Sorry I wasn’t able to write back sooner. I’ve been rather busy doing research on a new product and line that the company wants to create. And… I hope this isn’t too forward or wrong of me. But, Laura from The Women’s and Children’s Shelter in Heartfair is in need of an exceptional domestic violence lawyer. She stopped by my office today, very distraught. I told her I’d give you her number to have you contact them. I hope that’s okay, spare no expense; I’ll cover the cost.
How is the new case coming along?
My hobbies? Hum…sorry to disappoint you, but I’m severely lacking in that department. Does work count as a hobby? If it does, I do that a lot. I love my job. As for the rest… I read, drink lots of tea, shop, listen to music, and watch TV. Those are my main go-to’s. Nothing exciting or profound, like sky diving, rock climbing, or for people from around here off-roading, I’m a quiet person and I like to have my quiet time. Oh… And I can’t cook to save my life. My best friend swears I burn water. However, I can make one mean cup of tea.
How about yourself? Any secret hobbies or interests I should know about? Like sheering sheep? Or something even stranger like eating balut eggs and scorpions heads? Lol… Just kidding.
Maybe your hobbies are as dull as mine are. Apparently, I’m like an eighty year-old woman and should probably learn to knit. At least that would increase my chances of being interesting. Maybe me and all my other old hags could pop out our teeth, sip on some tea and chat about the newest knitting advances. Whatever those might be. You’re welcome to come along, I’m sure it would be a hoot.
In the interest of me not embarrassing myself any further with my strange sense of humor, I shall leave to you to daily duties and look forward to hearing from you again.
Hugs - Lotion Lady
P.S. Your two quotes were beautiful. Quite literally, one of them I knew at first glance. It’s a quote from Poe. As for getting into your pants and heart, I’m not sure if that’s creepy or flattery, but I’ll accept it as both.
P.S.S “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth.”
Leaving him with a Buddha quote, I click the send button on my computer, officially sealing my fate. Either he will like what I have written, or he won’t. I can only hope it’s the former, for that woman and her children’s sake.
Glancing at the pile of notes on my desk, I frown. I haven’t stepped out of this four-walled box since I came in this morning, except to use the restroom. It’s been one hell of a busy day. Between Laura, then an assembly line malfunction, and my newest job of deciding what goes with what, in terms of this whole presentation package I have to present to Saks by the end of May per our agreement. Which of course was made before I had to deal with the lawsuit. They want an exclusive fall line, which means it has to be completed no later than June so it can go into production.
You may wonder how Keagan cosmetics came to fruition. So, I’ll try to make this long story, short. When I was in high school and working with my mother for some extra cash at her floral shop, I started to experiment with the different types of flowers and plants she has in her store. It’s common knowledge that roses and lavender are both very common in bath and beauty products. As is aloe and chamomile. Those are great products; however, I knew there had to be more flowers to experiment with. Which I did until I was seventeen and decided to make my very first lip balm using beeswax, coconut oil, Shea butter, sweet almond oil, and different variations of my mother’s flowers. At first, it was a hobby. I made lip balm for all my friends. Then I started selling it in her store. People grew to love it, and asked me to make soaps, and tinted lip balms, which I did. After a few months, my mother’s floral shop’s phone was ringing off the hook with orders. So, I started a small business with Roni’s help, out of my mom’s garage. We upgraded from just lip balms and bars of soap to salt scrubs, lotions, even blush by roasting slices of beets in the oven, grinding them up and turning them into a fine power. It’s not as concentrated of color as big name makeup companies make, but it does the job. The best thing about every single product we make here at Keagan’s Cosmetics and Creams is they’re one hundred percent natural. We don’t use fake dyes, scents or strange cooking techniques. It’s slower and more expensive. So, our customers can’t pay two dollars for our lip balm. Our basic balms cost six dollars a tin. Which might sound like a lot, but people pay for the quality and love, we put into every product we manufacture. If you want to put strange chemical dyes and concoctions, I can’t even pronounce, on your skin, then be my guest. My company doesn’t work that way.
