The Presley Thurman Mysteries
Boxed Set
Stilettos & Scoundrels
Necklaces & Nooses
Handbags & Hooligans
And
Mistletoe & Murder
By: Laina Turner
Copyright 2011 Dr. Laina Turner-Molaski
iTunes Edition
Five Seas Ink Publishing
Stilettos
&
Scoundrels
Dr. Laina Turner-Molaski
Copyright 2011 Dr. Laina Turner-Molaski
Five Seas Ink Publishing
Acknowledgements
My dream was always to be a writer but I never had the confidence that anything I wrote would be worthwhile reading. However, I finally got to the point where I figured, why not? So here it is. My first fiction book, in print. Whoo-hoo!
I would like to thank my family and friends who never lost confidence in me and helped me through this journey to my dream.
I want to give a big thanks to Melissa whose fantastic editing skills were able to take my book and make it even better.
Most of all thanks to my mother, LaNita, who gave me the gift and desire to write (and many ideas for this book). I wish you were here to share this with me. I miss you!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Laina
Prologue
Gently touching the handle of the front door was all it took to make it swing wide open. It was late, after midnight, and everyone in the house except Tom was asleep. As usual, Tom was in his study working late. Walking carefully and quietly through the foyer, the adrenaline began to kick in. The intruder confidently walked into Tom’s study. Tom was concentrating so hard on the papers in front of him that he was unaware of anything else. Raising his hand, the intruder hit a stack of books sitting on a side table, sending them crashing to the floor. Tom spun around with a look of shock on his face as he recognized the person swinging a sharp object toward him. Tom raised his hands to protect himself but he wasn’t quick enough. The spikey end of the stiletto heel punctured his neck instantly, sending a spray of blood over the papers on his desk. He tried to cry out, but all that sounded was a gurgling noise as his lungs filled with blood.
The intruder set the shoe down next to Tom and backed out of the room softly, closing the door to the study and hoping no one would come looking for Tom until morning.
Chapter 1
What was I thinking? Did I really just tell off my boss and get myself fired? I smiled, thinking back to the moment I told David Ritter I wouldn’t sleep with him if he were the last man on Earth. Even if he promised me the new Louis Vuitton satchel, I wouldn’t sleep with him—and I’ve always said I would do anything for that Louis satchel. By the look on his face, it wasn’t something he was accustomed to hearing. Though I was now unemployed, it was such a small price to pay to finally tell him off.
I made my way back to my condo, forgoing the bus in lieu of a brisk walk the few blocks from my office—well, my former office. It was a nice day out and frankly, I hated public transportation. The bus was just a necessary evil on rainy and cold days. Besides, walking the few blocks to my office would take me past one of my favorite boutiques, Element. I could hardly afford to shop there, but I loved to look. They always had the most fabulous window displays and that would be sure to brighten my outlook. I thought back to what transpired a few hours earlier. It had started out as a good day. My hair turned out well because the low humidity helped keep it frizz proof. I was wearing one of my favorite skirts, a chocolate-colored pencil skirt, and paired it with a cream-colored cowl neck sweater. It was April but the wind in Chicago meant that it was still chilly, and a sweater seemed just the thing on a crisp spring day. I slipped on my brown Jimmy Choos and favorite silver earrings from Silvapada with matching bangle bracelet, and headed out the door. I stopped at Starbucks on the way to work, ordered a venti Chai skinny with one Splenda, and walked in the door to the office with a few minutes to spare. Enough time to chat with my best work friend Tonya, who was smoking surreptitiously out the employee entrance just underneath the non-smoking sign.
“Tonya, one of these days you are going to get caught and get in big trouble,” I said to my friend.
“Whatever,” Tonya said, waving her hands absently. “They can’t afford to get rid of me. I know where all the skeletons are buried,” she laughed.
Tonya was joking, but she also wasn’t far off. Working at McLaughlin Industries for the last fifteen years, Tonya was the only one on our floor who had worked there the entire time our boss, David Ritter, had. David Ritter was a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen, and Tonya knew about everything he had done that the company had tried to sweep under the rug. She also had no problem telling him she knew what a despicable ass he was, and for that reason, he didn’t mess with her much. She claimed it was because he didn’t like big women. Tonya was a beautiful, full-figured woman with creamy milk chocolate skin. She had one of the best personalities of anyone I knew—fun loving with a great sense of humor. She intimidated David, so he just ignored her whenever possible. She and I laughed about it often.
“You want to check out the spring sale at Macy’s on our lunch break?” Tonya asked.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
“Good.” Tonya twisted her cigarette against the brick wall to put it out and flicked the butt in the trashcan. I was waiting for her to start a fire someday, but so far, she’d been lucky. “We might as well get this day started.”
About an hour after we got back from lunch, where, incidentally, I had the good fortune to pick up two pairs of Diesel jeans and a cute red DKNY stretchy t-shirt—neither of which I could afford, even on sale, David called me in to his office. Not an unusual occurrence in itself. As the Senior Human Resource manager, I had many meetings with David in his capacity as Vice President of Sales. I didn’t enjoy my meetings with him because he was always coming on to me and it had grown tiresome. A couple of times, I had complained to my boss Gary after David wouldn’t stop texting me about taking me out or about how I looked that day. I wasn’t sure what Gary, the Vice President of Human Resources, had said when he talked to David, but David had mostly behaved since then. He primarily ignored me, as he did Tonya. It was no easy feat for him because he worked with me every day. When forced to speak to directly to me, he was curt and tense, but I didn’t really care because at least it meant he left me alone. Alhough lately I wondered more and more why I still worked there under those conditions. I didn’t trust him and I was just waiting for his old antics to flare up again. Today I wasn’t disappointed.
