I've pushed all thoughts of betrayal to the back of my mind, for now.
I'm getting outta here.
Thanks to a sleeping pill I got a straight eight hours sleep. A cold shower invigorated me; and I'm on my way into central Chicago – I want the distraction of the city.
If Kade needs time back in the real world, then so do I.
......
Whilst I walk I observe people going about their day. In their faces I see glimmers of every-day stress: a business man rushes past, late for a meeting; a new mother power walks her baby in a buggy, her face strained by the new pressures of parenthood; a school boy saunters to delay the dread of his school day ahead.
And I envy them all. For although they have their own troubles and strife, they're all blissfully unaware of what lurks beneath them – the Three surgeons, a Triumvirate of Machiavellian minds that want to see a marginalized world, realised.
They want to create a new world order with them as rulers. A world with margins on which they'll banish all who dissent from their worldview. This will include all people who identify as: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender, plus many others who don't subscribe to their narrow narrative.
I stop in the middle of the street and watch the city rush by. And I'm suddenly hit by the potentially catastrophic consequences of this break between Kade and I.
Our relationship goes far beyond romance. We have a responsibility to be guardians of the Three Surgeons. I am The Lady whose job it is to ensure their hell is never unleashed on the world.
Our security has already been breached once. I believe it's not, 'if,' it's breached again, but 'when.' And without Kade I'm not sure I have the confidence, and certainly I don't have the fight to successfully contain whatever hell they'll unleash on all these innocent people that race around me.
......
Needing to pull myself away from these thoughts, I think of ways to make-up.
I mean make-up, the stuff we put on our faces to enhance our features. I'm running low, so I'm on my way to a department store that makes up your face, as an incentive to buy their products – perhaps a little pampering on a make-up stool will ease my mind, a little.
.......
This make-up artist, Pascal, is super handsome, and charming, "You have the most symmetrical face and features I've ever worked on; please don't take this the wrong way but it's as though your face has been sculpted." He says this nervously, and braces for my reaction.
I smile, "You're right, it was – it's a long story."
"Really, can I have the number of your Surgeon?"
"Trust me, you really don't wanna go anywhere near The Surgeon – because you're pretty much perfect yourself."
He steps back to examine his work on my face, "Why thank you, beautiful." He swivels my stool to the mirror and asks, "Well, how did I do?"
"Wow – you got some skills," I say, admiring his flawless work that makes my face smoulder.
"I couldn't go wrong with your canvas," he says, admiring his own work.
This is a new look for me, smokey eyes and a subtle nude lip, it gives me a smouldering look, which even though I say so myself, makes me look real sexy.
......
Back outside, I notice others admiring Pascal's work. Men smile at me. When one older guy winks at me; I smile and glance back shyly. Where as before I found this male attention intrusive, today I welcome it. It's taking my mind off Kade and other things.
