Chapter 5: Capitalize Away!

Jill was gawking. She was trying not to, but her suite at the Ritz Carlton was larger than her house, by a mile, massive with sweeping ceilings and a wall of windows that looked over downtown Atlanta. Jill couldn’t help letting her jaw drop as she took it all in, the Mediterranean feel, a luxurious bathroom complete with soaking tub, steam room, glass-enclosed shower with what appeared to be a half-dozen shower heads, a fireplace, and the piece de la resistance, an enclosed patio with outdoor shower and jetted tub surrounded by just enough shrubbery to not give the neighbors a free show. It was a lot to take in particularly as nearly every surface in the suite was bedecked with flowers.

How had Dylan remembered? They hadn’t stayed in touch since high school and yet he’d remembered daisies were her favorite flower. The suite appeared like a field of daisies. It was a sight that took her breath away. Jill leaned forward to touch a flower as a knock sounded at the door. At a trot, she headed to open it. Before her stood a distinguished looking man wearing a suit.

“Hello Miss Caruthers,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Jameson, Mr. Duke’s butler.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said as they shook. Right away she liked Jameson, his accent, his vibe. Beneath his precise manners she could tell was a genuinely nice man. Jill felt a little twinge of jealousy that she didn’t have a Jameson to smooth out the wrinkles in her life.

“Is everything to your liking?” he asked.

Jill rocked on her heels. “Dunno. I suppose I was hoping for a bit more marble.”

Jameson raised an eyebrow.

“I’m joking.”

“As I gathered,” said Jameson with such polish, Jill wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or humored. “Mr. Duke is keen that you should have anything you want for the next week, so do not hesitate to let me know if there is anything we can do.”

Jill bit her lip as she eyed the daisies. “There is something. You’re serious that I can do anything I want?”

“Indubitably.”

She liked the sound of that. So far, all she’d asked for was a Slurpee, which, though a small thing, had been amazing. She’d forgotten how much she liked blueberry blast. But it was time to start thinking big. “I’d like these flowers to be delivered to a nearby assisted living facilities.” Jameson’s thumbs began to furiously tap across his phone screen. “Tell them to be sure that people who don’t get many visitors get a flowers.”

“And when would you like this to happen?”

“Now’s good, but first,” and she pulled her phone from her pocket. “Do you mind taking a few pics for me?”

“Very well,” said Jameson, taking her phone, noticing discreetly her cracked screen. “Okay, smile.”

“Cheese!” said Jill.

“Perhaps now with your hands in the air.”

“Cheese!” she said again.

“What about a leg kick?”

“We could try that.” Jameson took the shot, checked it, and frowned.

“Let me try that again. This time I’m going to try a jump.”

“Let’s give it a go.”

Jill, who worked out daily and had the taut muscles of a gymnast, exploded into the air and at just the right moment, Jameson took the shot. The result was a picture of Jill suspended in air, surrounded by daisies and luxury, her hair flying and her smile wide.

“That, I believe, is the money shot,” said Jameson.

Jill took her phone and looked at the picture. It reminded her of a shoot captured to fill the pages of Vogue. “Holy cow, Jameson! You do good work! I’m definitely posting that!”

“Always happy to be of help,” he said as a knock sounded at the door. “That should be your style team here to ready you for this evening’s festivities.” Jameson opened the door and in walked several people, all apparently accustomed to palatial suites filled with flowers. Not one gawked. After Jameson directed them to the bathroom where they were to set up, he checked his watch. “Anything else?”

Jill bit her lip. “Isn’t cocktail hour five hours from now?”

“It is.”

“Is it really going to take that long to get me ready?”

“One moment,” said Jameson. His thumbs dashed across his phone screen, texting. Jameson looked at Jill. “They say they will need every bit of the five hours allotted.”

She bit her lip again. “But this is my week, right? To do what I want to do.”

“Yes.”

“Which means I get to call the shots.”

“It does.”

“Ask them if two hours would work,” said Jill, aware that while the suite was spacious, it wasn’t so big that she couldn’t walk over to the bathroom and ask them herself. But she preferred it this way. There was something about the style team she found intimidating.

“They say, and I quote, absolutely not.”
Jill looked at her shirt as if trying to assess herself. “Am I really such a big job?”

“In their eyes you’re a five-hour job.”

“Ask them if three will work.”

Jameson sent the text. “They say no, but keep in mind you are in charge.”

Jill’s shoulders shimmied as she considered this. “Then tell them to return in two hours.”

“Very well,” said Jameson and did as asked. She was half expecting the team to glare at her as they walked out, but after setting up their equipment they left without the slightest trace of annoyance.

“Make sure they’re paid for the full five hours.”

“Of course.”

“And find me a cab.”

