Tree Climbing For Beginners

by Joyia Marie

  Harold did have to admit it did sound nice. He would have custody during the week and Helen would have the kids on the weekends. He had thought to fight custody in the divorce, but somehow Harold Sr. got wind of it and threatened to fire him and cut him out of his will if he did. Harold Sr. thought Harold having custody was great, this way he’d be ensured access to his grandchildren.

  “Yeah,’ Harold said slowly, though he wishes she’d stop saying ’the 22-year-old Jillian’ like it was the punch line to some joke he wasn’t in on.

  He might have to pop down to personnel to look at Jillian’s application and I9. She would have had to provide a copy of her driver’s license and that would put this to rest. Maybe he’d misheard her. He knew she was twenty-something. He cursed, now Helen had him doing it.

  “Good, Harold, that’s real good. I’ll tell my lawyer to expect the SIGNED paperwork on her desk soon. Right, Harold?” Helen asked warningly.

  He could hear the unspoken threat in her voice again. The threat he was getting really sick of hearing. It wouldn’t be half so bad if he knew ‘what she was going to do next’ as she always threatened. Honestly, he had no idea. With an ancestor like Grandma Gert the possibilities were wide open.

  “Yeah, right,” Harold hastened to assure her.

  “Alrighty, Harold, see you Saturday,” Helen said before hanging up.

  Harold put down the phone and picked up the pen. Helen was right. Their ship had sailed and it was time for him to build a life with Jillian, no matter what age she might be. He put pen to paper, then stopped.

  No matter what age she might be or what color her hair might be, he thought slowly. He wondered what other surprises Jillian was hiding from him. Did he really want to marry a woman like that? Have her around his children?

  Why was Helen in such a hurry to get this over with? Could it have anything to do with that man she saw Saturday before last? Harold was pleased not to see him again, but that didn’t mean Helen hadn’t. Was he next in line for Mr. Helen Dudley?

  Harold threw his pen down and shoved the papers into his briefcase for their return ride to his house. He thought about Helen and almost changed his mind, then his resolve firmed up. He wasn’t reneging, he told her soon, and he meant soon. However, how soon was soon was another question.

  Chapter Forty-Eight: Jillian

  Jillian rushed into her apartment, ripping off her clothes before the door was completely closed. She looked at the clock on the wall and moaned. She couldn’t believe she was running late today of all days. She had thought about going straight from work, but couldn’t force herself to go looking so rumpled.

  Mrs. Fitzgerald was still on her rampage and Jillian was getting to know the outlining parts of Fort Worth very well. Jillian had taken the bull by the horns and used her ‘visits’ to up sell the store managers so at least she would make her sales quota this month.

  Mrs. Fitzgerald had looked less than happy at the news, but she dutiful recorded the sales. Jillian hoped the commission would offset all the gas she was buying lately. She felt like she was supporting Exxon all by herself.

  She put the job she hoped to quit tomorrow out of her mind and concentrated on the meeting ahead. For this meeting she had to look her best. Or as best as she could look in five minutes and half an inch of brown roots. She’d get that handled today as well. Nothing would give her more pleasure than a triumphant return to Raphael’s on Helen’s dime.

  Today was the day, she sang in her mind as she flipped through her clothes for the perfect outfit. She had begun to despair of this day every coming, but today was the day. Today was the day she was going to nail Helen Dudley’s ass to the wall and make Helen Jillian’s bitch.

  For almost a week, she had had to sit on the jump drive and wait. After a couple of days of not being able to run Helen to the ground, her friend at the phone company hadn’t been able to come up with a phone number which meant she was under Harold’s plan. She wondered how long he intended to keep paying for her phone then put it out of her mind.

  She had put out some feelers with a reporter she knew back in Houston. She didn’t give him all the details, just enough to whet his appetite. For a story as big as the identity of Leslie Vandersmoot, the location of the reporter didn’t matter. This story would be a nationwide sensation.

  She frowned when the reporter had laughed off her ‘proof’. He told her disdainfully it would take a lot more than a jump drive of questionable provenance to get anyone to take her seriously.

