Pink Slips and Glass Slippers

by J. P. Hansen

  Brooke sunk her shoulders down the plastic backing of the booth. “Now, I’m going to get sick.”

  “I did some checking online.” Melissa curled her lips into a devilish grin, “Chase is hot.”

  “Unfortunately, he boiled over and burned me. I made a big mistake.”

  Melissa crinkled her brow, then said, “The morning after the wedding, you were beaming. I’ve never seen you like that.”

  “Well, he turned into a creep, trust me.”

  “Look at the reversal—you’re talking me into forgiving Eddie, but you—”

  “It’s not the same. You knew all about Eddie—the good and the bad. You guys have been dating longer than most marriages last. Chase, it was our first time…”

  “What would you tell me if we traded seats?” Melissa crossed her arms with a defiant smirk.

  Brooke just stared out the window. Melissa’s words stung, leaving the woman who could speak in front of a thousand strangers speechless. Brooke wasn’t prepared for Reverse Psychology 101. The waffle that tasted so good moments ago, churned inside.

  Brooke said, “I don’t feel so good. Can I take you back to your car?”

  “Sure.” Melissa resisted her urge to press further, even though she despised double standards. The drive to Santiago’s parking lot felt somber. Brooke hoped to lighten her mood and the tension by clicking on the radio—All You Need Is Love. Brooke was glad Melissa didn’t touch it.

  As Brooke pulled up to the parking lot, Melissa hugged her and said, “Thanks for everything. You really are a great friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Ditto,” was all Brooke could utter as her friend pulled her keys out of her purse.

  Brooke watched Melissa climb into her car then pulled away while lifting her heavy hand in a half-hearted wave. Time of Your Life—subtitled Good Riddance—began playing. Brooke released a nervous laugh, thinking, music is strange sometimes. She passed a Starbucks without even considering a stop, but the image lingered.

  Once back in her apartment, she plopped down at her desk, and fired up her computer. After her stunning beach screen saver appeared, she said, “One day,” then opened her email. Nothing from Chase, but there was one from Bodady Search Partners, sent yesterday:

  “Resume looks great. I’ll present you everywhere I can. Hoping for a quick hit—I’d love to put you in my twofer group (LOL). Talk soon, Travis.”

  ***

  Chase put Parker down for a nap with Duke sprawled across his Blue Devils comforter. After playing all morning, Chase considered laying down for the rest of the weekend. With his mind racing, he eyed his guitar and scurried over. I haven’t played in a long time—I wonder if it’s still in tune?

  He opened his case and gazed at his custom-made Taylor—the same one Dave Matthews plays—and pulled out his digital tuner. Not too bad. He played a chord progression that soothed him. As he strummed, he thought of Brooke. I wonder what her favorite song is? Does she like the guitar? Did she play an instrument? With those fingers…

  Chase paused and closed his eyes, imagining Brooke. One week ago. How alive she made me feel. I’ve never met anyone like her. I hope we meet again soon. He opened his eyes and opened his notepad. He scribbled “Brooke” at the top of the fresh page, then wrote the chords down. He replayed the melody, making minor adjustments as he went, then added some clever finger picking.

  Right before the nap, Chase told Parker he could have a friend sleep over—guessing he’d ask Will when he awakened. I wonder what she’s doing tonight?

  ***

  Though Brooke still fumed, Melissa’s ominous words clouded her mind. What would I tell her if we traded seats? Saturday and Sunday seemed to drag—quite a change from last week. Brooke had another vivid Tanner dream, and once again, she couldn’t remember it when she awakened. Her head still knocked. She guessed it was from caffeine withdrawal—or maybe, Chase withdrawal. Brooke couldn’t expunge him from her head. She was spellbound despite his actions.

  Without any work-related time pressure—which still felt strange—Brooke went on a long run. She decided to go without her iPod, focusing instead on the sounds of the morning. As she passed houses old and new, playgrounds with children playing tag, a church, and even a convenience store, she heard winsome chirping from birds that seemed to line up for her like people watching a marathon. Once again, she thought about Chase. I wonder if he runs every morning. Is he running right now?

