by Ann Charles
Hell, yes! I licked my lips, trying not to let it be obvious how twisted up and over the moon he had me. “Let me see what this client wants and then I’ll be over.”
A horn honked.
I stepped back from Doc and glared over at Harvey, who sat waiting in Doc’s Camaro. The old codger needed to give us a moment. It’s the least he could do after so many nights of sitting at the other end of the couch, keeping me from jumping Doc’s bones after the kids went to bed.
Harvey pointed out the driver’s side window.
I followed his finger. Standing in front of Bighorn Billy’s front doors watching Doc and me with her jaw unhinged, her cheeks bright red, and flames shooting from her eyes, stood Tiffany Sugarbell.
Doc’s ex-girlfriend.
My competitor in real estate marketing ads.
The selling agent for the hotel I was helping Cornelius buy.
The woman Doc once told me was obsessed with winning, competitive on every playing field, including the bedroom.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, stepping back into Doc, who wrapped his arm around me.
“What’s wrong?”
“We have a problem.”
Judging from the snarl now scrunching Tiffany’s face into what looked like an ancient Maya mask, she did, too—with me locking lips with her ex-boyfriend.
Chapter Six
There were five different ways that Tiffany Sugarbell could turn my world into a living hell, and probably several more that I hadn’t thought of yet.
One, she could try to seduce Doc back between her sheets. The green jealousy monster and I made ugly bedfellows, especially when we spooned.
Two, she could partner with Ray, forming some evil alliance with the aim of ruling over my universe and screwing me out of sales and a job.
Three, she could sleep with Cooper and whisper sweet nothings in his ear all night about how I was guilty of every single thing he had suspected all along. I could see them locking me in jail and then dancing a jig together before Cooper ground the key between his molars and swallowed the metal shards.
Four, she might woo Cornelius … somehow. If that were even possible. Crazy Caly had managed it without trying, but I strongly suspected she wasn’t normal, and that had played a role in his attraction to her. Maybe Tiffany could wrap herself in a boa of raven feathers and convince him to back out of the hotel sale before the paperwork was finalized.
Five, she could blab to everyone in the hills that I wore a pushup bra. Droopy Boobs Parker would be my new nickname. Oh, the fun Cooper’s crew would have with me every time they dragged me into the station.
During the drive back to Calamity Jane Realty, I tried to come up with a plan on how to handle each possibility. All the while, I kept an eye out for her Jeep in my rearview mirror. I half expected her to chase after me and try to run me off the road for kissing her ex-boyfriend.
Doc might believe I was overreacting about how bad this could turn, but Doc’s XY chromosome mix made it hard for him to understand how a pair of X chromosomes plotted and schemed. His reminder back at Bighorn Billy’s that Tiffany had moved on and was fully involved with a new man had inspired my scornful laugh in return.
I still vividly remembered the day Tiffany had slapped him across the cheek for walking out on her, leaving her high and dry without an explanation. Only later had I found out it had to do with her mentioning the idea of marriage to him.
Tiffany’s rage that day had surfaced with a ka-boom at the mere sight of Doc, her usual professional veneer buried under smoking debris. I could have sworn in that heated moment her eyes had flashed fire and her red hair had flamed at the tips. But my memory could be partly skewed due to my envy for her perky breasts and incredible sales numbers.
Either way, one thing was clear today from the pinched expression on Tiffany’s face—she didn’t like to share with others. Contrary to what Doc might believe about his ex, I had a target on my back now. I sure hoped her aim was as rotten as mine.
I parked the Picklemobile behind Calamity Jane Realty, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. My lips needed fixing thanks to lunch and Doc; my hair needed corralling so I didn’t scare away my potential new client. After powdering my nose back into a matte finish, I was ready to impress.
Whiffs of Mona’s jasmine perfume drifted down the office’s back hallway. As I passed the bathroom, a heavy dose of green apple air freshener made me grimace—Ray! I was going to superglue his ass to the toilet seat if he didn’t stop trying to steal my clients. That would keep him out of the way when new customers came calling.
I pasted on a smile, all set to meet and greet, and stepped out into the front office.
“Too late,” Ray called out. His sneer made me want to reach for a sledgehammer.
“Where did he go?” I asked Mona.
“He got tired of waiting for you to finish getting all girly’d up for him,” Ray answered.
“I didn’t yank your chain,” I said without looking at the horse’s ass.
Mona smiled at me, warm and reassuring. If Jerry was truly the brilliant marketer he thought he was, he’d figure out how to clone Mona. “He got a phone call and had to leave.”
“Dang.” I dropped my purse on my desk.
“But he made an appointment to come back tomorrow morning at nine. I wrote it on your desk calendar. You don’t have anything going on then, do you?”
Only a walk-through of a dead woman’s apartment with Detective Cooper. But meeting my potential client rated higher on my priority list than hanging out with the detective. Coop would have to wait until I was finished playing Realtor. I needed to keep my job as much as he did. “I’ll be here by eight-thirty.”
“That’ll be a first,” Ray said.
I didn’t bite on his hook. “Where’s Ben?” I asked Mona, heading for the coffee pot.
