Lori Avocato - Nip, Tuck, Dead

Within a few minutes Goldie snored like a sailor, Miles was watching The View, and I sat by the window praying to Saint Theresa that all would go well for Goldie.

Even from the second floor I could see Lydia walk past the window, and right on her heels was…Olivia Wheaton-Chandler. Although I could see they were talking-make that arguing-I couldn’t read lips. However, Lydia looked furious.

My heart thudded.

The last person I’d seen arguing with Olivia was Ian, who promptly ended up dead a few hours later.

Yikes!

I added a quick prayer for Lydia as the door opened. An orderly said, “We’re ready for Mr. Perlman,” and the day began.

Tears were shed (mine). Goldie snored. And I insisted that Miles be allowed to walk to the O.R. with us.

When we got to the double doors of the surgical suite, we nudged Goldie awake, kissed him on the lips and turned to hug each other. “He’s going to do spectacular, Miles. Spectacular.”

He sniffled and nodded as they wheeled Goldie in. Not that I was happy Ian had been killed, but I was glad he wouldn’t be there to snoop on Goldie’s surgery. Sounded way too perverted.

When I let go of Miles, a hand touched my shoulder. Half expecting Jagger to be standing there, I spun around ready for a friendly hug.

“I’ll take good care of him, Pauline,” Neal said.

My heart did a little dance, which was a hell of a lot more fun than the earlier thudding experience. “I know you will. Thanks,” I muttered, and then introduced him to Miles.

“That’s perfect. We’ll have a wonderful time tonight. Goldie will be in good hands and we’ll…make the rounds of the town.”

Well, damn, didn’t that just make my day?

“He looks like a sleeping angel,” Miles said as he tucked the duvet under Goldie, who snored away with his nose covered in bandages and packed like a traveler’s suitcase-only with surgical cotton packing.

I nodded. “At least he’s comfortable. I couldn’t stand to see him in pain, and I know neither could you.”

Miles wiped his finger across Goldie’s forehead. “No.”

Gold had to go to surgery sans drag, and without his wig, makeup and fantastic smile, he looked so very different, yet so very familiar. I almost suffered a maternal moment. Almost.

Miles turned toward me. “Don’t you need to go get ready for your big hot date? He’ll be fine.”

“I know he will and my date is not a date nor is it hot. It’s just a friend showing me around town.”

Miles looked me in the eye. “Pauline dear, straight guys do not want to be friends with chicks.”

I knew he was right but out of principle smacked him on the arm. “Okay. I’m off. I’ll have my cell on if you need me, but I know you are capable of caring for him.”

“Go.”

I nodded, leaned over and kissed Goldie on the forehead. “You did great, Gold. Just great.”

He muttered something, and I smiled at Miles before heading out the door.

If I thought I changed my outfits a lot to not embarrass myself in front of Jagger, the pile of clothing (every stitch that I’d brought with me including my pink scrubs) lay on the floor at my feet. Naked feet that went with my body. What the hell was I going to wear?

And was I really trying to impress Dr. Neal?

Jeans. I should just wear jeans and clean underwear without worrying about matching colors. The clean part came from-who else?-Stella Sokol. You know the drill. Clean underwear in case you got into an accident. I smiled to myself, missed my family a bit and decided I needn’t make such a big deal about what to wear. After all it was merely a tour of Newport-with a swanky, sexy, hot doctor.

I flopped onto the bed.

“You about ready for dinner, Sherlock?”

For a second I thought I’d dozed off and was dreaming. Then I looked to see that I had on nothing and, knowing Jagger, he probably could see through the wood door.

I flew up from the bed, grabbed the closest things I could-my jogging shorts and tee-stuck them on and walked toward the door.

When I opened it, Jagger looked at me. Was that a grin?

“What? Do I have spinach in my teeth or something?” I held the door and leaned against it, not inviting him in. Hopefully he couldn’t see the pile of my belongings on the floor-because then there’d be questions with embarrassing, I was sure, answers.

He leaned closer. “Or something.”

I pushed at his chest so he wouldn’t come in. “You’re not making any sense.”

He gave me the once-over. After my toes uncurled, I allowed myself to be ticked. Guys.

“Men don’t have to make sense, Sherlock.”

There was a grin. Jagger was in some kind of mood!

I actually laughed. “True. Look, about dinner-”

“There’s a great local place I want to go to. Portuguese. You up for Portuguese?”

I almost said Sure, but instead my sanity returned and I said, “No.”

“Okay. You pick.” He tried to step inside, all the while looking at my outfit.

Maybe the colors didn’t match, but there was no need for him to stare like that. Men in all black were not exactly fashionadas. Sexy as hell, yep. “What I meant was, I’m not picking anything and stop assuming I’m going out to eat with you every night. I have a life.”

I’d never noticed any hint of being taken aback in Jagger, but right now there was a teeny, tiny hint in his eyes. Jagger was surprised that I was busy.

Good!

He moved closer.

I stepped back.

Wrong move. Before I knew it he was in my room, noticing the pile of clothing and about to say something.

I waved my hands in the air. “Don’t even ask. I’m busy. Reorganizing.” I tried to turn him to push him toward the door, but he didn’t budge. Not that that surprised me.

“Busy?”

I let out a long sigh. “Okay, Jagger. As if you didn’t know, I have a date. Yes. A date with Dr. Neal Forsyth, Goldie’s surgeon.”

“And you’ve gone through your entire wardrobe several times and came up with red shorts and a purple tee.”

It wasn’t a question, but I started to explain, but only managed to dig myself deeper. “I’m going to be late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He did turn, and over his shoulder said, “You might want to rethink the underwear issue.”

When the door shut, I yanked off my clothes.

No wonder he was staring.

Oh…my…God.

I’d settled on black slacks, a white top (thanks to Lydia today) and as much silver jewelry as I’d brought with me. When I stepped back from the bathroom mirror, I pronounced myself done. Goldie’s past makeup techniques had made a world of difference for my looks. Very natural. I loved it.

It was then I realized I hadn’t had any makeup on when Jagger’d “surprised” me.

I sighed and thought, So what is new?

The announcer on the radio said it was nearly seven. I decided this small room was nowhere for Neal to come get me so I hurried to get my wallet, cell phone and a tissue, stuck them in my pockets and went outside my room to go downstairs.

Jagger’s door was open. He sat with his legs up on a cushioned ottoman and looked directly at me over his sailing magazine.

Then he gave me a thumbs-up.

I flew down the stairs in delight until I got to the bottom. A thumbs-up to go out on a date with someone else? What nerve!

“I hope old Samuel haunts you tonight,” I mumbled.

The front door swung open. I half expected Neal to be standing there but would have actually been surprised that he would shove the door so. Instead…there was no one.

Yikes.

In my head I offered an apology to Sam, telling him to do what the heck he pleased even if it meant hanging all my clothes back up. Before I could shiver at the thought, Neal, in fact, did appear, looking very suave and handsome in navy slacks, an off-white silken shirt, and I’m sure very expensive sunglasses.