Mine to Protect

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “I am sorry, but it doesn’t appear as though you have had much experience.” Her elegant eyes were studying my reaction.

  “You’re right, but it is proportionate to my age. I’ve done some homework regarding Blaze and I know that your employees tend to be younger than twenty-five. As you can see on my resume, I have taken some fashion merchandising and modeling classes and I’ve been lucky enough to get a few modeling assignments. I believe your customers come because you offer a fantasy world. Your clothing is without equal and when a woman is looking for a fantasy, I believe she wants to be treated like a queen. You’re right, I am very young, but that also means that I don’t offer them any competition. Let them see me as their handmaiden, if you will.”

  “An interesting perspective, and very creative.” She looked at my resume once more and then pushed her chair back from the desk, crossing unbelievably long legs that only reaffirmed my suspicions of her ancestry. I’d often been told I had beautiful legs, but mine were stunted compared to her length. “Assuming you were to come to work here at Blaze, how do you picture your future?”

  “There are things about me that really don’t belong on a resumé,” I told her. “If you knew me, you would know that I’m ambitious and focused. Some people might even say a little too focused, but I question whether that’s even possible. Although it will sound quite juvenile, I’ll tell you honestly, I come from a small town and I’ve seen everything it has to offer. I want more excitement in my life. I want to speak with intelligent people about intelligent subjects; I want to see and experience a way of life that I never could have found in my hometown. If that means that I begin here, with you, at Blaze, I would consider that part of the dream already realized. Your customers are successful people, by nature. That’s where I belong. So, to answer your question, Blaze could be the beginning of my life, or it could be the focus of my life. I preferred the latter, to be honest.”

  Metallica laughed, a deep throaty sound that was half mocking and half knowing. “You remind me very much of myself at your age,” she said. “Which is not to say I’m that much older than you are,” she pointed out quickly, her eyebrows rising defiantly. I did the wisest thing I could think of and kept my mouth shut.

  “I think I have seen enough. I believe you will need a wardrobe that showcases your body style. I will expect you to report next Monday morning and you will have training on your first day, followed by four days of shadowing my top salesgirl. Be invisible but learn, if you understand me.”

  I nodded, my heart pounding that it had been this easy.

  “You may go now. I will call downstairs and have an account opened in your name. Please choose some basic items as foundations, and then throw your own personal flair. You must look like you belong at Blaze. We will deduct a small amount each week from your salary to pay for the clothing, although you will receive a 60% discount.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. I had just landed a job at one of the most exclusive and admired dress shops in the entire city and was getting not only a healthy discount, but the opportunity to enter a world I could have only dreamed of back in Brookfield. As I practically stumbled back down the staircase, it suddenly occurred to me that we had never negotiated my wage. It was the first of many things I learned when dealing with people of money. The first most important was that you never discussed it. It was simply understood that integrity and fairness were involved. In other words, should it become public knowledge that Blaze paid their clerks a substandard wage, the store would lose credibility and therefore, customers. They also included in their message to their customers that you got what you paid for. That was how they justified their outrageous prices. Likewise, if they paid a substandard wage, their employees would reflect that. This gave me a certain sense of pride and as I arrived at the foot of the stairs, a woman came up to me and introduced herself as Christine.

  “Metallica asked me to show you around and get you set up,” she said in a kind, but neutral voice.

  “Thank you,” I told her, my knee shaking slightly at the realization of what was going to be my future. Christine took me on a brief, but thorough walk-through of the store. She pointed out the general concept of the store’s layout, pairing displays with products in various sizes nearby. It was quite ingenious, actually. Much of that I had learned in merchandising classes, but each store had their own methods. They tracked customer movement throughout the store, noting what caught someone’s eye and what entice them to pick up the merchandise for a firsthand touch. There was a science as well as the psychology behind it. They moved the customer through the store, propelling them by their own desire to investigate the newest object of fascination in their path.

  When we completed the tour, Christine asked me to follow her into a small employee room behind the red curtain. There she gave me forms to complete and a store credit card. “You have carte blanche, obviously, since you will ultimately be paying for everything you pick out today. The 60% discount is a one-time opportunity, so I would make most of it. After today, you get the standard 20% discount on employee purchases, and you can only use those for yourself, not as gifts for others. So, here you go. I’m sure there were few things that caught your eye as we walked around. When you’re done, catch my attention and I’ll run you through the checkout personally. Welcome to Blaze and now it’s time to go have fun.” She smiled broadly and swept her arm outward to indicate that I should get started. I felt an exhilaration that I could only compare to completing a flawless cheerleading routine and hearing the fans applauding in appreciation. This was my chance to strut my stuff and I couldn’t wait to get started.

  I was like a kid in a candy store. I knew that I had decent taste, and I had learned more while I was in school. That said, even da Vinci would have been challenged to paint the Mona Lisa with only four colors of paint. I tried to keep it very low-key, although everything inside me screamed to become a Walmart shopper dragging three or four cars behind me as I piled in clothes.