  By the time Brooke returned, she had run nearly eight miles in sixty-six minutes. Not exactly a medal performance, but she felt energized—how a Monday should feel. Her ankle twinged a few times, but held up. I bet I can run a half-marathon in an hour and a half. I guess I’ll find out next week.

  Brooke sliced some fresh fruit into a bowl. She flipped on the TV and savored the vibrant meal while viewing a cooking show. I’d love to be able to cook like that. But first, I need someone to cook for—other than myself.

  After breakfast, Brooke enjoyed a long hot shower. Toweling off, she slipped on a sundress and went barefoot—quite a change from a week ago. With nothing to do, Brooke decided to give herself a break. She popped in the movie Message in a Bottle. She hadn’t viewed it in a while, and loved the Carolina setting. She pined for a place of her own on the beach. Brooke could look at Kevin Costner with the sound muted and still enjoy the movie. She kept the sound on, and midway through the Nicholas Sparks story, she noticed she hadn’t thought of Tanner. Chase kept popping up.

  As the credits rolled, she laughed—I’m becoming my father. Brooke wondered if Melissa had gone to her appointment yet, and whether or not Eddie had accompanied her. She guessed they made up—at least for now—since she hadn’t heard from her friend since Saturday morning. I hope the baby’s okay. It’s a good sign she hasn’t called.

  Brooke dialed Shane—voicemail, then said, “Just checking in…nothing urgent.” Realizing life had become nothing urgent, an unfamiliar feeling set in—boredom—and Brooke didn’t know how long she could do this unemployment thing. She glanced down at her pastel sundress, then remembered…I never did buy an interview outfit. Gotta do that.

  Brooke recalled North Hills Mall. Too bad, they did have cute shops there, but going back was out of the question. The image of the mall cop making her parade back and forth like a stripper right in front of that hotel ruled out Raleigh. She considered local shops in Chapel Hill—nah, not for business wear. Though it was further away, she settled on The Streets at Southpoint. Between Nordstrom, Ann Taylor, and Macy’s, I’m bound to find something. With a killer resume, a new interview outfit, and a superb recruiter, I can’t miss. She glanced at the cover of The Bliss List, and smiled, reaching for her keys.

  During the drive, Brooke dialed Melissa—voicemail. I bet she’s at her appointment right now. She laughed as she pictured Eddie looking at his watch more than the sonogram screen. Maybe Shane was right. It could be worse; I could be married to a guy like Eddie. With Southpoint up ahead, Brooke recalled the last time she’d been in Raleigh. I bet the RTP Convention Center’s nearby. Her emotions felt bittersweet. Was the night that seemed so magical to me, routine for him? Did he always reserve the same suite? As much as she tried to distance herself from Chase, he pulled closer. Even after all the lousy things he’s done, I still wouldn’t trade Chase for Eddie.

  Browsing at all the stuffy women’s suits, Brooke cringed. I hope I don’t have to actually wear this stuff after the interview—I don’t want another company like that. She noticed how differently the various clothing displays made her feel. The playful, fun clothes reminded her of GenSense, where a sundress would be considered formal—and the culture was as relaxed as a Carolina sunset. The mundane woolen ladies suits looked so Pharmical, an inner dungeon. And no matter what she tried on, she wondered if Chase would like it on her.

  Without the distractions of the fun sections, Brooke would’ve finished shopping for the interview outfit in no time, but this time there was no rush. Maybe having little to
do in plenty of time has its advantages.

  Carrying four heavy department store bags, Brooke passed a coffee shop. The aroma nearly pulled her in, but she kept walking. She stopped outside Strasburg Children and set her bags down at her sides. The clothing looked so cute and classy, exactly how she would outfit her baby. I have time, she laughed to herself.

  Brooke spent more time searching for a gift for Melissa’s baby than she had for herself. She loved shopping for kids clothes. Lifting the outfits like rare artifacts, Brooke lovingly ran her fingers across the fabrics. The little girl dresses were so precious, while the boy’s looked funny—the kind you could get away with only while they were young. She loved Tanner’s baby picture in knickers and a cap—cute as a two year old, but would’ve cost him his lunch money later in life. Noticing all the mothers browsing with strollers, Brooke felt a kinship, a strong desire to join that sorority. I’d rather do that than a corporate sweatshop any day.