“We have transportation ready for you,” he said, a note in his voice making it clear that said transportation would not be a cab. Jameson’s phone rang. “Send them in,” he said, and several hotel employees came in to retrieve the flowers “A car is waiting for you at the front entrance. Mr. Duke is in meetings. However, if I were to alert him that you’re leaving, he would likely drop everything to be with you, but these people have waited months to speak with him in person.”

“No, don’t interrupt him,” she said. “Thanks, Jameson.” Jill walked out of her suite, heart buzzing with adrenaline and blueberry blast. Having money at her disposal to do whatever she wanted felt like hundreds of doors opening all at once. She knew she could go on a massive shopping spree, possibly buy a new car. Dylan wouldn’t argue if she did. A diamond ring? She could march into any jewelry store in Atlanta and buy one. Or two. Maybe she’d freak out the owner and buy everything in the case. If she recorded it, it would go viral. She could see the video’s title in her mind. My Day With Dylan Duke’s Money! The views would mount. It might be fun, but she wasn’t a blingy girl. Sure, diamonds were pretty to look at, but they got in the way when putting on latex gloves which she did several times a day at work.

Truth was, her heart didn’t crave jewelry, but it did crave something. As a nurse she had been interested in grassroots measures to provide free dental care to children. Good dental care was something most people took for granted, but as a pediatric nurse she had seen too many children with neglected teeth. It seemed a small thing, but it had a huge impact on the health and wellbeing of children. A pretty smile made a difference in the life of child and yet for too many it was out of reach. Sometimes she wondered why she obsessed over this issue. She wasn’t a dentist or even a hygienist. She was a peds nurse, but there was no way around it. She cared about kids and this issue mattered to her because it mattered to kids.

A spotless Range Rover pulled up to the hotel and a young man with slicked black hair and a ready smile jumped out of the driver’s seat to open Jill’s door. “Here you go, Miss. I’m Rubio. I’ll be driving you around Atlanta.”

“Hey there, Rubio,” said Jill as she climbed the SUV. She took a giant whiff. “Geez, it smells like it just came from the dealership.”

“That’s because it did,” said Rubio, patting the dash. “Mr. Duke is friends with the owner of the dealership. They want him to see what he thinks of this baby. Rubio pulled the Range Rover toward the street. “Where are we heading, Miss?”

“There’s a free children’s dental clinic on Fern and Anderson that I’d like to check out.”

Rubio shook his head. “A dental clinic? I can take you anywhere in this city and you want to go to a dental clinic.”

“Yep,” said Jill as she, out of curiosity, pressed a button. A cupholder appeared.

“Don’t you want to swing by the mall, be one of those ladies with bags from all the shops hanging from her arms?” asked Rubio.

“I’m not much of a shopper.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because all women love to shop. Trust me I have five sisters. They all love clothes. You’re no different.

“Maybe I’m just out of practice because I live in scrubs. Still, we can skip the mall and head to the dental clinic, Rubio. A style crew is going to make me over in two hours.”

“Don’t let them go crazy and give you a pixie cut,” said Rubio, turning onto the freeway.

“No pixie,” said Jill like she was taking notes.

“Don’t let them change you too much. Boss was right. You’re pretty the way you are.”
“Dylan said that?” asked Jill.

Rubio whistled. “That boy got it bad.”

“What do you mean he’s got it bad. What it are you referring to?” asked Jill, leaning forward to get closer to the answer.

“He’s nuts about you,” said Rubio, shaking his head.

Jill’s mind flashed to high school graduation, to Dylan’s valedictorian speech, the circus performers, the camel wearing a sign saying, Marry me! It had all been overwhelming. She hadn’t known what to do. She had liked Dylan, liked spending time with him. He was funny and sweet, and cute in a slightly nerdy way. She liked nerdy. Truth was, she’d liked Dylan since eighth grade when they were in social science together, and she’d wanted him to ask her to prom, but he hadn’t. She had hoped for a balloon bouquet. Makell Wentworth had gotten a balloon bouquet and a poster saying, Time to POP the question. Will you be my prom date? Jill had wanted something like that, not a marriage proposal on the side of a camel. At graduation, as the camel had helped himself to potted plants, someone sitting behind her had started humming the wedding march, and that had been it. She had stood up and slipped out the back, receiving her diploma in the mail instead of in front of her parents. Jill hurried past a memory of her father swearing about what kind of blankety blank blanking kid hires a blanking camel and proposes at a blankety blank graduation!

“He’s got the kind of money that sends lots of girls clamoring,” said Rubio, pulling Jill from her thoughts. “Super models, influencers, actresses, heiresses. He’s dated them all. Some are nice, some not so nice, but I haven’t seen Boss like this with any of them.”

