FIFTY SHADES OF THRIFTY
By
N.J. Harlow
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 © N.J. Harlow
Published by Accio Books
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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(After "Fifty Shades of Thrifty" enjoy a sample chapter
of N.J. Harlow's new novel "WING GIRL")
FIFTY SHADES OF THRIFTY
by N.J. Harlow
The food fight had left me with Lucky Charms in my hair. Not exactly the look I was going for to meet the man who was going to sweep me off my feet.
But when you're a single mom with two brats from hell that qualify you as having more baggage than a sorority girl on spring break, meeting a man willing to take on said baggage is a tall order. My last date, upon spending thirty minutes in the presence of my tattooed and pierced evil spawn, both of whom looked as though the phone rang and they answered the staple gun, said there should be a law called No Child's Behind Left as he bolted out the door, leaving skid marks all the way down the driveway.
But timing is everything for this intrepid lifestyle reporter. Alas, the four wonderful weeks the kids spend with their slug of a biological sperm donor began this morning at eight, leaving me with an empty house for twenty-eight blissful summer days. Twenty-eight nights during which I turn into a sexual hellcat (never mentioning to any man that I actually have children) in the hopes of being rescued.
Enough time to hopefully use my feminine wiles and journalistic street smarts to ensnare a man into a sexual trap from which there is no escape, teenagers be damned. Let's face it, men will overlook just about anything if a good roll in the hay is available on a regular basis and a woman has the ability to suck a golf ball through a garden hose without smearing her lip gloss. (A skill set I possess, along with other bedroom talents on my curriculum vitae.) If I could lay the groundwork (okay, okay, it's a poor choice of words, but accurate) over the next four weeks with the right guy, he'd be hopelessly head over heels for me, his common sense too overpowered by the wrong head to notice my teenagers were future candidates for careers as crash dummies.
Sadly, I had no current prospects on my to-do list.
Until that sweet marshmallow scent hit my nostrils as I was eating breakfast. (This was before those magical clovers and rainbows took flight on a parabola over the breakfast table and entwined themselves in my strawberry red tangles.) The smell of the sugar woke me up. My bleary-eyed, overworked mom persona faded as I noticed a coupon on the back of the box.
And my reporter's radar went up.
Redeem this coupon for a new husband.
I'd read it in the Sunday paper. The Coupon King, yes that Coupon King, the one who does those underwear ads when he's not telling housewives how to save fifty cents on a jar of mayo, was in town promoting his new book. I knew from his appearances on network morning shows that he had a great personality, and, more important, was single. Which trumped my usual standards of breathing and male.
The little leprechaun on the box seemed to be talking to me. I could hear the Irish brogue from the old TV commercial. "Get the marshmallow shamrocks out of your hair, Cassie. Fix yourself up. There's a pot o' gold waiting at the end of the rainbow."
Which was better than the pot belly of lead I'd settled for on my first trip down the aisle.
I poured some skim milk (fantasizing that my kids' faces were on the side of the carton) over the cereal, took a bite and let the sugar rush into my veins like I was hooked up to an I-V of sucrose.
I felt alive again, smiled at the leprechaun and grabbed my cell phone to call the assignment desk.
***
"You want to do a story on the Coupon King?" Dave the assignment editor shook his head. The short, portly weeble who might be best described as an unmade bed, slid his half glasses down his bulbous red nose and peered over them at me.
"What? Why can't I--"
"Cassie Jenks, thrifty shopper? We don't publish science fiction at this magazine."
"I know how to shop, Dave."
He smoothed his black comb-over and leaned his fifty-year-old body back in his chair. "Yes, I see you every morning come in with a five dollar cup of latte' and a bear claw from the gas station across the street."
"I can afford it because I save money on the necessities... by clipping coupons." I reached into my purse, pulled out the Lucky Charms coupon and waved it at him. "See?"
Dave shook his head. "You feed your kids Lucky Charms?"
I took one look at the food-stained red plaid shirt that covered his bay window, noting his stomach could actually double as a TV tray if he sat just right. "It's better than what you had for breakfast. Let me see..." I pointed at various stains on his shirt. "Raspberry jelly donut, bottom-of-the-pot coffee from the break room, hmmmm, something with red sauce... leftover pizza?"
"Pasta from last night. Still don't think you're the right person for this story."
Time to play my trump card. "He's signing books at that upscale grocery store downtown. The one with that tiramisu you can't resist."
Dave's eyes widened as he began to lick his lips. "Your point being?"
"A full tray of that stuff will be waiting at the will call window if you give me this story."
Dave slowly nodded, grabbed the press release off his desk and handed it to me.
***
The Coupon King, real name Scott Farelli, doesn't really tell housewives anything they don't already know. But he tells it assisted by a sculpted six-foot-two body and sells it with electric olive green eyes and tousled black hair that always looks as if some babe has just run her fingers through it. He'll go on and on about double coupon day, searching for special codes on the web, and maximizing your coupon's value by shopping the sales, but all American women watching him turn into men, giving him the husband-tuning-out-wife bobblehead as their eyes glaze over and they fantasize about a real-life pickup in aisle five.