  “Whenever I see your smiling face…” rang out from her purse buried in one of the bags, drawing a few glances from nearby shoppers. Brooke grabbed her cell, then glanced at caller ID and smiled, “Your timing’s perfect. I just bought a bunch of interview stuff.”

  “We need to talk.” Brooke could barely hear Travis.

  “Hang on, I’m in a store. Let me go outside.” Brooke pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder, then gripped the bags and plodded toward the door. She said, “I’m almost there.” Travis waited. Even though it was hard to hear, he wasn’t his usual chipper self.

  Once outside, Brooke spotted a solitary bench—a rarity on the weekend, but just a little lucky for a Monday. She dropped the bags, and plunked dowwn as she grabbed the phone in her hand, and said, “Did you find me a dream job?”

  “Ah, that’s why I’m calling.” His tone sounded more like a funeral director than an executive recruiter.

  “You don’t sound like your usual self…”

  Travis said, “I’ve known you for a long time. You were a great placement for me at GenSense.”

  “Okayyyyyyyy.” Brooke clenched her jaw.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this—”

  “It’s not my resume, is it?”

  “No, your resume is fine.”

  Travis seemed evasive, as if he couldn’t verbalize his thoughts—definitely not himself. Brooke said, “You sound like you just saw a ghost.”

  Travis sighed, “Listen, I don’t think I can help you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got shot down everywhere.”

  Brooke felt a thud inside, “I don’t understand.”

  Long pause, then, “Can I ask you a direct question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did you sleep with the CEO?”

  “Oh my God,” Brooke felt faint, barely able to focus through her fluttering eyes, “Who said that?”

  “You’re being blackballed—big time. The word on the street is you slept with Chase Allman.”

  “Who’s spreading that rumor?”

  Travis inhaled deeply, “I can’t divulge my sources, you know that.”

  “No, I don’t know that. That’s a pretty lousy rumor to be spreading. I have a right to know who.”

  “I never reveal confidential sources—no exceptions. Otherwise, no one would ever trust me. Any time someone tells me something in confidence, I always honor it. My name’s my business and my reputation is everything.”

  “What about my reputation?” Tears stung Brooke’s eyes.

  “I’ve broken one of my rules—I’ve told you too much. Look, I do care about you, I know you’ve been through a lot, and you’re not just a typical candidate. Like I said, you were a great placement for me. I’m just sorry I won’t be able to place you again.”

  “Well, aren’t there other companies you work with?”

  “Not in this area, I’m afraid.” Travis then listed the companies he canvassed—a Who’s Who of Research Triangle Park—and each name felt like a knife thrust in a different spot, deeper each time. Brooke faintly heard Travis say, “Unless you’re willing to up and move,” as she dropped her cell and the tears streamed.

  ***

  “Eddie, slow down. You’ll kill the baby.”

  Glancing at Melissa’s wild eyes, Eddie laughed, then without slowing down, said, “Relax. I’m barely speeding. You’re the most uptight person I know. Sheesh. The baby’s fine—the doctor showed us.”

  “You took that last turn at like ninety miles an hour. You almost threw me out of the car.”

  “Put on your seat belt.”

  “It is on.”

  “Relax. And, stop nagging me about every little thing.”

  Melissa sighed. Since their wedding day, instead of honeymooning, all they did was fight. Melissa followed Brooke’s advice and forgave Eddie who displayed reconciliation with a shrug of his shoulders. Though Melissa had convinced Eddie into coming along to the doctor’s appointment—through heavy guilt—she would have rather had Brooke there.

  I’m glad the baby’s fine. I’ll call Brooke when we get home—if Eddie doesn’t crash.

  ***

  “Any luck?”

  “I’ve been plenty lucky. Can you be more specific? Who is this?”

  “It’s Chase.”

  “Oh, in that case, no. Your little girl’s nowhere to be found.”

  Chase fidgeted in his chair and fixed his gaze out his wall-sized window on the swirling clouds. “Did you get the money I wired into your account?”