“You wanted to see me, David?” I walked into his office and stood in front of his oversized mahogany desk.
“Yes. Have a seat.” David gestured to one of the chairs beside his desk, next to the small coffee table. His office wasn’t very luxurious, but it was definitely a step up from my tiny cubicle.
I sat down as David went to the other chair. This put us too close in proximity in my opinion, especially with the overpowering stench of his cologne. I wanted to gag, but I knew if I moved away from him, he would notice.
“I wanted to talk to you about the workforce reduction reports, Presley. They’re still four percent higher than where I asked you to come in last time.” I wasn’t surprised he wanted to discuss this. One of the aspects of my field that I hated most was that I was responsible for cutting jobs. I knew it was unavoidable if the company was to remain profitable, but it was a distasteful job nonetheless.
“David, I realize the numbers were a half percent above expectations, but the higher average salary of some of the more tenured employees wasn’t figured into the original numbers. Head count came in on target. One person less actually, but the salary piece was higher.”
“Not good enough. You needed to hit those numbers or it throws off the rest of my projections. I’m accountable for those. You need to fix it.”
“How do you expect me to do that?” I looked at him incredulously. “I can’t just get rid of people because they make too much money and don’t fit into your spreadsheet calculations.”
“Hey, I’m the sales guy, you’re the HR person. It’s your job to figure it out.”
I seethed. There was no way to meet the numbers he wanted and he knew it. There was only so much I could do from a legal and ethical standpoint. He just wanted to make my life difficult, and he was doing a damn fine job at it.
“Maybe we could work something out,” David said lecherously, putting his hand on my knee.
I deliberately took his hand, removed it off my knee, and looked him straight in the eye. “And what exactly would that be?”
“Let’s just say if you are nice to me, I could be persuaded to overlook the discrepancy, and you wouldn’t have to lay off any more people,” David said with his version of a charming smile, returning his hand to my knee.
I jumped up and faced David, putting my hands on my hips. “If you think I would do anything outside the professional capacity for you, you are sadly mistaken,” I said furiously. “Your behavior is despicable and I’m not going to tolerate it.”
David flushed a deep red. “Are you sure about that, Presley?” He sneered. “We’re making cuts all across the company, and if you aren’t doing your job, which you clearly aren’t by being over budget, well…”
“Are you trying to tell me that if I am not nice to you, you are going to fire me?”
“I’m not doing anything. This is your choice.” David sat back in his chair looking smug, as if he really thought I was going to change my mind.
“Well…” David said.
“Well nothing. I won’t do it.”
“Then I guess you have left me no choice. You’re fired.”
“What! You can’t do that.”
“Yes I can. I talked to HR already about your not coming in line with the budget and like I said, we need to make more cuts.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There was no way Gary knew about this. No fucking way. David got up and went behind his desk.
“That’s all,” he said dismissively. “Please clear out your desk and leave. I assume you won’t cause any trouble on your way out. I would hate to call security.”
I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I walked over to the desk and David looked up.
“Is there something else, Presley?”
“Just one more thing.”
David looked up expectantly; I picked up his coffee cup and threw the contents at him. His jaw dropped, in shock. He stood there dripping coffee off what was probably a five-hundred-dollar suit. I started laughing. “There, that’s all I have to say.” I then turned around and walked out of his office.
Chapter 2
“Hi, Charles,” I greeted the doorman of my building where I lived, just off Michigan Avenue.
Ok, admittedly, it was WAY off Michigan Avenue, but since it was within walking distance to all the great shopping, I felt it was a somewhat accurate assessment. I resided in a beautiful, but old, condominium in a six-floor walk-up. I cursed the climb often, but tried to tell myself what great exercise I was getting and that I needed all I could get. On a sunny day, I could see the skyline for miles—if I looked out the bathroom window at a right angle, while perching precariously on the toilet seat. However, with the real estate prices in Chicago, I knew I was lucky to have this.
I usually liked walking around the city and taking in my surroundings, but on a windy day like today, I just wished my dark red hair would quit blowing into my eyes and mouth or, at the very least, that I had not forgotten a rubber band or barrette.
I tightened the belt of my light blue overcoat; even safely inside my building, it was still chilly. The air coming in from Lake Michigan today was strong and cold, as was typical for spring in Chicago. Even though the wind drove me crazy, this was one of my favorite times of the year in the city. The crisp air had such a clean smell—unlike the warm stench of garbage not yet picked up that would intoxicate the city’s summer air in a few months. It was a small price to pay for warm weather.
Charles smiled at me as I walked to the stairs. He was such a cute old man—so bald and chubby that you just wanted to squeeze him, and what a sweetheart. He was a huge flirt and all the residents here loved him. Charles had been the doorman for over thirty years. He had started when the building had been in its heyday, stayed on during its decline, and was happy to see it on its way up again. Always telling the tenants how their energy kept him young, he was a permanent fixture here, and I couldn’t imagine the place without him. This building was a part of him.
