[Previously on Sunday 1/8]
“Ok, mom. Let me escort you and dad to a taxi,” he said, taking his parents to the door.
“Have someone wipe water off the floor. Do you want someone to slip and fall?” said his mother, knowing where Elle was hiding from the beginning.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said.
When JZ returned to his suite, the trail from his bathroom to his bedroom was gone. He entered his bedroom and saw Elle sitting on his undone bed with the buttoned up shirt.
“Where’s my phone?” he asked casually.
She shrugged. He looked at Elle’s simple, normal face and went over and kissed the top of her head. They searched for the phone all over the human-covered suite for 10 minutes until JZ found it on the dining table. He pressed the button to turn it on, but it won’t turn on. Elle took the phone and pointed at the space to charge the phone. He held her wrist and led her to his bedroom, and opened a drawer from his nightstand. He took out the phone charger and charged it.
“Good,” he said a bit excitedly, being able to turn the phone on. He quickly typed to translate, “My mom wants us to have dinner with her and my dad tonight, so they can get to know you better,” and handed her the phone with a grin.
Her mouth was a little open, and she said to herself, “Try not to look so shocked or that you would rather have a colony of vultures eat you alive, piece by piece.” “I can try to control my face but how am I supposed to respond to this?” “Make up an excuse like, ‘I don’t have anything appropriate to wear to meet your parents, and nothing in clothing stores will fit me.’ He has to feel bad and try to get you out of it.” She typed it and handed it back.
“I’ll get my costume makers to make a dress for you. That’s how I got the red dress.”
“Tell him you want to go home and get something. That will take a lot of time, but you’re going to have to make a fuss about it,” she said to herself. “Ooo, like underwear because none will fit me anyway.”
He read the message, “I want to go back home to get under clothes. I have to wear underclothes to knowingly have dinner with your parents.”
He smiled. My costume makers can make you those, too, if you wish. But personally, I don’t think you need to wear them.”
“Why are you so naughty in a conversation like this?” she typed. “You need to take this more seriously.”
“I am taking it seriously. My costume makers can really make you anything you want to wear. Just give them a design of what you want or tell them what you want, and they will measure you to make it right. Let me call them so they will have enough time to make it.” He handed her the phone to read, then she handed it back to him, and he made the call.
“Hurry! Think of another excuse!” she loudly said to herself. “I’m thinking!” “Hurry up! He sounds like he’s almost done with the conversation!”
“Good news,” he said with a grin, but typed the rest. “My costume makers can meet us at their office (they share an office) in an hour, and it only takes about an hour to get there from here, so we must leave now.”
She asked him, “Where’s my purse?” and returned the phone.
“In my car,” he replied, “now hurry and put on your shoes.”
“How am I supposed to argue against a guy who can have everything custom-made for you? Your problem is you are making up real excuses; you need to lie. You know what? You have to go through with it. You never know, you might like them and they might like you.” “Don’t kid yourself and don’t kid me, either.” “Hey JZ,” she said in a feminine tone. He immediately looked at her and intrigued with the sound that just came out of her mouth. “Do you have a notebook and a pen? I want to draw some dresses while I’m in the car.”
He grabbed a notebook and two pens from the same drawer in his nightstand.
“Give me your phone. I have something important I want to tell you.”
“What?” he asked as he handed her the phone.
“I must have my full attention on the dress in the car ride, so you have to design my under clothes.”
He read it and laughed. “I don’t think I should do that while I’m driving,” he said and continued laughing. “Come on, let’s go.”
With her flats on her feet and a notebook and two pens in her hands, she was ready to be escorted by JZ to his car, wherever it was.
“Where’s your car?” she asked.
“Wait a moment,” he responded as if he had a secret to reveal.
She looked at him suspiciously but knew she did not have time to speculate. They walked to the elevator, and rode it with only the sound of slashes the pen made against the notebook and pages flipping like they were resisting a strong wind. They exited the elevator and lobby. Then they walked to the other side of the studio, with Elle’s eyes still focused on her designs. They stopped in front of a large, dark rectangular opening.
“Take a look,” he said.
She tilted her head up to its normal position and looked forward. “Why is it black?” she asked, wanting to know why a place where people drop keys is dark. He gently nudged her forward and she took a step inside. She saw rows and rows of spotlights hit the filled parking spaces. When the last row was lit, she saw his car parked in the corner with a generous amount of space surrounding the car to easily get in and out of the car and to access the trunk. He felt so happy seeing her face light up by seeing something she liked for the second time.
“It’s so cool,” she said, with a smile. A couple of moments passed until she returned to reality and suggested, “Let’s go. I don’t have time.”
They quickly got in his car and he drove to his costume makers’ office with a smile on his face.