Shimmy for Me: A Novella (California Belly Dance Romance Series Book 1)

by Cameron, DeAnna

  That final mysterious bidder vexed her, though. There wasn’t even a file for it. Just one typed sheet she’d found stuck in a paper clip to another bidder’s folder. It contained the company name (DRC Enterprises), city of business (Newport Beach), and a vague statement of intent. Internet searches brought up nothing. A DBA search didn’t bring up anything, either.

  “Why are you still working on this? He fired you.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  Abby shrugged.

  “So here’s what I don’t get,” Melanie said. “If you knew that reporter was going to rat you out, you could’ve done something. You could’ve quit the restaurant. You could’ve changed your dance name. Any number of things.”

  “I know.” All those possibilities had entered her mind, too. But she’d rejected them. “He deserves to know the truth. I wanted him to know.”

  “Even though it ruined everything?”

  Abby nodded. “I know. It’s stupid, but I love him.”

  It was strange to hear the word aloud. Somehow it made it even more real. She loved him. She loved the sweet and tender lover he had been. She even loved the tyrant he could be at work. She knew he only acted the way he did because he was so passionate about the paper and it pained him to oversee its sale. Truthfully, she didn’t want him chasing a phantom Zenina. She wanted him to know that the woman he wanted was her.

  “So what about the studio?”

  “What about it? I think it’s obvious I’m not cut out for it. It’s barely been a year, and I’ve already lost it.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I know I have. You’ve seen the notices. I have a month to catch up on rent before I’m out. And that’s money I don’t have.”

  “But maybe you will after this weekend.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you said you didn’t have time to check around about the rules on holding benefits, but it just so happens that I do. Or did. Because I did some research and you’ll be happy to know there’s nothing stopping you from holding one.”

  “You did that for me?” Tears flooded her eyes again. She pulled Melanie into a hug. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me and I love you for it, but there’s no way I can pull together a show in a week. I don’t think I could do it in a month.”

  Melanie pulled back.

  “As it happens, I think you can. I have it on excellent authority that at least two of the Belly Dance Divas will be in town and are more than happy to perform. It’s for a good cause, and it’s great publicity for them. And not only that, I’ve already given the information to the entertainment editor at the paper and she’s going to get it into Friday’s events calendar. I even stopped in and talked to the Saturday night dancer at the Sultan’s Tent, and she said she’d be happy to cover your night. I mean, if you’re still opposed to my bellygram idea.”

  Abby could hardly believe it.

  “The Belly Dance Divas are going to perform at the Shimmy Shop? Are you kidding me? How could I turn that down?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Now, listen. I know we won’t be able to raise all that you need, but I think we can raise a thousand or two. And maybe it’ll be enough to buy you more time.”

  Abby shook her head. It was a lot to take in. “How long have you been working on this?”

  “A few days.”

  “But how’d you keep it secret?”

  “I didn’t. Not really. You’ve just been preoccupied.”

  “I guess I have. Well, as soon as I finish up this work for Derek, I’m going to dedicate one hundred percent of my time to promoting this event.”

  Melanie cocked her head. “You’re still going to finish? That’s insane. He fired you. What part of that don’t you understand? How about I just take these files back with me and you focus on the studio.” She went to the table and grabbed up the folders.

  Abby stopped Melanie’s hand. “I want to finish. I need to.”

  They stared at one another, each holding her ground. Melanie was the first to pull back.

  “Okay, fine. Let’s finish it, now, together. Then I’m taking these files back with me, and you’re done.” She picked up the mystery sheet and started reading it. “So what are we doing? What’s DRC Enterprises?”

  “It’s one of the bidders for the newspaper.”

  Melanie dropped the sheet. “It’s what?”

  “Yeah,” Abby said, wincing. “The newspaper is for sale. All of Collier Media Group is for sale. That’s what I’ve been doing. Researching prospective buyers. That’s why Derek was brought in, and that’s why he’s been such a tyrant. He doesn’t want to do it. I know he doesn’t.”

  “You knew about this going in?”

  “He told me during the interview. They promised me a great severance package… Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. But the only people who would be out of jobs would be him and me, and probably some of the other top-floor executives. No one else, especially not you. I swear. I made him promise that.” She could see Melanie was thinking exactly what she would be thinking.

  “He said any new buyer would need to hire staff, not let any go,” she hurried to add. “The cuts last year were too deep, he said. You are not going to lose your job. I would have told you if your job was in trouble.”

  “I guess I should have seen it coming. But geez, Abby, why are you doing all this for a company that was going to let you go anyway?”

  “I’m not doing it for the company. I’m doing it for Derek. I know he hates me, but he needs this. It’s bad enough that he’s losing his newspaper. If he can make sure it goes to a good buyer, maybe it will be less painful.”

  “You really have it bad for that guy, don’t you? So that’s what all this is, information on the bidders?” Melanie gravitated to the piles of paperwork again and started flipping through files.

  “Some of them. I’ve been putting together corporate profiles on each, but this one I can’t find any details about at all.” She handed the mystery bid sheet back to Melanie. “Have you ever heard of DRC Enterprises?”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.” She gazed at it a while longer. “Says they’re based in Newport Beach. Did you run a DBA search in the county’s database?”

