Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (6 page)

     
The following
morning, I walked through the doors of the Luxadigm at exactly noon, just as
instructed. It was significantly more crowded at this time of day, and also
much brighter even though the clouds prevented any direct sunlight. The lovely
blonde at the information desk, whose name I learned was Samantha Field, was
waiting for me with a few papers - one of which was the contract that went over
the details Mr. Desmond had presented me with yesterday.
Hm…I never did get
around to looking him up last night
. Another was a form I had to fill out so
I could get my own badge. The rest contained information regarding rules and
regulations.

     
Knowing that I
would have to get my picture taken, I made sure to keep my makeup as natural as
possible again.
Contracts, badges, turnstiles, and guards…Things are taken
really seriously around here.
Overall, it was a fairly simple process and
took no more than a few minutes. Samantha was extremely friendly the entire
time, albeit a little shy.

     
"Alright,
you're all set," she said. "If you step outside, a man named Douglas
will be waiting for you."
These people are really organized.

     
"Thank
you," I smiled in earnest.

     
When I opened
the doors of the building I had to shut my eyes. The sun may have been hiding,
but it still hurt. Having spent so much time indoors, I was now extremely
sensitive to the light. Rarely did I ever go anywhere at this time.

     
"Miss
Myers?" I heard my name being called when I was almost to the sidewalk.
Using my hand as a shield, I peeked out in front of me, focusing my attention
on a young man standing in front of a black car. According to the logo on the
back, it was a Porsche Cayenne. I had no idea what the Turbo S that followed
stood for, but it sounded fierce. The man's hair was a medium brown, but with a
reddish tint. His eyes almost appeared to be the same color, only a little
darker. He looked at me expectantly and I was instantly reminded of Dale.
Good,
it'll make this much easier.

     
"Are you
Douglas?" I asked.

     
"Yes,
ma'am," he nodded with a smile that gave way to the most adorable set of
dimples I had ever seen. I wanted to ask how old he was, but I held my tongue.
He was definitely older than me, though I wasn't sure by how much. Ever so
gracefully, he moved to open the back door and held it open.

     
"If you
please," he said when I just stood there blinking.

     
"Oh, thank
you." I quickly hopped in.

     
He shut the
door behind me and made his way into the driver's seat. As I buckled my
seatbelt, I wondered how often he drove temporary extras like myself around.

     
"There's
an art supply store not too far from here. I've been instructed to accompany
you inside and pay for the items," he explained as he pulled onto the
road.

     
He's a
babysitter?
"So I don't go off spending company money on bonbons and
booze?"

    
He glanced at me
through the rearview mirror and spoke in absolute seriousness, "Mr.
Desmond made it very clear that we should get whatever you might need to be
able to work comfortably. If your comfort requires bonbons and booze, I'd be
more than happy to get them for you. However, I'm not sure about the rules
regarding alcohol in the building."

     
"As it is,
I don't actually drink so that won't be an issue."

     
"Bonbons
it is then, ma'am."

     
Just as
instructed, Douglas did his job diligently by following me around with perfect
patience while I gathered everything I needed. He was very handy when it came
to items that were on shelves much too high for me to ever be able to reach, as
well as when it came to carrying the smaller paint cans, and then again when he
helped me estimate how much paint I might need to fully cover the surface of
the walls I would be working on.

     
When he lifted
a stack containing three large tubs of paint onto the top of a shelf with
little effort, I realized that he was actually much stronger than he originally
appeared to be. I began observing him more carefully after that.

     
As we continued
making rounds throughout the store, I became more suspicious with every passing
moment. He kept a polite distance from me, but never allowed me to stray too
far away. If you weren't paying too close attention, he came off as being
completely at ease, probably due to the calm and relaxing aura he gave off. But
his eyes were always on the alert, constantly checking our surroundings for who
knows what. And when he appeared to be distracted, I could still feel him
watching my every move. Yeah, this guy was definitely more than just a driver.
My suspicions were confirmed when I asked him outright.

     
"Can you
fight, Douglas?"

     
He looked
puzzled for a moment, but recovered easily. "When needed."

     
"Can you
fight
well
?"

     
"I was
trained to be able to, ma'am," he answered impassively.

     
I nodded and
absently wondered if he was carrying a gun on him.

     
By the time we
returned to the car, I had with me a bucket of primer, glaze and varnish, plus
a number of small cans of paint, multitudes of different brushes and sponges,
some chalk, a few palettes, tape, and drop cloths for the floor.

  
   
After putting the last bag into the trunk, I
crossed my arms and bit my lip. "I'm going to need a ladder. I don't think
it will fit in here, though."

     
"We can
always have it sent over," Douglas suggested.

     
We walked over
to the hardware store across the lot. Rather than getting a ladder, I opted for
a rolling scaffold, as it would make things much easier. Douglas was able to
set it up to be delivered directly to the Luxadigm. By this time, I was feeling
forever grateful towards the man.

     
"There's
just one other place I need to go," I said as we headed back to the car.

     
"Bonbons?" Douglas guessed.

     
I laughed.
"Something like that."

     
"Whatever
it is," he said with a small nod.

