Ch 11 ~ If The Shoe Fits

Rachel’s simple black sheath dress soaked up the heat of Miami sun as she strolled merrily out of Dylan’s Candy Bar.  When their afternoon meeting had wrapped up, she and James had gone in separate directions before agreeing to rendezvous for dinner.  He headed off to the local cigar shop and she wandered over to investigate the shops near the hotel. 

In all honesty, she’d seen the Dylan’s sign from her room’s window and couldn’t shake the craving for their chocolate dipped Oreo cookies.  She had developed a taste for the confection several years ago, but managed to steer clear of them since they tended to cling to her waist.  However, the little box of treats she now carried in the bright-colored candy bag would serve as a lovely late-night indulgence, she thought.

Her open-toed pumps strolled the promenade of the Lincoln Road Mall with a sturdy tap of their heels as she glanced in the window of one shop after the other.  She adored her pumps – and her dress.  Their classic timelessness suited Rachel to a tee and she had worn both on the streets of Los Angeles and San Francisco with confidence in her fashion choices.

However, the further she walked in the trendy Miami shopping mecca, the more matronly she felt.

Miami was home to the young and beautiful of the world, she thought.  Young and hip women breezed by in their bright colors and sky-high stilettos, shopping bags from the trendiest shops on the stretch dangling from their wrists. 

Those women, the shop window displays, the warm sun, neon lights and palm trees made Rachel itch for something a little more... fun than her classically tailored elegance.  She was in Miami, for crying out loud.  South Beach itself had a world famous night life, full of sexy women salsa dancing all over sexy men.  No wonder she itched. 

Her restlessness was probably more than fashion, she thought.  Even without the salsa music blaring, there was a sexy man on her mind. 

Jon’s persuasive attempts to convince her to cancel her trip had been unsuccessful.  Business was business and Rachel had to fly out with James whether Jon liked it or not.  He was unhappy about it, but he had been temporarily pacified with her promise to speak to him from Miami. 

She wasn’t sure if reconnecting with Jon was the smartest decision she’d ever made, but she couldn’t seem to resist him.  He seemed so determined and earnest in his desire to reunite with her, that she was unable – unwilling, to be more exact – to deny his wishes.  Even if it didn’t work out and he hadn’t changed, Rachel was committed to at least a friendly chat or two.

A smile curved her mouth as she recalled their parting at her front door yesterday afternoon.

Jon had hiked his bag up on his shoulder and stuck out his hand very formally.  “Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Braden.  It’s been a pleasure seeing you and I look forward to speaking to you soon.”

She had stared at his hand like it was a slime-covered iguana and lifted her eyes to his.  “Seriously?”

“Hey, I warned ya, baby.”  He lifted one shoulder in an unapologetic shrug.  “Next kiss is on you.  If you want one, feel free to lay it on me, but if not...  This is what ya get.”

His eyes had sparkled with mischief as he solemnly pumped her hand three times.  The forced formality had made her feel like a charity official.  At the last minute, he softened the formality by touching one finger to his eyebrow in a miniature salute and winking one blue eye before turning to saunter off toward his hired car. 

Don’t get your hopes up, Rachel.  Just because he’s “courting” you again doesn’t mean that this will end any better than it did the first –

Her self-admonishment went incomplete when a window display ripped an involuntary gasp from her throat.  Rachel’s fingers covered her mouth in embarrassment as her eyes riveted on the sexiest shoes she had ever seen – in her entire life.   Black, tan and pale green snakeskin on the tiniest of strappy sandals was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen and she made a beeline for the shop’s entrance. 

She didn’t care how much they cost; she was going to have those shoes.  They simply screamed “fun”.

Rachel strutted out of the boutique feeling much more a part of the Miami crowd than she had before she went in.  The dent to her credit card was substantial, but it didn’t matter.  It was only money and the pleasure she got walking out of the store in those shoes was worth every penny. 

Now she just needed to convince James that their dinner plans should be executed somewhere young, hip, vibrant and loud – the kind of place she could dance her feet off in her sexy new shoes. 

