by Mimi Barbour
She didn’t reach for it. She just couldn’t. “What is it?”
Her father shifted in his seat and lowered his eyes, unable to meet her glare of accusation.
“It’s the deed to a wonderful apartment in the Bronx. We bought it for you as your graduation surprise. I’ve hired a car to pick us up in an hour so you can see it for yourself. Your mother and I furnished it with some of the stuff from home, your old bedroom suite and so on.” She impaled him with her glare until the sheepish look on his reddening face turned to anger. “It’s perfect for one person, Annie. You’ll like it. Wait and see.”
Strangely enough, she did—after some time. Moving to her new apartment had meant adulthood for Annie, and freedom for her parents. She fought the feelings of separation anxiety and immaturity and eventually settled down.
Hefty checks at Christmas and her birthday arrived promptly, along with mushy cards full of empty words. Monthly duty calls were placed, regaling her with their stories of retirement fun, and the occasional false entreaty for her to visit. She’d felt dumped, big time.
Upon entering the store, Annie stopped and looked around the large opulent interior. Pleasure, albeit not the same childish delight she’d felt as a little girl, coursed through her, lightening her step. Busy people, mingling, chattering, brushing against each other, heightened senses from just the noise alone.
Various fragrances of perfumes and men’s colognes drifted, teasing her nostrils, and one particular scent seemed stronger than the others. Placed on a strategic shelf, a gorgeous swirling blue glass bottle, its fancy top encrusted with rhinestones, tantalized her, drawing her closer. The product’s name, Endless Possibilities, made her wonder, and sniffing the spray on a little white card confirmed her excitement. It was a large bottle of the same scent Celi had given her. Before she knew what her intentions were, her credit card appeared and the blue bottle became her first purchase.
From there, she walked over to a counter of gold and silver jewelry and glanced in the mirror set up for customers. She still wasn’t used to her new look. The professional makeup artist had advised specific tips to highlight the shape and size of her eyes. She didn’t need mascara, as nature had looked after the thickness and length of her black eyelashes, but a small amount of underlining in strategic places, along with touches of color, intensified their lush transformation.
A long lecture on facial care had followed, forcing her to purchase the whole kit for proper skin management. She’d promised to stick to a strict daily cleansing routine. It was amazing what a few products and a lot of knowledge had created. She looked like a different person—stunning, poised, and grownup.
The escalator to the floors above, where fashion reigned and Susan waited, beckoned her to hurry.
“Annie, I’m so glad you called. Holy shi-...nola, is this really you?” The perky, very modern young woman approached and stopped dead within two feet of her intended client. Her head lolled to one side as she surveyed Annie, whose newfound confidence wavered while she waited for the verdict. “Wow, you’re really hot, girlfriend.”
Pride overrode anxiety as she breathed a sigh of relief. “You approve? It’s not too much?”
“Are you kidding? It’s understated elegance at its best. If not for the jeans and tee, I’d never have recognized you. I love the hairstyle, and whatever conditioner they used has brightened your hair big-time, made it glossy and shiny. I want that hairdresser’s name. I’ll pay you.”
Laughter joined their hearts as their arms joined their bodies. “How are you, Susie? Really? And the new boyfriend? Is he treating you the way you deserve?”
“If you mean does he spoil me, then yes. He’s wonderful. We’ve started talking about the big day, probably in the spring. Annie, I want you with me as my maid of honor.” The only hint of the brassy, troubled teen of a few years back showed up in the insecurity shadowing her eyes as she waited for Annie’s acceptance.
She wasn’t disappointed. Annie beamed. It was her first invitation to stand up with a friend on her wedding day.
***
Hauling around all the shopping bags, stuffed full with her purchases, had done Annie in. She was exhausted. What a day! Monday was D-day for her job at Montaro’s, and she still needed to re-try all her gear, and she had to practice walking in her various pairs of very expensive shoes—the high-heeled shoes—the ones she’d never owned before. Those ones! Her normal choice of footwear ran to boys’ sneakers or plain sandals. She knew she was in dire need of a run-through with her new footwear.
