After a minute of idle chit-chat, Vince left my office with the promise that Bianca would stop by to tell me everything I needed to know.
Like that was any comfort.
By the time she darkened my office door an hour later, I was feeling surprisingly edgy about the whole thing. She didn't make me feel any better when she gave me a long, predatory look and said, "Well, somebody didn't get any sleep last night."
She was right, of course.
My brothers' Kung fu marathon had extended until two o'clock in the morning, and I'd hung with them the whole time, praying that Jake would return my call. And then, when he didn't, I'd slept like crap and woken up to the realization that I was probably an idiot for making that call in the first place.
But I'd die before telling Bianca any of this.
She sank into my visitor's chair and said, "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Well, aren't you going to respond to that?"
I blinked over at her. "You didn't get any sleep? Gee, sorry to hear that."
"I wasn't talking about me," she said. "I was talking about you."
"Oh. Then I'm even sorrier."
She gave her head a little shake. "What?"
Okay, even to me, that didn't make much sense. It was definitely time to change the subject. "Vince said you and I are going out in the field Saturday?"
"Right." Bianca made a face. "Baby-sitting duty."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean we've got to tag along with one of his high-maintenance clients and make sure he doesn't get into serious trouble." She frowned. "Or more likely, once he has gotten into trouble, we'll be the ones left smoothing it over."
"Smoothing it over how?" I asked.
"Any way we can," she said, giving me a meaningful look.
Something about that look was making me nervous. But then again, this was Bianca. She had a way of implying the worst possible things, only to make me look like a moron afterwards. I wasn't falling for it. Not this time.
"Sounds great," I said.
Her gaze narrowed. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"Doesn't what bother me?"
She lowered her voice. "You know."
"Actually," I said, "I don't know. So if you want to spell it out, I'm all ears."
She pursed her lips. "If I have to spell it out, you're a lot greener than I thought."
"Or maybe I'm getting wise to your tricks."
"Oh, get over yourself." She gave me a thin smile. "I don't have any reason to 'trick' you."
I did a mental eye-roll. This whole thing was so grade school.
"Good," I said, "then I won't have any reason to hide a clown in your closet."
Her brow furrowed. "What was that? Another threat?"
Actually, I didn't even know what that was. I was losing it, definitely.
Still, I made myself say, "Oh please. The threat of what? Clownage?"
Her gaze narrowed. "You do know why you were hired, right?"
At this, I felt a twinge of discomfort. I wasn't totally clueless. I knew that I wouldn't have been hired in the first place if it weren't for whatever was going on between Vince and Jake. But I also knew that I was willing to work hard and prove myself in this business. If I had my way, I'd be earning my keep and then some.
I felt my own brow furrow. Or maybe I'd just done it because I'd been so angry with Jake. Maybe I was the grade-schooler here.
"You were hired," Bianca continued, "because you were supposed to handle Jake." She made a show of looking around my office. "I mean, let's be honest here. You – someone with nearly no experience and zero connections – managed to get a private office, a company car, and a salary that's well beyond your qualifications." She gave me a smirk. "Did you really think it had anything to do with you?"
Ouch. Score for one for Bianca. Trying hard not to show it, I stood. "Are we done here?"
"For now." With a long, languid motion, she rose to her feet. "Want some friendly advice?"
"From you?" I made a scoffing sound. "No thanks."
"Quit, before you get fired." She smiled. "Again."
Heat flooded my face. Desperately, I searched for a snappy comeback. "Do you want some friendly advice?" I asked.
She crossed her arms. "What?"
"Tonight, don't open your closet," I said, "because I'm pretty sure you'll find a clown in there."
After she left, I sank back into my seat and pondered my own stupidity. My comeback was more pathetic than snappy, and my chances of success here were looking slimmer all the time.
Somehow, it reminded me of all the other mistakes I'd made in my life. And then, there was my number-one mistake – Jake. Somehow, with him, I'd managed to do everything wrong.