Lifting the massive amount of notes off my desk and rearranging them in a neat pile inside a blue folder, I close it and grab a sharpie from my drawer, writing Fall Products Saks on the outside in black ink and Kelly’s name on the bottom. Kelly is our product chemist. I don’t have the skills to perfect the right ingredient ratio, that’s why I hired her five years ago, and hasn’t steered me wrong, yet.
Checking the clock on the wall, it’s almost eight and I haven’t eaten dinner. I could call Dolly, but they close at nine and I’d hate to make her deliver this late. Guess I’ll scrounge something up at home, not that there’s much in the fridge. I really should get some groceries. I hate grocery shopping here in Heartfair. It’s not like some cities where you can go in and out with your cartful. Heartfair is a social event, you are stopped ten times to chat with town folk and you get to hear everybody’s stories, like Jane’s daughter Monica had a bouncing baby boy three weeks ago and they named him Sven, true story. I didn’t hear it at the supermarket though; I heard it in the bathroom today at work. Not that I mind socializing, but when I’m exhausted and want nothing more than to go home, eat, and take a long bath. I don’t want to spend an hour talking to Mrs. Walker about her son’s recent Boy Scout metal. Can ya really blame me?
Alright, I guess it’s time to get out of here. But I’m going to see if Suit Master emailed back, first. I checked at five just before Daniel left for the day, but had nothing.
Typing the website into the search engine, the site pops up and looks like I’m a lucky woman. I have five new emails that I will just delete like I’ve done since I started talking to Suit Master. Scrolling down it’s here! I have an email!
My heart thuds rapidly in my chest and my strangely hands clam up as I click the open button on my message.
From: SuitMaster6979
To: Lotionlady319
Tuesday 7:10 p.m.
To my Lotion Lady,
Of course, I wouldn’t mind helping out. I’ve worked with Laura many times before. I’ll call her first thing tomorrow, not sure why she didn’t contact me sooner. I offer all of my services pro-bono to The Women’s and Children’s Shelter. Thank you for consulting me about this case.
Abuse is a very personal subject for me. I grew up with an alcoholic mother who beat us when my father was away on business or seeing to his mistress. I suffered the most at my mother’s hand, way more than my siblings did, because every time she went to beat them, I provoked her instead. Sorry to get heavy on you, I just want you to know I could never condone that type of unjust behavior and that is why I have devoted my life to it.
How about I move onto a lighter subject? That might distract you from what I just confessed. I assure you I’m not as damaged as it might sound. I have made peace with the demons of my past, by helping those in the present.
In regards to hobbies, if you learned to knit, I would sit right beside you and do just the same. I’m not opposed to expanding my horizons and I love to try new things. Like you, my hobbies are rather mundane. I read, watch a few TV shows: Only, Bones, Mad Men and The Walking Dead. I refuse to waste a second of my life consumed in the brain cell disease known as reality television. Shopping is an acceptable hobby, I don’t mind it, but I am a man and we are genetically programed to despise it. However, I don’t dislike it as much as many of my friends do.
The only exciting thing I take part in is motorcycle riding. A few of my buddies and I get
together a few times a month to ride. It’s liberating. Have you been?
You can’t cook, and you like tea? I can accept that. It’s refreshing to hear such honesty. I’m no Betty Crocker myself, but I can cook thee essentials: popcorn, hot dogs, frozen pizza, and if I’m feeling a little daring, I’ll make spaghetti. Although, I must admit, I can grill. Another one of those manly preprogrammed attributes.
Tea is cool. I drink it occasionally, and I do love coffee. I know that’s like a cardinal sin to speak to a tea lover about coffee. But I did. Please don’t sue me. LOL. What kind of tea is your favorite? I’m partial to sweet tea or others of the cold variety. I leave the hot flavors alone. Straight black coffee is my only hot beverage.
In the interest of keeping this email from becoming a book, I’ll leave you go for now. Even though I could probably find a hundred more things I’d love to talk about and share with you, in due time.
Affectionately, Suit Master
P.S. You are right, it was Poe and I could never think of him again without thinking of you. You should accept my compliment as flattery. I’ll flatter you whichever way I can.
