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“There you are,” I hear Lauren’s mom gush. “I’ve walked all over this store. You just took off.”
Holy shit. That was close. And if they are on State Street, then we need to get off State Street.
“I can’t imagine not wanting my mother to be near my friends,” Gemma says. “How sad.”
“Oh, I love her mom, but she’s got a mouth.” I motion with my hand, batting my fingers against my thumb to mimic talking.
“She must not be that close to you if she didn’t know you dyed your hair.” She pauses near an outdoor rack of clothes and lifts a hangar.
“I dyed it recently. Damian loves it.” I lift a dress off the same rack and hold it out, pretending to scrutinize it. “At first, he said it was like he was cheating on me. But now he’s used to it.”
“I could never dye my hair,” she says.
We both hang up the dresses and continue down the sidewalk. I glance behind us to the home goods store entrance. Lauren and her mom have yet to step onto the sidewalk.
“You’ve got gorgeous hair. I’d kill to have that luster.”
“Oh, it’s not that—”
“Do you want to head back, closer to the boys?”
“Sure. But what I was saying is that dying my hair just doesn’t work well. I don’t know that I could ever get that kind of color.”
As I guide her around the corner, off of State Street, my phone vibrates within my handbag. As I dig around in my Louis Vuitton for it, I can feel her eyes on me, studying me. I hold out my phone for her to see.
“It’s Damian,” I say, although she can see the name on the screen. “I had a feeling it was him.” I press the phone up to my ear. “Damian?”
Aware of the need to put more distance between us and Lauren and her mom, I continue walking, hoping Gemma will stop staring and follow.
“Hey. Where are you guys? Rafael needs to go.”Oh, thank god.
“We’re not far from your office. Should I take her back there now?”
I pause and turn. She’s still standing in the same location on the sidewalk, several feet back.
“Rafael needs to go,” I tell her. “I’ll take you to him.”
When the call ends, I dump the phone in my bag. “You ready?” I ask Gemma.
“It’s funny,” she says.
I pointedly push forward in the direction of my car.
“You don’t use video when you speak with Damian. I always answer with video. Rafael wants to see my face. I mean, if we have a connection and it can work.”
“I’m not crazy about video.”
My car comes into view, and I point in the direction we are heading.
“Do you have any photos of you as a blonde? I’d love to see the difference.”
“I’m sure I do.”
“Hand me your phone. I’ll search for them. I want to see this blonde Sophia. I think I can see it. I think I might like it better.”
“Please.” We reach my car, pop the trunk, drop my handbag into it, then slam it closed. “Are you going back to LA tonight?”
She slides into the passenger seat. “I’m not sure.” She texts away as I back out of the spot.