  “Yeah. Nothing.”

  “Check with the state board of equalization?”

  “Yeah. Same thing.”

  “Maybe it’s an acronym that stands for something else. Delivery. Direct. Driven.”

  “Derek.”

  Melanie glanced up. “What?”

  Was it that simple? Derek Rutherford Collier Enterprises. Was that why the sheet looked so out of place? As though it had slipped in, unnoticed? Maybe she was never supposed to see it. Maybe he wasn’t trying to find a new buyer at all.

  Suddenly, the phone calls to his attorney and all those closed-door conversations began to make sense. He wasn’t looking for a buyer, he wanted to be the buyer. She shook her head. It was crazy. It was quixotic.

  It was wonderful.

  But could one Collier really buy out the rest of the family?

  Something she’d seen in the bylaws came back to her. Something that hadn’t seemed important… until now.

  “Why are you smiling?” Melanie looked perplexed.

  “I have to talk to Derek. If he’s doing what I think he’s doing, I have to tell him what I found. I think I know how he can save his company.”

  | 22

  The first time Abby called Derek’s number, she hung up when it went to voice mail. The second time, she left a message.

  “Derek, I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I have to talk to you. It’s important.”

  She knew the moment she hung up that he wouldn’t call back. She needed to be specific. She needed to tell him why he had to call. She tried again.

  “Derek,” she said when she was funneled into the voice mail system again. �
�I think I know what you’re trying to do and there’s something in the bylaws that can help you. I’m going to send you an e-mail with all the information. Please open it.”

  Sure, she sounded desperate. Maybe even insane. But she was. She couldn’t untell the lie she had told him, or undo the damage she had caused, but she could do this. He would never forgive her, but in some small way, maybe she could at least make things better.

  Still, it was risky. She knew he didn’t check e-mails. He’d wait for a new assistant to do it, if he even got one. Which could take days, and come much too late to do any good.

  For two hours, she sat on the sofa, staring at the television. Telling herself that she had done what she could. That it was out of her hands.

  If only she hadn’t sent the files back with Melanie. If she had those, she could use them as an excuse to return to the office. She could find a way to cross paths with him, and tell him what he needed to know.

  Maybe Melanie would do it. She grabbed the phone and dialed her friend.

  “Absolutely not,” Melanie said when she heard Abby’s plan. “I’m not going back up there. You wouldn’t believe the look he gave me when I said I was returning them for you. I mean, seriously, I was doing him a favor and you’d think I’d just stolen his puppy. Why can’t you do it yourself?”

  “I had to surrender my employee badge. I can’t get past reception.”

  “It’s probably just as well. You should just forget about that guy. He’s bad news. He’s got the vice president’s secretary helping him put together some urgent board meeting, and by noon that poor woman looked like she’d run a marathon. I’ll bet money she calls in sick for the rest of the week just to avoid him.”

  An urgent board meeting. That had to be about the sale. Was it happening already?

  “Please, Melanie,” she pleaded. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  Melanie sighed. She was thinking it over.

  “I would if I thought it would do any good, but it won’t, Abby,” she said finally. “I don’t want to be involved, and honestly I don’t think you should be, either. If he won’t take your call, then send him a telegram or something. But I think you should drop it. You have the studio to worry about. Listen, I’ll come by after work. I have some ideas about the benefit I want to run by you.”

  She hung up and Abby sat, stunned.

  She’d run out of options.

  And maybe Melanie was right. She needed to focus on the benefit. It was just two days away. Some of her advanced students had already left messages asking if they could perform and what they should wear.

  Despite herself, she was getting excited. Even if they didn’t make enough to save the place, it would at least be one hell of a farewell party.

  But the problem with Derek still gnawed at her. And watching television wasn’t helping. She had to focus on the benefit. Maybe picking out a costume for the event was a good place to start. She went to the closet where she kept her performance clothes, and sifted through the collection of harem pants and choli tops, veils and scarves and skirts. She pulled out a pair of magenta harem pants, considered them, then tossed them aside. A black pair she put aside, too. Too drab. Ah, the copper pair. Her favorite. Now those were worthy of a farewell performance.

  She dropped her pajama bottoms and stepped into the silky copper pants, then searched for a choli. She decided on a silver-threaded black one and tied it on. She pulled on her brass-coin bra, and admired herself in a full-length mirror.

  That Zenina feeling returned. The tough, fear nothing, ready for anything feeling. If only she’d had it when she’d declared herself to Derek. It might have made a difference. She wouldn’t have let him walk out on her. She certainly wouldn’t have done it without putting up a fight.

  But did it matter? It was too late to do anything about it now.

  Unless…

  She dismissed the idea the instant it formed. It was too ridiculous. Too outrageous. It probably wouldn’t even work.

  But what if it did?

  It wouldn’t fix everything. It might not fix anything. But it just might get her through the door.

  | 23

  The guard stared at Abby as she approached the Herald’s main entrance. Would he recognize her? Would he stop her? She kept her eyes on the ground, and a portable speaker and the file clutched to her chest.

