One Less Problem Without You

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One Less Problem Without You Page 10

by Beth Harbison


  “Ew, quit talking to me about your period. I already told you that was off-limits.” More laughs.

  “Oh my God, are you kidding me right now? What are you, twelve?”

  His friends went silent.

  “You’re lying about me doing anything with you, unless you count when you kissed me. Felt like a pack of rabid wolves, by the way,” she said, directing it at the girls. “Smelled like it, too.”

  “You’d think you’d be a little more grateful,” he said, still somehow thinking he was coming off as cool.

  “If I understand this correctly, you asked me out thinking you would get me to go down on you, so that you could complete some bucket list?”

  “Yup. I can’t remember what it was for, though.” He looked to his friend, who took a sip of root beer and then filled it in for him.

  “For getting a BJ from the ugliest chick in school.”

  Everyone behind Leif laughed.

  Heat rose in her cheeks, and she loathed her face for betraying her yet again. Not by being less attractive than any of the faces she was surrounded by, not this time. By raising a blush and making it seem like she gave a damn about his opinion.

  “You’re a terrible kisser. That was enough to tell me how great things would be if I went further. No thanks. As you well know, I didn’t do anything with you except get the hell away from you last night.”

  “Okay, Miss Piggy. Whatever you say.”

  This time she was undaunted by his insults. They were just too dumb to take seriously. “And you can call me fat all day long if you want. I don’t care. But you’re boring as a brick, and you always will be because you’re too stupid to do anything about it.”

  “Wow, you really are on your period,” he responded, somehow still eliciting a laugh from his buddies. The girls, at least, had stopped laughing. Even a moron could tell this wasn’t funny.

  “As for your bucket list? Whatever the fuck that’s all about? You’re a loser. I am the fattest chick in the school, and you couldn’t get it.” She turned to the girls. “Watch out for him. He’s pushy and doesn’t listen to the word ‘no.’ He’ll even run after you, try and chase you down, until his out-of-shape lungs do him in.”

  And then she walked away.

  Nothing changed for the long last few weeks of school. She hadn’t really expected it to. She knew her words meant nothing to him, or to any of his cronies. Her truth didn’t matter, yet she couldn’t let his lies go unchallenged, which made for a nightmarish push-and-pull that was futile and did nothing more than drain her of her energy and confidence.

  He’d never understand that, of course. Never understand what he’d done to another human being who was just struggling along to get it right herself. And he wouldn’t care even if he did understand it.

  He was just that crappy a human being.

  She hoped to God that someday he got what he deserved.

  And maybe she’d even get to be the one to deliver it to him

  CHAPTER TEN

  Prinny

  Alex McConnell (more specifically, Alejandro McConnell, which people didn’t expect when they saw his light brown hair and bright blue eyes) was the lawyer in charge of Prinny’s father’s estate (more specifically her share of it, thanks to Leif’s complaints), and even though all of the decisions were ultimately hers, he advised her on everything she came up with that required spending money. And all too often he declared it an idiotic idea and advised against it.

  Actually, all too often he was right. Prinny was no fool, though; she knew when he was right, and she used his nix as the last word, so she seldom made a huge mistake.

  But today’s idea? She felt a little like she was grasping at straws. The business wasn’t doing nearly as well as she needed it to, but she wasn’t sure of the best way to change that.

  “Mr. McConnell will see you now.”

  The receptionist’s soft voice seemed almost harsh compared to the plush comfort of the overstuffed leather sofa in Alex’s waiting room. The lights were low—lamps, not overhead fluorescents—and the music was the kind of unidentifiable instrumental stuff you’d enjoy during a massage, yet quiet enough not to interfere with reading. Just a whisper, to keep the room from feeling stark. That was probably important in a lawyer’s office, making sure the room didn’t feel harsh.

  She stood up, took a breath, smiled at Amy (the receptionist, who always wore the Wild at Heart scent from Victoria’s Secret), and pushed the heavy oak door to his office open.

  “Don’t tell me,” he said with a welcoming smile that showed his straight white teeth and crinkled his eyes. “You want to sell black cats, and we have a problem with the Humane Society.”

  “No, no.” She sat down in the chair opposite him, as she’d done at least once a week this past year, in order to try to present her new business ideas in the most … business-y way possible. Though she didn’t always have a good, or believable, idea to throw at him, this was the only way she ever got to see him. And, damn it, she wanted to see him.

  She shook her head. “Try again.”

  “Magic wands, made in England, hindered by their status as live plants?”

  “We already went through that. And they would have sold really well.” Unbelievable. Live plants she could understand regulating. Sticks? It was absurd.

  He laughed, a good genuine laugh. “We did! Would you believe I forgot that?” He shook his head. “What have you come up with this time, Miss Tiesman?”

  Prinny raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m not here just to chat?”

  “That would be an honor, of course. And a first.”

  So he genuinely had no idea how she felt about him, how she missed him if too many days stretched on and she hadn’t seen him. Good Lord, hadn’t he seen right through that bullshit idea to do a Witches of Washington documentary? She’d barely been able to find any good stories of historical magic in the most political town in the world.

