The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 11

After the first date with Levant getting home, Rachel's phone required some serious explaining. Denver had worked it all out on the long walk back. He had told his mother that he had been given money to babysit a phone because someone had been stalking a person named Rachel. Rachel had given her phone to Denver to convince the stalker that she was in San Francisco and to deal with anyone who turned up. The phone babysitting came with some cash, so at least the medical bills could be covered.

Over the following weeks, Denver followed Levant's travels on Rachel's phone. Levant flew all over the world, leaving tracks over America, Europe, Russia, and China. Levant would take pictures of faraway places that Denver thought only existed in fiction and fantasy movies. Levant would lace the photos with comments before sending them.

Meanwhile, at odd hours, Rachel would receive questions from Charlie.

"WOULD YOU BE OKAY WITH PIERCINGS? EARRINGS?"

"No," Denver texted back.

'WOULD YOU CONSIDER HRT?'

'No.'

'WHAT IS YOUR RING SIZE?'

'How do you find out?'

Denver would text Charlie, and sometimes she would respond. She seemed busy, and sometimes missent him detailed instructions for events happening in the hotels. As far as Denver could tell, she had been promoted to run all of Levant's hotels in the bay.

One wet morning, Charlie had sent Denver a photo of herself. She had gotten a short pixie haircut and asked what Denver thought of it. Denver was non-committal; it was supposed to be cute but looked a little man-ish for Denver's liking.

"I have a team of 60 men and women working for me, that's the point," Charlie texted back.

The forth dinner invite happened three weeks later. Denver was playing a game on Rachel's phone when the text appeared.

'FREE FRIDAY AT THE THORNBURY?' Levant had said. Just that.

'SURE' Rachel texted back. 'DOES THAT MAKE ME SOUND TOO EASY?'

Within seconds of texting back OK, Denver got a stream of planning texts from Lucy the secretary, and then Charlie. They would send a limo to pick Denver up.

Friday came, and Denver stood in an alley far enough away from his house. He was nervous. He was hungry - there was another weight target that he had starved himself to reach. A few minutes after the appointed time, the limo arrived, and the door opened. Charlie was sitting there in the back. She seemed dangerous and inviting. Looking both ways, Denver slipped through the doorway to sit next to her.

Charlie was wearing slacks and basic business attire. The collar of her shirt was large and as stiff as cardboard. She smiled; she had toned down the makeup but still looked wonderful. She gave off an androgynous vibe. Charlie kissed Denver, then got down to business.

"Beth can't make it tonight, wedding. Do you want me to call someone else up, or if you like, I can follow the design?"

Denver looked at Charlie. She seemed pleased to see him, not as much as he was to see her, but still positive.

"Um, would you mind? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with someone new seeing me," Denver said as the city slid by in a new way.

Charlie smiled. "Yeah, I'm good. The fewer people who know, the better. Mr. Levant isn't sure he wants this public knowledge either."

"You look different," Denver said, looking at Charlie's short hair.

"Yeah," Charlie said. "I wanted something, you know, modern. I hadn't expected how many of the staff stopped addressing me by my first name and started calling me Miss Bechtel or Madam. Ever since I cut my hair, I feel more able to, you know, get people to do stuff. My friend Samantha likes it. Logan says he thinks it's pretty sexy. Very Annie Lennix he said. What do you think."

"I kind of preferred it how it was," Denver said.

Charlie looked at him "You really don't know how to talk to women about their hair do you?" She said sardonically and didn't speak for the rest of the trip.

****

They arrived at the hotel together and emerged at an official vehicle entrance. Denver felt excited like electricity flew through the very air around him. They approached the desk and asked for Denver's case using Rachel's card. They retreated through to the suite on the fourteenth floor. Things were becoming more routine. Denver went into the bathroom and after a shower, shaving and careful pushing and prodding, Rachel emerged.

Charlie had found a new dress for Rachel. This one was silver with a short skirt, which suited her. It was slightly more muted than the sequin contest dress and less casual than the little black dress. Rachel pulled it over her tights and walked around in front of the mirror in the bathroom.

"Levant found it in Paris," Charlie announced.

Rachel noticed the way it brought out the curve of her artificial hips. "He has quite a nice eye."

"He has a buyer," Charlie said, quietly examining the sketch in the makeup instructions that Beth had left.

"I love the way you exist to suck the romance out of things," Rachel said posing in the mirror. With the padding, she looked quite curvy, chic, and fun.

Charlie practically rolled her eyes. "Sit down, put the apron on, and let's get cleansing."