  I took Metallica's advice and began with the basics. I chose foundation garments such as pencil skirts and tailored slacks in several different dark colors. There were vests and jackets to match and I added these onto my pile. Then I wandered into the tops with sweaters and blouses and finally into dresses where I chose my first little black basic dress ever. I struck out for lingerie and then casual clothing, although I kept this to a minimum because I couldn't wear that to work. Lucky for me, they had shelves and shelves filled with beautiful shoes, very expensive shoes. I avoided the traditional brands and went for elegant, but more practical styles. After all, I knew I had to pay for this eventually, but I did need it to start and I would never get a discount like this again. I think it was an hour and a half later before I finally wound up at the counter and caught Christine's eye. She was grinning as she walked toward me. "Everyone does the same thing," she laughed. "Don't worry, they have special sales for us from time to time even though they don't tell you about it. And sometimes, when you do a really good job, I’ll give you a bonus discount as a reward."

  My eyes must have lit up at the idea. "My paycheck is going to be zero each week," I pointed out and she laughed as she nodded and tallied up my purchases. When I finally left the store, I had so many bags I needed to borrow a luggage cart. I found my car and began unloading all my purchases into the trunk and then returned the card before driving back toward the apartment that Bitsy and I shared with my daughter.

  I could hardly wait to get home and tell Bitsy my good news. I walked through the door to find her on the sofa, sound asleep. Carrie was in her crib. "Mama missed you sweetie," I told her as I picked her up and held her at my shoulder. "Did Bitsy go to sleep on you?"

  I carried her into the next room and put her in her carrier, so I could watch her while I made dinner. She knew what I was doing and started fussing. I wondered how long it had been since Betsy fed her. I was so excited that I purposefully slammed the silverware drawer. It worked.

  Bitsy came around th
e kitchen doorway, poking her head in as her eyes blinked heavily with sleep. "When did you get home?"

  "Just a few minutes ago. Do you remember what time you fed Carrie?"

  "It hasn't been that long, maybe an hour.”

  I decided not to interrogate her any further. It was obvious she’d been asleep for quite a while, but Carrie was quite safe in her crib. Bitsy and I had an unusual, but very practical roommate arrangement. She worked nights as a 911 operator and now I would work days. We shared the childcare, the utilities, the food and part of the rent. I gave her sort of a discount based on babysitting and it worked well for both of us. I had some money saved and then there were my graduation gifts back from Brookfield. Mom and Dad had thrown in a nice sum in lieu of sending me to college. I think they felt sorry for me that I’d gotten pregnant. In a small town like Brookfield, that sort of thing was frowned upon even though this was no longer the 60s. Mom and Dad helped me keep things very quiet and as soon as Carrie was born, I started modeling school. I was proof that you never had to give up your dreams, no matter how impossible they might seem. I’d never heard a word from Paul and looking back, I was glad. It was hard enough to get where I wanted to go on my own with a small child. If he’d come back and wanted into our lives, there was no way I would be where I was at that moment.

  “Sit down, you won’t believe what happened today.”

  Bitsy looked over at the clock. “I’ve only got a half hour before I have to leave for work,” she pointed out.

  I nodded. “I’m just making us burgers and they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But listen, that’s not the news.”

  “What’s the news?”

  “I got a job.” I waited for her sleepy head to catch up with what I was saying.

  “No! You didn’t! Are you talking about Blaze? They hired you? That’s unbelievable, I’m so excited for you!” She leapt out of her chair and threw her arms around me from the back. As shy as she was, Bitsy had a soft place in her heart for Carrie and me. We were family. She looked after me like my own mother would.

  “Absolutely, I start on Monday. And that’s not the best part. They let me have a shopping spree at sixty percent off and you should see the things I bought. Of course, I’ll have to pay for them gradually, out of my check, but who cares? It’s a wardrobe and that was one of my biggest worries.”

  “Oh, there’s no way I can look at it all before I have to leave. Promise me you’ll leave it all in bags just as it is and when I get home, you can put on your own fashion show for me?”

  “Okay, okay, you sure know how to torture a girl.”

  “Oh, don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. You can use this time to get some sleep. Carrie didn’t have a very long nap and I’m sure she’ll ready for bed as soon as you give her dinner.”

  “Oh? I thought you just fed her a few minutes ago?” I rolled my eyes and nodded as I turned back to the skillet.

  “Oh. Well, that was when I was still half asleep. No, she needs to eat again before she goes to bed. Let me run into the bedroom and throw on my clothes for tonight. I’ll be back in a minute and eat. I can’t wait to hear about it when I come home.”

  I could hear the excitement in her voice. Bitsy tended to live vicariously through me. I suspicioned that she had not been very popular in school and while that made no difference to me, she followed my every movement like a parent. If I began to wear my hair a certain way, eventually she did the same. She almost looked after Carrie almost as much as I did, which was only another advantage to rooming with her, of course.

  We ate our burgers quickly and as Bitsy grabbed her sack lunch and her purse, she headed toward the door and said to me over her shoulder, “Oh, by the way, someone delivered that envelope for you. I had to sign for it.” She pointed to the small table by the door. “See you later.”