  In fact, as she’d written the halfhearted proposal, she’d felt certain her contention that there should be public funding for Washington Witch Research would have been a clue to him that she was joking.

  Unfortunately, that was probably who he thought she was. The crazy witchy girl, head full of cotton and bad ideas.

  “Okay, listen,” she said. “I know I’m not going to bowl you over with my business savvy on this one, but I need you to trust me. I’m about to take the business in a new direction that’s going to bring in far, far more revenue. So I need to budget in a new salary and an expansion, even if you think I’m being stupid.”

  His face grew serious. “Prinny, I would never think you were being stupid, and if I’ve ever given you the idea that I sincerely thought anything of the sort, I’m truly sorry.”

  She was so touched by the earnestness of his expression and tone that her throat grew tight. So she tried to imagine Leif saying the same thing, and of course, she couldn’t. Even if Alex allowed her to expand, Leif would fight it every step of the way.

  And even though she was able to see that her business was going to take off, and she could see the exact amount she needed in order to budget for it, she couldn’t explain how she knew it. And to people who didn’t understand, which was most people, she sounded a little kooky.

  She knew that. She wasn’t stupid.

  “Thank you,” she said to Alex, and her eyes rested briefly on the picture on his desk. Where were they, he and his wife? Belize? She always thought it was Belize, and therefore she always had a mental block against the place.

  “So let’s get down to business here. How much do you want, and what are you doing with it?”

  “Why do you always look so nervous when you ask that?”

  He laughed. “Ever since you asked for manufacturing and licensing money to make Beatles tarot cards, I am a little skeptical of your cutting-edge ideas.”

  “Hey, that was not a bad idea!” She’d been joking, of course, but there were Beatles playing cards, so why not Beatles tarot ca
rds?

  “Not bad, no,” he agreed. “What’s today’s idea?”

  “Workshops.”

  “What kind?”

  “All kinds. Tarot reading, wand whittling … baking herbal edibles.”

  He raised his eyebrows and laughed out loud.

  “Seriously! Like a center for education. Except fun little activities.”

  “Wine and crystal ball reading?” His face stayed hard, but his eyes had a glint of teasing in them.

  “You’re kidding, but that’s not a terrible idea.”

  Alex—and nobody else—could make mildly derisive jokes about her business and it didn’t bother her. He was respectful of it ninety-nine percent of the time. Besides, when he joked with her it felt like the Real Him, and she would never argue with seeing that side of him.

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “You’ve already got the space, so what’s the problem?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. We don’t really have the space. But the video rental place next door is going out of business.” As she said it, she knew that, workshops or not, she needed to physically expand the store. This was the path she needed to take.

  “Video rental place?” he echoed.

  She nodded. “Weird it was still in business for so long, right? But if they could make a go of it as long as they did in this day and age, that proves almost anything can work in our part of town. Things go from irrelevant to trendy in a heartbeat. We just have to pick something that’ll work.”

  He wasn’t so convinced. “What about where Chelsea does the psychic readings? Why not just use that room?”

  “Way too small. We’re talking about working up interest, getting groups in, maybe every weekend, and selling the accompanying materials for whatever the workshop is for.”

  “What about the apartment upstairs?”

  “Absolutely tiny. And very apartment-y. You know, kitchenette, full bath, all of it a mess. If I used that space, if would totally feel like I was trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” She paused. That was stupid. “That’s the wrong metaphor, but you know what I mean. It would seem very homemade, not professional. I’m already up against it—as you know—so the last thing I need to do is invite criticism for the business.”

  He considered this. “You’ll have to find out the rent on the space next door.”

  “It’s half of what I’m paying for the main space now.”

  He considered, jotted something down on the pad in front of him, then frowned.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Very Captain Von Trapp, that voice. She’d had to admit to herself that she found it sexy. “Seems like a decent idea to me, not that you care what I think.” He chuckled.

  She forced a smile, hoping he didn’t know how feverently she did care what he said.

  “But I need documentation to present when this inevitably comes under scrutiny,” he went on. “A paper trail so no one can call BS on this.”

  Her eyes drifted to his wedding ring.

  He is dreading the coming end of his workday. He does not want to go home.

  The unbidden intuition gave her a shameful rush of hope.

  “Prinny?”

  “I’m sorry, yes, documentation.”

  The picture caught her attention again, but when she glanced at it, Alex’s wife was in a different position, one arm wrapped around a different man, a blond Bradley Cooper type, her hand on his crotch. Prinny stared for a moment, but there was no mistaking it. The picture had completely changed, like something from Alice in Wonderland.

  She blinked hard and looked again. The other man was gone, and Alex and his wife were standing just as they always had in the photo, tanned and smiling.

  But the word “cheater” was now echoing in her mind.

  This was too bizarre.

  “So,” she said, putting a hand to her chest, then taking it down just as quickly. “That’s it? I just jot some numbers in a proposal? The same old same old?”

  “There is never anything same old about you.” He actually flushed slightly and looked down for a moment. “Not in this biz, anyway.”

  “I know. It’s like I’m spoon-feeding Leif hope.”

  Alex laughed heartily. “You know he’s watching for you to make any misstep so he can take this back to court again.”