Rachel sat before the mirror and calmly watched as Denver slowly disappeared and Rachel came into sharp focus. While Charlie worked, she got interrupted by a number of calls.

"Rachel" Charlie said after another one. "I'm going to have to jump in a taxi and cross town to sort out a wedding crisis. Would you mind going down to the nail bar for finish up? Mimi's down there holding the fort by herself.

Rachel shrugged "Sure."

***********

There was still an hour before dinner when Charlie had left to troubleshoot across town. Normally, Charlie would give more lessons on how to act like a woman, but tonight Rachel had to content herself with solo practice walking in a new pair of slightly higher heels. Heavily made up and wearing a wig, the mirror showed Rachel as a sophisticated and urbane young woman, ready for an evening of suave entertainment with Levant. After pulling on a silver ring, Rachel power-walked to the mirror by the suite door. Anyone would have to be emotionally vacant not to raise an eyebrow at her passing. Feeling high on confidence, Rachel emerged from the suite. She remembered how terrified she had been just a few weeks ago, but in the playground of the Thornbury, Rachel felt confident that no one would challenge her. She strode confidently out. As soon as the door clicked behind her, she internally swore at herself. She had left the key card in the room, and only Charlie had the other. With more than an hour on her hands before dinner, Rachel took the elevator down to the nail bar where Mimi was waiting.

Rachel looked at Mimi. Denver, like most of the boys in his dark hood, would find her disturbing. Possibly not disturbing but alien and ungodly. Denver's mother had a lot of Biblical beliefs. Rachel felt different from Mimi. Rachel was dressing up, and there was nothing wrong with a Halloween costume that kept Granpa in oxygen. Mimi, on the other hand, seemed to desire men. The unnaturally of it mildly revolted Denver. Rachel knew it wasn't polite to talk about it, but there were still things that were still just wrong. There was one thing doing this for money but for Mimi it was a choice. In Denver's hood, someone like Mimi might have got a cap in her parts. Still, she seemed like a nice person, so bright and bubbly.

Mimi worked carefully and with precision as they passed pleasantries.

"You look good tonight. Levant lucky man. I thought I wouldn't see you anymore," Mimi said.

"Yeah, me too," Rachel replied, practicing her English accent. "You got a job?"

"Yeah, me good. Boyfriend. Flat. Saving for my big operation, only in America" Mimi said.

Rachel flinched invisibly at the idea and wondered how to respond.

"What do you think he sees in me?" Rachel asked as the last nail was attached.

"I don't know," Mimi said. "Maybe you look like his mother or something."

Now, with nails now a sharp shade of blue, Rachel found herself drifting to the entrance space passing the still-open flower shop. Rachel inhaled as she passed the small rainforest of wonderful orchids the lingering bouquet was a bright painting in fluid aromas. Rachel checked her handbag again looking for the missing key card and failed.

Back in the atrium again, and with some time on her hands, Rachel was able to appreciate the entrance. It had been built in a larger, more grandiose age. The atrium occupied a huge space and might have at one point been an outdoor space. At some point, someone with a love of art nouveau had ordered the construction of a large glass arch over the atrium. It was made from ironwork painted green to match the metal foliage which appeared at the top of the columns. The most eye-catching thing was the two large sweeping staircases which led up to the second floor. The ground floor, once the home to swooning ladies in ball gowns, now hosted some brasseries. The first floor offered a balcony that allowed people to look down from the railings and pass judgment on those below.

Rachel was walking past the concierge Hector, when her phone vibrated. It was Charlie.

"YOU SHOULD BE IN THE RESTAURANT." The text said.

"I'M GOING THERE NOW," Rachel said, walking to the nearest elevator.

"HURRY UP," Charlie said.

"Is he waiting?" Rachel asked,.

"LUCKILY FOR YOU, HE'S RUNNING LATE. GET IN THERE, DO YOUR STUFF. I HAVE TO RUSH TO DEAL WITH STUFF, AFTER A WATER LEAK ACROSS TOWN. I'LL BE BACK NEAR TEN. THEN WE CAN HAVE A GOOD TIME. I HAVE SOME FUN IDEAS FOR THINGS WE CAN DO. IT'S GOING TO BE GOOD."

Rachel walked in and headed to the empty table where Levant had sat before. She settled in the tub chair and called for the waiter. A few minutes later, the waiter arrived with a drink in a conical glass.

"Martini, madam," the waiter said. "Compliments of the management."