  I looked at the envelope from where I sat. My stomach instantly turned. I lived in constant fear that Paul would show up and try to come after me. He might have a change of heart and have actually grown up while he was away and decided that he wanted to see Carrie. I couldn’t let that happen. I dreaded the day that I had to explain to her where her daddy was. I’d come up with all sorts of scenarios in my mind, but I had always been one to go for the truth, no matter how lousy that would make her feel. It wasn’t about her, I would explain. It was about me, but mostly, it was about Paul.

  Sighing, I got up and retrieved the envelope, slitting it open with a kitchen knife. It looked very official and I saw that it was issued from the court system. My heart plummeted until I began reading and realized it had nothing to do with Carrie, Paul, or anyone, but me. It was a summons for jury duty. I groaned. How could I take off work for jury duty when I hadn’t even started yet? I read the letter through and saw that I was supposed to report in forty-eight hours. I would just have to go down to the courthouse and tell them they’d have to excuse me. I had an infant and I needed that job badly. They just would have to let me out of it.

  Chapter 3

  Coulter

  Wearing a tailored charcoal colored suit, immaculate cuffs and collar that accentuated my tan, I sat completely relaxed, if not even somewhat defiant in my seat at the defendant’s table. It was intentional. I wanted everyone to see that I wasn’t the least concerned with the proceedings. I even saw a couple of people sketching me—likely from some of the media who weren’t exactly my fans. Mason sat quietly next to me, a laptop in a folder with papers before him.

  “How long do you think this will take?” I asked.

  “It shouldn’t be long,” Mason reassured me. “Now that the jury selection is complete, I will ask the judge to dismiss the case based on the evidence we’ve provided. Between you and me, he’d be a fool to do anything else. He’s up for reelection and crucifying us is not going to earn him any brownie points.”

  I nodded as a door to one side opened and people began filing in and filling the jury box. I couldn’t help but notice one very young woman who took her seat in the second row. It was obvious by the look on her face as she glared at me that she was not happy to be there. My money carried a great deal of weight around town and it wasn’t always possible to see who might have a problem with me. It was one of the downsides of development; turning some people’s lives upside down as you move toward the greater good. Some people took it personally. I saw it as a way of revitalizing Chicago’s downtown, in a way that would keep it alive, unlike its sister city, Detroit, just three hundred miles away. Keeping the downtown vital provided good paying jobs, safe places to live and entertainment. These brought in tax dollars that the city’s motors running. It was a win-win, but I had to admit that from time to time someone got run over in the process. I tried to anticipate those situations and send representatives to help relocate those who were adversely affected. Sometimes they just didn’t want to leave.

  I assumed she may be one of them. I was disappointed, because she was just my type. Wearing a deep red, expensive suit, she held her head high in a way that told me she was used to getting her way. I liked confidence in a woman. She crossed her legs and I held my breath in that sweet second that her knees were parted. I could even feel myself hardening, despite my precarious position. Her blonde hair was braided into a bun at the top of her elegant neck and from my distance, I could see her eyes were unusual; dark and mysterious. She leaned forward to pick up a pencil from the floor and I glimpsed a deep valley between full breasts in the V-neckline of her suit. Damn! She was not on my side and she was exactly the person I wanted in my corner—if not on my lap.

  The jury was seated, the judge entered, and Mason immediately made a motion to drop the charges. The judge called for the prosecutor and Mason to approach the bench and when they turned, I knew victory was mine. The prosecutor wore a sour look and glared in my direction. Mason had done his work well. He had evidence that the injured worker had been drinking heavily all morning on the day of the accident. He’d neglected to shut the gate that would have kept him safely inside. He also s
tumbled in his drunkenness, sliding through the opening onto the ground below. Subpoenaed records from the ER where he had been treated indicated his blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit. Indeed, the victim was guiltier than I could’ve ever been. He endangered the lives of every man on that site as he operated equipment and make judgment calls in a drunken state of mind. The judge knew it was a waste of time and saw his way out. The prosecuting attorney saw a potential negligence disaster for his client and without a job, there was no way the attorney would ever see a penny. The gavel came down and I stood to shake Mason’s hand and draw a deep breath of relief.

  I looked toward the jury and saw the blonde staring at me, a look that told me she was not only angry with me, but with the world in general. I wondered what her story was and made it a point to mutter a few words in my assistant’s ear. “You see that young lady over there in the dark red suit?” Peter nodded. “Find out who she is—what her story is. She’s shooting daggers at me like she’d like to roast me on a spit.”

  Peter didn’t hesitate but left immediately as the jury filed out of the courtroom. I was relieved the trial had been so brief—I had details to see to, the first of which was getting my permits reactivated and the men back to work. I’d kept them all on full salary pending the outcome of the trial, but I had time commitments on the contracts. It was time to get back to work. That said, I couldn’t get the blonde out of my mind.

  Chapter 4

  Gwen

  I unlocked the door and tossed my purse and shoes on the chair by the door. Bitsy looked up. “Hard day?”

  “You have no idea,” I answered, scooping up Carrie to cuddle while I unwound from my long Saturday at the store.