P.S.S. “Since love grows within you, so beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul.”
He was abused as a child? If that’s not like me, I don’t think what is. As much as I love his emails, the more I hear, the more I’m skeptical. Perfection is an illusion and I just pray he’s real. That this isn’t some sixty year old man sitting in his basement, jacking off to my picture and typing me these emails knowing damn well no woman could resist them. I know it’s impossible for me to, and I’m not even supposed to want to date. For some people he might be less exciting because he’s not trying to bait me or drawl me in. I find that sexy. Confidence in one’s words is one of the hottest things imaginable. Think about reading all of those books that are erotic romances and if those authors couldn’t confidently produce hotness with their words. Then you would be left with crap like. “Johnny kisses Margaret and it was real nice. She gets a funny feeling between her legs.” Honestly, that’s how it would be if I wrote something like that, I couldn’t write a book, even if I tried. Cosmetics is my passion.
Honestly, I have no idea what I am spouting. I’m tired, hungry and I’ve got to drop by Arby’s on my way home to grab a bite to eat. An email to the hot Suit Master will just have to wait until tomorrow. My stomach is too angry with me.
Chapter Eight
Wednesday
“Good morning, Lex.” Roni greets as I walk into the kitchen, wearing a black cotton dress, my red heels and a chunky red rose pendant necklace.
With a puzzled look, I stop next to the breakfast table. “What in the hell did you do with my best friend? I want her back.”
Sitting before me is my vintage rose printed three-tier dessert stand overflowing with delicate pastries. Next to it sits two miniature white scalloped edged plates, my tea already served in a white cup with saucer and my best friends wearing a tighter fitting black t-shirt and jeans. Have I walked into the twilight zone or what? Maybe I need to go back to bed. Something isn’t right.
Chuckling she shakes her head and with her hand she gestures toward my morning seat. Slowly and unblinking, I glide into my extended chair and scoot forward, still staring at my best friend in complete disbelief.
“Don’t look at me that way.” She laughs, her face radiating a giant smile.
She has to be on some kind of drugs. This isn’t my Roni. My Roni is a bitch in the morning. She also wears baggy shirts and has bags under her eyes. This Roni has rosy tinted lip balm on and her pretty eyes are wide-awake and glimmering. What the heck?
“It’s hard not to. We’ve lived together for years and I can’t remember a time you’ve been this awake, this early, and wearing makeup and a half way acceptable shirt. I don’t know what I walked into. But I know I want my best friend back. If you’re some alien inhabiting her body, I don’t like it. Go back to wherever you came from. I don’t care if you came in peace.” I state pulling out all the stops with my attitude this morning.
“It’s only lip stuff.” She shrugs, popping her lips.
“Uh-huh, only lip stuff. Since when have you worn lip stuff? We own a cosmetics company and the only stuff you use is the bath products. Not the cosmetics.”
Rolling her eyes, she takes a sip of her tea. “Yeah, well, I figured buttering you up would be the only way to get you to say yes.”
Ah…and there it is. She did this because she wants something. Why couldn’t she just ask me straight out? I don’t want to change Roni, I love her the way she is — sassy. Just as she loves me, the way I am. Sure, my overly feminine ways have made her gag a time or two. But, we’re best friends and that’s what best friends do. Accept one another, even the things we don’t care for.
“Say yes to what?” I press my mug to my lips and grab a delightful white petit four from the bottom tier of the serving tray.
“On Friday, the Devil’s Den is having a May Day party. This is supposed to be the first time Bob and I go out as a couple. He’s meeting a few of his buddies there, and you’re my only best friend. I thought you could help a girl out and come drink with me and dance. You know you love to dance and haven’t gone in a long time.”
Okay, she’s laying it on thick. Desperation is clinging to her every word.
“May Day is Thursday, and if you recall, I don’t go dancing because my best friend doesn’t like it.” I remind her.
I couldn’t tell you how many times since we turned twenty-one, after I rid myself of Brian that I asked her to go out with me to dance. The Devil’s Den is the only place in town with an actual dance floor. It’s not huge, but the only other bar in Heartfair is called Sassy Lassie’s and it’s not a place I’d frequent, even on a bad day. It hosts a different type of crowd of bikers and drunks, mainly the darker crowd of the local scene, if you catch my drift.