“Hi, Red. You look lovely as ever today.” Charles winked at me the same way he had every day for years. Normally, I hated that overused nickname for a redhead, but coming from him, I couldn’t get mad. If only he were forty years younger, he would be the man of my dreams.
I loved the energy of Chicago; it was always fast paced and put me in great spirits. Walking into my building and seeing Charles, I almost forgot my current troubles. This was my own personal palace; I loved it here and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. When I moved to Chicago right out of school, I purchased my condominium. At the time, this section of town wasn’t cool, but rather a stomping ground for vagrants. When I bought it, it was all I could afford. Actually, I couldn’t really afford it at all, but, crazy enough, the bank thought I could. No wonder the lending industry was in such disarray. I wanted a place of my own so bad, I took a gamble that not only would I make enough money to eventually pay my mortgage and eat something more than Ramen noodles but that more people like myself would move into the area and property values would go up. Lucky for me, over the last five years, both had happened. The area went from old and decrepit to shabby chic, if you were generous. Over time, the place had caught on and young professionals started moving in, which gave the building life and energy. It was a great place to come home to, at least in my opinion. My mother had a different opinion. My mother liked the city, to visit, but didn’t think the area I lived in was safe enough for her baby. Although, she somehow didn’t have a problem with the fact that my younger brother, Jesse, was currently living in Los Angeles working on his career as an actor. Last year, it was Oregon because he wanted to be a forest ranger. The year before that he spent in Mexico as a zip-line instructor. He was a little unfocused but he somehow always got away with what I never could. I admit I was often jealous of his carefree ways and sometimes wished I were brave enough to buck the system.
Though I guessed that, in some way, today I had done exactly that.
I needed to give Jesse a call, maybe go out and see him for a while since I didn’t have a job. Maybe get myself a job as a model or a go-go dancer or something. That thought made me laugh…as if that would ever happen. I was sure my ass would not meet Hollywood standards.
Regardless of my mother’s opinion, something about the city of Chicago had always drawn me in. Growing up in the country, I always thought the city was this magical place. As a child, I insisted my parents bring me to Chicago for birthdays, events, and all those special occasions. It never ceased to be exciting for me.
Enough reflecting, I said to myself, unlocking my door. There were more pressing things to worry about—like finding a new job. The bills wouldn’t pay themselves, and I didn’t have a sugar daddy in my back pocket. Stepping in the foyer, I kicked off my Jimmy Choos (I had a weakness for shoes and would rather not eat than go without my favorite shoes), and dug my toes into the thick, cream, shag carpet as I hung my coat in the front closet. I’ll have to cut back on the shoe shopping now that I am unemployed, I thought to myself. That was going to be more difficult than anything. A girl had to have her priorities.
Since graduating from college, I had toiled away at McLaughlin Industries; at what I thought for the last seven years was really my dream job. Since I was young, I had a vision of being a high-profile executive, with assistants at my every disposal. I saw myself on the cover of Fortune magazine and Business Week, in a red power suit, maybe a Chanel. The article would describe me as someone who broke through the glass ceiling and could play with the big boys. I worked my way up to Senior Human Resource Manager, which, in seven years, was pretty good, considering that I started out as someone’s assistant. It was, emphasis on was, a position I thoroughly enjoyed. Though looking at recent events, maybe I had been fooling myself. I just threw away years of hard work and job security and wasn’t very upset. Shouldn’t that be telling me something?
My lofty visions of being the first female CEO of McLaughlin Industries had started to fade a while ago. I kept at it because it was still a lucrative job and because I didn’t know what else to do. I worked countless hours and put up with abuse from top management, mostly David, thinking it would get me to the next level—and for what? Frankly, I had focused on the same goal for so long I wasn’t sure how to change it; I was stuck in a rut. I kept working hard, the way I had been raised to do, thinking it was the right thing to do. Now it was changed for me, and surprisingly, it felt like a weight had been lifted. Even if it was still truly my dream to be a top executive, I wasn’t going to sleep with anyone to get ahead. Not if it meant sleeping with David Ritter, the current CEO. I did have standards. Now if David Ritter looked like Brad Pitt, well, then things might have been different. That wouldn’t have been such a hardship—more of a win-win situation. People always complained about women who used sex to get ahead, but my motto was Use what you got. Sort of.
Unemployed or not, I was lucky. I wasn’t completely without options. One of my friends sold Mary Kay and had been after me for months to become a representative. She was trying to meet a quota to earn a car and kept telling me how easy it was to get women to buy things to make them look better. Another friend of mine was a restaurant manager and would probably take pity on me and give me a job, even though he knew perfectly well I was a klutz and that having me as a server would lose him more customers than he’d gain. While both were interesting propositions, somehow I couldn’t really see myself aspiring to drive a pink Cadillac or wait tables.
What I really had a passion for, ever since I was a freckled little girl, was writing. This was prior to wanting to be a ball-busting CEO. I received my first diary as a present, on my twelfth birthday and found great enjoyment in filling up those creamy white pages with scribble—insignificant to anyone but me. I wrote every day after school for years, cherishing my diary, filling it with my private thoughts, and later, stories I lost myself in. It was the one place I ever felt I could truly be honest. As the only girl, I had grown up with a wild and vivid imagination. At age eight, I thought the Incredible Hulk lived in my closet and was there to protect me. At age fourteen, I was convinced I would be the next great American novelist or at least a great romance writer. Sneaking my mom’s Danielle Steele books and, later, Jackie Collins, taught me a lot—even if I didn’t understand a lot of what was in those books then or now. That could be why my last boyfriend told me that my expectations were too high and that life was not a romance novel. Screw him I thought, he should have been better in bed. I desired the romance-novel scenes.