After a thrown-together dinner of Greek salad with focaccia bread smothered in fresh aromatic herbs and feta cheese to fill her stomach, teamed with two glasses of red wine to bolster her courage, Annie was ready.
Emotions churned inside as her mirror portrayed a lovely, slim, chic female in the modern outfits that Susie had helped her select. Exhilarated, she knew they’d chosen well. Her confidence spiked, until she unpacked the footwear. She’d known they would be her downfall—literally.
Other women made walking in stilettos look easy, even graceful and sexy. She looked inept, clumsy, and downright stupid. A misogynist must have invented the bloody shoes. She wondered why women tortured themselves with these things?
Tottering around the apartment in her first pair of killer heels, she cussed repeatedly.
“Blasted silly things.” Her hips bounced off the coffee table as she fell, straddling the arm of the sofa. “Ow!”
“Quit being such a baby.”
Now why should it surprise her that Celi would enjoy watching this comedy of the ridiculous? Probably needs a good giggle. Sure enough, she clearly heard the sound of laughter, a bit rusty but nonetheless boisterous.
“Hope you’re enjoying yourself?” She rubbed her fanny and tried again.
“Oh, I am.”
“Why the hell—heck do women wear these crazy things? They’re implements of pure torture.” Turning too quickly to find her friend, her ankles gave way and her knees hit the floor, hard. “Ouch! Damn, that hurt.” Sheepishly, she looked around and breathed a sigh when she saw the empty room. “I’m whining, sorry!”
“No problem! Look, Annie, all it takes is practice.”
“Easy for you to say. I never knew my ankles were so weak.” She stood, using the back of the leather easy chair to pull herself up. As soon as she started off again, the same weak ankles twisted first to one side and then the other, making her remember her very first experience on a pair of ice skates.
Suddenly the ultimate indignity happened. As she fell, her butt slid off the footstool and landed hard on the other pairs of shoes scattered all around her.
“Son of a bi-...gun!”
This time the guffaws had a slightly hysterical sound, and Annie imagined Celi rolling on the puffy white surface of a cloud, clutching her stomach.
A random idea popped into her head—Celi taking pity, no doubt. Annie nodded and stumbled over to put on a CD. A slow waltz, her favorite, filled the room and soothed her, calming her aggravation. By not concentrating so hard and instead listening to the music, it seemed she could dance-walk with no problem.
“Start slow. Take baby steps.”
She had a sinuous grace, hidden until now. The sway of her hips integrated itself in her steps and soon became so ingrained that a model could have done well to copy her natural style.
Later that night, after a long hot bath before bed, she instituted a new nightly cleansing routine. Bottles and tubes, powders and creams littered her counter. Mentally tallying the scandalous amounts of money she’d shelled out for all this goop made her shudder. Juggling through her new products, she came across an implement that looked like a pair of strange scissors.
What the heck are these for? She couldn’t remember at first. There had been so many new novelties coming at her all at once. Scanning her list and product diagrams, she figured they must be the eyelash curlers. Not having been around anyone who’d ever used an eyelash curler, she wasn’t too sure
how it worked, but she soon found the instructions on the back of the package.
Ripped out lashes soon decorated the white porcelain sink. Her eyes stung something awful. “Whoa! No way!” The loud clang when the instrument of torture landed in the garbage can gave her immense satisfaction. A person had to have some limits as to what they’d do for a new job, and hers had been reached.
***
Strutting along the sidewalk in front of her apartment the next day, wearing one of her newly purchased flared skirts and a pair of fancy shoes, boosted Annie’s morale. She felt confident she could appear in public now that her walking skills had improved greatly. Her three-inch wedged sandals were the height of fashion, and she decided they made her legs look quite shapely.