"Sure" Rachel said not sure what she was accepting.

Rachel waited. Frustrated, she resisted the temptation to take out her phone and play a game on it. This was not what Levant was paying for. Rachel tried the Martini and wondered if anyone would notice if she spat it out. She wondered for a moment if this was some kind of test. Was Levant watching and wondering if she would check social media? Guessing that this was a test, she did. Levant had tweeted twenty minutes ago about a construction project on the other side of town. She liked the tweet and then used the map to figure out the travel time, he had three minutes this time of day.

Soon a shadow fell on her periphery, and Rachel, presuming it was Levant arriving, turned around smiling. She was quick enough to notice the reporter Kitty in the blue dress stumbling. The reporter's red hair flashed by as she fell forwards putting her hand on the table to stop herself. Rachel wasn't quick enough to stop the reporter from falling to the floor next to the table.

"You OK?" Rachel said, reaching down.

The reporter's unbraided red hair was spilled, flowing freely all over her bare shoulders. She reached up and put her hand on the table to steady herself.

"Yeah, sorry. Dumb choice of heels," the reporter apologized as she got up.

"Been there," Rachel said.

For a moment, Rachel watched the reporter walk away. Half of her mind was thinking that the reporter had a very desirable cute ass. The other half of her mind wondered what the make of the skirt was that made it move that way. Then, looking down to pick up her phone, Rachel noticed a small business card next to it. It was in the exact place where the reporter had put her hand down to steady herself. Rachel recognized the card. She had a folded, duplicated version of it in a jacket. Hunter's name was on the back of this one, along with a note in pen on the front.

"R. I'M IN THE RESTAURANT ACROSS THE ROAD IN THE 'LIMEHOUSE YACHT CLUB'. WHY NOT JOIN ME? H."

Rachel automatically scrunched the card up in her hand. As she did, she noticed the slightly familiar shape of Lucy ambling up to the table carrying a bushel of white orchids.

"Compliments of Mr. Levant," Lucy said, handing them over. "He has been unfortunately detained at a building site. He sends these flowers and apologizes. Please drink or eat anything you like for dinner if you wish, compliments of Mr. Levant. Oh, and I got you this..."

With orchids, she handed over a white card It was for a spa day.

Rachel held the flowers. "Are these from the shop downstairs?" Rachel said, smiling. "So cool. I was thinking about how lovely they looked. Please thank Mr. Levant for his kind thoughts and the flowers."

Lucy kept a professional mask on her face nodded and left.

Rachel felt slightly deflated by the news. Levant was getting interesting, now it was like hearing the episode you were watching would be delayed for two weeks.

Then, as Lucy walked away, Rachel wondered if she had sounded like a bitch to the PA. A text came from Levant.

"GOT THE FLOWERS?" Levant said.

"YES," Rachel sent back in character, "THEY'RE DELIGHTFUL. I'M TREATING THIS AS FULFILLING MY END OF THE AGREEMENT."

The message came back immediately. "GOOD. YOU DO THAT. I ALWAYS HOLD UP MY END OF A CONTRACT. WILL CONTACT YOU SOON. HAVE ONE FOR ME. XX"

Rachel's shoulders slumped under her jacket top. "Uh."

She had been starving herself for a week to get ready for tonight. In theory, she should be pleased; she didn't have to do anything for the cash. Then she paused. What would Charlie do? They normally celebrated Rachel's success, what now? Then Rachel remembered that Charlie was across town in one of the other hotels and wouldn't be back until eleven. She also had the key to room 1442. Rachel thought for a moment. She could sit out dinner on her own, looking abandoned and being waif-like. That would leave a couple of hours to hang around the hotel. Or she could change back to go home and spend some time on the PlayStation. Mother would notice, and there would be no excuse for the money, plus no Charlie. Then there was how to get back into the hotel room with out the key-card.

Rachel briefly thought about drifting around the shops on the first floor. She could probably grab something and charge it to the room or Levant, but possibly that was a little too petty. Then a thought dropped into her head.

Rachel unfolded Hunter's business card, typed in the number, and sent a message.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW?" she typed.

"LOOKING AT THE MENU. YOU?" Hunter's message came back.

"I'M COMING DOWNSTAIRS." Rachel typed. "ORDER FOR ME."

"BE CAREFUL. MAKE SURE YOU'RE NOT FOLLOWED." Hunter came back.

"WILL DO. EXCEPT I'VE BEEN TAILED BY CATASTROPHE FOR MOST OF MY LIFE AND HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO SHAKE THEM OFF. SEE YOU SOON."