Being a writer or working at Kentucky Fried Chicken (as that was my favorite restaurant as a little kid) were my goals as a young girl. In light of recent events, maybe Kentucky Fried Chicken wouldn’t have been that bad. At least there, you probably got free food and I couldn’t see the manager wanting sexual favors—who would want to work there so bad that they’d do sexual favors?
I still wrote a lot as an adult, but had never been brave enough to share my writing with anyone else. It was too personal. I was always too afraid. That’s why I was completely shocked last week when, at happy hour at Muldoon’s Pub, my friend, Trevor Jameson, who just happened to be the editor of a new online magazine called Our World, offered me a job to write a column for the human profile section of his magazine. Each month the magazine did a story on someone, as he put it, “of interest.” Personally, I described it as a piece on someone in the headlines that would attract readers. Even though Our World was supposed to be a serious magazine, people liked sensationalism. That’s what helped attract readers. Of course, I would never say that to Trevor; after all, he was my friend. Trevor told me that the column’s writer told him she wasn’t coming back from maternity leave, and he needed someone right away. At the time, I laughed it off, telling Trevor I wasn’t possibly qualified to write, and the column didn’t pay enough to allow me to quit my day job, although secretly inside, I was just dying to take advantage of the opportunity, if only I didn’t have such a bad shopping habit that kept my credit cards maxed out. Was that why I snapped today? Since last week, all I had been thinking about was Trevor’s offer and how frustrated I was that I couldn’t take it. I became increasingly unhappy at work and less tolerant, spending more time trying to figure out what I really wanted out of life. Granted, Trevor’s was a small magazine, but it was something. Maybe being fired was a sign. Maybe the forces were telling me I should take this opportunity. Maybe this was my fate, to be a starving writer sacrificing for my craft because I could handle starving? Let’s do this, I thought. Excitedly, and before I could fully realize the consequences of my actions, I dialed Trevor’s number at work. Then I panicked a little. What was I thinking? I was just about to hang up when he answered.
“This is Trevor.”
Shit, I thought, I couldn’t hang up now. What if he had caller I.D. at the office?
“Hello?” he said again.
“Hey, Trevor. It’s Presley.”
“Hey, girl! What’s up? Did you call to meet for lunch, because if so I am swamped today and don’t think I can swing it. I think I am free tomorrow. Let me check.” I heard him rustling papers in his desk.
“No, actually, that’s not why I called. Remember last week at Muldoon’s when you mentioned the job opening you had for your human-interest column? Well, I wanted to see if that was still open.”
There was a brief pause on the other end and all of a sudden bad thoughts started running through my head. What if he only offered me the job because he thought I would never do it? Maybe it had been the martinis talking; Trevor was a bit of a lightweight. What if he regretted saying it altogether and had been thankful that I had turned it down? I was just about to try to back my way out of the call and pretend I was kidding so I didn’t feel like an idiot, when Trevor finally responded.
“Presley, I think that’s great. But what changed your mind? You seemed so sure you didn’t want to do this because you know I can hardly pay anything for this position.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just didn’t think I could afford to, but all that’s changed. I was fired. So my day job is no longer an obstacle and some money is better than none,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, although honestly it wasn’t taking much effort since I really wasn’t bothered by losing my job, just bothered about being unemployed with no money. Maybe, if I were lucky, that would soon be changing to employed with no money.
“Good for you, Pres! You said you hated that job anyway. Well, let me fill you in on the details.”
******
I got off the phone so elated, I wanted to do cartwheels. This was my chance, my big break to be a writer. Even if it was for a small online magazine, it was a start. The story was to be about Senator Tom Daniels, an up-and-comer in the political arena who many felt should run for president in the next election. Coincidently, he happened to be from my hometown, Alkon, Illinois. I didn’t particularly like Senator Daniels; or rather, it was his view on politics I didn’t like. Who was I kidding? I really didn’t care much about politics one way or another. I just tried to fake it in certain social settings so I wouldn’t seem so shallow, which Trevor knew, so he must have been desperate to ask me. However, what I had heard about Senator Daniels, both in the paper and from my parents, wasn’t always favorable. There was suspicion that he cheated on his wife and one instance of being accused of taking bribes. Nothing had ever been proven in either of these instances, but it still hung over his head. However, for a politician this type of stuff was normal, so it faded away quickly.
When Trevor first offered this writing job to me, I was excited and accepted the assignment without hesitation. When I had ten minutes to think about it, I wondered what I had been thinking. I wasn’t a writer, and I certainly wasn’t a political writer. Arg! I was much more of a People or OK magazine gal. Sometimes I should really think about things before committing to them. I tended to leap into things without thinking them through. My motto was always “I’ll figure it out later” or “It’ll work out in the end,” whichever best applied to the situation. In addition, when I got excited about something, I tended to not think objectively, which wasn’t always a smart thing.