Sitting at my desk, I closed my eyes, trying to envision his face. A wave of melancholy washed over me so hard that I swear I could hear his voice.
But then I realized something. I was hearing his voice, literally. And if I wasn't mistaken, he was just down the hall.
Chapter 44
Surprised, I pushed up from my desk and rushed to the doorway of my office. I poked my head out and glanced around. I didn't see him. Was I hearing things?
But then I heard Jake's voice again, saying something about an ass-kicking. I felt my brow furrow. Who was he talking to?
I hurried toward the sound, which led me to the suite's only conference room. I stopped just outside the doorway. The room was dark, and the door was mostly shut. But I was hearing his voice from somewhere within. I was sure of it.
I froze, wondering if I should knock or maybe poke my head in for a quick look.
But before I could do anything, the room fell silent, and the door flew open, revealing Vince, looking like he wanted to kill someone. "What?" he barked.
I shrank back. "Sorry," I stammered. "I just thought I heard a voice."
"Whose voice?" His tone grew sarcastic. "Your boyfriend's?"
"He's not my—"
"Cut the crap," Vince said. "You were supposed to solve this shit."
Startled, I tried to peer around him. "I don't know what you mean."
"Is that so? Then who are you looking for?" He made a grand sweeping gesture toward the inside of the conference room. "You wanna see him? Is that it?" He gave a bitter-sounding laugh. "Go ahead. Be my guest."
I took a small step backward. The guy looked nearly unhinged. Trying hard to keep my voice level, I said, "Vince, what's going on?"
As an answer, he grabbed my elbow and practically dragged me into the darkened space. He spun me toward the far end of the room, where a still-motion image was frozen onto a big white video screen. It was Jake. His shirt was torn and splattered with red. He was standing in front of a rumpled bed in what looked like a low-budget hotel room.
Next to him, seated haphazardly across a faded blue chair was a petite, college-aged blonde in a cheerleader's uniform. Her hair was a mess, and her face was bloody. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, like she'd been crying for hours. Her mouth was open, as if she were in the middle of saying something to whoever held the camera.
"Oh my God," I breathed. Suddenly, I felt like throwing up. I couldn't be seeing what I thought I was I was seeing. But there it all was, in full, ugly color.
I could hardly bring myself to look. I had known Jake for years. Never, not even once, had I thought him capable of this. That poor girl. I whirled toward Vince. "Who is she?" I asked. "A client?"
He looked at me like I was too stupid for words. "Who is who?" he asked.
"The girl."
"Screw the girl," he said. "You see the guy behind her?"
As if I could miss him. My voice was barely a squeak. "Jake?"
"No," Vince said through clenched teeth. "The other guy."
Was he being sarcastic? From the tone of his voice, I couldn’t be sure.
With a growing queasiness, I turned back to the screen. That's when I noticed something lying across the floor – cowboy boots, pointed toes-up. The boots w
ere attached to long denim-clad legs, which the way it looked, were attached to a prone body, lying on the floor somewhere just behind the bed.
Trying to make sense of everything, I stared at the image. "You mean the guy in the boots?"
"Yeah," Vince ground out. "The guy in the boots." He made a sound of disgust. "That, Luna, is Doc Rochester. Remember him?"
The more he talked, the more confused I grew. "The boxer?"
"Not just the boxer," Vince said. "My client. Or should I say our client, since you supposedly work here."
I drew back. Supposedly? What was that supposed to mean?
Stepping forward, Vince continued. "You know how much this is gonna cost?"
"Who?"
"Doc. And, more importantly, me."
My head was swimming. How could he think of money at a time like this? I sure as hell couldn’t. Still, I made myself stammer out, "You mean in endorsement deals?"
"You really don't get it, do you?"
The whole ugly scene aside, I was getting a little tired of him talking to me like I was a piece of garbage. "No. I guess I don't get it, because none of this makes any sense." I glanced toward the still image. "That girl? What happened to her?"
