The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series

by Patrice Wilton

  Billy glanced at his friend and then back at me. He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m not some kid you can order about. Take your broom and flock off.”

  I sucked in a surprised breath. I watched his face, looking for a sign of weakness. I didn’t see any. “Billy. You know I have to report this. And your mother will find out. Hasn’t she got enough on her plate?”

  Suddenly I felt sticky and wet and was coughing up paint. Billy’s friend had turned the gun on me and sprayed me full blast. “Gotcha, bitch!”

  He dropped the paint gun to the ground and bent over, laughing his juvenile ass off. Billy snickered too.

  I guess I was the only one not laughing. I sputtered, wiping paint from my eyes. “That’s it! I tried to give you a chance, and this is how…” I spun around, heading for the manager’s office.

  In my hurry to leave I slipped on a wet slick of paint and landed on my fanny, hard, jarring my neck in the landing process.

  The boys took off and I sat there, bruised and stunned.

  Candy had raised Billy to have good manners, and he had always been a friendly kid until the past year or so. And that’s how he repaid her. By turning into a little stinker? Is that what parents have to look forward to?

  Mentally, I added another reason to my growing list, Why Not To Have Kids.

  Glancing down at my clothes, I saw my Tommy Bahamas shorts were ruined. My white Ralph Lauren blouse was coated in paint. I touched my face and my hair. My hands came away blue. I wiped my face with a tissue that I carried in my previously pink—now blue—Prada handbag, and slowly rose to my full height. I was not in a good mood.

  I walked to the management office, and suddenly there were people everywhere—the old man, the manager, strangers on the sidewalk, people riding bikes, kids roller-blading. And they were all staring at me.

  I kept my upturned nose pointed toward the sky and marched past. Wait ’til I get my hands on Billy. I was gonna kill that kid!

  * * *

  Susie was having a “beauty party” at her apartment that night and I had promised to go. I must have scrubbed about a layer of skin off before arriving at her door.

  “Have you changed your foundation?” Fran peered at me closely. “Your skin looks, I don’t know…almost bluish.”

  Susie came forward. “No. You had that fabulous Obagi Blue Peel, didn’t you?” She touched my chin, moving my face from side to side. “I heard that it can take seven to ten days for the blue to completely go away, but the downtime is less, right?”

  “What’s an Obagi? It sounds like something I’d order for sushi.” I felt my cheeks burn and wondered if I was now purple. “And no, I didn’t have a peel.”

  Ellen isn’t always the sharpest cheddar on the plate and that was obvious when she spoke up. “Well, if you didn’t have a peel, why is your face blue? Is it jaundice?”

  Fran answered. “No, silly. Jaundice would give the skin a yellowish tinge.” She squinted at me. “Yours is definitely blue. Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I answered as politely as I could. “No, they weren’t ghosts. More like monsters.”

  Ellen stepped around Fran. “Monsters? You’re seeing monsters? Sounds as if you’ve suffered a concussion to me.”

  I wanted to concuss her. I spoke in a genteel voice. “No, Ellen, not hallucinary monsters, but the real thing. Two boys who live near me are totally out of control. They had a spray gun and turned it on me.”

  Susie lifted a lock of my hair. “Ah, you poor thing. It’s on your neck, in your scalp. Even your ends have a dull bluish tint, too.”

  Someone else asked, “What did you do to them? Did you get even?”

  I could see from their eager faces they expected to be entertained by a clever retort. But the truth was I didn’t get the better of the boys; they got the better of me.

  “No, a nice old gentleman was there and he reported them, that was all there was to it. But can we forget about my terrible morning and get back to why we’re here? I mean, seriously, I’m in need of beauty repair, dial 911.”

  “Good idea.” Susie led the women to the living room where the doctor and aesthetician waited. She introduced everyone. “We have a little something for everybody tonight. Doctor Farrell is here for Botox treatments and Thermage, which I’m sure some of you ladies are going to just love.”