I stood looking at the antique gilded mirror in my foyer, as if it would tell me something, hoping for some kind of confirmation—confirmation that I wasn’t completely crazy and that this job wasn’t completely over my head. Luckily, there was no answer back or that might confirm that I was truly crazy. Just the reflection of an average height, red-haired, hazel-eyed, thirty three year old, in a killer outfit, who was currently unemployed. What the hell. I had savings I could live off for a month or two, if I really sucked at this. If I limited myself to one box of macaroni and cheese a day and gave up my gym membership (not a great sacrifice), I might even make it three months. Turning sideways in the mirror, I stuck out my tongue at the reflection. I could stand to lose a few pounds, so maybe cutting back to one meal a day would have multiple benefits. As I stood there criticizing my reflection, the phone rang.
According to caller I.D., it was Tonya, my co-worker, or rather my former co-worker. Tonya was in a meeting today when I had my meeting with David Ritter. However, since she was calling me, and I had only been home for a little while, it seemed safe to assume that Tonya had heard through the gossip chain what happened. She was probably mad I hadn’t called her already.
“Hello.”
“Presley, did you really tell David Ritter to fuck himself and then dump coffee on him?” Tonya practically yelled into the phone. She then lowered her voice to a whisper. Probably so others in the office wouldn’t know she was talking to me. Funny how some people felt that being canned was contagious. “I can’t believe it. It’s about time he got what he deserved,” she continued, not even waiting for me to answer. “Everyone here was so glad he finally got what was coming to him.”
I started laughing. “Unfortunately, the rumor mill got it right this time. I figured he had a better chance with my suggestion than getting me to do it. I thought I was just helping him out. However, I’m not sure that he got hurt in this. He still has a job.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! He came on to you again. Why does he have such a hard time remembering he’s married? And you’re not interested,” Tonya said. “I thought you made it clear to that idiot the last time he came on to you. Did he not learn anything from the last sexual harassment case brought against him?”
“Well,” I said wryly, “obviously no one had ever explained to him that ‘no’ means ‘no.’ Today he clearly thought that ‘no’ meant ‘yes.’ He was arrogant enough to think I wanted to keep my job bad enough to sleep with him for it.”
“You mean you didn’t?” Tonya deadpanned.
“Ha-ha. Thought my skills spoke for themselves.” Unfortunately, for me, the skills my ex-boss was interested in extended past those of the HR nature. “So, do you suppose that I’m no longer a candidate for that Junior VP position?” I asked sarcastically, plopping down on my tan queen-sized Pottery Barn couch and putting my feet up on the matching ottoman. This was my favorite position for talking on the phone. This couch had been an expensive purchase, but I had never regretted it because it was the most comfortable couch I had ever sat on.
“You think?” said Tonya. “According to my sources, you aren’t even welcome in the building. Somehow Ritter has been able to spin the situation so you look like the bad guy and he looks like the good guy.” While not surprising after today’s events, I was still hurt that all those years of hard work were down the tubes just like that. I now felt I had nothing to show for it. Not to mention that in business, it was a small world. I would be lucky if the local drycleaners in Iowa hadn’t heard the story by now. I didn’t want to be blackballed, even if I didn’t decide to go back into the business world.
“What? Is he really scared of me that much?” I asked. Although I had every right to file a lawsuit against him, I really didn’t relish what a lawsuit would entail, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. I needed to really think about the next steps. I didn’t want him to do this to anyone else.
“Honestly, I think the Board of Directors is more afraid you will come back and cause a ruckus, then slap them with a sexual harassment lawsuit. I know Gary had an emergency meeting with them,” Tonya replied. I could hear her smoking in the background. “We both know this wasn’t the first time this had happened, but no one ever wants to press charges. I bet you could get them to pay you some really good hush money.”
“I probably will press charges, but not for the money but rather the principle of it. Hey, are you smoking? Inside?”
“What are they going to do? Fire me? They can’t afford two in one day,” Tonya said saucily. “Besides, I’m hiding in an empty office; the one next to David’s. Maybe it will look like he is smoking.”
“You’re supposed to quit. You said this morning that was going to be your last one!” I chastised her. I was always giving Tonya a hard time about smoking, and she was always giving me a hard time about my two-a-day Starbucks habit. Ok, so sometimes it was three or four. You had to make it through the day somehow, and at least I wasn’t drinking alcohol at that rate. Although, caffeine was probably just as bad.
“That was this morning and I’ll quit tomorrow. So, what are you planning to do now? I have to say that I somewhat envy you not having to work.”
“It would be great if I got paid for sitting home.”
“It’s not forever. Enjoy it. Maybe you should take a trip.”
“Actually, remember my editor friend, Trevor? You know, the one I introduced you to at Muldoon’s last week ?”
“You mean the hot blonde in the skin-tight Diesel jeans?”
“Yeah, that one,” I said dryly. Tonya had thought Trevor was hot, which he was. Unfortunately, for me, he only had eyes for Doug, the other person they were with, and even Tonya’s long dark braids and chocolate eyes weren’t going to change his mind. It was a shame though because both Doug and Trevor were good looking and great guys to boot.
“Are you sure it wasn’t me he kept looking at?” Tonya joked.
I ignored her question, as she wasn’t really expecting an answer. “Remember when he mentioned someone on his staff had a baby and decided not to return to work and he had a job opening?”
“Vaguely,” Tonya said. “I had quite a few drinks that night, so the details are somewhat fuzzy, but go on.”
“He offered me a job writing a monthly column for his magazine, Our World. It’s not a lot of money, but I have some savings, and if I watch my spending, I can make it. Well, for a couple of months anyway.”
