Page 129 of Torrid Passion
“It’s hideous.”
“Hey, don’t insult my best disco outfit,” he says before giving me a twirl.
What he means is, his obnoxious green shiny vinyl jacket—unzipped, exposing garlands of tacky gold chains—vinyl leopard print pants, red roller blades and a blonde afro wig.
“My God, you look ridiculous.”
“Well, I couldn’t find hot pants in my size, so this had to do,” he jokes. I crack up at the visual. He approaches until he’s standing right in front of me. “Not to mention, if you look around, you’ll notice people take this seriously.”
He’s right. The women were primping in their best Saturday Night Fever outfits in the change room, but now that Loki mentions it, I see even the men are clad in their disco best.
“Some of these people have a real talent for dressing up,” I note.
“And so do we, my sexy disco queen!” he does this weird robot dance.
I laugh.
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, maybe a little,” he grins.
“Where in the world did you buy all of this?”
“I dropped by a thrift shop a few women at the studio recommended. I was there before they even opened. The skates come from a specialized shop in Venice. By eleven o’clock yesterday morning, I had bought everything.”
“Wow, I bow to your determination,” I say.
“Everything fits?” he asks waving a finger at me.
“Miraculously, yes. How did you know my size? You even got the skates right,” I marvel.
“I didn’t do it alone. I called Red Carpet Ready yesterday morning and it just so happens Stella was walking in from the warehouse. I gave her my number. She patched Hayden and the three of us exchanged a bunch of text messages back and forth. I sent photos and they guided me through the process. And voilà!”
My sneaky cousins were drilling me last night about what’s next for Loki and I, but they already knew. I can just see their grinning faces.
Loki bought me a gold vinyl catsuit with sequined bell-bottoms and matching gold roller blades for my disco debut. I even have a pink afro wig and a gold sequined headband. Very fashionable.
“You did this for me?”
“Yeah,” he says, stroking my cheek.
Any guy can impress you by taking you for a ride in his obscenely pricey car, flashing his––or his daddy’s––money at an expensive restaurant, booking a pretentious VIP lounge or whizzing you to a ritzy weekend getaway. It takes a special kind of man to go the extra mile. Loki has a company to run and yet, he made time for this. Amazing.
My God, the man is a dream—even though he looks like a clown right now.
“I can’t believe those traitors—who call themselves family—never even hinted at it last night.”
“Your cousins were under a tight gag order,” he explains. “I know where they work and I know where they live,” he adds with a dramatic undertone.
“I love your scary voice,” I laugh.
He taps the tip of my nose again. “Ready?”
“To hurt myself or die? No, I’m not.”
“Stop being such a disco drama queen.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’m going to give you a quick 101 lesson and then we’ll take a few laps—slowly—around the floor. In no time, you’ll be a roller derby girl.”
“I doubt it, but thanks for the vote of confidence. You won’t let go, right? You won’t let me fall?” I ask a little worried.
With his fingers under my chin, he lifts my face and gives me a light, sweet kiss. “I won’t.”
