The death Of Mrs Ross

Memo

I was late

I ran around the room in my underwear, multitasking at hand. I brushed my hair with one hand and combed my teeth with the other. I hurried to the closet to find my dress and throw it on the bed, then ran into the bathroom to spit

Shit, Shit, Shit. If Paris walked in before I was done, I would surely be in trouble. I was already late for tonight's events, I couldn't stall any longer. I drew my hair up in a pony tail using my own hair instead of a hair band, making sure to separate my hair right in the middle so make it look like I tried

I brushed my teeth furiously and gargled with cold water. My teeth chattered when the cool mint and the cold water clashed, but I didn't care. I splashed my face with water to remove any residue, then ran to get my dress. I took it and added the first foot into the neck. I slid it up my body and adjusted it along my breasts carefully. Since my breasts were so tender, any movement did hurt

I fought over the zip on my back and gave up. Whatever. I needed shoes. Shoes and make-up. I had to finish. I had to. I cursed and searched for my heels. They had to be around, I saw them. I dropped to my knees and looked under my bed. When I saw that the bed had a base that reached the floor, I cursed again

I let it go and scurried back into the bathroom. Make up. That couldn't fail me. I grabbed my bags and stuck the landing by the vanity. I opened everything and grabbed the lipstick. Wait. Shit. No. Foundation. I needed foundation. I threw the lipstick down just as the door opened

I flinched when the door closed but continued to apply everything all at once as calmly as I could "I'm almost done. Just give me five minutes"

I felt his presence walking around the room. Something...was off. I paused to look at him and saw that he wasn't even dressed yet. He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. I finished off my makeup and rose "Paris? Are you okay?"

Paris didn't reply and I gazed at the electronic watch by the table. I was sure that it was the night with Paris' family. Why was he still in his gym clothes?

"Paris? Aren't Mariana and Greg here yet?"

Paris didn't answer. I stepped forward and touched his leg. Paris reacted as if I had stabbed him, flinching and even moving his leg away. He opened his eyes, his blue eyes as dark as blueberries "What do you want?"

"Why aren't you dressed? Where's your family?"

He shrugged and placed his arms behind his head. In the three years I had been married to him, I had grasped the way he walked, talked, and so on. I was surprised to see him so... laid-back. He was always rigid and precise with all he did. He calculated his next step before crossing the street. To see Paris just laying there was unusual

He always wore suits. It was his uniform, another thing he liked to control, unless he went to a photo shoot. Whether it was day or night, summer or winter, a suit was his first and only choice. Speaking of photo shoots, I recalled a magazine that arrived earlier that day and went to fetch it from the closet. I had already seen and admired his pictures, but I doubted he had seen them yet

"This came in today" I slide the freshly opened magazine across the bed and it stopped right above his waist. Paris took it in his hands and skimmed through it with a frown

"World's sexist man?" He read aloud his new title

I climbed on the bed and sat on my knees "Yeah. Isn't that great?" I smiled, somehow more excited about his new image than he was

Paris closed the magazine and handed it back to me before closing his eyes again "Remind me to fire my assistant"

"Why?"