Forever Young: Blessing or Curse (Always Young Trilogy) (25 page)

After
Roman had gone back to his office, Dorrie sighed with relief. Away from his
scrutiny, she could relax and get on with her normal duties. That is, unless
cameras were trained on her here also.

She
took a deep breath and told herself to think rationally. Surveillance at such a
high tech place was no cause for alarm.

At
lunch, after they’d set their trays on the table, Kelly broached the subject of
Dorrie’s request. “I’m sorry. Doug’s pulled another double shift next week.
Would you prefer someone else, or do you want to wait?”

Feeling
silly, Dorrie bit her lip. “There’s no hurry. Whenever he can make it is fine.
He probably won’t find anything anyway.”

They
switched to other subjects less trying.

When
she got back to her desk, it wasn’t easy to put on a brave face and pretend she
wasn’t disappointed at the delay. She did her best to concentrate on work and
told herself the pill couldn’t be a sham. She was living proof of its safety.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Late
Friday afternoon, Roman called Dorrie into his office. An attractive
middle-aged redhead in a tight, low cut dress sat in the chair beside him.

“I’d
like you to meet Patricia Patterson.”

Dorrie
took one look at the tall, thin woman with the gigantic boobs, flawless makeup
and intense green eyes, and instantly disliked her.

The
woman reached over. As they shook hands, Dorrie tried not to wince at the
pressure of the handshake. Apparently, the perfect-looking woman lifted weights
in her spare time.

Roman
gestured toward the other chair. “Why don’t you sit down, Dorrie. We have some
details to discuss.”

Once
she was seated, he began. “As you already know, I’m extremely pleased with the
young pill’s effect on you. Though you’re well into your pregnancy, you’re
still spectacularly beautiful.”

Heat
flamed from her neck to her face.

“Don’t
blush. You know it’s true. Now, to get to the thorny part. You and I went over
this possibility before, but it’s time to go into greater depth. Because of the
issue of your pregnancy and its unknown outcome, I’ve made arrangements for
another spokesperson. This would not have been necessary if our alternate
replacement had survived, but we couldn’t foresee his pre-existing medical
condition.

“As
much as I’d like to keep you on in the same capacity as before and hope for the
best outcome, doing so would be unrealistic.”

He’d
buttered her up and was honing in for the kill. She could be as sweet as he.
 “I perfectly understand, Roman. You need to protect your investment.”

He
nodded. “That being the case, from here on in, Patricia will be our
spokesperson. She’s submitted to numerous physical tests indicating she’s
perfectly healthy. I foresee no problems with her transition to an earlier age.

“Before
the campaign began, we had the option of waiting for you to revert before
assigning you to your office duties. We don’t have that now, since we have no
idea if your child will arrive early. That being the case, you’ll need to
vacate your desk. It will now be Patricia’s. We can move a chair over from my
office, so you won’t need to stand the entire day.”

She
didn’t care for the smug smile on Patricia’s face, as if she were enjoying
Dorrie’s discomfiture. Best to pretend Roman’s words held no effect. “What
would you like me to do?”

“You’ll
familiarize Patricia with the office work, bring her up to speed on how to go
about the commercials, and teach her any other odds and ends you’ve picked up
along the way.”

“And
after she’s ready? What then?”

“Don’t
worry. I’ll find something to keep you occupied.”

He
didn’t sound too sure about that, almost as if he wouldn’t really try.

“Any
questions, Dorrie?”

“No,
Roman. I completely understand. I’ll do my best to smooth over the transition.”

“I
knew I could count on you.”

“All
right, then,” Dorrie said, holding onto the arms of the chair to propel herself
up. Lost in thought, she trudged back to her desk. She’d known this day would
come, but it still hurt.

***

At
home, she flung her purse onto the couch and propped her feet on the recliner
to ease her bloated ankles. In her present condition, she felt so helpless, and
didn’t like the feeling.

She
couldn’t get over losing her position at the Institute. She’d come to identify
herself with her role, and it stung to realize Patricia’s flawless persona
would replace her own likeness on  countless TV screens and ads. Of
course, Roman had every right to choose whomever he wished. It was his product
and his company. Still, it hurt. Why?

She
knew the answer, but didn’t like it.
I’ve changed, but not in a good way. I
want to be the one who’s famous, not her.

Deep
down, Dorrie knew Patricia’s flaws were like her own, though on a larger scale.

Somewhere
along the line Dorrie’s attitude had changed. She’d come to value looks over
the person inside. No matter what Roman said, the loss of any part of her
beauty struck a blow to her pride. She yearned to be perfect again, instead of
going around with cheeks full and belly straining against baby fat.

Sighing,
she told herself it would be worth losing her figure for the sake of bringing a
child into the world. And if that child were not perfect, she’d not hold it up
to the superficial standards she’d set for herself. What Roman’s attitude would
be, she had no idea.

After
watching a few TV comedies to dull her mind, she got ready for bed. It wasn’t
easy to fall asleep, not with the image of her haughty replacement burned in
her brain.

She’d
almost drifted off when another thought struck her. In the day’s excitement,
she’d forgotten to worry about the dratted spy camera.

The
more she thought of it, the more unlikely it seemed. Everything seemed normal
at the Institute. Jeanne’s theory couldn’t be true. Her friend had shouldered a
huge responsibility caretaking Mike. She had to be at loose ends now, with her
mind flitting back and forth, carrying worries to the extreme, latching onto
Dorrie as the next person at risk, carrying the big sister role too far.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Roman
faced the man behind the desk in the darkened sub-basement. “I’ve vetted the
new model, and given her the radioiodine. She believes it’s a booster which
will make the pills work faster. I’ve also contacted the next test subjects,
and informed them they’ll receive the booster here.”