  She had no way to prove where she got it, that it actually belonged to Helen Dudley and that the manuscript on there was written by Helen Dudley as Leslie Vandermoot. He told her to get in touch if she got anything more definitive as it was the story everyone reporter wanted. However, with what she had now, he had no story.

  “Yeah, but Helen doesn’t know that. She must be plenty worried to do what she did Saturday,” Jillian assured herself as she threw on some black pants and a black Wearable Art T-shirt.

  It had a copy of the photograph ‘Beauty’ on it and several people told her the color of the butterfly matched the color of her eyes. She didn’t want to go too fancy or it made her look desperate.

  Jillian ran a brush through her hair and wondered what hairstyle to use to minimize the brown at her roots. Her options were getting slim and soon the big secret would be out. She didn’t have the time to run to Houston.

  Not with her job during the week and Harold on the weekends. So far, he hadn’t said anything but she did catch him staring at her hair a few times this weekend. Like daughter, like father, she thought resentfully, thinking of the uncomfortable dinner she had endured with Harold’s brats.

  Jillian felt bad for a minute. Harold’s kids weren’t brats. They were kids. It wasn’t their fault they were raised by that she-wolf Helen. She was sure with a little guidance they could still be straightened out. She just wasn’t sure she was the one to give that guidance. Harold better get on the stick, she thought before dismissing the kids from her mind.

  Jillian settled for pulling her hair back with a headband adjusted to cover the brown shown on the front. Good enough, she thought as she stared in the mirror. She wasn’t there to fuck Helen just fuck her out of some money.

  Jillian was also rethinking blowing town or at least going very far. She could relocate to Dallas with her newfound wealth. Dallas was full of wealthy men looking for a little fun and a smart woman could parlay a little fun into a lot more. Barring that it would be nice to stay close to her new personal ATM, Helen.

  Jillian powdered her face to eliminate shine, and freshened her lipstick and called that good. It’s show time folks, she thought. Today would be the culmination of a lot of effort, but it would be worth it. A lot more worth it than Harold was.

  God, what a waste, she thought. Then she felt bad about thinking that. Harold was weak and a little slow but he had given her a ring. She looked at the solitaire gleaming in its case. She left the lid of the box open all the time so she could see it.

  It was more than any other man had given her. They might have given her bigger diamonds, but not one that said what this one did. This one said, I want you to be mine, I want to be yours. It was sweet, she thought before flipping the box shut.

  What is wrong with me, she wondered as she grabbed her purse to leave. All this sentimental crap wasn’t her style. Maybe I’m getting my period she thought, although she knew it was too early for PMS.

  She could admit she wouldn’t have minded marrying Harold. He was sweet and now that she had broken him in, rather good in bed. He was giving BOB, her battery-operated boyfriend a run for his money. He would have made a good first husband.

  The kids, well, she was sure she could have come to some kind of accommodation with them. It’s not as if she was trying to take their mother’s place. Something told that that wasn’t even an option but she would have been a friend to them.

  Jillian jumped in her car and took off. She tried to shake off the what if’s and w
ould have been’s. Today she was going to start a new chapter in her life and Helen was the key to that. Helen was in the bag and even she knew that or she wouldn’t have handed Jillian her phone number Saturday.

  Jillian tried to get a phone number on Helen for days and she had made up her mind to raid Harold’s phone Saturday night after he passed out from a full night of sex. In that he was a typical man, a good fucking was better than a sleeping pill for a man.

  She had seen Helen Saturday, but didn’t approach her. It would raise too many questions and Jillian couldn’t afford questions at this point. After talking to the reporter, she knew she might have to be satisfied with getting Helen to move home. Jillian could be a friend to the kids on the weekends.

  Imagine her surprise when Helen made the first move. They were standing around waiting for Harold to fetch the twins’ bag when Helen moved her away from the twins and their grandparents.