“What’s going to happen when you spend too much on shoes and run out of money?”
Tonya was well aware of my shopping habit, mainly because it was one of the many things they had in common. They had often spent a long lunch hour shopping on the Magnificent Mile. Shopping was of ultimate importance to both of them.
“I’ll figure it out then.” I refused to worry too much about the finer details right now. “Getting canned might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I said with a bravado I didn’t completely feel. “Couldn’t be worse than working for David.”
“That sounds like a great opportunity. If it’s really what you want.”
“It is. I am nervous but really excited. The job requires me to interview people, which should be fun. The first person I am supposed to interview is Senator Daniels, and the interview is supposed to take place in Alkon. How’s that for coincidence?”
I had grown up in Alkon, Illinois, a small town located way outside Chicago. I didn’t like to go back very often. After all, who could be expected to live in a town with no Starbucks? Or where the best place to buy shoes was Wal-Mart and people actually thought that was fashionable? To each his own and all that, but if you are buying shoes at Wal-Mart, you should at least be aware it might not be the most fashion forward move you could make.
“Your parents are always bugging you to spend time with them. They would love you being home for a few days. Besides, if you’re out of town then Rick can’t bother you.” Rick was my loser ex-boyfriend who had been driving me crazy lately. What was it about men that made them want you even more when you didn’t want them? It would be nice to get away from him. That would be an upside to getting out of the city, and I would like to hang out at my parents’ where I wouldn’t have to do anything.
“I know. It’s just that a little bit of love goes a long way. You know my mother drives me insane. We can’t ever get along for more than five minutes at a time. It’s exhausting.” But I could see the appeal; I wouldn’t have to cook my own meals or dial for takeout. And that would save me on the grocery bill. Just how committed was I to my new writing career? Staring up at the ceiling, I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, at least for a short time. I could handle anything for a few days, couldn’t I?
“So, have you told Rick you are leaving?” Tonya asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Why would I? We broke up, remember? I want to have as little to do with him as possible. Besides this just all came about five minutes ago.”
“You may think you are broken up, but I am not sure he’s clear on that. He thinks he’s irresistible,” Tonya said with a sound of disgust in her voice. She never liked Rick. She liked him even less when he cheated on me, but she wasn’t surprised. She had wanted to do some unspeakable things to his manhood in retaliation. I persuaded her it would be a bad idea, because jail time would be bad for her skin, she would miss all the good sales at Macy’s, and because I was sure the Cook County jail didn’t have a spa. As a further incentive, I reminded her that she liked men and there weren’t too many of them in a women’s prison and you could only do the work yourself for so long. At that, she finally saw reason.
“Well, that’s not my problem; he needs to get over it.” I had dated Rick for three years and thought we had a future. I had all but planned the wedding. Ha! What a joke that was. A few months ago, I caught him with the assistant from his office in the back seat of his Mercedes, of all places. She was definitely assisting him, just in inappropriate, non-business ways. Of course, now he claimed to be a changed man, that I was the only one for him, blah, blah, blah. He wouldn’t leave me alone, as if I was the bad guy for not forgiving his little “mistake,” as he kept calling it. I rolled my eyes at the thought. Some mistake. Too bad for him. The asshole had his chance. He was only pursuing me now because he liked to be the one in control. The fact that I dumped him bothered him more than the act of me actually dumping him, I was sure. I didn’t for a minute think he really had an epiphany that I was the one for him. Why I hadn’t seen from the beginning what a self-centered jerk he was, I didn’t understand. I was getting myself all worked up for nothing. He wasn’t worth it. I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Thinking about Rick made me want ice cream. Actually, it made me want to drink or pull out his nails one by one. However, since nail pulling was illegal, and it wasn’t yet late enough for alcohol, ice cream was the perfect choice. I pressed the phone to my ear and opened the freezer, trying to see if I had anything left from the last time I was crazed over that asshole and needed an ice cream fix. I knew I had an unopened bottle of wine in the refrigerator so there was a backup plan.
“Forget him. When are you leaving for Alkon? You should do this, just go. I mean why not?”
“I was planning on leaving tomorrow morning. I just need to throw a few things in a bag, and it’ll only take me a couple of hours to get there since I would be going against traffic coming into the city. The interview is already scheduled for Saturday. I can hang out for the weekend and visit my parents. Maybe stay a few extra days since I can write the article from anywhere. Well, at least stay until I get bored or my mother drives me insane.”
“Have fun and call me when you get back so I can keep you posted on all the office gossip.”
I got off the phone with Tonya and found the will power to walk away from the ice cream in my freezer. It was freezer burnt anyway, so it wasn’t too difficult to resist. My thighs would thank me later. Promising myself a glass of wine after I packed, I walked into my bedroom to make sure I had clean clothes for the trip. I thought I should call my parents and tell them I was on my way, though maybe I would take a nap first. Today had been stressful and I deserved some relaxation.
I choose the nap, thinking that maybe being unemployed wasn’t so bad after all if it allowed me to take naps in the middle of the day. But just as I snuggled down and started to close my eyes, the phone rang again. Who the hell was it this time? I thought irritably. I wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone else. I just wanted to sleep. I tried ignoring it, but it wouldn’t stop ringing. Grumpy and in no mood to talk, I snatched the phone off the table. The caller I.D. said unknown, but I answered it anyway. Maybe it was someone from Trevor’s office. Though once I heard the voice on the other end, I realized what a big mistake that was. Stupid, stupid move. I threw myself back down on the couch and gritted my teeth in frustration.