  “Money’s in, Chief. I got the word out and nobody’s seen either one of them. In case they skipped town, I put plenty of eyes on it. Even if they try to sneak into Canada, I got it covered.”

  “Keep me posted.” Chase hung up the phone. Max sounded about as confident as his divorce attorney. He opened his door, and jumped back. “Ruth, you scared me.”

  “Sorry, I saw your call ended and I was going to tell you…” Ruth stopped, scrunched her brows tightly, then asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Chase said with an edge in his voice, “What did you need me for?”

  “Mr. Greenberg was wondering if you got Miss Hart to sign her severance package. He said he sent you a few emails and hasn’t heard from you.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell him. Are you sure you’re alright?”

  ***

  I can’t believe he’d do that.

  After applying eye drops three times—to no avail—she wore sunglasses for the long hike back to her car from the mall. She decided to keep the clothes even though she’d probably need new sizes if and when she ever landed a job.

  The drive back to Chapel Hill felt like a funeral procession—and Brooke was driving in her own coffin.

  Chase sure did a number on me. I wonder if he high-fived Dixie-dawg over it. What a vindictive prick!

  Brooke could barely hear her ringtone over the music blasting in her car. She clicked the volume off, then glanced at her cell—finally.

  Brooke drew a deep breath, then answered, “I’ve been wondering how it went today?”

  “The baby’s fine, but my marriage is a miscarriage.”

  “Did Eddie go with you?”

  “Physically, yes. Emotionally, no.”

  Brooke sighed; Melissa thought it odd she didn’t laugh. “That’s not surprising.”

  Brooke’s phone clicked, “Hold on Melissa…another call’s coming in…can I ring you right back?”

  Sigh, “Yep, I’ll be here.”

  Brooke clicked over, then said, “Hello.”

  “Where have you been? I called you earlier.”

  “Sorry, daddy, I’ve had a busy day.” Earlier, it would have been a lie, but now, it was an understatement.

  “I have a lunch set up tomorrow with Ron Weller.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy you met at the club last week, remember?”

  “Which company was he with again?”

  “Ron’s retired, but sits on th
e board at EID Pharma. He has some—”

  “I can’t do lunch tomorrow. I have an interview scheduled,” Brooke lied, remembering EID’s name from the Travis blackball list, feeling like a wounded seal surrounded by sharks.

  “Seriously? That was fast. Who with?”

  Oh shit. “Um, it’s an exploratory interview…with an old colleague from GenSense.”

  “Well, Ron’s a big wig. Can’t you reschedule some exploratory?”

  “No, it was set up by my recruiter.” Brooke rubbed her nose.

  Long pause, then after a deep breath, Weston huffed, “I guess I’ll call Ron back. Can you do it Thursday?”

  “No, Thursday’s bad.”

  “Friday?”

  “Um, nope.”

  “You can’t possibly have anything more important than this all week.” A vintage Weston statement masquerading as a question.

  Brooke breathed deeply, then said, “Hold off. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I don’t want to waste your time.”

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I want to jump back in with another company like Pharmical. I appreciate all your help, I really do. But, just give me some breathing room.”

  “What do you want me to tell Ron?”

  Brooke strangled a shriek. She inhaled, then said, “I don’t know…tell him I’m pursuing something else right now.”

  “Look, the sooner you get another job, the better. That lousy severance is long gone. I wish you’d let me send a nasty-gram on my letterhead.”

  “No. I don’t care about that. I have plenty of money in the bank. I just want to move on and not have any dealings with that company any more.”

  “I wish you’d let me help you.”

  “You are. I’m grateful for you. I just need to sort things out before anyone can help me. I’ll call soon.” As Brooke hung up, she sensed her father’s fumes—and she couldn’t blame him. She hated hiding the truth, especially after all they’d been through; he deserved better. But, her little tryst had blown up like a mushroom cloud in only one week. Damn Chase Allman. Brooke knew she could never tell her daddy, even though Chase deserved the wrath of Weston Ingram, Esquire. A side of Brooke wanted her daddy to devastate the shark–snake.