by Petrova, Em
Claire laughed. Con snorted and moved to his desk. “Unappreciated talent is one reason why we have so much recycled talent in Los Angeles. Y’all cannot see new talent coming up and you kick it to the curb.”
“I’ll kick you to the curb if you don’t forward to me yesterday’s report by mid-day,” Andrew said.
Claire’s laughter was interrupted by Con’s phone ringing in his pocket. He frowned at it and spoke. “Hello?”
A gruff voice said. “Hi Con. Are you proud of what you did?”
Con frowned. “What? Is that you, Abe?” Abe was the internal auditor who they referred to as “spy.”
“Never mind that. Can you claim to be proud of what you did?”
“Whoever you are,” Con snapped, “your attempt at joking is pathetic. You should learn jokes from me.”
Andrew laughed. “There’s a difference between grade school jokes and grade jokes,” he said.
Con glared at his boss, still holding his phone. “I will hang up on you in six seconds unless you begin to make sense,” he said into the phone.
“A week ago three thousand dollars that was being refunded into the company sundry account you are in charge of went into your pocket. I’ve got the records, Con. You used it for your own purposes and did not issue a receipt for the money that was refunded in cash. You banked it in your account, and sent an email message to your friend Elvis telling him how lucky you were. I’m looking at the message on a screen here.”
Con gulped and was speechless. He got up and walked out through the door to the corridor. “You are looking at the email message I sent on my phone?” Con was speechless for a minute, and his stomach flashed with sudden fear. “Hey, I’m talking to Abe, right? Are you an internal auditor or a spy?”
Con recalled the three grand. He had temporarily transferred it to his account in order to qualify for some bank vetting by a potential business partner because his Dad, who was supposed to lend him business capital, was late in depositing the money and it would probably take more than forty-eight hours.
“I’m cleaning the company, Con. What an appropriate name you’ve got.”
“The name is Connor to you. I intend to return the money within forty-eight hours.”
“And how do you intend to return it? Got some money coming your way?”
Con breathed heavily. “Believe me within forty-eight hours the money will be in the account.”
“And the cycle goes on. You will always use the next deposit to cover the previous amount. I want you to return the money. First, apologize to your boss.”
“What? Come on, you can’t do this! I had problems; I spent it.”
“That does not concern me,” the voice spoke, calm as ever. “I just want the right thing to be done.”
Con thought for a minute. “Okay. I will do it.”
“I will call your boss tomorrow to confirm.”
Con’s idea to pretend he had talked to Andrew evaporated. He felt his heart skip a beat. “Why would you do that? Come on.”
“I have no choice. I’m cleaning up the...”
Con walked back into the office, looking tense.
“For once you look thoughtful, Con,” Claire observed.
“I know what your game is. You spoke to Abe, right?” he spoke to Claire. “Can I speak to you outside, Claire?”
“Hey, why so many secret conversations?” Andrew spread his hands questioningly.
Claire joined Con outside. “You are the only one who knew I had ‘borrowed’ three grand to return it after forty eight hours, Claire. You spoke to Abe! And he’s even spying on emails. You are getting back at me because I no longer want to have casual sex with you. You know why? I found this beautiful girl, and I want to hook up with her. Her name is Lavida.”
“Lavida? Interesting. She’s African American?”
“Does it matter?”
“You are probably a lusty dog trying to sample every female race.”
“You have no right to speak stupid. This is not a lust thing. Mine with you was. I’m really interested in her.”
“That’s what she thinks,” Claire said with a sneer. “I’m going to make your life as miserable as you have made my Friday evenings, Con. Now Abe knows you had borrowed those funds. And does Andrew know you are a cashier Monday to Friday and a rough-edged biker on weekends?”
“There’s a rule against riding motorbikes now?”
“Stay away from the new gal, make my Fridays great as always, and you will be safe, Con.” And with a swing of her hips she walked back into the office.
Lavida was pacing her room, furious. Trevor. While she was on TV on that reality show, he was on a humping spree. Why would he do that? She had never denied him anything. I’m going to revenge, she thought. No, that’s not enough. I’m going to do worse than that. Then I’ll do my own wild stuff and we’ll be fair and square. I have no time for cheaters. But a voice at the back of her mind was nagging her: if he means nothing to you, why bother revenging? She shook her head. She was going to have fun and at the same time get this cheater totally off her mind and focus. Her mind had been so Trevor-focused that it needed some doing to shift that focus and stay that way!
There had been such “datable” guys on the show. She had not crossed the line. Too many hugs...the guys couldn’t get enough of her rather full figure, well-shaped but still what would be referred to as plus-sized. Her hips, her well-shaped butt, her light-brown oval face, her gap, her sleepy eyes and brilliant smile. And her dance moves.
But she had always thought of Trevor, and had not crossed the line. Even when Carlitto, that Puerto Rican sex-crazed fool had gone beyond hugging and had brought his hand inside her shorts to touch her butt, she had thought of Trevor and pushed Carlitto against the wall. “Behave yourself, you idiot! Have some respect.”
“But I love you, baby.”