  “Is that the noninvasive procedure that tightens your face without any down time?” one of the girls from the typing pool inquired.

  “Yes. Doctor Farrell will explain it all in detail.” He was setting things up, but hearing his name, he flashed the women his dreamy smile and the collective audience practically purred.

  “We also have Jennifer, who is a terrific aesthetician, to do the permanent make-up, facials, and/or body-waxing.” Susie grinned mischievously, “And another room full of goodies.”

  I mumbled to Fran, “Hope they’ve got a good scrub brush and some Ajax for my blue face.”

  She chuckled, but avoided eye contact.

  Susie reached into a bucket of ice and pulled up a chilled magnum of champagne. “Now who would like a glass of champagne?”

  I was all for celebrating womanhood, so I accepted a flute and then Fran and I made our way to the food table. Popping a stuffed mushroom into my mouth, I surveyed the room. Susie had outdone herself making her home look straight out of a designer magazine. Not surprising, given the fact Susie herself was beautiful enough to grace any cover. I had no idea why she chose to be a receptionist at our law firm. Bright, funny, gorgeous, I’m sure her options were many.

  Fran said, “Why don’t you do something nice for yourself? Have a facial and a massage.”

  “I would but my neck isn’t up to it. What are you going to do?”

  “A facial. I’ve never had one.”

  “Nice. You’re going to love it. But don’t let them try to talk you into buying a bunch of skin products; you don’t need it. You have such lovely skin.”

  Her cheeks turned a light pink, and I wondered how long it had been since someone had paid her a simple compliment. Too long, obviously. I made a mental note of that.

  When the aesthetician had a free moment, I asked if she thought she could get the blue out of my face. She sighed, rubbing a thumb lightly over my skin.

  “Oh, dear. This is going to take some work.”

  She suggested a diamond scrub—a microdermabrasion. I was so thrilled to get rid of the blue I didn’t pay much attention to the side effects. I yelped when I saw my flaming red face in the small hand mirror.

  Marcia sidled up to me and said with malice, “You think it’s bad now, but wait until your face begins to shed like a snake.”

  “Thanks,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. “I feel so much better.”

  She gave me a mean smile, and I had to bite my tongue to stop from calling her the name I’d seen spray painted on the wall. I marched off and found myself next to the side table with the champagne. I poured myself another glass, and sipped on the icy cold drink to calm down. No sense getting into a cat-fight.

  Susie intervened, with a grin on her face and twinkle in her eye. “Hey, you two are single. Want to see what else we have to keep ourselves happy?”

  I nodded and followed her into the “private” showing room where she had a table set up with dozens of hand held massage toys. Some claimed to be for the neck and shoulders, others for the back. And some were for a different ache all together.

  I picked up one or two, feeling them in my hand, and tried not to blush. This was really a personal thing, and I felt it was a little embarrassing to be picking out something so intimate at a party with fellow employees. Maybe I was taking it too seriously though. From the way some of the girls were running around with them, tickling each other and making off-color jokes, I probably was.

  I kept my face bland and checked out the display. Long, thin, short, thick, they ranged in size from about four inches to a foot.

  Lifting one, Susie
stroked it playfully. “My personal favorite and probably the hottest seller.”

  “Hmm,” I managed to say, and gulped a drink. I knew I didn’t want another Barnie. I’d much prefer another round with Jed. Handsome, muscular, and…

  “Thinking about it?” I heard Marcia, at my elbow. “So much easier, isn’t it?” She chuckled. “Of course, the downside is that you have to buy your own dinner.”

  “I think I can do better.” I remembered Barnie’s little explosion, and the fact that it had had the orgasm instead of me. Jed was the safer choice, and a heck of a lot more fun.

  Fran stammered, “Don’t those things hurt?”

  Susie arched both of her perfect brows. “I’ve never had a problem.” She burst into giggles.

  Maybe it was the champagne, or the sake we were all bonding, but I gave them the best advice I could. “Buy American, and stay away from eBay.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The following morning Candy came over to apologize.