I've got his basic bio from the press release but the juicy details are found on Wikipedia, detailing the square-jawed hunk's most recent relationships with some Hollywood notables.
All redheads.
Like me. (Of course, those actresses didn't have to wash marshmallow out of their hair as I did this morning.)
By the way, despite raising two poster children for contraception I can still turn a head. (Along with my other aforementioned skills.) Along with the red hair I'm blessed with piercing emerald green eyes, classic high cheekbones and an athletic five-nine body that is built for speed. I've been told I have killer legs. Well, not told directly. I overheard a conversation involving a teenage stock boy at Wal-Mart who prefaced that with the phrase, "for a woman her age."
Which happens to be thirty-five. Same as the Coupon King.
If only I'd been a confirmed bachelorette like my slutty sister Rachel, I'd have a better shot. As far as baggage goes, she travels with just a small carry-on.
Anyway, according to the press release Mister Farelli will start his one-hour book signing at two, with media avails at three.
Which means I've got a few hours to put on my game face and dumpster dive, not necessarily in that order.
***
Everyone knows the Sunday paper is filled with special sections, book reviews, crossword puzzles and en
tertainment stories.
It's also the best place to find coupons.
Sadly, it's Friday and my trash was picked up yesterday.
I knew I'd never make an impression on the Coupon King with one fifty-cent discount on breakfast cereal. So after a clandestine visit to the office's maintenance building and a swan dive (five-point-nine from the Russian judge) into a few of those large blue receptacles, I scored a pristine batch of coupons from last week's Sunday paper.
On the way home I dropped by a friend's apartment because I knew she was a coupon fanatic. After telling her I had a one-on-one interview with the Coupon King (which caused her to break out in a sweat), she happily lent me her dog-eared Entertainment coupon book, which still had a few good two-for-one dinner tickets.
Got home, and while drawing a bath I downloaded a few printable coupons from the Internet to prove I leave no stone unturned when it comes to saving money.
Now I was ready to meet the Coupon King. Most women head out on the prowl with a pack of condoms and a toothbrush. I'm packing discounts all over town.
But they're discounts with a purpose.
***
The Coupon King did a double take as I walked into the supermarket and stood a few feet behind the last few frumpy hausfraus who were getting his autograph. Now most female print reporters look like they have a lot of city miles on them; the attractive ones move to broadcasting, until they develop what is known as a "good face for radio" and head back to print. But there I was, resplendent in a turquoise halter top which showed off my well-toned shoulders and a short black skirt designed to highlight my killer Wal-Mart gams. The four-inch heels had me teetering at around six-foot-one. My heart hit a speed bump as he locked eyes with me. I smiled, muttered, "media" and he nodded and went back to signing books.
One eye on the books, one on me.
Incredibly, I was the only reporter who had showed up, so after signing for the last customer he made a bee-line for me, looked right into my soul and stuck out his hand. "Scott Farelli."
I shook his, maintaining eye contact while trying to keep my voice from cracking as his Polo cologne filled my nostrils and pushed the leprechaun to a back burner that wasn't even turned on. "Cassie Jenks. I'm the lifestyle reporter for Stylistic Magazine." I lightly touched his forearm, covered by a tapered turquoise long sleeved shirt that accented his broad shoulders. "I see you got the memo."
"Excuse me?"
I pointed at his tight black jeans which nicely showed off his slim hips. "Black and turquoise. Wardrobe for the day."
He gave me the once-over, making a brief stop at my rack, and smiled. "Yeah, I guess we do match."
"So, is there someplace we could talk privately?"
"They've got a back room set up. Right this way."
***
Thirty minutes later I was done with the interview.
Of course, I had to throw in some personal questions about his love life. (Being a reporter gives you the license to do such things. Clever, huh?) Thankfully, he was currently unattached, having been unceremoniously dumped by a Hollywood copper top in favor of a ride on a producer's casting couch. Hence, he was in need of a well-toned shoulder to cry on.
Now it was time to set the hook. I used an old lawyer's trick, asking a question to which I already knew the answer. "So, what's the next stop on your book tour?"
"I've got another signing across the street tomorrow," he said. "But this is the last city on the tour. I'm taking the summer off."
"Oh, how nice," I said. "I guess you've been living out of a suitcase for awhile?"
"I can't tell you how sick I am of hotel beds."
Well, I have a brand new pillow-top that comes equipped with a redhead who will perfectly mold herself to your body for a good night's rest. "Well, just one more night won't be too bad. So, what's on tap for the rest of the day?"
"Free time," he said. "So I'll probably just hang out at the hotel. But that gets old when you're in a town and don't know anyone."
"Well, now you know me," I said.
He smiled, sending deep trenches into his cheeks and giving me a close look at America's most famous dimples. "That I do."
I reached into my purse. "And since you are the Coupon King, perhaps you'd like to join me for dinner." I pulled out a two-for-one dinner coupon and handed it to him. "It's one of our city's best restaurants. And as you can see it's about to expire. A shame to let it go to waste. I believe that is one of your strategies, right?"