“And I love another. Keep it in your pants. The next time you put a hand inside my pants I’ll have you behind bars before you can say Puerto Rico.”
Carlitto had been voted off the show in the top five, but nobody but the two of them had known about this encounter.
She recalled all the times she had kept men off, because of Trevor. She had turned down potentially great guys because of love and loyalty, and this is what he had done to her! No, she had to think of something that would make him cry. Breaking up was not enough!
***
Her Dad’s latest song was a top ten on the Billboard Hot 100. He was topping the R&B charts, and was probably among the biggest ten African Americans in music right now. He sure was big stuff, she thought as she frowned. If only he wasn’t so strict with her, making her feel like her prisoner. She couldn’t even drive around L.A. on her own. But this new guy, her new chaperon (a chaperone in 2016...seriously?) was so hot. He had the right looks, was muscular and tall. He was white. Matt. He stepped into the room and she got up and locked the door. He seemed extremely nervous.
Tina had been thinking about her Dad. Maybe it was done in the name of love, but he was choking her and squeezing her to a corner, and she was reaching the breaking point. She would snap soon, yes she would! She had talked to her mother, but hadn’t got much help there.
“Mom, why can’t Dad let me live my life? I wouldn’t be surprised if he had my bedroom bugged too! I can’t even go on a date without being watched like a hawk. Why don’t you just send me to prison? Why be a prisoner in my own home?”
“Honey, your Daddy loves you...much more than you care to know. He just wants the best for you, that’s all. You are his princess. The day you meet the right guy, the young man that your Dad likes, you will be surprised. He will be urging you to go ahead and get hooked!”
“I see. So I will end up with the man my Dad likes, not the man I like. Sad story of my life. I can see you aren’t going to help me, Mom, so I will have to take matters into my own hands.” She walked out of the room.
“Tina!” her mother yelled after her. “What the hell does that mean? Tina
, I’m talking to you!”
But she didn’t stop, she just went to her room and banged and locked the door.
She recalled that scared look her boyfriend, Clay, whom she had met in the salsa class in one rare circumstance when she was allowed to be away from home [but picked up immediately after class] when her father read him the riot act and told him never to step through the gate again and he was not man enough for his daughter.
“Son, I’m not telling you you can’t date my daughter. Just go, get a degree, get a nice job, and come back with a clear vision of what you want to do in life. For now you sound like a loser in the making, son. The next time you step through that gate you will be considered a trespasser or a criminal.”
***
Stan’s hand closed over Freddie’s hand on the table in an iron group. “What is this? Are you trying to hit on my date?” There was a look in Stan’s eyes that made Freddie’s heart skip a beat and a cold chill run up his spine, but Lavida seemed to miss it as she was inexplicably staring down at her plate, perhaps a little embarrassed.
“Come on guys,” she said, looking up just as Stan released Freddie’s hand and gave her a dazzling smile that many women found irresistible. His brown hair was cropped on his brow in a charming way: the women found the style charming, anyway. “Freddie’s just being Freddie,” Lavida told Stan, disappointed that he seemed so insecure.
“I’ll take you home, Lavida,” Stan said abruptly. “Sorry I’m so edgy tonight. Some business issues on my mind.” He placed some money on the bill. “You talked yourself out of a tip, buddy,” he told Freddie with a stiff smile and Lavida shook her head, half amused.
The beep of her phone told her that she had a new message as they walked out to Stan’s car and left Freddie still looking rather ruffled by this encounter.
It was then that Lavida spotted what looked like a knife wrapped in a white hanky with dark-red stains on the floorboard near his feet as he lit a light and then switched off.
The look on her face reflected by oncoming vehicles must have attracted Stan’s attention. She began to dial feverishly on her phone, suddenly getting more concerned and nervous about Stan. Before she could stop him, he snatched her phone and read the message, then growled and slammed the phone on top of the dashboard.
“Please let me out!” Lavida cried as the car moved on through the rarely scarce traffic and turned off into what seemed like a car park in a yard without a gate and stopped in front of a 20-foot freight container. “Please!” Lavida begged. “Let me go!”
A knife was in Stan’s hand. His eyes were rather amused and yet dangerously thoughtful as he stared at her. “I’m sorry. I really enjoyed the date, Lavida. I just want you to come in...I won’t hurt you. You can leave when you are free.”
“When I’m free?” Lavida looked dumbfounded.
“I own this container. No one will ask questions, and no one guards this yard. The rest are broken-down trucks. You will be safe here, Lavida.”
Lavida considered. Should she try to outrun him? He was too strong for her, but could she outrun him?
As if reading her thoughts, he showed her a small semi-automatic handgun. “Please don’t make me shoot you, Lavida. I promise you’ll be safe in the container. I won’t stay there with you, but you’ll be safe. Get out.”
Lavida got out, Stan following closely behind. She walked to the container, praying for a miracle. The yard was in a rather hollow ground and the road on which traffic moved obliviously along was some hundred yards away and about ten feet higher than the yard level, so that the container was hidden from the lights that shone along the road.
Stan opened the door that was grilled into the container with a surprising click of the padlock, and pushed Lavida in. “There is a flashlight inside. You’ll be safe. I’ll be back, Lavida.” The door slammed behind her and she found herself in the darkness.