  “I heard what Billy did to you, and I’m so sorry.” She chewed her bottom lip and fidgeted nervously with her hands. “I don’t know what he’s thinking these days. He used to be such a sweet kid, and now it’s like he’s been taken over by an alien. I don’t know what to do.”

  I studied Candy’s worried face. She must have been in such a hurry to come and talk to me she forgot about make-up. Or she’d been crying. Motherhood sucked, I decided, taking her arm and leading her inside.

  “You look like you could use a cup of coffee. Let’s sit and talk about it.”

  She followed me into the kitchen and sat on the stool by the counter. I poured us both a cup, and leaned against the counter from her.

  “Were your clothes ruined?” Candy’s eyes clouded. “You always dress so nice. I’ll reimburse you, of course.”

  “No, don’t be silly.” I gave her a friendly smile, wanting to put her at ease. “It’s nothing. No big deal. And besides it wasn’t Billy who spray painted me, but his friend.”

  “God,” she groaned, reaching for her purse. “Let me just…I’d feel better, if…She took a fifty dollar bill from her wallet and tried to force it on me.

  I didn’t want her money after I’d busted her kid. “I’m not taking your money, but maybe you could offer to pay to have the wall repainted.”

  “I already did. The management was quite happy to take my cash,” she gave a weak smile.

  “I don’t know what to do with him anymore.” A rash was creeping up Candy’s neck as she spoke. “I talk to him about the trouble he’s going to get in, and he just laughs it off.” Her lips tightened in a grim line. “Thinks it’s a big, frickin’ joke.”

  The only thing I had to compare to Billy’s behavior was that of my brothers, fifteen years ago. Harmless pranks. But taking a face full of paint was not exactly harmless.

  “Have you spoken to his school counselor? That might be a good place to start.”

  “They’ve been calling.” She stared into her coffee cup like she might find an answer. “He’s been skipping school, smoking, and his grades are tanking. They’re suggesting outside therapy. But Lydia, Billy refuses to even consider the idea. I know I can handle this, if I could just get him to listen.”

  I reached over, putting my hand on hers. “Counselors are professionally trained. They might say the same thing as you, but because it’s coming from somebody different, it might resonate with Billy.”

  She played with her napkin and stared at the table. “Last month the principal called me in because he’d pushed some poor kid’s face into the water fountain and chipped the boy’s tooth.”

  I got up to pour more coffee so she wouldn’t see the shock I was feeling.

  Candy fished into her handbag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Let’s take our coffee onto the balcony. You can smoke outside.”

  She lit up immediately, and took a couple of deep drags, exhaling loudly. “Thanks. I’m so tightly wound, I feel like a rubber band.” She leaned over the railing, smoking in silence, and I could see she was trying to calm down.

  After she finished the cigarette, she stuffed it out and put it back in her pack. Then she gave me a weak smile. “I know I should quit. It’s hard to yell at Billy when he’s stealing cigarettes from my stash.” She looked out at the white sandy beach and watched the waves slap at the shore. “If you stare at the water long enough it has a calming effect. But nicotine’s faster,” she tried to joke.

  “Yes, I like to sit out here when I’m stressed.” Or when I want to spy on Jed making sand castles with his kids. They were sweet now, but would they turn on him too when they reached the terrible teens? And what about my adorable nieces and nephews? What if they turned delinquent like Billy?

  Candy’s hands were shaking, and she looked like she was fighting tears. “He got suspended for a week,” she said. “The boy’s parents threatened to sue, but I met with them and they decided to let it go as long as Billy keeps his distance from their son.”

  “Has he?”

  “Oh, yeah. He can’t stand the kid. When I asked him why he did such a terrible thing, his excuse was that the boy said something bad about me. Called me a ‘ho’.”

  “Too bad Billy didn’t break any more teeth.”