He nodded as he looked at the coupon. "Yes, I do have a chapter on that. No coupon left behind." He looked up at me and raised one eyebrow. "It's not smart to let valuable.... assets.... expire."
I gulped and tried to stay calm but my heart began to race. "So, pick you up at seven?"
***
The Coupon King downed his last bite of cheesecake, dabbed his mouth with a napkin and tossed it on the table. "That was an excellent choice, Cassie."
"I thought you'd like it," I said, still working on my ice cream sundae.
"Now we just have to figure out who ate the free dinner."
We both laughed as the check arrived. I fished through my purse and handed the waiter the coupon while my date gave him a credit card. The waiter disappeared as I continued to search through my purse. I pulled out a fistful of coupons and set them on the table.
His eyes grew wide. "Whoa, you're really serious about this stuff."
"Hey, a single girl's gotta save a buck anyway she can."
"You know," he said, looking at my huge stack of coupons, "I can give you an organizer for those."
"That would be great." I playfully bit my lower lip while smiling and raised my eyebrows. "Scott, I have an idea."
"What's that?"
"Well, I was going to invite you back to my house but I was wondering if you'd like to drop by a supermarket on the way." I pulled a few coupons from the pile. "I have a few more... assets... that are about to expire."
I handed him two coupons and he blushed a bit as he read them. "Reddi-Wip.... chocolate sauce..."
I popped the Maraschino cherry from my sundae into my mouth, did a little trick with my tongue, then pulled out the stem which was now tied in a knot. I held it up for him to see.
Now it was his turn to gulp.
"Anyway," I said, dipping my head so that I was now looking up at him through my long eyelashes and trying to lower my voice into a sultry tone, "I thought you might like to help me make another... dessert."
***
The Coupon King rolled over, spent, grinning ear to ear.
"You look like you enjoyed that," I said, propped up on one elbow as I surveyed my conquest.
"That was incredible."
"All that fun and we saved three dollars. Cha-ching!"
He laughed and shook his head. "You're something else, Cassie. I must say, it's a real turn-on for me to meet such a smart, attractive woman who actually knows how to save a buck. Along with some fascinating uses for products from the dairy and produce sections of the supermarket."
"I am a girl of many talents. And if saving money turns you on, maybe in the morning we can drop by the hardware store." I climbed on top of him, straddling him as I pinned his wrists behind his head. "I've got a fifty percent off coupon for any length of rope, which would leave my hands free for... other things. And we can pick up a half-price riding crop at the tack shop."
"A single girl's gotta save a buck," he said, leaning up and giving me a long kiss.
A knock on the door interrupted us. "You expecting someone at this hour?" he said.
"Bogo," I said, sliding out of bed and slipping on a short red robe.
He furrowed his brow, confused. "Bogo?"
"Bogo," I said. "Be right back."
I walked from the bedroom to the front door, opened it and led my guest back to the bedroom.
His jaw hit the floor as he saw her. Six-one in heels, turquoise halter top, short black skirt, killer legs, red hair, big green eyes. "You gotta be kidding."
"Meet my twin sister Rachel," I said. "Bogo. Buy one, get one free."
***
Two weeks later...
I left the following note for my teenagers, which was handed to them by the assistant I'd hired:
Sam and Kathy,
This will introduce you to your new nanny, Ms. Heckle. She'll be taking care of your needs while I'm gone. By the way, I've cancelled the contracts for your cell phones so you will actually have to speak to your friends should you wish to communicate.
I will be traveling with my sister and a friend for, well, an undetermined amount of time. Should I not return by the time you turn eighteen, you're free to go.
-Mom
***
After lathering on a ton of sunblock (redheads burn very easily) I leaned back in the Adirondack chair on the veranda as the sun began to send fingers of light into the sky. A cool breeze blew off the ocean, caressing my skin and filling my nostrils with salt air. I unfolded the morning paper and there it was, right on the front page. After years of writing stories, it was kinda cool to read one about myself in the London tabloid.
COUPON KING ENJOYS TWO-FOR-ONE DEAL
Scott Farelli, known worldwide as the Coupon King, is apparently doubling down on a good situation while globe-trotting.
The hunky Farelli was spotted squiring not one but two stunning redheads around London's hotspots. The statuesque copper tops are identical twins, making Farelli the envy of every man in England.
My sister emerged from the condo, carrying a tray with a pitcher of orange juice and three glasses. "Morning, slut," she said, as she put her tray down on the table and proceeded to pour two glasses.
"Morning yourself. Mimosas?"
"But of course. A day without a mimosa is like a day without sunshine." She adjusted her black string bikini, a perfect match for mine, and stretched out in her chair. (We've discovered Scott likes us in identical outfits.)
"You packed?" I asked. "We're leaving for the south of France tonight."
"Ready to roll. Couldn't locate my red thong for the longest time, but I found it on the ceiling fan."
Fifty Shades of Thrifty (a Parody) Page 1