“Jerry took him to meet an old friend he used to play ball with.”
Great. Now Ben would have yet another thing in common with our boss besides a set of testicles. I poured a cup of black coffee, debating on sugar or not. Black might be better, adding a sprinkling of hair on my chest so I could compete with Ben on the be-like-Jerry game. Nah. Sugar won.
The rest of the day passed slowly, especially after Doc called and told me he had to run down to Rapid City to help one of his clients and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. I phoned Cooper and left him a message about pushing our meeting back an hour. Then I watched the clock tick one minute at a time, feeling like a mosquito trapped in sap, wanting to go home and hug my son since Cooper wouldn’t let me badger the kid with questions. Finally it was time to call it a day.
I spent the evening following Layne around like a puppy. When Aunt Zoe asked me if I were feeling okay, I joked that I was having early separation anxiety.
Doc called my cell phone long after I’d left the kids’ bedroom and crawled under my sheets.
“How are you doing?” he asked, his deep voice velvety. I wanted to wrap myself up in it to fight off the chills and dread that kept breezing through me.
I had a feeling he wasn’t making small talk, so I didn’t either. “I’m scared about Layne.”
“This is some weird coincidence, Violet. He’ll be fine. He’s a smart kid.”
“And I’m anxious about Tiffany knowing we’re a couple.” I winced. Was couple too strong a word for his comfort level to describe our relationship at the moment? I felt extra sensitive about his feelings after having Tiffany and his past in my thoughts today. “Well, we’re together, I mean. Not necessarily a couple, but still boyfriend and girlfriend. Dating exclusively at this moment … sort of.”
I covered my mouth to shut it up.
“Are you done, sweetheart?” he asked.
I took my hand away long enough to answer. “I think so.”
“Two things you need to know.”
Only two? My hand lowered to my sternum. “What?”
“Don’t apply what I said about why I left Tiffany to you.”<
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Which part? As much as I wanted clarification, I kept my lips squeezed tight, afraid I’d sound more stupid and pathetic than I already had. “What’s the second thing?” I asked instead.
“You may have been right.”
“About what?”
“Tiffany not taking the fact that we’re a couple very well.”
So we were a couple in his eyes. Whew. What exactly did being a couple mean to him? I bitch-smacked my forehead, trying to mute that insecure voice in my skull. “Why do you say that?”
“She called me tonight.”
That settled over me like mustard gas. I coughed to clear the constriction in my throat. “What did she say?”
“I didn’t answer.”
Good! “Why not?”
“I was busy working.”
Even better. “Oh.”
“And I didn’t want to talk to her.”
I smiled. “Why not?”
“Violet, don’t you get it yet?”
“Get what?”
“The obvious.”
“I never assume I understand the obvious.” That usually resulted in my cheeks burning and a need to bury my head in the sand.
“That’s probably a safe bet.”
He was losing me. After the long, brain-bending day I’d had, I needed to keep our conversation at an eighth grade reading level.
“Did she leave a message?” I asked, my throat still burning about Tiffany calling my boyfriend.
“Not just one.”
I plucked a chicken feather from my comforter and let it drift to the floor. “So she called back?”
“Yes, twenty-three more times.”
What! Jeez! Crap! One sighting and she’d gone psycho. “What did she say in her messages?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Was she speaking in tongues?”
He chuckled. “I deleted them without listening to any.”
Really? “Weren’t you a little bit curious about what she had to say?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“One of the many benefits of no longer being involved with her romantically is that I don’t have to listen to anything she says.”
“So if I called and left you twenty-three messages you’d listen to every one of them?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I’d play the first one to find out what trouble you’d gotten into again and then come find you.”
I leaned back against the pillows, stretching my legs out in front of me, wishing he was sprawled out next to me. “You’d show up as my knight in shining armor?”
“Something like that. Not that you’d let me save you.”
“I certainly wouldn’t stop you if I was up shit creek.”
“Good. I’ll make sure to bring paddles next time.”
Rubbing my eyes, I sighed. “What are we going to do about your ex?”
“Ignore her. She’ll get over this and move on.”
I didn’t share his optimism. “It’s already been three months. It appears she hasn’t moved an inch yet. Maybe she’s been holding onto the hope that you’d eventually change your mind and take her back.”
“No, I think this goes back to her need to compete and be the best at everything.”
“Or maybe you’re irresistible.”
He laughed.
“You are pretty decent in the sack, Doc.”
“Pretty decent?”
“I’ve definitely had worse.”
“Name them.”
It was my turn to laugh.
“I’m serious, name them so I can hunt them down and warn them to stay away from you.”
“You’re starting to sound as loony as Tiffany.”
“You drive me nuts, Boots.”
I grinned. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I’m just getting rolling.”
I miss you.
I bit my tongue, keeping those three words inside. I was afraid if I said them, then three other words would follow, and Doc would leave me, too. Tiffany and I could become best friends forever and plaster our walls with pictures of Doc we shot through his blinds and curtains.