She had just sashayed into the hotel lobby when Jon’s name flashed on the screen of her vibrating phone, and Rachel couldn’t help but be pleased.  It was the first time he had called since they left her house the day before, and she was surprised he’d waited this long.  Okay… maybe she was a little disappointed he had waited this long, but the timing worked out great.  Her fancy new footwear was giving her an ego boost that had been missing as of late, and she was confident that could handle him and whatever he threw her way today. 

“Good day, Mr. Bongiovi!” she answered the call with a sassy lilt while stepping her snakeskin shod feet into the elevator. 

“Hey, baby.  How’s Miami?”

“Humid.”  The response was meant to be a complaint of sorts, but she couldn’t manage to sound displeased about it.

“Ah.  Hot and sticky and you’re happy about it.  I kinda like that.”

“Jeez.  You’ve always had a one track mind.”

“Yanno...  it’s not long ago that I would’ve agreed with that, but not so much anymore  I think you bring the worst out in me.  So… what’re you doin’?”

Jon not perpetually dirty minded and horny?  That might take some getting used to.  In fact, she was having a hard time wrapping her head around that.

“I’ve been shopping.” 

“You hate to shop.  What’s up with that?”

“I just bought the sexiest shoes I’ve ever owned,” she giggled, wiggling her toes as she walked the short corridor toward her rom.  “I paid a thousand prices for them, and I don’t even care.  I feel like a Victoria’s Secret model strutting the South Beach runway.” 

“So you’re hot, sticky and feeling sexy, huh?  Just my luck to be on the opposite coast.”

She tossed her  things on the desk and perched on the edge of the bed, swinging her foot.  “Mm.  Where exactly are you, anyway?”

“Nice segue, doll…” he observed wryly, knowing that she had purposely chosen to ignore his suggestiveness.  She wasn’t ready for that yet.  “Phoenix.  I’m in Phoenix.  I’m just getting ready to do sound check and thought I’d see what you’re up to.   Sounds like you’re having a lot more fun than I am at the moment.”  He offered an audible sigh that easily crossed the miles with its force.  “I hate this part of my job.” 

“What?  Sound check?”

“Nah.  The waiting around and  getting from one place to the next.  Fly in today, fly back out hours later.  At least I’ll be in LA for a couple nights after this.  Sleeping in the same bed more than one night is my personal version of heaven these days.”

Jon.  Bed.  Rachel shook her head, banishing that image from her mind.  She wiggled her toes again, admiring how cute they were adorned with snakeskin.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time once you hit the stage.  Break an arm...leg…whatever it is you’re supposed to break.”  Not cute toes.  Sexy.  Sexy enough to add on a saucy, “And play something for me, mmk?”

She could hear his grin even over the phone.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.   Any requests?”

“I get to pick?  Okay, hmm...  Lemme see...  I’m feeling…. Elvis!   ‘Burning Love’ or something like that.  OOH!” Her lighthearted mood got an extra jolt of ‘light’ at the thought of Jon a la Elvis in Aloha From Hawaii.  “Do you throw scarves at the women in the audience like Elvis did?”

He snorted.  Actually snorted out loud.  In her ear. 

“No, Rachel.  There are no scarves, sorry to disappoint you.”

“Well, you should,” she teased, her face splitting with an accompanying grin at the mental picture.  “I bet people would pay extra for a scarf if you’d wipe the sweat off your forehead with it.  Don’t you remember how crazy the women got when Elvis did that?  I’m tellin’ ya, Bongiovi, there’s a money makin’ idea right there.”

“Lawd, woman…  Schlepping sweaty scarves?  Those shoes have really done a number on you!  I can’t wait to see ‘em.”

It was easy talking to him.  It always had been, even right from the start.  That, at least, hadn’t changed between them.  Call her certifiably crazy or call it new shoe nirvana, but the thought of getting involved with him again suddenly wasn’t such the bad idea it had been yesterday. 

No.  You’re happy and feeling good about yourself.  Don’t commit to something just because you caught a good shopping buzz.  Stick with the silly Elvis conversation...

“Tell ya what.”  Her smile stretched a little further as she threw out a challenge that would never be met.  “You get those scarves for your show and I’ll wear my shoes to see you perform.  Deal?”

“Damn, woman, I had no idea you had a scarf fetish!  I’m not sure how I feel about that, but if it gets me a peek at those sexy shoes, then I’m gonna have to give this some serious thought.  In the meantime, consider it a deal, Rach.”