“What if I promised I would let you dance around me? I won’t dance, but I’ll grab a table by the dance floor and pretend to dance? Does that work?”
She’s really grasping at straws.
Plucking another petit four and popping it on my mouth, I slowly chew it, and look at my ceiling; like I’m contemplating. I would have said yes right away. But making her sweat it out is much more fun.
“Well…” She’s growing impatient.
Stealing another one of the bite sized sugary goodness from the tray, I ask, “Where’d you get these?” To change the subject and irk her a little more, this is such a powerful position to be in.
Grinding her teeth and rubbing her finger up and down the side of her white mug, she stares at me. I’m surprised Sassy Britches has stayed calm for this long. She deserves a medal.
“I ordered them last night from Barbie’s and picked them up early. After I got dressed the fuck up and made breakfast. Stop playing with me, Lex. I’m trying.”
Coughing with a smile, I desperately try to hold back my impending full-on laughing fit that’s about to take over.
“I...I know…you.” Damn, I can’t hold it back. Grabbing my stomach, I lose it, belting out in full on tummy rumbling laughter. Tears streaming down my face, I look over at Roni, and she’s pissed. Steam is about to start shooting out of her ears and nose.
Holding up my finger, I sputter out between laughter, “I’m sorry.”
Crossing her pissed off arms across her chest and leaning back she sneers at me. “Yeah, fucking hilarious, Lex, so fucking funny. Laugh it up, bitch.”
Still laughing and swiping my tears, I breathe in a few lungful’s of air to calm my overly amused outburst.
Once under control, I look into her eyes and apologize again, more sincerely this time.
“You’re forgiven, now are you going or not?”
Nodding, I take a long drink of my tea to finish it. “Yes, I would have gone without you having to put on this charade. Although I do love seeing you like that.” I gesture to her body. “And I loved these sweets. You did a great job. But, R
oni, I’m your best friend and if you need me to hold your hand through a kind of first date thingy, then I’m there. I’ll always be, don’t you worry. However…”
She cuts me off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I have to dress up a little more than usual. I’ll let you pick out my clothes, as long as it’s not heels or a dress.”
“Deal.” I reach across the table and she shakes my hand with a smirk.
“Soooo…you wouldn’t want to invite the Suit Master on Friday would ya?”
What the...? How did she…? Oh, right. She knows all my passwords.
“Been snooping in my emails again, I see.” Teasing her, I stand and take my cup and hers over to the sink and rinse them out. Leaving them for my maid to come and wash when she drops by today. I have a maid that comes three days a week to sweep, dust, do laundry, yard work, and other household chores. Her name’s Bonnie and I’ve used her cleaning service for the past three years. The best thing about Bonnie is she’s meticulous and doesn’t use harsh smelling chemicals. I don’t want my house stinking of bleach when I come home.
“Yes, I always snoop. When you don’t tell me things, I really don’t have a choice.”
Rolling my eyes in her direction, I toss my hair over my shoulder with a huff and walk out of my kitchen to grab my purse by the stain-glassed front doors. Coming back into the kitchen, I reply. “I’m off to work. And yes, I am talking to him, and no, I will not be inviting him. The more emails I read, the less I believe he’s the real deal. Men are not that perfect.”
As I reach the back door I turn and blow her a kiss and give her a “See ya.” Then off I go down the back steps, across the small stone path to the garage. I think I’ll drive the bug today.
I own three vehicles. A Jag, to show off to clients and let’s face it, it’s a sexy car. I also have a new VW Bug; it was a Christmas present to myself. It’s a metallic toffee brown color with tan leather interior and a large moon roof. It’s superbly divine. My final vehicle is technically mine but Roni drives it. It’s a bright blue Chevy Avalanche, a company vehicle that we use for pickups and other work related duties. Since she runs the assembly and warehouse part of the company, I let her drive it. I’m not much of a truck driver myself.
Lex (Unconventional Hearts) Page 7