Night After Night.... Kristin Gabriel
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“That’s all right,” she said, following him. “All that fresh air will probably help me sleep better.”
He opened the door to the suite, an excited twinkle in his eye. “I hope you like what I’ve done with the room.”
The first thing she noticed was the jukebox. It stood in the far corner, close to the queen-sized bed. The soft strains of “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” filled the air. The song went well with the framed head shot of Elvis above the headboard and the gold lamé comforter that was embroidered with tiny guitars and musical notes. But she found the floor-to-ceiling mural of Graceland covering one wall to be the most impressive part of the room.
“Well?” Harlan asked, visibly proud of his decorating efforts. “What do you think?”
“I’m speechless,” she answered honestly.
Carleen had told her that she’d listed Elvis songs as her “comfort music” on the personality profile. Harlan had obviously taken that little tidbit and run with it.
“Look at this,” he said, leading her over to the jukebox. “It doubles as a biomonitor to record your vital signs. It even has retractable cables to hook you up to the machine.”
He pulled one out, demonstrating how the lead reached the bed. Then he let it go and it sprang back into the jukebox with a loud pop.
“Wow,” she said, wondering what other surprises awaited her.
He walked over to the bed and pressed a button on the headboard. “Feel free to ring anytime you need assistance. Myself or one of my assistants will be right outside in the control center. This facility is completely secure. The door to your suite automatically locks.”
That thought made her a little uneasy. “So I’ll be locked in?”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “If you wish to exit the room, all you have to do is press the button next to the door. That signals one of my assistants to press the corresponding button on the control panel and the door will unlock.”
“Got it,” Mia replied.
“You’ll be perfectly safe here,” he assured her. “You probably noticed the security cameras when you entered the lab. I have cameras positioned around the entire estate. No one can enter my property without my knowledge.”
A knock sounded on the door, then a petite young Asian woman wearing a pink polka-dot lab coat entered the room. “Did you need something, Dr. Longo?”
“Yes, Hannah, I’d like to introduce you to Carleen Wimmer. She’ll be sleeping in the Elvis suite for the next three weeks.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Wimmer,” Hannah said, holding out her hand.
Mia shook it, surprised by her firm grip. “Please call me Carleen.”
“If you wish.”
Longo set Mia’s bag on the end of the bed. “Hannah is assigned to work this half of the sleep lab. She’ll get you all hooked up for tonight, then I’ll be in to answer any questions you might have and to tuck you in.”
“All right,” Mia said with a smile. No one had tucked her into bed since she was ten years old—not that her Italian mother hadn’t tried. But Mia’s independent streak had kicked in at an early age.
She still remembered the time she’d informed her grandmother that she never intended to marry because husbands were too bossy, though she did plan to have six children. The poor woman had almost keeled over from that pronouncement.
Shocking her family had turned into a fairly routine occurrence, though she rarely did it intentionally. They just didn’t understand that she wanted more than the life they had mapped out for her.
Like taking karate lessons instead of ballet. Or skipping out on catechism class so she could rehearse with her heavy metal band. Her cousins had lovingly dubbed her the black sheep of the family, though Mia hardly deserved the title. She wasn’t rebellious, just unconventional by Maldonado standards.
When her parents had balked at her decision to enroll in design school instead of choosing a more traditional career like teaching or nursing, Mia had chosen to pay her own way through college.
Then she’d moved to Philadelphia, choosing the city by spreading a map of the United States in front of her, closing her eyes and letting fate guide her finger. When she’d first arrived, Mia had found a job designing display cases for a furniture outlet store until she’d saved enough money to strike out on her own.
Judging by her current financial predicament, she hadn’t saved enough. But the last thing she wanted to do was return to Chicago a failure, fulfilling her family’s dire predictions. Mia wanted to prove to them and to herself that she could make it on her own.
If the radio advertisements brought in enough new clients, Mia’s Makeovers could survive. Her only obstacles were succeeding in impersonating her best friend and sleeping in an Elvis suite.
At least she’d passed the first test. Harlan left the suite without a backward glance, apparently convinced that she really was Carleen Wimmer.
“You can change in Graceland,” Hannah said as she fiddled with the dials on the jukebox.
Mia’s gaze went to the elaborate mural on the wall. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s a pocket door that slides open,” she replied, pointing to the door of the mansion. “It leads to a small bathroom.”
Mia didn’t see the door until she walked right up to it. “This is amazing,” she said, sliding it open.
“Dr. Longo spares no expense to make his research subjects comfortable,” Hannah replied, fluffing the pillow before laying it on the bed.
“Is he really a doctor?” Mia asked.
“He’s made some very generous endowments to Parker University, so they gave him an honorary degree. He even set up an internship program for students interested in research and development. That’s how I came to be here.” A smile flitted across her small mouth. “Though I have to admit it’s not quite what I expected.”
“Me, either,” Mia acknowledged, grabbing her overnight bag off the bed. By the time she emerged from the Graceland bathroom, Hannah was ready to hook her up to the jukebox.
She climbed awkwardly into the bed as Elvis sang “It’s Now or Never.”
“So is this your first time as a research subject?” Hannah asked, sweeping the bangs off Mia’s forehead to attach the wire cables.
“Yes,” she replied, then hoped that was the right answer. Carleen hadn’t been able to remember all of the questions on the personality profile.
Mia took a deep breath, telling herself not to panic. What was the worst that Dr. Longo could do if he discovered she wasn’t Carleen? Kick her out of his sleep lab and demand his money back.