“Hey, Sweet Pea.” It was Rick. I groaned, wondering why I had answered the phone. I should have known better. Maybe I could just hang up on him. Forget it. He would just call back, so I might as well get it over with.
“Why are you calling me, Rick?” I said, sighing heavily, hoping he would realize I had no desire to speak to him and wishing I had poured that glass of wine after all. Talking to Rick would require it.
“Baby,” he whined, “don’t act like you don’t want to talk to me.” That was another thing. Why had I not noticed before how annoying his whining was? Did I ever really think it was cute? No, but his ass was and that, along with his big baby blues, overshadowed many of his flaws for a long time. However, a hot body only can take you so far, and now it made me want to puke.
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you, I have told you this a hundred times. I don’t really understand why this is so difficult for you to comprehend. Why don’t you give Linda a call? I bet she’ll talk to you.” Linda was the infamous assistant, and yes, I admit, I was still a little bitter. Who wouldn’t be?
“You know you don’t mean that, baby. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? It was a one-time thing. Linda meant nothing to me. It’s you that I love. I need you. We belong together. I know that now.”
Blah, blah, blah, I thought, rolling my eyes. I had heard the same story so many times I could tell it better than he could. Did he really think he was being sincere? “Was that what you were thinking as you were screwing her in the back of your car? Besides, I don’t care anymore, Rick. About you or our relationship. Because there is no relationship. Get that through your head. I don’t have time for this. I have to pack. I need to go. Permanently, as far as you’re concerned.”
“Where are you going?” Rick asked, changing immediately from whining to that possessive tone I had always hated, even when I had still liked him. Since they had broken up, I noticed it much more than when they were together, though I was sure it had always been there. They say love is blind and sometimes deaf and stupid too. Why had I put up with him for so long? I thought I was a reasonably smart girl, but I kept choosing losers. Maybe I should thank Linda for helping me see the light. Mental note, send Linda the slutty assistant a thank you card. That’s what made me even madder. Linda was still his assistant even after that had happened. The asshole wouldn’t even fire her. Said it wasn’t fair to her. I figured he was afraid of the same sexual harassment lawsuit David Ritter was worried about.
“Not that it is any of your business, but I am going home for a few days.”
“What about work?”
“I quit.” I figured if he could lie, so could I.
“What! Why didn’t you tell me?” Rick demanded.
I held the phone out from her ear. Why me? Why couldn’t I just find a normal guy to get involved with?
“And why would I tell my ex-boyfriend?” I said exasperatedly, trying to stress the“ex” part, though he either was not getting it or choosing to ignore it. “It happened barely two hours ago, and again, it is none of your business.”
“We need to talk about this, Presley.”
Are you kidding me? Was he smoking crack? What made him think I needed to discuss anything with him?
“Rick, there is nothing that we need to talk about. There is no “we” anymore.” I enunciated slowly to help him understand.
“Listen, Presley,” he started.
“Bye, Rick. I am done with this conversation.”
“Quit being a bitch, Presley. I...”
I hung up and turned the phone off because even though I was too irritated to sleep now I was definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone else. Since a nap was out of the question, I decided to pack. What an ass! Then I pushed all thoughts of Rick from my mind and tried to think happy thoughts about my new career.
Chapter 3
I rocked out to Pearl Jam as I headed down the highway the last few miles to my parents’ home in Alkon. I enjoyed watching the skyscrapers and exhaust smell of the city morph into the calmer landscape of suburbia and felt happy when I saw the rolling countryside just beginning to green up with spring. I didn’t usually notice the landscape on the drive to Alkon—I was always too preoccupied with work, but today I realized how truly different Chicago and Alkon were, although they were only a few hours apart. The city was still my favorite place, but I could appreciate the pretty landscape outside the city too. Nothing like a calming roadside view and good music to put a person in a good mood. While my current playlist consisted of Pearl Jam and Counting Crows tunes, I also liked to get my groove on to hip-hop, top 40, and, if I was feeling melancholy or needed to chill with a glass of my favorite wine, a little blues.
After yesterday’s drama, I was surprised I woke up in such a good mood. I realized I was probably in denial about not having a steady income but I refused to let it get to me. Besides, this morning I found my favorite Tiffany choker. It had been missing for weeks. I put my tennis shoes on and hit it with my toe. As soon as I did, I remembered what was in there. I had put the silver necklace in my shoe the last time I went to Pilates. There had been a new girl in class who had just seemed a little off. You could never be too careful and Tiffany necklaces didn’t grow on trees. Even though that asshole Rick had bought it for me, I wasn’t about to give up fine jewelry. Hell, I wasn’t stupid about accessories, just men. Why was that? I was a reasonably intelligent woman, so why was I always picking guys who seemed great at first and then turned into assholes? Maybe I was trying too hard and should just take a break from men. That might be—HOLY CRAP! I slammed on the brakes and my car skidded sideways, coming to a shuddering stop about two inches from a cow. This is why I lived in the city. You might have to watch out for drunks and crazy people wandering around the streets, but traffic didn’t move fast enough for it to be much of an issue. My heart was pounding and my hands, shaking, thinking about how my poor Kia would have crumpled around me like an accordion if I had hit that cow. The cow didn’t even seemed fazed by the near miss. It looked at me through the windshield as if to say What? Is there a problem? I sat there for a second longer, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal and willing the cow to get the hell out of the middle of the road. Where had this thing come from anyway? The cow quit staring at me and ambled the rest of the way across the road. Thank god there wasn’t any traffic coming or there would have been quite a back up. I pressed the gas to move back on down the road. Feeling a little more composed, I started to laugh. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends in the city about this. They would never believe it.