  “Here,” she said, handing Jillian a card, “it occurred to me that you might have some questions about the twins that Harold doesn’t know the answer to so here’s my card so you can call me if you need to.”

  Jillian had looked at the card as if it was a winning lottery ticket. ‘Helen Dudley, writer,’ it said in bold script with a phone number underneath. Jillian had looked up at Helen in gratitude, but she wasn’t sure what was going on in Helen’s eyes, she had those sunglasses on.

  That still bothered Jillian as she sped toward the motel where Helen was staying while her loft was renovated. She tried to take heart in the fact Helen had approached her. Her little construction worker must have told her about Jillian’s visit to her loft and the missing jump drive.

  Jillian allowed a smile of triumph to split her face. She knew the jump drive was useless as far as the press was concerned, but Helen didn’t and Jillian intended to exploit that to the fullest. She would get something out of this even if it was just Helen taking her kids back. Jillian needed a win.

  Jillian pulled into a parking space in front of the mid-priced motel and shook her head. As much money as Helen must have and she chose here to hang her hat? Jillian shook her head. She was doing Helen a favor taking her money. She didn’t know what to do with it.

  Jillian gave herself a last glance before jumping out of her car and marching toward the door. This is it, she thought as she plastered a big smile on her face and knocked on the door.

  Chapter Forty-Nine: Helen

  I stared at the phone after I hung up with the idiot formerly known as Harold and hoped he signed the damn divorce papers before I did something he really wasn’t going to like. He thinks I’m full of smoke and so far, I haven’t pushed this as I still hope for my children to have a father, but he’s moving from the necessary to the nice but not necessary part of the menu.

  I gave him until Wednesday to get his ass in gear and if Ms. Smithfield didn’t have those signed divorce papers, then well, I’d have to do something. Something I could guarantee he wasn’t going to like.

  I smirked at the phone call. He thought ‘we’ made a mistake? I wondered what brought this on. Had Jillian not serviced him to his satisfaction on their night of debauchery?

  I still couldn’t believe he thought she was 22. Jillian was young, looked young and she was definitely beautiful but 22? Not so much. Since I happened to know the truth, it made Harold an even bigger fool in my eyes.

  I looked at the folder Raphael had provided and wished the next hours would pass quickly. I was ready for this to be over. One reason I had given Jillian my phone number. I gave her until Saturday, figuring whatever source she used to find my address would cough up my cell phone number as well. Guess it was beyond them. Good to know her reach has a limit.

  I thought about calling her, but I figured that would be over the top. I needed her confident, but not too confident. Who knew when she might find a stupid reporter she could bat her eyes at and get him to run the story on the weakest proof she could provide.

  A rumor of this would be enough to mess things up. Because once it’s in print, somebody somewhere would believe it and tell all their idiot friends. How do you think there are so many Big Foot sighting every year?

  So Saturday was the perfect opportunity to slip her my number. Low key enough to show I knew something’s up, but high key enough to get her to follow through. She took the bait. I was glad I was wearing my sunglasses so she couldn’t see the triumph in my eyes. She was going down.

  I looked up at a knock at the door and then looked at the clock. Who the hell, I thought. Jillian said it would be six or later before she could get over here for our meeting and it was hours earlier than that.

  I walked over to the door and looked through the peephole and my eyes got wide. Was I cursed to have the worst possible thing happen at the worst possible moment? First, Jillian and my jump drive, and now this?

  I took a deep breath and opened the door with a big fake smile, “Mother,” I said as she gathered me into a bear hug. “What are you doing here?” I asked, slightly panicked. Why now? Why today? This could not be happening.

  “Where else would I be, sweetie?” Vivian scolded. “You know I’m always here when you need me.”

  “But how did you know I needed you?” I said, thinking of a Marine who was due for a spanking.

  Raphael knew I didn’t want this and he went behind my back and did this anyway. Why did everyone think they knew better about my life than I did? Okay, it might look a little dicey from the outside, but I make it work. It would work a lot better without all the ‘help’.

  “Mrs. Gunderson called me,” Vivian said, blowing my theory out of the water.