THE END
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WINNING YOU
Emily Silva
Chapter One
The bell on Ballicliff Bay Bookshop door rarely rang early in the morning. That’s why Maddie scowled at the pile of motivational books she was currently sorting. She swiped her hands down her jeans to rid them of the dust that inevitably came from sorting the books that no one really wanted. After all, if they hadn’t worked for the previous owners, why would they work for new ones? However, Maddie prided herself on keeping her second-hand bookstore well stocked with everything. Unlike the massive stores, she wouldn’t favour certain genres.
Unfortunately, not being a large store and being in a town that usually catered to tourists meant sales were dismal. Visitors didn’t want to take back piles of books in their suitcases and the locals preferred to sell her their old books rather than buy new ones. She mostly relied on sourcing valuable first editions and selling online. For customers to actually step foot in her store was unusual indeed.
Maddie blew a curl out of her face and stepped around the bookshelf as the door clunked shut and her breath turned to ice in her chest.
Oh God. Sawyer.
It had been over ten years. And now he stood there, dark hair slightly mussed from the sea breeze, a tight t-shirt pulling across a firm body and looking as ruggedly handsome as ever. As ever? No, he’d never looked quite like that when she’d last seen him. The years had been unfairly kind to him.
She pushed her hair from her face and grimaced to herself. Great, now she probably had a streak of dust across her forehead. And there he was, impressive and sexy.
Oh boy was he sexy.
She’d always found him hot when they were teenagers with his bad boy attitude but now... multiply that by one hundred—no, a thousand—and that was maybe close to how hot she found him now.
How unfair. She had hoped she wouldn’t see him until the funeral. She’d even bought a nice form-fitting black dress for the occasion. His gaze locked onto hers and she resisted the desire to leap behind the protection of a stack of books.
She gulped. Why here? Why now? A brisk wind had been blowing off the sea and had whipped her hair into a frenzy this morning and now her carefully tamed waves were a wild mess, not to mention she was wearing the bare minimum of make-up—a little mascara and some concealer under her eyes. She was not at her best.
A scar skimmed his jaw, leaving a pale white slice through the thick scruff. She recalled the day when he’d jumped from the pier and caught himself on a piece of driftwood. The cut had bled profusely and she’d been terrified but he simply laughed it off. Sawyer never did seem to have a care in the world.
She envied that.
Maddie cared too much. First it was about her shop, then about the problems she was facing being single and thirty and then what on earth to do with the thousands of pounds she’d won in the lottery recently.
Well, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about selling anymore motivational books.
“Sawyer.” The word came out surprised and a little breathy. Really, she was astonished she managed a sound.
“Maddie.”
He had this way of looking at her that reached deep down and touched her soul. At least that’s what she’d always liked to think. How dumb she had been.
Clearing her throat, she reached for the stack of books on the counter and held them against her chest. Protection. Though not much could protect her from those mossy green eyes and the way they scanned over with frank... no, not appreciation surely?
She had a nice figure, if a little on the curvy side. She’d grown into her cutesy looks but at thirty, there were definitely a few minute lines creeping in around her eyes. Lines looked good on him, she noted. Creases around his eyes softened that hard face and angular nose. Didn’t stop him from looking hot as hell though.
“What can I do for you?” she asked primly.
“How are you?” he said at the same time.
How was she? Let’s see. Angry, embarrassed, humiliated. She’d been all those for the past twelve years
, ever since he’d left her on their wedding day. Sometimes she thought she had forgotten that day but the people of Ballicliff had long memories. Remember when you nearly married that awful Sawyer boy? people would say. What a narrow escape you had.
It didn’t feel like an escape at the time. It felt like her heart had been torn from her chest and stamped on repeatedly. And, sometimes, it still felt like that.
Twelve years. She hadn’t seen him since that day and yet even now, her heart gave a thump as though remembering that pain.
“Fine,” she replied primly.
“You look well.”
Well. She grimaced. Didn’t every girl dream of meeting her ex with beautiful hair, perfect skin and a body to die for? Well wasn’t exactly the look she’d been hoping for when she had first heard he was returning for his father’s funeral.
“Yes, um, so do you.”
She turned and prayed he hadn’t seen her embarrassment. Carrying the books over to the romance section, she checked the author and cringed at the cover. As much as she loved bodice rippers, the couples with their flowing hair and awkward poses didn’t do much to enhance the credibility of the genre. And Sawyer had followed her over and glanced at it, and now amusement made those crinkles around his eyes more apparent.
“You’re back for the funeral?” she asked without turning to view him.
“Yes.”
“For long?”
Her traitorous gaze sneaked his way and Maddie flushed and jammed the book in the right spot. She lifted the next one, grateful to see this was a more modern title, though the hero was still shirtless. When she peeked Sawyer’s way, she couldn’t help imagine what he might look like shirtless. Just as well-built as this male model she was willing to bet. Sawyer’s tight dark blue t-shirt certainly showed off his body to good effect.
She found the right spot and slid the book in.
“Just a few weeks until Dad’s estate is settled and everything.”