Without a second thought, Rachel got up and went to the main atrium. Clutch bag in hand, she walked to the entrance where she asked the doorman to call her a cab.

"Take me to the Thornbury North," Rachel said loudly to the driver. She said it loudly enough that the doorman would hear it. According to his tweets, that was where Levant was.

As soon as they pulled smoothly into the traffic, Rachel leaned forward to the driver. "Actually, I've changed my mind. Go around the block and pull up to that restaurant there, the Limehouse Yacht Club. Can you see it? Yeah, that one. Do you mind? Thanks."

She had some tip money in cash in her handbag that covered the fare. She switched off her phone and smartwatch and got out.

Dinner with Hunter

Rachel paid for the taxi using some cash she had taken out for Denver. Getting out, she strode into the sand-blasted brick and glass modernity of the hipster cafe called The Limehouse Yacht Club. Walking under the long yellow banner which wrapped around the restaurant building like a bow, Rachel walked into the restaurant itself. She felt slightly overdressed for the occasion. This place seemed loud, busy, and even happy. Looking around, the guests were sitting on furniture that was carefully distressed to look like simple wooden chairs painted white. They sat nestled like chicks under the mother hen of the white starched linen tablecloths which practically reached the floor. There was a large copper bar covered in baskets with the more decorative and pungent ingredients. Behind the bar, young and crazy chefs in white aprons and even whiter shirts cooked. Rachel looked around.

There, with his back to a mirror, was Hunter. He was sitting in a relatively pensive way. He waved, and Rachel walked over. She still did a double take seeing herself in the mirror. Hunter himself looked in good form. He was healthy, and his eye had noticeably healed. Rachel noticed a slight scar crossing his very firm jawline. He had the kind of handsome face and manner which made you assume there was no chance of him not being attached. He had his jacket off, and you got the strong hint that under that loose shirt was a slim fit body.

"Nice place," Rachel said, taking the chair and sitting down. "Better lighting than a garage."

"Thanks. Glad you could make it," Hunter said.

Rachel nodded her head. "Well, your invitation was so mysterious. How could I resist? How did you do that? Does your department have spies in all the restaurants in San Francisco?"

"No," Hunter admitted. "I'm on an exclusion list. We had to move the reunion dinners. I've had some retired colleagues and other friends keep the place under, shall we say, informal observation. You were spotted in the nail bar, and I came straight down."

Rachel grabbed the menu and began hungrily scanning it.

You know, if you want to keep track of Douglas's whereabouts, you can just follow him on Twitter," she said.

"For a stunningly beautiful woman, I do wonder what you see in him," Hunter said.

Rachel was a bit taken aback by the compliment. She looked up from the menu. Hunter was trying to stare her down. He had intense eyes.

"Well, what I see in him is my business," Rachel said.

Rachel realised that from his seat Hunter had a good view down on the comings and goings of the Thornbury.

Hunter leaned forward slightly. "Which makes me wonder what you're doing here. I thought I was going to be waiting all evening for you. I even brought my iPad and a paper."

Rachel looked up. "I came to prove I'm not being trafficked."

Hunter nodded. "Consider yourself proved."

At this point, a waiter in a black waistcoat on a white shirt and a large brown beard approached them.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Yeah," Rachel began. "Do you have any portion larger than a pheasant's egg? Actually, do you have any dish larger than his fist?" She said, pointing at Hunter's hand.

The waiter smiled. "Why, yes..."

Rachel put her hand up. "OK, I'll have that. And a glass of the house red."

"Unfortunately, I will have to ask Madam for some ID," the waiter began, while Rachel held her driver's license up.

"The usual," said Hunter, and the waiter went off.

"What were we saying?" Hunter began. Rachel looked over, her eyes twinkling in the flickering candlelight.

"You were saying I was a stunningly beautiful woman. I zoned out after that," she replied, a playful smile on her lips.

Hunter let out a small smirk. "Levant isn't who you think he is."

"Well, at the moment, I think he's the devil's stunt double, so I'm not sure if you want me to revise my opinion up. Because, at the moment, the amount I care for him is on par with a used Tampax," Rachel said, her tone slightly sarcastic.

"Do you know what he is up to?" Hunter asked, his eyes scanning the restaurant for any potential eavesdroppers.

Rachel suddenly froze, her gaze darting nervously around the room. She realized she was out of the hotel on her own and was fourteen stories away from the nearest pair of trousers. She felt exposed, like a fish out of water.