  “Mrs. Gunderson?” I said in the same amazed tone as I would have said ‘the Easter Bunny’.

  Mrs. Gunderson didn’t do stuff like this. She was content to work for the granddaughter of Antananarivo. I couldn’t see her doing something like this. , Mrs. Gunderson worshiped my mother more than me because she was the daughter of Antananarivo, but mother wasn’t around enough for Mrs. Gunderson to really get her worship on.

  “Yes, darling, she and I talk about once a week. She keeps me up on what’s going on with you all,” mother said comfortably.

  I watched as she pulled her backpack in and closed the door. My mother is the queen of traveling light. The only thing she needed was her cameras and everything else could be gotten and discarded along the way or done without completely.

  That was bizarre. I didn’t talk to my mother once a week. I didn’t talk to my mother once a month if she was on the road. She and my German housekeeper were BFF’s? Okay in what bizarro world would that happen?

  “ Maybe not once a week, darling,” my mother said making me feel infinitely better.

  I should have known better anyway. Vivian do anything on schedule? Not going to happen. My mother takes pride in her free spirited ways. I used to feel like such a disappointment to her with my longing for normal.

  “Anyway, Mrs. Gunderson called and told me what was going on and here I am,” Vivian said complacently like she was in Dallas instead of Hondurans.

  I looked at her in panic. Yeah, I was glad to see my mother, but not exactly right then. Why hadn’t she shown up tomorrow when all would be behind me? I didn’t need my mother and Jillian coming into contact with each other right then. My mother would lose it. The bitch who took her baby’s husband? My mother would go nuclear.

  I didn’t want Jillian destroyed unless I was the one doing it. I wanted Jillian muzzled. I wasn’t even all that mad about Harold anymore. I was somewhat impressed with him having the guts to pull the plug. If he would pull the plug already by signing the damn divorce papers, I thought in disgruntlement.

  “Okay, darling, I am here for you. Tell me all about it and we’ll fix this,” my mother said comfortingly. I felt my eyes well up. My mother might not be a candidate for mother of the year in traditional books, but there was no one I would rather have in my corner. My mother was a rock.

  “ Mother, I’d love to but now isn’t a
good time,” I said slowly while thinking frantically. I needed my mother out of my hair and nailed down for a bit. Then a light came on. Hair! My mother’s hair and who took care of it, but her favorite hairdresser slash other BFF, Raphael. I grabbed my cell phone. Raphael could deal with this.

  My mother grabbed my phone before I could commence dialing. “Darling, I’ve come all this way to be by your side at your time of need and I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” Vivian pronounced with a determined look on her face.

  One look at that look and I knew I was sunk. When my mom gets that look, nothing is going to move her. It’s the look she had in court when the judge tried to gently suggest that maybe I’d be better off with the Maguire’s. It’s the look she had on her face when Gwendolyn tried to gently suggest that maybe having a man, any man walk me down the aisle. I think it’s the look the warrior queen, Boudicca, had on her face when she said ‘the hell you preach’ and led her troops into battle. Long story short, it’s not a look that can be argued with.

  I gave my cell phone one last longing look and wondered if I could dash into the bathroom and make my call. Raphael knew what today was and he could come collect Vivian and save Jillian’s life. I gave my mother’s face another look and sighed. I took my cell phone back from my mother, tossed it on the couch, and sank down next to it.

  “Have some sit down, Mother,” I said using Grandma Gert’s invitation to have a seat. “This will take a while.”

  Vivian tossed her backpack into a spare bedroom, then came back and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, anticipation on her face. My mother loves a good story as much as Sonya and I suddenly wondered if I was short-changing her by not letting her in on the LV secret. She’d probably think it was a hoot.

  I looked at my mother then let it rip. I told her everything about Harold, Jillian, the loft, and the kids. , I didn’t mention Aiden, as I hadn’t talked to him since our last conversation about the jump drive. I was over being pissed about him letting it slip out of his possession. Mainly over it, I have been just as at fault. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry that day.