The
squat man rubbed his chin. “Good. After the ads, I’m sure they’re dying to take
the pills, no matter the risk. Let’s see now. You’ve got Donato’s promo in the
can, right?”

Roman
nodded.

“Then
what are we waiting for? Train the new woman yourself. You don’t need Donato.
 Let’s get the kid out and see what it looks like.”

“She’s
got at least a month and a half to go. Also, Mrs. Donato wants a normal
delivery, not a cesarean.”

“What
she wants doesn’t matter. Thanks to her good friend in Wisconsin, the widow is
wise to the bugs, so to hell with waiting. I want that kid. I say we remove the
widow from her house, get the kid and sweep the place before the Kingston cop
comes snooping.”

Roman’s
brain froze, again thinking of instances in the news where women were cut open
and fetuses forcibly removed. He didn’t want that horror for Dorrie.

“I
don’t see the rush. The cop’s wife says the husband’s on double shift, so he’s
no threat. The widow’s not dumb enough to leave the Institute at this stage. No
matter what her friend suggested, she’s dependent on us for the pills and
security. She loves that kid and won’t do anything to jeopardize it. The longer
it stays in, the more useful it will be. You’ve been patient this long. Don’t lose
your cool now.”

The
man sighed. “Okay, you win again, but let’s not make this a habit.  We’ll
keep a watchful eye for early labor or anything untoward. Under no
circumstances must that child escape.”

Roman
nodded.

The
man leaned forward “Now, about that friend...”

***

As
promised, the extra chair awaited her. Dorrie restrained a grimace at the sight
of the haughty Patricia behind the desk, and bade her a good morning. She began
the session by explaining the software programs to Patricia. “The main ones are
Diamond, a word processing program, and Versa, for graphics. Here’s a little
about how they work.”  

“Don’t
waste your time, dearie. I’m a software whiz and can figure it out myself.”

Dorrie
smiled at the woman, though inwardly she fumed. “That may be so, Patricia, but
it’s my job to show you what I know, so let’s do it. Here’s a sample brochure,
and here’s where you’ll find the graphics files. I’ve saved some of them under
different names, so you can practice on them. For this exercise, try deleting
the photos and replacing them, then type in some ad lingo, whatever you wish,
until you get the hang of it.”

The
woman gave Dorrie a knowing look. “This is quite unnecessary. I’ve already said
I’m a quick learner. I aced all my classes at business college. I’ll have no
trouble at all.”

“Well,
let’s practice to be absolutely sure, all right?”  If there was anything
she hated, it was a know-it-all, and this woman fit the bill.

A
short time later, Patricia said, “That was simple.”

Good
grief, what self confidence. How did people get that way? Dorrie wished a
smidgeon of it would rub off on her. She could use it.

“My,
you were fast. Just to be sure, let’s take a look.”

Dorrie
slowly got up from the spare chair and leaned over to check the screen.
Unfortunately, she found no fault with the woman’s efforts. That was
depressing. It had taken her much longer to catch onto the program. “Good job.
Now let’s try the next project.”

Patricia
whipped through that, plus another, and another, all at record speed. Dorrie
felt as if their roles should be reversed and Patricia the teacher. Not that
she’d suggest such a thing. The woman’s head was already the size of a hot air
balloon.

By
the time she arrived home, not only did her forehead pound from thinking up new
projects to keep Patricia busy, but also the baby, apparently attuned to the
mother’s mood, kicked and moved about, making Dorrie’s insides sore.

She
wearily discarded her shoes in favor of slippers, then opened the refrigerator
to pull out hamburger, lettuce, tomato and bun, plus potato salad and an apple.
No matter how tired she got by the end of the day, she wouldn’t deviate from
preparing something nourishing for herself and the baby.

After
dinner, she rinsed the dishes and deposited them into the dishwasher, then sank
onto the oak kitchen chair and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

Too
many tension headaches lately. She didn’t need this pressure. She had enough to
deal with. The closer she got to her due date, the more her nerves kicked in.
Every hard luck story she’d ever heard about excruciating pain and tedious
hours of labor flashed through her mind, along with the grim possibility the
baby may not survive. It was hard enough for a normal mother to give birth,
without considering the pill factor. Anything could happen.

“Please,
God, please make my baby be all right,” she prayed, glancing upward.

That
was the wrong thing to do. Looking up made her remember Jeanne’s idea. She’d
been trying to ignore it, yet at times like this her defenses crumbled. Biting
her lip, she glanced around the corners of the kitchen, with its harmless
looking oak cabinets and floral wall paper. Hard to believe such normal
appearances could be deceiving.

“If
I were a bug, where would I hide,” she said out loud. Realizing what she’d
done, she covered her mouth in horror.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Good
grief, if there were bugs in the room, she’d admitted she knew of them. In case
someone was watching, she better say something to smooth it over. “I am such a
loon for listening to Jeanne. I don’t know what she was thinking of, spouting
such nonsense. She has such a wild imagination.”

Did
she sound convincing? More importantly, did she look it? Probably not. She’d
never been a good actress. It hadn’t mattered with the pill, because she’d
totally believed in its efficacy. This was different.

Well,
what was done was done. She couldn’t take back what she’d said, and couldn’t
afford any more angst in her life from dwelling on it. She’d have to hope for
the best.

She
leaned on the table to get up, then made her way to the family room couch so
she could be distracted by the fictional world of TV. She tried to laugh
through a silly comedy, but in the background her mind traveled to places she preferred
not to go. At first, it had been fun being young again. Now, she spent most of
her time worrying about hers and the baby’s future. Too many What Ifs clouded
her mind.