Bachelorette for Sale

by Gail Chianese

  “What are you doing?” Cherry asked.

  “Since we’re here, I thought we might as well get you a few new items for your wardrobe. You’ll be making weekly trips to the center for the inspections and you’ll need appropriate clothes to wear.”

  “Appropriate clothes would be jeans, a T-shirt and boots. Those”—she pointed to the shirts in Tawny’s hands—“are better suited for a nightclub.”

  “Try them on, please? For me?”

  She should have known Tawny had an ulterior motive for shopping, she always did. To appease her friend she agreed to try on the tops. It didn’t mean she had to buy them, though.

  Back in the dressing room, Tawny asked, “What kind of mutual goals are you going to discuss?”

  “I don’t know. Like why the center project means so much to each of us. They went to some extreme measures to get the contract. I’d like to know why.”

  “Are you going to tell him everything about why it means so much to you?”

  “You mean like the nightmares, panic attacks, and counseling? Are you crazy? There’s no need to tell him every sordid detail. Most people know I spent time at the center. I’ll simply expand on what’s already known, but without going too deep. He’ll get the picture, think I’m some kind of ultra-sentimentalist, and his curiosity will be satisfied.” She stepped out of the room, tapped on Tawny’s door, and waited for her.

  The door opened to reveal Tawny looking like a fifties pinup goddess in a sexy deep red one-piece that cupped her breasts, lifting and separating them, while the bottom half covered just enough to leave the imagination going in overtime. Cherry smiled wide, nodding.

  “You don’t think it looks too matronly?”

  “Are you kidding? That Upton chick has nothing on you.”

  “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” Tawny rolled her eyes at her and turned back to the mirror.

  “Honest. You have to buy this one because if you don’t, I’m buying it for you.”

  They tried on the rest of the swimsuits for fun, because a girl could always use more than one suit. Even though hers would sit in the drawer all summer long. In the end she kept the royal blue blouse Tawny had picked out for her. As for the swimsuits, they all went back on the rack.

  As they walked out of the dressing room, Tawny stopped in mid-stride. “Why not take a chance with Jason? What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Cherry sank down onto the cushioned bench, usually reserved for tired moms or patient lovers. She knew what Tawny was thinking—that she’d already been betrayed on a national level, then hit rock bottom, so there was nowhere left to go but up. Right? Except it had taken her almost a full year to pull herself out of the pit she’d sunk into after the show. What if she couldn’t make it out next time?

  “He’ll figure out I’m crazy and share it with the world.”

  “You’re not crazy. Maybe a little neurotic, but aren’t we all?”

  Cherry fiddled with the hangers, her voice dropping low. “I want to trust Jason, I do. I mean, we just handed him the rec center. It’s our baby. Opening myself back up for heartache to Jason or anyone is hard. Plus, he’s already proven he’ll do whatever to get what he wants regardless how it affects others. He reminds me a little of Ari.”

  “He’s nothing like that jerk. Well, okay, a little, but only the good parts. Give him a chance.”

  Cherry looked up to her friend. If only she could have Tawny’s confidence. “I don’t know if I’m ready, if I’m strong enough to get through another breakup.”

  Tawny sat down next to her, wrapped her arm around Cherry, and leaned her head against Cherry’s. “Maybe you won’t have to. Maybe you’ll break his heart. Maybe you’ll fall in love and live happily ever after. Which ever way it goes, I’ll be here for you, best friends forever, and so will your grandparents.”

  A small laugh escaped. “You won’t always be there for me. Someday you’ll have a family of your own and won’t be able to drop everything to come take care of your neurotic pal. Plus, my grands are in their seventies. As much as they’d like to convince me otherwise, they won’t be around for eternity. I need to learn to stand on my own.”

  Tawny stood, pulling her up with her. “Chica, that’s what friends and family are for. Now, let’s go pay for these and get some lunch. I’m famished.”

  “Speaking of crazy, have you stopped by to see my grandparents lately?” Cherry asked as they got in line to pay.

  “No, I really need to. What’s going on with them?” Tawny asked as she paid for her purchases.

  “I’ll tell you over lunch. Trust me, this story requires sitting down and food.”

  They made the quick walk to Panera next door, ordered their lunches, and claimed a table in the corner. Tawny dug into her strawberry, chicken, and poppy seed salad.

  She pointed to Cherry’s large bowl of macaroni and cheese. “That looks yummy.”

  “It is, and I shouldn’t be eating it. It’s about five hundred million points on my diet. Some days like today call for comfort food, as does this conversation.”