  “I know.” Brotherly love. What a great thing. “But he can’t just arbitrarily get into my books. He has to have a court order for that, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he’s argued over less than this before.”

  She looked at the picture. Same as usual. Whatever had happened wasn’t happening again. “Okay, granted, he has. To hell with him. So how soon can I get my hands on the money?”

  “Inside twenty-four hours.”

  “Oh. That’s not too bad.”

  He looked at her kindly. “It is your money, Prinny.”

  “Why do I have so much trouble remembering that?” She raised an eyebrow.

  He laughed. “It’s part of your charm. Now get to work.”

  She mock saluted him. “You know me. Always ready to do a thorough proposal for documentation to keep my Scrooge of a brother off my tail.” She shook her head. “I wish he’d just stay out of my life.”

  Alex nodded but didn’t comment.

  He couldn’t, of course. He had to remain professional, and Prinny contending that she’d be better off if Leif would disappear wasn’t the sort of thing he could endorse.

  “Thanks for your time,” she said to him as she gathered her things. “I’ll get the paperwork to you in a few hours.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” He chuckled and held out his hand.

  She took it, embarrassed at the heat she felt rise in her cheeks. She could only hope he didn’t notice—but how could he miss it?

  Prinny thought of the feeling she’d gotten when he looked at his ring. Why didn’t Alex want to go home? Would she find out?

  Her hand still felt warm and tingly as she walked out of the building into the evening air. In fact, she could have sworn it was actually buzzing until she realized her phone was on vibrate and was in her purse, ringing.

  She stopped and took it out.

  It was her sister-in-law. That was weird. She never heard from Diana. In fact, she rarely ever even thought of her unless they ended up at the same event—usually a funeral or something equally gloomy, where Diana was accompanying Leif, and Prinny had to mingle with them.

  Prinny answered.

  “Prinny, it’s Diana.”

  The voice barely sounded familiar. Of course, each of them knew who was on the other end of the line in this day and age. If she’d been talking to a friend, or if she hadn’t heard the distinct tremor of nerves in her sister-in-law’s tone, she might have laughed and pointed that out.

  “How are you?” It was all Prinny could think of to say.

  “I’m good. I’m all right.”

  Prinny nodded, pointlessly since it was a phone call, but what else to say? They didn’t have an easy rapport, so Prinny couldn’t simply say, All right, cut the chitchat, what’s going on with you?

  So instead, she just waited another few seconds to see if Diana would get around to it herself.

  “I had to call you because you’re the only one who could possibly understand,” Diana said finally.

  “Understand what?”

  “It’s about Leif.”

  Prinny froze. “Is he … is he all right?”

  Diana’s hesitation gave Prinny just long enough to become aware of a surprisingly strong reaction to the possibility of something being wrong with her brother, but not long enough to sort out what that reaction was.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, he’s fine. Leif is fine.” She let out a swear word under her breath. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

  “Diana, what is it?”

  “Well, it’s just…” Suddenly Diana sounded like a whining teenager, venting about a boy. She seemed to notice this, as her words faded aw
ay from her.

  Prinny knew her well enough to encourage her not to be too afraid to say whatever was on her mind. To say whatever it was that had made her reach out to a sister-in-law she rarely spoke to.

  “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Are you okay?”

  “Everyone thinks Leif is so great, so charming, so generous, so smart, so perfect—”

  “Right.” Prinny pushed the phone harder against her ear, as if leaning closer to listen. Was she about to hear that Diana, the Good Wife, had doubts? Doubts that he had surely earned?

  “And he’s not entirely … I love him, you know I do. I wouldn’t have married him.”

  Prinny didn’t want her to backpedal. Didn’t want her to weaken whatever unexpected resolve she had gained.

  “I’ve never understood why everyone thinks he’s all of those things you listed. The perfection, kindness, et cetera.”

  “Because you know he’s not any of those things.” Diana took an audible deep breath. “You know he’s a stingy little man who would do anything to further his own goals.”

  Prinny stopped on the sidewalk. Was this really Diana? Or was this some sort of setup? Was Leif trying to get Prinny to say something on tape that could somehow incriminate her? Not that agreeing he was a jackass was actionable, but still … this wasn’t the meek Diana she remembered.

  “Diana, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. Is there something going on?”

  “I need to get away from him. I need a safe place to get away from him so he can’t find me. I don’t mean forever, but just until I can come up with a solid plan. He would never suspect you of helping me, so he wouldn’t even look in your direction. Please. I’m desperate.” Her voice broke, and she cried quietly.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be dense but—well, look, if you need somewhere to go, that’s fine, it’s not that. But he didn’t … did he hurt you? Are you afraid he’s going to hurt you?”

  “No!” Diana said, then gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Not physically. To the contrary. I’m afraid if I don’t get away now, I’m going to kill him.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Diana

  “So this is your shop,” I said to Prinny, marveling at the bursts of color everywhere. Packs of elaborately painted tarot cards, sharply etched runes, books of every size and color, and what seemed like a million gem-colored stones lined the walls, sat on shelves, and glistened in buckets.

 

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