by Misty Dietz
Sloane gestured to the luggage. “Mind me asking what you plan to do with the mobile unit, Carm?”
Carmen rubbed a pop can against her cheek. “I’m facing reality. No way am I gonna be able to pass up a lot of this new stuff. And I don’t trust Miss Salad Shooter over there to not poach my digs until I can get it all home. Hence, the carry-on.”
“Carry-on? More like semi-truck trailer. And a fugly one at that.” Tori wrinkled her nose at the beat up baggage.
“You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it yourself, short stuff. So where’s Annie? Bet that twit’s already on the floor, huh? She was happy as a hooker on sailor’s payday to see what was comin’ in.”
Sloane took a water bottle from the fridge. “She isn’t here yet. She’s not answering her cell or home numbers either.”
“Really? I busted my rump to get here early so she wouldn’t get all the good stuff first. That girl likes to shop more than I do. I hope her big doin’ last night went alright.”
Sloane frowned. “What was she going to do?”
“Wouldn’t say. She blushed pinker than a sunburned tittie, though, which means it had to be about a man.”
Tori began to pace. “I don’t like this.”
Sloane didn’t either. “Oh, stop it. I’m sure she’s fine. You girls head out onto the floor and get as much unloaded as you can. I’ll help as soon as I have this paperwork in order. I want the store to look less like a war zone by the time Mr. Benjamin stops in later.”
Sloane plopped into her desk chair, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and reached for a clipboard. “Oh, and Tori? Speaking of Mr. Benjamin, can you pull the new numbered Swarovski rhino? He wants to add it to his collection, which is excellent, since he has all but committed to sponsoring Project Broken Wings. Anything at the store he wants, he gets. Okay?”
Not getting a response, she set the clipboard down and swiveled in her seat to find her manager staring at her. “Tori?”
“Oh, God.”
Sloane’s neck tingled. “Something happen to the rhino?”
“I, Ann, we… Ah, crap. Ann wanted to see how the crystal would look in her curio when it was all lit up. So, I told her you wouldn’t mind if she took it out on loan, to see if it would fit in with her…other…pretty things.” Tori twisted her fingers in her skirt. “But, you do mind, don’t you?”
Sloane tried not to panic. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. Or it wouldn’t be, if so much wasn’t riding on maintaining a relationship with Timothy Benjamin. She’d have to start looking for sponsors all over again if he wouldn’t sponsor Project Broken Wings—the suicide support alliance that she’d dreamt of founding since her sister Megan’s tragic death.
She rubbed a hand on her stomach. “So you’re sure Ann has it at home?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Sloane. I didn’t know Benjamin wanted it.”
“No, of course you didn’t.” Sloane chewed on her lip and looked at her watch. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. Benjamin most likely wouldn’t be here before the store opened at noon. Then again, it wouldn’t be out of character for him to come earlier and demand a private showing.
Tori plucked at her skirt. “Call Ann. Even if she’s not home, Zack said he was going to stop at her place in about an hour. By the time you grab a latte, he’ll probably be there. Ann told me he has a key. You could ask to go in and have a look around.”
“I’ll call, but how about you go?” Please.
“I can’t, two college summer school students are interviewing me for a class project at nine.”
Dang. “Right. Okay, would you ask Carmen to go?” Sloane mentally crossed her fingers, toes, and any other body parts that were crossable.
“Naw. She hasn’t seen the crystal yet. Why does it matter who goe— Oh. Zack.”
“Zip it. There’s no ‘oh, Zack.’” Sloane pretended to dig into her paperwork. After a few long seconds, Tori slipped out the door, and Sloane picked up the phone.
Four minutes later, she sat with her head in her hands. Ann still wasn’t answering either number.
The day was rapidly deteriorating. Her choices? Face the beefcake who made her body remember she was a freak, or show up empty-handed to the man with the money and connections to make her dream come true. A dream that could help heal so many other families affected by suicide.
A dream that straddled the fence with a secret that would never release her.
A secret Tori didn’t even know.
It had taken two years to get a bite from a sponsor. She had to stay in good graces with Benjamin. He would deny her the money to start her foundation if she couldn’t produce the rhino. It was exactly the sort of control game he enjoyed. So she’d either have to get used to crap like that, or start all over.
Her legs felt wobbly as she stood. She grabbed her purse and walked to the back door, praying for a low-consequence encounter with Zack. And knowing somehow it wouldn’t be.
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About the Author
Misty's love affair with words started in middle school with moody stories set in exotic locations. In college, her boy-angst erupted in disturbing reams of poetry. After grad school, the writing went into hibernation until she found her own happily-ever-after with a linear man who is the long-suffering counter-balance to her zig-zagging ways. Now, she spends her days writing sexy, adrenaline-fueled stories, enjoying family and friends, and praying her children don't come home with math homework. :)
If you wanna say hi, she’d love to hear from you!
@MistyDietz
MistyDietzWriter
www.mistydietz.com