  She shrugged. “Names are just names. I thought I taught him that.” Her cheeks turned pink as she explained, “I was seventeen when I had Billy, and I had to support us both. So I became an exotic dancer.” Her eyes didn’t meet mine as she added defensively, “I didn’t turn tricks.”

  “Hey. I saw a special on Dateline a while back. Exotic dancing is no big deal. Look at all the college kids who do it and pay their own way.”

  She met my eyes straight on. “I have no regrets. It gave me the means to buy the Candy Bar, so I’m fortunate really.”

  “You did an amazing job when you took over. The walls were practically crumbling and I don’t think it had been painted in forever. Now it’s the coolest bar in the neighborhood.” I lifted my face to the warm morning sun. “You always think up innovative ideas to pack the place. I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks so much. Billy and the bar are my life.”

  As we wandered back inside, I was thinking how after knowing her for several years, we had never had a serious conversation before.

  Candy said, “Come by the bar this week, and let me at least buy you dinner.”

  “Sure. I will.” I followed her to the door. “And feel free to come over anytime you want to talk.”

  “Lock up after me and use the chain. You didn’t have it on before. Did you hear that Southgate Towers has had a string of break-ins lately?”

  * * *

  The following day Fran came by to bring me a case file from the office. My mouth dropped open, then snapped shut at the sight of her.

  “So what do you think of my hair?” Fran asked, patting it with a hopeful expression.

  “Wow. I mean, wow!” It was the only word to describe the bright red mess.

  “Good. I wasn’t sure if I liked it, but if you think it looks okay, then I’m keeping it.”

  “Where did you have it done?” I took the files out of her arms and dropped them next to my desk.

  She looked at her image in the framed mirror over the sofa. “I did it myself. I’ve been coloring my own hair for years. It’s easy. This time I thought it was time for a change.”

  Before I had a chance to think up a suitable reply, she squeaked, “You don’t think it’s a tad too red?”

  “Well, maybe just a bit.” I answered as honestly as I could. “But after a few shampoos some of that brightness will wash out, and if not, a toner will take some of the brassiness away.”

  “You think so? You think it’s brassy, then?” Her mouth turned down, giving her face a pinched look.

  “I think it will be fine in a week or two.” I lifted a lock of Fran’s hair and noticed how dry and brittle it was. I was afraid to recommend any further treatment in case it
broke off. “I wouldn’t worry about it, color fades quickly.”

  “True. I think I’m going to like being a redhead. I have to do something if my life is about to change.”

  “Change is good.” I smiled. “That was my father’s favorite saying. And the reason he said it was because he made us move every few years.”

  “Bet that was rough.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Dad went from job to job trying out new things, and it was difficult for us as a family. As kids, we constantly had to change schools, make new friends, and learn to adapt. Maybe that was why I’d stayed at the same firm so long. I could’ve gone other places for more money, but the lure of partnership, the stability, kept me there.

  “Mom and Dad would tell us it was character building, and that we would look back one day and see how we benefited from our experiences.”

  “Has that day arrived?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m never going anywhere. I found a job I love in one of the greatest places to live—wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

  “Lucky you.” Fran let her horrible red locks fall to her shoulder. “You already have everything you want.”

  Did I? Of course I did, or would, once this partnership was sealed. It hadn’t been exactly offered to me yet, but it was pretty much promised. I had worked long and hard to achieve this goal, and had expected it a couple of times, only to be disappointed. But right now I was so close I could taste it. If this Jed thing hasn’t thrown me right off the track, that is. But Hal said I needed to take my yearly vacation time; that must mean he expects me to be around for awhile. Right? So I had nothing to worry about. Nobody was going to stop me from getting what I’ve worked so long and hard for.

  Fran said, “I’m ready to make some really big changes. I’m thinking about joining Romance.com and doing some internet dating. Do you think it’s safe?”

  “Sure. As long as you don’t give out your address or phone number, and arrange to meet in a public place. I mean, I’ve never done it, mainly because I’m not much into dating. But I’ve heard lots of people have had success with it.”