     
"I'd
rather not spend company dollars on unnecessary things." Not to say that
what I wanted to get wasn't needed. On the contrary - I would never be able to
start working without it. "You can wait in the car. Or take a break. Or
just...do whatever it is you do. I shouldn't be too long."

     
"If you
insist. I'll wait right here for you."

     
I hurried into
the department store to pick up a dock for my iPod. Mr. Desmond had said that
the corridor was mostly empty, so hopefully a little music wouldn't bother
anyone. Deciding to take his advice, I figured I might as well pick up some
comfort items, as well. I slipped a fuzzy pink blanket into my basket. It was
soon followed by a pillow, a stuffed rabbit, a pack of cloth headbands and hair
ties, a heavy case of water, and a darling white apron with the perfect amount
of ruffle around the edges - not so much as to be considered a costume, but not
so little that it might as well be nonexistent. While waiting in line, I also
grabbed a couple packs of mints.

     
As soon as
Douglas caught sight of me returning to the car, he came to take my bags.

     
"You're
too nice," I said.

     
"Just
doing my job, ma'am."

     
"If I can
call you Douglas, can't you call me Daphne? Ma'am makes me feel old." I
had no qualms about this man knowing my name. It meant a lot to me that I was
able to be around him so easily. Besides, if he worked for Desmond, chances
were that he already knew it.

     
"My
apologies, Miss Myers," he replied with a pleasant smile.

     
I sighed.
So
professional.

     
By the time we
returned to the building it was nearly two. Douglas helped carry the bags all
the way up to the top floor. I felt excited, intimidated, and completely out of
place while making my way through the lobby. Sort of like a kid whose parent
had dragged them along to work because there was no babysitter available. I
didn't belong here at all, and it must have shown, although most of the looks
we received were aimed towards Douglas, who had bags hanging from and piled
within both arms, one of which contained my blanket. When the mass of pink fuzz
fell out onto the ground just before we reached the elevator, I quickly dove to
get it. Rather than put it back in the bag, I held it close.

     
"Are you
sure you don't want me to carry any of those?" I asked.

     
"It's no
trouble at all, Miss Myers."

     
Patricia
greeted us both kindly when we passed by her desk.

     
When we got to
my new workspace, I was surprised to see my scaffold standing alone in the
middle of the room.

     
"That was
quick…I figured they would have left it in the lobby."

     
Douglas
carefully set the bags down and stood up, stretching his arms and fingers.
"Is there anything else you need assistance with, Miss?"

     
The poor man
must've been bored out of his mind with having to put up with this nonsense.
"No. Oh, um… " I just remembered that I hadn't eaten yet. "Do
you know of any nearby places to eat?"

     
"If you're
hungry I can pick something up for you while you get set up," he offered.

     
Wow, this guy
was dedicated. "No, I'm good. I just…"

     
He tilted his
head then, studying me. Whatever he was looking for, I didn't want to give him
the time to find it.

     
"Never
mind. Thank you so much for your help today."

     
"Not at
all. If you need help with anything, you can ask Mrs. Carnell - Patricia
Carnell, Mr. Desmond's assistant," he added when he noted my puzzled face.

     
"Oh,
right."

     
He smiled and
bowed his head. "Until next time, Miss Myers."

     
Suddenly he was
gone, and it was just me in the white room surrounded by a mess of bags. I
quickly scanned over the area, trying to figure out my game plan.

     
The first thing
I set up was the dock. I sat on the floor and tore the box open like it was
Christmas morning, squealing inwardly with delight. When I remembered I wasn't
at home, I looked around nervously. It wasn't enough to be in a closed-off
area. I needed more privacy, so I shut the door.

     
After taking
one long look at the scaffold, I knew what had to be done next. Its mustard
yellow coloring hurt my eyes. I connected my iPod to the dock and played some
music before carefully setting up the drop cloths onto the ground. Then I began
organizing the art supplies, placing them neatly in the corner. When I was
finished, I grabbed a white can of paint and began working on the scaffold.
The
mustard yellow must go.

     
About forty
minutes later, I was finally done. I could have rushed it, but I wanted it to
look as though it had always been white. With the help of some glaze, it looked
very natural.
Maybe I should add polka dots. Or maybe swirls.
It was
then that I realized I was just avoiding my real work. But I wasn't ready to
start painting the walls just yet. I loved my idea, but something about it felt
incomplete.

     
When my stomach
growled, I checked time. It was now after three.
Guess I'll have to wait
until I get home to eat.
Without really thinking, I climbed up the scaffold
and carefully lied down on the upper platform.

     
The glass above
was so clear that it almost seemed nonexistent.
Not a single drop of pigeon
poop. Does it get cleaned often or do birds not fly around here?

     
The clouds were
heavy in the sky now, moving at a much faster pace and looking as though they
had been dipped into a pool of water. But there was a break in some points
where the sun's light appeared, a golden peach showing instead of the thick,
cool blue. It was familiar to me. Peaceful. And from this high up, it almost
felt as though I were part of it. Like I was drifting on my own solid rock of a
cloud. As my body fell limp, I could feel myself drifting upwards, higher and
higher. Any more and I might just find myself at the gates of heaven. With my
eyelids half-closed, I could almost see cherubs floating above me.