  Cherry explained her grandfather’s extra-strange behavior the last time she saw him, sparing no details. After all, what were friends for if not to share your pain and embarrassment? However, her major concern had been about her grandmother’s health and energy level. At this stage of life, she knew they could be taken away from her without any warning signs. So many people she knew never even got to know their grandparents. She counted every day as a blessing, knowing she was one of the lucky ones, yet still—call her greedy—she wasn’t ready to say good-bye to either of them. Since her parents’ strange disappearance, they were her entire world. The only family she had left.

  “Wait, you’re telling me Gramps is on Viagra and buying Sylvia Day books? Like her erotica books?”

  “Yep.”

  “Way to go, Gramps.”

  “Tawny,” she exclaimed, snorting soda out of her nose.

  “Come on, it’s pretty amazing when you think about it. It could also explain why Gram’s tired all the time. Forget me finding a Latin lover, I’m going to find me a red-headed Irish boy to keep me satisfied for the next sixty years.”

  Cherry pushed her empty bowl away, laughing her butt off. “I’ll keep my eyes open for you. Seriously, though, how am I supposed to find out if that’s what’s wrong with Gram? I can’t come out and ask, ‘Are you and Gramps doing it every night?’ ”

  “Yes, could be kind of awkward. So what are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can, snoop through her medicine cabinet the next time I’m over and see if she’s on any new kind of medication.”

  “What about Jason, what are you going to do about him? And don’t tell me there’s nothing going on there. I can tell by how adamantly you deny it. If you were indifferent to him, you wouldn’t have mentioned this dinner date. Not to mention I probably wouldn’t hear his name five or six hundred times in every five-minute conversation.”

  “Ha.” She wadded up her napkin, beaning Tawny in the face. “I’m not going to do anything about him. Our relationship is strictly work-related. I’ll be cordial, professional, and any fantasies I may have about a certain contractor, I’ll keep to myself.”

  “What do you mean they’re going to revoke the contract?” Jason paced across the deck, rubbing the knots forming as Brody spoke.

  He had gathered in the backyard with Dave and Brody to celebrate the contract officially being theirs. So far all his best friends had done was put a damper on his mood. Dave rehashed the interview, leaving no details out for Brody’s benefit. Jason found every time Elmo Ford’s name was brought up he wanted to go back and pound his face in—which made no sense. Brody assured him he couldn’t take legal action against the guy for being an ass or for asking questions. Then Dave, the fountain of good news, announced he’d read in the tabloids that Cherry Ryan had her some new man candy, and accompanying the story was a picture of Jason. If that wasn’t enough to turn his c
elebratory mood to crap, Brody, ever the lawyer, laid a bombshell on them. Word had it the rec center’s board of directors was thinking of revoking the contract.

  Jason had to wonder if Bronson had anything to do with the discussion. After all, the man was a huge benefactor to the neighborhood, and everyone thought him a saint. Except those who’d worked for the man before.

  “Read the fine print, Cupid, if they aren’t satisfied with your work or the progress you’re making at any time during the reconstruction, they can rescind the contract and award it to a different contractor.” Brody sat with one leg bent, resting across the other, tapping the half-empty beer bottle against his knee.

  “What’s to worry about? Our work is excellent,” Dave chimed in while flipping the ribs over on the grill. Five minutes ago the smell had his mouth watering. Thanks to Brody’s news, the only thing he wanted now was another beer to forget this day.

  “That’s a standard clause in any contract. You know that, Bro. So what’s the big deal?” Jason asked.

  “Word is RIB is sour about losing the bid for the rec center. They have a man on the inside who has plans to take the contract from you and award it to them,” Brody said.

  Stan. He hadn’t thought of him until now, but it made sense. It’d been rumored on numerous occasions that RIB outbid others by having a man on the inside of each job. Wouldn’t surprise Jason, he’d seen it done with the company he’d first learned the business from. It was one lesson Jason never repeated with his own company. He won his jobs based on his reputation, his honesty, and his hard work. Since Jason had never met Stan before, the only conclusion as to why the man would be adamantly against Valentine getting the contract had to be that it cut into his retirement fund.

  Why else would he leak private information to the reporter other than to discredit Jason’s company? If Stan was working with his direct competitor, RIB, no telling what he’d do next to get his way.

  “Dig in, my friends. This is a celebration, we’re not in mourning.” Dave tossed him another beer before setting the slabs of charred ribs on the table. “Stop stressing. Everything will be fine.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you said last time.” He wished he had Dave’s c’est la vie attitude.

  “What’s the deal? You didn’t follow Fubar’s dating advice, did you?” Brody asked as he bit into the succulent meat. The look on Jason’s face must have been all the answer he needed because he about choked to death on his food laughing. “Man, when are you going to learn?”

