Page 30 of Sex, Lust & Lingerie

CHAPTER 18

Gloria

Iwas already in comfy sweats when my cell phone rang. Revitalized from the shower, I sprinted downstairs to answer it. My heart skittered. I hoped it wasn’t Jaime. Or Victor. Reaching into my purse, I sighed with relief when I saw on the screen that it was Kevin. I hit answer.

“Glorious, I have to cancel the pity party. All hell is breaking loose. The Associated Press picked up the Times story, and it’s going to be everywhere tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I’m going to be glued to my phone and computer all night dealing with this.”

“I’m so sorry, Kev. No worries about tonight. And besides, I should go to bed early. Tomorrow’s going to be a living nightmare.”

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“No, I’ll be okay.” Oh, my Kev! Always there for me.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

A faint smile played on my face. “I’ll call you if I need you. Good luck with everything, and let me know of anything major.”

After exchanging good-byes, I took my phone with me and wandered over to my kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door. Having been away for over a week, it was almost bare. Tilda, my longtime housekeeper, had done a thorough sweep of all my leftover business meals and minimal groceries. There wasn’t even any milk for my morning coffee. All that remained was a half-drunk bottle of wine from my last pity party with Kevin and a small chunk of brie cheese. I bit into the cheese and washed it down with a gulp of wine, straight from the bottle. I polished off the rest of it and then headed back upstairs.

I was wiped out. Usually, I had a nighttime beauty routine that consisted of washing my face and slathering my body with our moisturizer. Not tonight. Not even bothering to take off my sweats, I sunk into my bed and snuggled under the thick duvet. I placed my phone a quick arm’s reach away from me on the night table and then turned off the light. The twinkling lights of the city flickered on the walls. I didn’t use blackout shades or blinds because I was afraid to sleep in total darkness by myself.

But tonight, I was also afraid to go to sleep because I dreaded waking up in the morning. I was going to have to deal with all the negative press and the wondering looks of my beloved employees. And then there would be a bombardment of emails coming in from store managers and vendors from around the world, inquiring about the future of the company and my own.

Sleep finally claimed me, but not for long. I descended into another kind of darkness.

The song “Gloria” is blasting. Sky-high flames engulf a long runway. Familiar faces flicker in the flames. Once supermodel angels, they’re now monsters, their red lipstick-smeared faces distorted and deformed, horns sprouting from their heads. Like a Greek chorus, they chant Gloria over and over.

“Take your final bow, Gloria.” The voice is sinister. I recognize it. Victor!

Naked, I hesitantly step onto the runway. The flames surround me, licking at my flesh.

An apparition appears before me. Vivien! She’s clad in a black leather corset, fishnet stockings, mile high black boots, and wielding a whip. “Soon, they’ll be singing my name!” She snaps her whip at me and cackles.

I cry out in pain. My flesh burns. I run away from her before she strikes again.

In the distance, ahead of me, a God rises from the flames. Jaime! The flames lick at his bare sculpted body, but he’s immune to their lethal flicks.

“Gloria, come for me,” he calls out, his voice a deep rasp.

I want to run into his arms. Run to safety!

I pick up my pace, propelling my legs to run as fast as they can. My limbs are burning and so are my lungs. No matter how far or fast I run, I cannot reach Jaime.

“Suffer, Gloria!” another voice from behind me calls out.

I steal a glance over my shoulder. Another hideous monster! Crimson blood pours out from two apertures bracketing his snarl. His eyes glow pink.

“Nobody steals from Boris Borofsky!”

He’s after me. Oh, God, why can’t I run faster?

My punishment: just like the lyrics of the song, I’m always on the run now.

Running away from Victor. From Vivien. From Boris.

Running after Jaime. But no matter how much I run, I never get closer to him. The runway from hell never ends.

Oh the pain! My legs, my lungs, they hurt so much!

But not as much as my heart, that aches for the man of my dreams. “Oh, Jaime!”

“Gloria!” he calls out to me, his arms open wide.

The choir: “Gloria, Gloria, Gloria, Gloria…”

Writhing, I snapped my eyes open and clapped my hands to my ears. The voices in my head wouldn’t stop. “Stop it!” I screamed. At last, they faded. My breathing was harsh, and I was bathed in cold sweat. Fear rippled through me. My dream…it was symbolically telling me something. I had to face the reality that the world was coming down upon me. Hell awaited me.

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