When Tyler appeared from around the corner, she couldn’t have planned it better. Gladness at seeing him overflowed. She wanted to show off her new clothes, practice her walk, and crow a little about her accomplishments. His expression of utter astonishment bolstered her spirits and went a long to way to soothing her bruised bottom and various other black-and-blue areas of her anatomy.
His smile of welcome warmed her heart. “I hope you appreciate how hard this is? One false move and I could go down.”
The stumble happened because she wasn’t paying attention to the fact that she’d stepped off the path and onto gravel. She’d been too busy thinking about how wonderful his flyaway hair looked, glinting in the sunshine, and how white his teeth appeared against a naturally tanned complexion. He laughed, scooped her up against his hard body, and held her pinioned in his arms.
Familiar smells wafted past as she breathed in the man’s essence. A faint aroma of his shaving lotion and coffee tickled her nose before she gently, reluctantly, pushed away from temptation.
“My hero,” she said in a teasing voice. “Quit laughing. It’s harder than it looks.”
“Then why bother? You’ve never worn skirts and heels before. I like you better in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“I know. Me too. Unfortunately, I have no choice. I’ll be employed by one of the biggest shoe manufacturing companies in the city, and I’m sure they’ll expect me to use their products.”
“The high price of success, I guess.” He snickered as she wobbled again.
“You’d faint if I told you the cost of these suckers. Trust me! Think bankruptcy.” She exaggerated a pitiful look.
“Hel-lo! No sympathy here. Your choice, kiddo.” He one-sided her—that damnable grin that could turn her insides to pure mush. Smile lines filled the space between his hair and his eyes, creating the appearance that his whole face beamed, a trick he’d unconsciously mastered and that made one feel, “Now, here’s a man you can trust.”
“One more smirk out of you, and I’ll be forced to smack you with my wedgie.”
“Your what?”
“My shoe, you idiot. Don’t you know anything?”
“I know you’re the cutest thing I’ve seen today, and I just walked past the puppies in the pet store window.”
Annie melted. “You sweet-talking dude. You say the nicest things.”
“Come eat with me, and I’ll whip out a few more of my best lines.”
“I’m your girl, but only if we don’t have to walk too far.”
“To get you to share lunch with me, I’d carry you piggyback.”
A smile lit up her face, and pure mischief gleamed. “Too bad, lover-boy. Your cute ways aren’t enough to make me forget whose turn it is to pay.”
“It’s always my turn.” He mock-grumbled as he gathered her close and supported her in a tight turn.
Chapter Six
Annie’s eyes slowly opened to see her Wedgwood vase silhouetted in the window, replicating the blue of the Monday morning sky. The weather bolstered her mood. She lay there for a few seconds, absorbing the world around her, and took a moment to check out her inner world also. Relaxed, happy, she looked forward to starting her new job.
Minutes zoomed by quicker than Annie thought possible. A blink, and she was walking into Montaro’s office building, carrying her new laptop in her new briefcase and fighting off an old case of jitters. The elevator packed with Monday morning, coffee-clutching zombies ascended noiselessly. Floor numbers and “excuse me” were the only words spoken, while crinkling newspapers composed the background music.
Getting out on her floor posed a slight problem. It took a fair amount of aggression to push to the front, and after her second trip to the ground floor, Celi helped her find her nerve.
“I can’t believe you told me to shove that poor woman.”
“There are times when such measures are called for.”
“I guess my other option, throwing up on her, wouldn’t have gone over very well.”
“Ahh—I think not.” Celi’s harsh signature laugh echoed and then disappeared.
Right now, the heebie-jeebies taking up residence in her stomach punished her for her earlier confidence. Her breakfast cereal churned and played flip-flop with roiling orange juice. She stopped, took a deep breath, and looked around to get her bearings.
People in motion pumped up the hectic atmosphere in the busy area she’d entered. Her brain filtered everything at once. The receptionist answered multi-ringing phones in a voice perfected over thousands of calls. Employees flooded out of elevators that opened with a ping to alert the waiting. Good-mornings were called out and answered, adding a jovialness so far missing in her day.
