“Well…” Jared said, letting his voice trail off.
“Speaking of which, what’s going on in your love life?” the second hostess cut in. “You’ve been linked with a string of starlets and singers. Is there anyone special occupying your time?”
Jared smiled. “Don’t believe everything you read. I mostly hang out at home, reading or working on music.”
“You were named one of the top ten bachelors of the year by Seven magazine recently,” the male host said. “I have a feeling being young, rich, and single doesn’t suck, does it?”
Another smile. “It has its benefits,” Jared conceded, and my heart sank. Even though I knew he was putting on an act, his not mentioning that he was seeing someone hurt like a knife to the gut.
“If you’re going to be in New York for a while, I have some free time,” the first hostess said.
“Me too,” the second chimed in.
“Me three,” the male host quipped, and the audience roared with laughter.
After the hubbub died down, the first hostess placed a hand on Jared’s thigh and leaned into him. “Jared, I’m hoping I can convince you to play a song for us. I know I’m not the only one who’d do just about anything to hear you sing.”
“If you can find a guitar, I’d be happy to,” he agreed.
The male host perked up. “Well, we have something better than that, Jared. Someone you know was in one of the other studios, and our stage manager convinced her to come help you with your song! Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Lindsey Voss!”
More clapping and cheers, and a striking brunette with legs that went to her chin, wearing black vinyl pants, a yellow top, and dominatrix heels, strutted onto the set with an acoustic guitar. I nearly choked on my coffee when she plopped down beside Jared, she and the hostess bookending him, a smile of contentment on his face.
“How you been, Jared?” she purred, her voice husky and full.
“Just fine, Lindsey. You’re looking good,” he said.
“You too, Jared. Better than ever.”
She strummed the guitar, and then they launched into a song, she taking the harmonies on the chorus while Jared sang the verses. My cheeks were burning through the performance, and my fingers moved to my neck as Jared and Lindsey serenaded each other on national television. The camera closed in on them, and I was struck by how beautiful she was, how flawless her features were, and how bright her eyes. A pang of despair lanced through me at the sight of them singing, obviously bonded. What was I doing in a hotel room with Jared? I wasn’t anything like Lindsey. She was magazine perfect, as were the hostesses, both of whom would have stopped traffic anywhere in the world, both clad in designer clothes. And here I was with my blotchy neck and plain features and hick ways. Who was I kidding?
I tried to shake off the doubts as they finished the song, and rose to shut off the TV. I’d seen enough to last a lifetime. I tried to talk myself down from the sadness flooding through me, and I nearly succeeded. I reminded myself that I was Jared’s reincarnated soul mate. Beautiful faces came and went. I was making a mountain out of nothing – Jared was acting and flirting for the cameras. It was his job, and of course he would make it look convincing. I was completely overreacting to a nonevent.
All logical and true, but the niggle of doubt that remained felt like a poisoned seed inside me, threatening to grow until it blossomed. Jared said we were soul mates – but who exactly was we? While I’d only known Jared a short time, whatever it felt like, his memories of me went back hundreds of years – to someone else who had loved lobster and apparently preferred panthers to horses.
I padded to the bathroom and frowned at my reflection, mentally contrasting myself with Lindsey’s charismatic glow. She couldn’t have been much older than me, and she was already a star in her own right, a knockout, talented, and charming as they came. And what was I? I couldn’t sing to save my life, I felt awkward most of the time, and I hadn’t accomplished anything but earn a scholarship to a bridge school in the middle of nowhere. What could Jared possibly see in me? Other than the ghost of a reincarnated being who felt like a competitor to the real me right now.
My gaze drifted to a plastic easel by the soaps, where the spa’s many enticements were displayed. I remembered Jared telling me I should get a massage, and steeled myself.
“Might as well. Probably never going to be at the Plaza again,” I murmured, and moved back into the suite to make an appointment. To my surprise, the attendant said to come right down, that they had a free masseuse available and would prepare a table for me.
I took the elevator to the spa, where a heavyset woman greeted me with a professional smile and led me to the massage rooms. A Thai masseuse explained the process to me, and after I undressed, she went to work on my back, each prod and knead eliciting groans. I tried to let my dark thoughts drift away, but they lingered like a bad smell throughout the massage. No matter how I tried, the little voice in my head that always skeptically evaluated things was working overtime, pointing out that what Jared apparently had loved best about me were things I couldn’t even remember. Hadn’t actually experienced.
When the masseuse finished with me, I still felt anxious and a little depressed, even if my muscles were relaxed. I signed the bill, adding a generous tip, and returned to the room, lost in thought.
Jared was sitting by the window when I opened the door, and looked up at me with a worried expression. “Where were you?”
“I got