Jill coughed. A thrill was buzzing around inside her and wanting to lodge itself in her throat. “Rubio, Dylan and I are just old friends.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m here because he’s trying to prove to me that I’d get tired of the multimillionaire lifestyle.”
“Sure.”

“He’d do it for anyone.” She knew it wasn’t true, but she said it anyway.

Rubio glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “If one of my sisters were here they’d shake you by the shoulders and say, Wake up! A multimillionaire is crazy for you! He’s rich and a nice guy! What more do you want! Maria, she’s the youngest, might also slap you on the forehead. She can be dramatic.”

Again the buzzing zipped through her. “You really think he’s into me?”

“You’re a Redbull RB9.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a formula one racer. Well, I want to be, and that is my dream car.”

Thoughts swirled in Jill’s mind like dollar bills in a money booth, high school memories of working together until late on homework assignments, Dylan making her laugh until her sides hurt, the ease she’d felt being with him, his kind eyes, crooked grin, the many times she’d googled his name since high school, keeping tabs on his success, the pangs of jealousy when seeing him in a pic with some gorgeous girl, occasionally wondering what her life would have been like if she hadn’t avoided him after his proposal, running into him in Christmas, Florida. That last one she was still wrapping her head around.

She thought of how humbly he’d taken her yelling at him. Wealth hadn’t spoiled him, that was easy enough to see, but what was this feeling that fluttered inside her at the thought Dylan might still have a thing for her? Was it proof she liked him back, or was it his money that appealed to her? His money was alluring, that was for sure. Walking into her palatial suite and having it awash in daisies. It was the sort of thing she would have expected to never experience. It was fascinating how he could make things like that happen. What else could he make happen? An image flashed through her mind of the two of them sunning themselves on a yacht surrounded by azure water with the French Riviera in the distance. The buzzing inside her intensified.

“We’re here,” said Rubio, stopping the car in front of a building that appeared closed. “Stay here, Miss. I’ll check it out.” Rubio hustled over to the glass door to read a message taped to it and hustled back. “It’s closed,” he said.

“Closed?”

“Until further notice due to lack of funding.”
Jill stared at the building. “So disappointing.”

“Anywhere else?”

“No, let’s head back. Actually, swing by 7-Eleven first. I’m telling you their blueberry blast is addictive.”

Jacked up on sugar, Jill returned to her suite where the style team and Jameson were waiting for her. “How was your outing?”

Jill sucked on her Slurpee. “Meh.”
“I take that means things did not go to plan.”

“They did not,” said Jill as a member of the team snapped open a cape and tied it around her neck.

“Mr. Duke has been looking for you.”

Jill’s heart raced from an overload of sugar and happiness. “I thought he was in meetings until the cocktail party.”

“He was,” said Jameson, straightening the cuff of his suit. “He broke away to see you.”

“Oh,” said Jill, as a style team member led her to a reclining chair. After tying back her hair, one leaned her back to the head rest and then, without explanation, applied goop to her face. “Wow! I guess we’re doing this.”

“They had planned on five hours,” said Jameson. “No time to waste.”

A style team member placed cucumbers over Jill’s eyes. Startled, Jill jumped, but not as high as she did when Dylan spoke.

“How’s it going?” asked Dylan.

Jill shot forward in the chair, sending the cucumbers tumbling to the marble floor. “Oh my gosh!” she cried. “What are you doing here?” Goop slid from her face to the cape.

“Just saying hi,” said Dylan, tugging nervously at his collar.

A member of the style crew guided Jill back into the chair, placed fresh cucumbers over her eyes, and, without explanation, inserted aroma-infused cotton swabs in her nostrils. Jill’s goop-covered cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“I’m doing great. Super. No worries.”

“If you need anything, Jameson’s got you covered.”

“Sounds great,” said Jill as the crew removed her shoes, then her socks, and placed her feet in bubbling water. A beat then another passed. “You still there?” she asked, worried he’d caught a whiff of her feet.

“I’m here, but I should probably get back.”

“Bye!” she said. She’d sounded insistent, but she couldn’t help it. She was itching to pull the eucalyptus-laced swabs from her nose, but not in front of Dylan!

“Okay, bye,” he said, and though the cucumbers kept her from seeing, she could sense he was a little sad to go. He wanted to be around her, even when she was covered in goop. The thought both touched and motivated her. No makeup and jeans may have been her go-to, but she was going to glam it up to the max tonight. She wanted to wow him.

“Make me look beautiful,” she said, lifting a cucumber to look the style team member in the eye.

“On it.”

“Don’t give me a pixie.”

“Who said we’d do that?”

“My driver.”

“Tell him to stick to driving. We’re not going to cut your blonde locks, we’re going to capitalize on them.”

“Capitalize away!” said Jill as a style team member took her foot from the warm water, patted it dry, and began massaging it. “Capitalize away!”