  He said nothing as she pulled the door open. A good sign.

  The real test was coming next. Jeanine, the lobby receptionist, a woman she’d seen every workday for the past four months. At the back, advertising and circulation representatives served customers, but the lobby waiting chairs were empty. Jeanine’s attention remained on her computer.

  “Birthday bellygram for Mr. Collier,” Abby said when she reached the counter.

  Jeanine looked up, her surprise quickly softened with a smile. “How wonderful! For our new Mr. Collier? I had no idea it was his birthday. Could you wait just a moment?” She dialed her phone and turned away from Abby.

  Abby tried to listen to the woman’s whispers into the receiver. Her stomach lurched. Her courage melted. What was she thinking coming here in costume? She’d hidden her face beneath layers of makeup and disguised her hair with more straps, feathers, and yarn than she’d ever used in her life. Not to mention the pounds of Middle Eastern pendants she’d added to her headdress. But was it enough? She was going to see people who had seen her every day. Someone was going to recognize her.

  She was eyeing the door, mulling a quick escape when Jeanine put down the receiver.

  “Here you go, honey,” she said and handed a visitor badge over the counter.

  Abby searched the woman’s face for a glimmer of recognition. For the shock. The disapproval.

  Jeanine only tapped the clipboard, as she did dozens of times a day for complete strangers. “If you could clip the badge somewhere and just sign in here.”

  A twenty-pound weight disappeared from Abby’s shoulders. Quickly she scribbled, “Zenina, belly dancer.”

  “Through that door and take the elevator to the fifth floor. A woman named Gladys will be there to help you set up.”

  The relief of getting past Jeanine gave way to a fresh fear: facing the vice president’s assistant. That woman had resented her from the moment she moved upstairs. Still, she took the badge, pinned it to her halter, and pushed through the door.

  The looks were starting. She caught them in her peripheral vision. The long, curious glances. The rude, outright stares. She kept her eyes locked on the ground till she reached the elevator.

  “Going up?”

  She glanced up. It was only a guy in khakis she didn’t recognize. She nodded, stepped into the car and pressed the fifth-floor button.

  “Executive level, huh?” the guy said when he saw the light. “Those guys get all the perks.”

  She nodded again, but avoided eye contact. He might have been trying to make conversation, or it could have been something else. She didn’t want to find out. She was just glad that when the car came to a stop on the third floor, he got off and no one else stepped on. “Good luck,” he said as the door closed.

  Yep. She was going to need it.

  When the elevator stopped on the fifth floor, her chest was throbbing with fear. The doors slid open, and Gladys was there, peering down her nose. It didn’t matter that Abby had a half-dozen scarves and belts draped around her hips, or her most modest choli. She was naked in front of this woman. Stripped to the bone. No pride. No dignity. Nothing. This was definitely a mistake. Whatever respect they might have had for Abby Anderson, the professional, would be history when they discovered her secret.

  Abby stepped backwards, ready to flee.

  “Are you Zenina?” Gladys stepped forward and held out her hand to shake.

  No suspicion. No discernible disapproval.

  Slowly, Abby straightened. “Yes, I’m Zenina.” Saying it helped. I am Zenina. I am Zenina. Strong, bold, fearless.

  “I can help you wit
h that.” Gladys reached for the speaker and the file. Abby tightened her hold. “No, thank you. I can manage.” She glanced around and for the first time registered all the people sitting in the glass-walled conference room. Two dozen or more, men and women and all dressed in suits. It was the board meeting. Already in progress. This was not how she had envisioned it at all. She hadn’t intended to face anyone, but possibly Derek. Just slip into his office and give him the folder.

  “If you’re looking for the young Mr. Collier, he’s in a meeting,” Gladys said. “You may have a seat while you wait.”

  She couldn’t wait. What if it was already too late?

  Abby ignored Gladys’s invitation. She walked toward the conference room and spied Derek, sitting beside his father, at the head of the table. She found the door, and headed for it.

  “Excuse me,” Gladys said, rushing up to her. “You can’t go in there. Please have a seat.”

  Abby heard the anxiety in the woman’s voice, but it hardly registered. It was impossible to register anything but the rattling in her brain. The fear. The worry. The shame.

  You have to do this. You must do this.

  She gripped the folder to her chest. “I’m sorry. It has to be now.”

  By the time she opened the glass door, every pair of eyes around the table were fixed on her. She looked at Derek, who was staring with something between horror and rage.

  Gladys burst in. “I’m so sorry for the interruption,” she said. “I tried to have her wait, but she—”

  “Thank you, Gladys,” Derek said. He was on his feet and moving quickly. “I can take care of it from here.”

  Abby was too stunned to do anything but stand, frozen.

  “In my office. Now, Miss Anderson,” he growled.

  Instantly murmurs circled the room.

  Shame washed over her.

  He grabbed her elbow and guided her—not quite roughly—toward the door.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do here, Miss Anderson,” he barked when they were in the corridor but still within earshot of the conference room. “If you think this is some kind of game or revenge, or if you’re just trying to embarrass me, you can just quit right now.”