Vince shoved a hand through his hair. "Shit," he said. "Fuckin' Jake."
My gaze narrowed. "But Jake didn't do that. Did he?" I leaned toward him and spoke very slowly. "Who is the girl?"
"She's nobody," Vince said. "Get over it."
I stared at him. "Get over it? Is she gonna be okay?"
Vince gave a choked laugh. "Oh, she'll be okay. But it won't be cheap."
I shook my head. "What?"
"Everyone has their price," he said.
"What do you mean?" I felt my lips curl in disgust. "Hush money?"
"What are you a Girl Scout?" he said. "That girl? She's a pro. She gets it, even if you don't."
"What do you mean pro?" I asked. "You mean like a pro cheerleader?"
"If you think that," he said, "I've got a bridge to sell you somewhere." He lowered his voice to say, "You fix this. Or I will."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, it's time for you to start earning your keep around here."
As I stared at Vince, all of Jake's warnings skittered across my brain. Why hadn't I listened? But I knew why. It was because I had only seen what I wanted to see – a chance to break out of my employment rut and actually make something of my life.
Forget that.
I'd rather be unemployed than sell my soul for a nice office and a paycheck. I crossed my arms. "No."
"No what?"
"No. I'm not having any part of this."
"That's what you think."
"What are you gonna do? Fire me? Well, you don't need to." I straightened my spine and met his gaze head-on. "Because I quit."
At this, Vince laughed. It sounded nothing like any laughter I had heard from him before. "Is that so? Fine. Your call. I'll just be needing that signing bonus back." He smiled. "Unless you've already spent it."
My mouth fell open. The signing bonus? Oh crap. I had spent most of it, and none of it on luxuries either. I did a quick mental tally. Between the rent and security deposit on the apartment, not to mention living expenses, I didn't have a whole lot left.
It didn’t help that I still hadn't received a paycheck. But maybe if I played it right, that could be a good thing. Somehow, I made myself speak. "Fine. Just take it out of my check."
"Sorry, not good enough. You quit."
"So?"
"So and you forfeit your first month's pay. Or didn't you read your contract?"
I did read it, in fact. The thing had been pages and pages long with all sorts of clauses and details that ran together into one big blob of confusion. But it was a little late to complain about it now, wasn't it?
I glared at him. "Don't worry. I'll have your money."
"I don’t want the money." He pointed toward the screen, where the still image of that ugly hotel scene remained. "I want your help in making this go away."
I gave him a look. "Dream on," I said. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t make that go away. The thing's gotta be all over the internet by now."
"Not the way it looks," Vince said. "It was delivered on a disk."
"I don’t care if it was delivered by unicorn," I said, turning to leave. "I'm not fixing this for you, and you wanna know why? Because Jake was right. You are an asshole."
Chapter 45
When I walked into my apartment an hour later, the Kung fu marathon was still going strong. I stopped to stare at my brothers. The way it looked, they hadn't moved all day. Steve, as usual, was hogging the whole sofa, while Anthony was sacked out on the easy chair next to him.
"Why aren't you guys working?" I asked.
"Because it's raining," Steve said. "You didn't notice?"
Like I wouldn’t notice the raging downpour that had just soaked me to the skin. After forfeiting my company car, I had taken the bus home. The bus stop was a half-mile away, and I had no umbrella.
"Oh, I noticed," I said. "But seriously, raining or not, don't you have to work anyway?"
"Not the way I see it," Steve said.
I glanced around, taking in the snack wrappers, pizza boxes, and empty soda cans. "Must be nice," I muttered.
"Like you should talk," Steve said. "It's like one o'clock in the afternoon. Why aren't you working?"
I gave a long sigh. "You don't wanna know."
"Wait," Steve said, holding up a hand. "Fired or quit?"
I gave him a dirty look. "Oh shut up."
"Seriously," he said, "what was it?"
"Does it matter?" I asked.
From the easy chair, Anthony spoke up. "It does, actually. Steve and I got a bet."
