I Do, Don't I?

Chapter Ten

"Ten black Mercedes,” Jude said over to his phone halfway down the building.  The moment we got out of the building, there was a line of ten sleek black cars waiting for us.  I followed everyone to the cars.

     “Uhm,” a man in his forties who was in the meeting earlier, wearing a brown suit, stared at me uncertainly as I followed him to one of the cars.

     “Yes?” I asked brightly.

     “You’re supposed to be at the other car,” he flicked his pointing finger to the fourth car in the line.  I glanced at the direction he was pointing and—oh God.  Everybody was watching us.  Their hands were all paused on the door handle and their eyes trained on me.  God, this is embarrassing.

     I skittered past five cars to my ride, my face felt hot with humiliation.  I immediately got into my car and breathed with relief when my eyes caught to something sparkly on the side.--Oooh!  Champagne!  I probably won’t see them again in a few good hours…

     It was two hours later when we arrived at the road side.  I wasn’t sure if I’ve had too many glasses of complimentary champagne or I was seeing a preview of heaven.

     The ten black vehicles stopped at the roadside.  A blanket of different flowering plants lies before us.  There were narrow pathways for us to walk on in between rows of plantations.  The vast landscape seemed to go on forever.

     “Mr. Dixon!” a voice called out from the field on the other side of the road.

     We all turned to see a blonde man in gray shirt and faded blue jeans.  A look that seemed all too familiar.

     He walked across the street, glancing left and right for any vehicle passing by.  His eyes met mine before Mr. Dixon’s who was standing right beside me.

     “How are you, Mr. Dawson?” Mr. Dixon greeted with enthusiasm that sounded genuine.

     “I feel great, thanks,” Mr. Dawson replied nonchalantly.  “How about you?”

     Mr. Dixon made a hand gesture as though to present himself.  “Fine, thank you,” he said.  “We were just showing Mrs. Stanton your land and as to why Giant Carriers is interested in buying it.”

     Mr. Dawson looked firmly at Mr. Dixon.  “Well, I just want you to know that I’m still not interested in selling it,” he said before turning his eyes to me and said,  “It would be my greatest pleasure to give you a tour.”

     An hour and a half later, the resistance of the urge to ask him where I’ve seen him has become hard to ignore.  But before I could have the chance to ask, my knees went wobbly and my head became unhelpfully heavy causing me to stagger a step backwards.

     “Are you alright?” Jude caught me.  His hand rested on the small of my back.

     I could imagine the people behind us looking.  Mr. Dawson turned to see what was going on as well as Mr. Dixon who were leading in front of us.

     A swift movement of an athlete came from Mr. Dawson’s well-toned figure.  “Rachel!” he called as he gripped both of my shoulders, helping me stand still.  But at the looks of his slightly creased eyebrows on his handsome face, my knees went dead and my whole system followed suit.

     “Rachel,” a voice that sounded like Mr. Dawson’s called out in which I wasn’t certain whether I am half awake or am about to witness another flashback.