Cow crisis averted, I went back to thinking about the events of yesterday. Today was the start of a completely new career, a new journey, a new chapter in the story of my life. See how good I can make things sound? I thought. I can do this writing thing. Everything was going to be just fine, and I just wasn’t going to worry about how to pay the bills. Life usually worked out, which was why having good karma was important—something that David Ritter, and Rick, would find out. They would eventually get what was coming to them. That is why I couldn’t pass up a homeless person on the street without giving them some money, even though all of my friends made fun of me for it. I was convinced that I would be able to balance out all the bad I had done with good deeds. Nobody’s perfect and it was my way to even things out.
My fingers went back to keeping time with the music on the steering wheel as I considered the senator’s stay in Alkon. Why Alkon? It was such a small town. The Senator was from some town outside of Sacramento, but his wife, Helen, had been born in Alkon. She was from old-family money. Her grandfather, Tobias Davis, had been some type of land developer and he had just raked in the bucks. He was also the type of man who had to do everything on the grandest scale imaginable—huge house, expensive cars, and a library, school, wing at the hospital, all named after him, of course. His son, Helen’s dad, was just a playboy with more interest in spending money than making it. That was how the story went anyway. He was killed in a drunk driving car crash, with the stereotypical mistress, when Helen was twelve. Tobias had been dead for close to twenty years and had left most everything to Helen’s mother, Cherise. Tobias had two other sons, so his choice of heir had surprised some people, but the rumor mill said that it was because he thought all his sons were lazy scoundrels. Helen’s mother never remarried and still lived in Tobias’ house, as far as I knew. I would have to ask her parents. It might provide some interesting background for my story on the Senator. I wondered if Helen realized she ended up marrying someone who seemed to be just like her daddy—a womanizing drunk who couldn’t be trusted. That was more rumor mill talking, but if you believed everything you heard about Tom Daniels, it did make the two men very similar.
On the campaign trail, the Senator always talked about his small town connection; he claimed to be a small town guy with small town values. Since he wasn’t actually from a small town at all, I wasn’t sure why people bought into that. It would be interesting to get to know him in person to see how he compared with his media image.
I thought about how excited my parents had been on the phone last night when I had told them I was coming to stay with them for a few days. Well, they were excited after they got over the shock of me losing my job and after my mother had given me the third degree about not coming home often. Why didn’t I come home more often? Me, my mom, and my dad all had different opinions on the subject. I felt constantly guilty about it because I loved my parents and did miss them dearly. I just wasn’t a small town person and felt stifled in Alkon after about twenty-four hours. Compounding that urge to flee was that, after about twenty-four minutes, my mother got on my last nerve.
I thought about how nice it would be to relax and enjoy being free from the stress of my old job, where inevitably any time I was gone for a few days, some crisis would occur that I felt compelled to rush back and fix. The more I thought about not working at my old job, the freer I felt. I would, of course, miss my work friends dearly, but it wasn’t as if I wouldn’t still see them, and the pleasure of seeing them daily wasn’t worth putting up with all the crap. These next few days were going to be fun. I could catch up with Katy and maybe some other old school friends I hadn’t seen in a while.
Katy Smythe had been my best friend all through high school, in that “together 24-7” type relationship all high school girls have—the kind where you share all your secrets and talk on the phone all night about boys. It was funny to think of what was high drama back then, though sometimes eighteen-year-old-boy drama was remarkably similar to thirty-something-boy drama. Lately, their relationship was relegated to the occasional Christmas card, which I felt bad about because Katy had always been there for me. Time just seemed to get away, and before I knew it, months passed. I was horrible about keeping up with old friends. I spent all my time working to reach my professional goals. Lot of fucking good that did. However, I was reforming and resolved to change my priorities. I hadn’t seen Katy in a long time and looked forward to catching up and staying caught up. I didn’t want to be the friend who was the hardest to reach anymore.
I pulled into my parents’ driveway and couldn’t help smiling at what I saw. The landscape was beautiful. It was moments like these, when I came back home to visit, that I realized why my parents loved living here so much. The driveway, lined with huge oak trees just starting to develop small green buds with the onset of warm spring weather, was long and twisty. My mother had already planted some beautiful red and pink flowers. Gardening was my mother’s source of pride, and she spent hours outside in the yard making sure things were perfect, although, truth be told, she never felt they were perfect. Every year she tried to out-do herself in making the yard look even better. And while it always looked great to me, neither me nor my dad could ever convince my mom of that. Sue, he always said, those other women don’t have anything on you. You’re the only one who can grow roses as high and bountiful as you do. In my opinion, it was the pressure applied by the women in the Junior League that made my mom feel constantly inadequate. They were worse than a bunch of truckers fighting over the last country-fried steak at the all-you-can-eat buffet. They spent all their time trying to one-up each other, though I could never see why. Did it really matter who had better flowers? Flowers died and you had to grow them again the next year; it seemed pointless to me.