“Please tell me you’re definitely coming back up here tomorrow.” I plucked another chicken feather from my comforter. Addy must have let Elvis run loose today after school, dang it.
“I should be hitting the road by noon. Why? You want to finish what you started at lunch today?”
“Maybe.”
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”
I sat silent for a moment, listening to him breathe, imagining him touching me. “Violet?”
“What?”
“There’s something I need to tell you about Tiffany.”
My gut lurched. I wasn’t sure I could handle this tonight, but before my brain could take a vote on the matter, my lips asked, “What?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“In your bed?”
“Yes.”
“Under the sheets?”
I growled at him. “Damn it, Doc. What haven’t you told me about Tiffany?”
“She’s not you.”
He’d said that before. “What does that even mean?” I already knew she wasn’t flabby-bellied with wild hair.
“It means that if Tiffany tries to mess with you about us, remember what I’m telling you right now.”
What was he telling me? “That she’s not me?”
“Yes.”
He was going to need to spell it out for me, because I was tired of the guessing game when it came to us. “Could you be less cryptic, Doc?”
“Not over the phone. Sleep tight, Boots.”
He hung up, leaving me wanting so much more.
* * *
Wednesday, October 3rd
I blinked awake. The morning sunlight did not make my current situation look any better no matter how long I lay there in my bed, wishin’ and a hopin’. The smell of bacon lured me out from under my covers eventually.
My morning went the same as every other with periods of yelling and bouts of fighting until Harvey shoved the kids out the front door to take them to school. I spent extra time picking out a power outfit made up of black dress pants and a tiger striped silk blouse. Black leather boots finished off the bottom, a tightly coiled French chignon wrapped up the top. With some eyeliner and a touch of tinted lip gloss, the queen of the jungle was ready to meet her new client.
Parking spots were plentiful when I pulled into the lot, even with Jerry, Ray, and Benjamin’s vehicles already there. The “boys” had taken to coming in early to work and hitting the basketball court next door at the Rec Center for some early morning competition to get their testosterone spiking. As for me, I preferred caffeine over sweaty jock straps.
Mona pulled in right behind me.
“Morning, Vi,” she said and walked in with me. “How’s your aunt doing these days?”
“Okay.” We hung up our jackets and went our separate ways to our desks. “Why do you ask?”
Mona opened her laptop. “I saw Reid Martin playing pool last night up at Charles’ Club.”
“Yeah?” Reid and Aunt Zoe had a history. I didn’t know the full details, but it initially involved rejection and hurt feelings, and now included a shotgun aimed at his backside as Aunt Zoe shooed him away. “How’s Deadwood’s fire captain doing?”
It had been a couple of weeks since I’d run into Reid hustling out Aunt Zoe’s screen door while she hunted down her shotgun shells. Since then, I’d heard he was working long hours and drinking during the short ones. Whatever was going on between those two, Reid seemed to be swimming in booze to get through it. I’d been there and done that in the past, so I wasn’t one to throw pebbles at anyone’s glass house. Hell, much more of this crazy shit going on in my world and I might join him at the bar.
The back door creaked open; male laughter echoe
d up the hallway.
“I think Reid’s broken,” Mona said. “On a positive note, he could write country songs now. If he got himself a three-legged hound dog, he’d be on the road to a Grammy.”
Jerry’s extra-large shoes thudded into the front room. “Mornin’.” His cheeks were flushed, his tie hung loose, and his hair was wet. I caught the glance Mona shot at his backside as he bent over in his khakis and poured himself a cup of coffee. “What’s the game plan today, ladies?”
Mona’s fingers started their clacking song and dance. “Two showings and a lunch meeting down in Spearfish for me.”
“That color looks nice on you, Red,” Jerry said, staring at Mona’s white cashmere sweater snuggling her chest perfectly. “What about you, Violet?” he asked, his gaze still assessing Mona’s front side.
“White always makes me look washed out,” I answered, tongue in cheek.
“I think you look nice in white,” Ben said, rounding his desk and dropping into his chair. His cheeks were flushed, too, but his tie was straight and tight against his neck. “It turns your hair a pretty golden color, like Kate Hudson’s.”
“Thanks, Ben. I like that tie.”
“What is this?” Ray asked, dropping into his chair and kicking his boots up on his desk. “A hippie love-in?”
Jerry chuckled, dragging his focus away from Mona the siren. “I meant, what’s on your plate today, Violet?”
“Your Billboard Bunny caught a mouse,” Ray cut me off.
“He’s more of a golden-haired lion,” Mona said.
“Apparently,” I clarified for Jerry, “a customer came in yesterday while I was at lunch and made an appointment to be here at nine.” Which was twenty minutes away.
“He mentioned seeing her billboard.” Ray crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at me. “That was a brilliant marketing idea you had, Jerry.”
Freaking kiss ass. Ray knew my feelings about the billboard ad. He’d overheard me tell Mona the afternoon when I had first seen it that I was going to spray gasoline all over it and burn the sucker down.
“After I finish talking to this new customer, I have an appointment with Detective Cooper.”
“Again?” Jerry’s blonde eyebrows formed a line on his forehead below his buzz cut.