Well, that was special. I kicked aside a pizza box and claimed a spot on the floor, where I sat cross-legged facing them. "For your information, I quit. There. Are you happy?"
Steve frowned. "Well I'm sure as hell not happy."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because," Steve said, "that means I owe Anthony twenty bucks." He gave me a sour look. "Thanks a lot."
Anthony was grinning. "Yeah," he told me, "Thanks."
"And," I said, "I've got to come up with five thousand bucks by Monday."
"Why?" Anthony asked.
I pushed a hand through my soaked hair. "Because I've got to pay back my signing bonus."
"You know what you should do?" Steve asked.
I glanced at him. "What?"
"Get Jake to pay it. I mean, he's rich, right?"
"Just stop it," I said. "I don't like him because he's rich. And besides, this isn't his problem."
Thinking of Jake, my heart sank even lower. He still hadn't called me back, and I was getting a sick feeling that he never would. But even if he did, I wouldn't be asking him for money. Dignity aside, the last time I'd borrowed money from a guy, it had cost me my car.
On a cheerier note, I didn't have a car anymore, so that wasn't exactly a problem these days, was it? Nothing like looking on the bright side.
Desperate for a distraction, I turned my attention to the television screen, where a monk was cooking with one hand and fighting off assassins with the other. Somehow, I could almost relate.
When the show went to a commercial break, I stood and headed toward the kitchen, praying there was a bottle of wine in there somewhere. I hesitated. Two bottles might be better.
I'd gotten maybe three steps when a vaguely familiar female voice made me stop in my tracks. I couldn't quite place it, but I was sure I'd heard that voice before.
I turned to look and heard myself gasp.
"What?" Steve asked.
With a shaky hand, I pointed toward the television. "That girl. In the commercial. I've met her."
In unison, my brothers turned to look. It was a local advertisement for a low-budget used car lot. Wearing nothing but high heels and a skimpy red-white-and-blue bikini, the girl was perched on the hood of a cla
ssic Chevy muscle car.
She was talking about free floor mats and air fresheners with every purchase. Smiling into the camera, she ended her pitch by hollering out, "So come on down to Morrey's Used Car Emporium, and tell 'em Candy sent you." The commercial ended with Candy giving a big sideways wink toward the camera just before it faded out to poorly rendered graphics of fireworks exploding.
When the next commercial began, I was still standing there, dumbstruck. She might call herself Candy, but I knew her by another name. Bath Girl.
An hour later, I was down at the used car lot, braving the rain in search of answers. In spite of my brothers' best efforts to convince me otherwise, I'd come alone, having wheedled the keys out of Steve, who hadn't looked too happy about it.
I was standing in the rain for maybe ten minutes when a hard-looking woman with dripping wet, over-processed hair cornered me in the truck section. "You looking for a good deal?" she asked.
"Actually," I said, "I'm looking for Candy."
The woman's eyebrows furrowed. "We don't sell no candy. You lookin' for a truck?"
I cleared my throat. "Sorry, what I mean to say is that I'm looking for the actress in your commercials. I think her name is Candy? By any chance, do you know her?"
"Know her?" the woman said. "I had her."
"Excuse me?"
"She's my daughter." The woman gave me a toothy grin. "And you know what?"
"What?"
"She's gonna be famous."
Fifteen minutes later, I knew more than I ever dreamed of – of the woman, of pickup trucks, and of Candy, an aspiring actress, who surprise, surprise, had just signed with a hot new talent agency, courtesy of some sports agent with New York connections.
Gee, I wonder who that could be?
My head was spinning. An actress? Inside the hotel room, the girl had claimed to be a flight attendant. I wanted to cry.
Had the girl realized that she was ruining my life? Or did she think it was some prank for fun? Did it matter? Either way, the result was the same. I had bought her act, hook, line and sinker. Worse, I'd thrown away something good because I'd fallen for a lie.
Jake Me Page 17