to the wise; don't ever go shopping for clothes with Michael Black. Jesus, what a disaster.

It was around 10am when we went out to the first store, where I was shown a whole parade of designer (not to mention completely hideous) clothing in a private dressing room. I dismissed pretty much every item they came to show me, which irritated Michael no end.

"I'm paying for this! Why are you being difficult?" he'd hissed when we were left alone for a few seconds.

"I have to wear it! Why are you trying to dress me up like Barbie's boyfriend?" I'd retorted, opting for a more mainstream casual wear.

He wanted me to wear cashmere sweaters, stupid pants and black shiny shoes (even George Bush would reject them for their boring design), because he thought it would please his mother.

We settled on a compromise; I'd wear the damn cashmere, and he could pick out a few pairs of designer jeans, in any color or fit he liked, I didn't care. We'd go elsewhere for shoes.

Fine; next store, same crap. Okay, they had some nice shirts. But when I couldn't choose, he simply bought the whole line out of sheer impatience. When he realized I really didn't like that stunt, he repeated it, maybe just to bug me, at the next store, when I couldn't choose shoes. I ended up with sixteen (!!!) pairs.

Next stop; a jewelry store. He insisted on buying something that would represent our ‘love for each other'. My suggestion to buy ice picks from K-Mart landed on deaf ears.

Eventually I opted for matching bracelets, plain ones. He liked the design but didn't like bracelets he thought they were too faggy; the same with earrings. Hmm, I could see where he was coming from there, so that rejection was a mutual one. The only things left were either necklaces or rings. He didn't like wearing something around his neck, and rings just screamed marriage to me; I just don't like to copy straight people. We ended up with rings anyway; thin bands, nothing out of the ordinary other than them being made of platinum.

There were some other items I needed, of a personal nature, and I got those myself, while Michael browsed through the store. When we finally drove back, we'd been at it for four hours.

**********

So here we are now, dear diary. It's quite the tale so far, huh?

All morning and afternoon he's been moody. I guess he's just anxious, and thinks I'll screw this up. Not for 20 thou, baby...not a chance. If this is screwed up, it won't be because of me...

**********

It was getting dark when my cell on the bar began to vibrate its way to the edge. I was just in time to pick it up before it fell onto the floor.

"Hello?" I answered, walking back to the guestroom.

"We'll be up in ten," Michael's voice spoke, "ready?"

"Bring it on," I replied, saying it with confidence, but feeling nervousness settling in the pit of my stomach.

"Good. Hold on..." I heard someone whispering to him and then heard him make a deep sigh.

"We'll be right there. There seems to be a problem here, so I'll have to see to that first."

**********

Her commanding voice could be heard as soon as the elevator doors opened.

"Really, Michael; there is no excuse. You always told me that my suite would be available for me whenever I would need it."

"Yes Mother," Michael's voice replied, "but..."

"Then how do you explain that it was not available?"

"With this conference in the hotel, we're simply booked to capacity."

"Nonsense. You made a promise."

"Yes, Mother."

He sounded like a whipped dog, and my curiosity rose with every passing second. I liked her already.

Then the owner of the voice stepped out, instantly looking around until her eyes found me.

Olivia Black was tiny. Well, compared to her son, at least; I rose maybe five inches above her, but we ‘little people' have to stick together, and almost do so automatically. As tiny as she was, though, she was lightening fast. Before I knew it, she stood before me, looking me up and down without saying a word. Then she stuck out her hand.

"Olivia Black. And you are?"

"Jason, M'am," I answered, taking her hand.

Her grip was strong and her eyes were startlingly blue, something her son had inherited from her. Intelligence, and a glint of mischief, shone in them. This woman was smart, that much was obvious.

Michael took a step forward, brushing his lips over my cheek and put an arm loosely around my shoulders, acting his part without a hint of hesitation. This was the first time he actually touched me in this way, and I stiffened, but only for a second.

"Hi there," he said softly, but loud enough for her to hear. He rubbed his nose against my cheek lovingly.

So far so good, no hiccups there; we'd pull it off.

"Jason; meet my mother."

I gave him an affectionate grin, still holding Olivia's hand.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Black."

She acknowledged with a curt nod, her eyes narrowed at her son and me.

"And I'm pleased to meet you, Jason. So you stole my son's heart?"

"Not exactly, M'am. It's still in his chest, I believe."

The corner of her mouth went up a notch.

"Call me Olivia, I hate that ‘M'am' nonsense. And don't get cute with me."

"I wouldn't dare...Olivia. May I take your coat?" I asked, reigning myself in a bit. I didn't want to make waves in the first few minutes.

"Yes, you may. Michael, pour me a drink. I'm exhausted from all that nonsense downstairs."

"Did something happen?" I asked while taking her coat to the small closet right beside the elevator.

"You could say that. Your boyfriend gave my permanent room away," she said, sitting down on one of the sofas. I noticed that she kept a sharp eye on me. She patted the sofa beside her.

"Please sit with me. I want to know all about you."

"Give him a little time to breathe, Mother," Michael said, putting the drink on the table in front of her. "You'll have lots of time to get to know him, once we found a place for you to stay. I'll have the desk downstairs call some of the other hotels; I'm sure they..."

"You'll do no such thing," she interrupted. "I'll be staying here. Have Housekeeping prepare the guestroom."

"But Mother..." he began.

"Shush. I'm a grown woman, and quite liberal, dear. Don't pretend that you're not sleeping together just for my benefit. I'm not stupid."

The shy look I gave her was the real deal, and just in time – it replaced one of shock; oh shit...

"I think I'll have a drink, also," her son said. "Jason, could I see you in the kitchen, please?"

As we headed there, Olivia sat back on the couch, sipping her martini, not a care in the world.

"She can't stay here!" I whispered in a slight panicky voice, as soon as we were out of earshot. "She'll find out for sure!"

"If that bloody conference hadn't been here, there wouldn't have been any problem. Damn it," he hissed, nervously combing his hair with his fingers.

I didn't think he could get nervous. I didn't like it; he was the brains behind all of this.

"What do you want to do; tell her the truth?" I asked.

His head shot up.

"No! We can't, not now."

"Well, when she sees my luggage in the guestroom; she won't need a degree in detective work to figure things out."

He sighed, biting his lower lip as he thought.

I leaned against the counter, setting my hands on either side, and waited for some genius solution. I doubted he could come up with one that fast, but, and thank god, I underestimated him.

"Okay, here's what we'll do," he whispered. "I'll tell her that I'm going to change into something more casual and get your luggage to my bedroom. You keep her attention, so she doesn't see it. We'll take it from th..."

"Michael? Jason? What's taking so long? That drink of yours is certainly taking a long time," Olivia's voice sounded closer than it should be.

Before I could react, Michael took a step forward and lifted me up on the kitchen counter.

"Play along," he said.

He cupped my face with his hands, tilted his head and brought it closer, just as Olivia's footsteps could softly be heard approaching.