The upbeat mood pleased Annie, and she felt a calmness settle over tense nerves. First impressions ranked high on her list of importance. The ambiance on this floor, her floor, resonated with a cheerfulness that promised fine working relationships in the department. The positive sign helped her relax. She’d been stressed, worrying about giving up a place she’d loved to end up in one maybe not so nice.
A high-level executive meeting scheduled to take place in an hour would be the perfect venue for introductions to all her associates. And Hugo had promised he’d be there to help ease the way. But first she supposed she should settle in and introduce herself to the secretary in the smaller office across from hers. She preferred the term “assistant” and hoped the woman whose desk she now approached felt the same. She’d been sick the day of Annie’s interview, so getting a sense of her compatibility had been impossible earlier.
A beautifully turned out thirty-something female, a reserved but welcoming expression carefully arranged on her face, spoke softly.“Good-morning, Miss Hynes. My name is Sara Knight. I’m your secretary.” Her glossy dark brown hair was cut in a modern style, rather short, and shaped around her face to enhance her fine features.
Annie held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Anna Hynes. I’m pleased to meet you. I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to be here today. It’s nice to see a friendly face.”
“My pleasure. Since we’ll be working very closely together, I hoped to be here for your first day.”
“Great. I have a question for you, Sara. Do you have any objection to being referred to as my assistant rather than my secretary? I find I’m more comfortable with the term and its connotations. I’d prefer us to work together rather than you working for me. I’m sure you have invaluable experience with this firm, and I’ll need a teacher for the first while. There’ll be no getting me coffee, or such nonsense, unless we take turns.” Annie had to stop to catch her breath. She smiled, and watched Sara Knight melt, along with her reserve.
“Fine by me. I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can. And because it is your first day, I’ll even get your coffee. How do you take it?”
When the lady smiled without the aloofness, she was quite something. Her brown eyes twinkled, and years melted away. Annie liked her and, better still, trusted her at once.
“Actually, I’m allergic to caffeine. Do they have any herbal teas? If not, don’t worry. I’m fine.” Annie grimaced, and shrugged her shoulders.
“Appears we have something in common. I don’t drink coffee either, and I have my own stash of
teas. Do you have a favorite?”
Grinning, Annie shot back, “What kinds do you have?”
“Picky, are we? Let’s see. There’s Chamomile, Chamomile or—right, Chamomile.”
“Humm! Tough decision. Okay, I’ll have the Chamomile.”
Laughing, Sara answered. “Perfect choice.”
All the time they chatted, they moved closer to Annie’s office. The door stood open, waiting. Annie stepped into the room, stopped in front of the large glass-topped desk, and stared around her. “Wow” came to mind, followed by “Oh my.”
The area was huge, disgustingly ostentatious, and not in her comfort zone at all. Glass—very heavy, greenish glass—appeared to be the theme, leaving one with a sense of floating, of not being grounded. The multiple matching glass shelves to one side and behind her desk were empty, while those on the other side housed the company’s operation manuals and other reference materials. The overflowing trays aligned on the work surface beckoned, warning her of the multitude of work awaiting her, as did the P.C. with the monitor lit and a floating company logo decorating its screen.
But for the luxurious arrangement of yellow roses placed on the glass side table, she’d have been completely unnerved. She wiped her hands on the sides of her skirt and gently gathered the blooms. Bending over, she squeezed her eyes closed, and took a deep breath. Her serotonin levels soared as delight eradicated apprehension. He’d signed the small card himself. She recognized his handwriting. ‘Be happy, little one. Your Buddy, Ty.’ He’d always known the perfect way to bolster her spirits.
Sometime later, as she was opening her briefcase to set out her personal belongings, an incredibly handsome man stepped into her office. He reminded her of a swashbuckling, Spanish pirate from some of the old movies Tyler coaxed her into watching with him from time to time. His groomed hair gleamed black, his eyes were a deep brown, and she envied the natural tone of his darker skin. “Oh, sorry. I’m looking for Sara.”