  “I ask myself that all the time, Bro. Thanks to Fubar, she thought I was a producer looking for a new porn star.” Both guys snorted beer out their noses onto their plates. It was pure karma in Jason’s opinion for making him go on the date in the first place. He filled the guys in on the last forty-eight hours before digging into his own dinner. He left out his mixed feelings for Cherry. The last thing he needed right now was more advice to get him into trouble and his head more mixed up. The woman intrigued him. She wasn’t anything like he’d expected: vain, demanding, or high-maintenance. Instead, she was giving, dedicated to the community, and alluring. Yeah, that was the right word. Like the sirens that used to lure sailors to their death. He couldn’t refuse the pull Cherry had on him. “Doesn’t matter now. No thanks to the King of Bad Ideas, we got the job. The rest will work out fine. The date was just business, and Cherry and I are only colleagues.”

  Dave sat with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Brody quietly ate, focused on his food and beer. Jason knew him better, knew his mind was turning all the events over in that analytical brain of his, working out a strategy to put them on top. It was why he was one of the top lawyers in the area.

  He pushed the plate of bones away, taking his time to wipe his hands and drain the last of his beer. “The first thing you need to do is stop listening to Fubar about women. Christ, the man is dating Mandi, the man-eating barracuda. Second, you can be an impatient ass at times. Try to rein it in.”

  “Anything else, Counselor? And what the hell are you grinning about, Fubar?”

  Dave rocked back in his chair. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen you this twisted up before. Something tells me it’s more than the job. Perhaps a certain petite redhead has gotten to you, Cupid. What do you think, Bro?”

  Brody kept a straight face, studying him. “For once, Fubar, you may be right.” Turning his gaze back on Jason, he asked, “When’s the next time you’re going to see Cherry?”

  Not soon enough. “Friday night, did you want to chaperone?”

  “Do I need to?” Brody asked.

  “I think I can conduct a business meeting without the two of you to hold my hand or watch my back against a woman who stands all of five foot nothing.” Who fit perfectly up against him.

  “If it’s business, you wouldn’t mind if I came along then, would you, partner?” Dave asked.

  “Yeah, I would.”

  “But it’s just business.”

  Jason stared down his friend, arms crossed over his chest.

  Dave dug into a pan of cookies Brody’s secretary sent over for them. “Methinks our boy protests a little too much. You should see her, Bro, dark red hair hanging halfway down her back, killer blue eyes, and a smile somewhere between siren and the girl next door. And then there’s her body, man, that rack . . .” Dave’s eyes closed, a look of ecstasy on his face.

  If Dave wasn’t one of his oldest and best friends, Jason would have killed him. Blood pumped through his veins, pounding like a raging bull running for red. “Screw you, both of you. This is business. Nothing more. After Steph, forget it. I’m not saying Cherry is like her, but Steph was just the last in a long line to remind me I didn’t measure up. I can’t compete against the kind of dates Cherry’s used to. Plus we have a job to do.”

  “Jase, Steph was four years ago, you need to let it go and get over her,” Dave said.

  “Trust me, I’m over her.” Jason walked over to the outdoor fridge, pulled out three bottles, and distributed another round of beers before resuming his seat. “There are more important things in life than women, ’cuz, baby, love won’t pay the bills, but a successful business will. I’d rather have a roof over my head than an unfaithful woman in my bed any day. Besides, I have the two of you around, that’s like having two nagging old women in my life.”

  Chapter Nine

  On Thursday, bundled up in her heavy winter coat, scarf, and wool cap for survival, Cherry race-walked down Benefit Street. She was hoping to arrive before the black clouds overhead opened and let it pour on top of her. The stupid groundhog had promised an early spring. He had lied. Again. Someone really should make groundhog stew, she mused as she pushed through the doors of Geoff’s sandwich shop. Noise assaulted her from every direction. People yelled their orders in, the sandwich makers yelled at each other, and the diners carried on conversations at a hundred decibels (sort of like being at an Avenged Sevenfold concert).

  A hand waved over the crowd and Cherry pushed her way through. The man waiting for her had silver hair, high cheekbones, twinkling blue eyes, and a devil-may-care smile. He was the most handsome man she’d ever met, her gramps. He moved his coat and made room for her at the cramped little table for two.

  “I ordered you your sandwich, hope that was okay,” he said and handed her a basket of food and a drink.

  Her sandwich was turkey, Swiss, and applewood bacon on sourdough that the deli had named the Cherry after her first stint on Finding Mr. Right. It was what she always ordered, and as a regular, she didn’t mind the honor.

  “Thanks. What did you get?” She was a bit afraid to ask. The names of the creations weren’t always politically correct, and with the way her gramps had been lately, who knows what he’d ordered.

  “The Sloppy Ho.”

  Well, thank goodness she wasn’t there when he yelled out the order.

  “Almost went with the Frigid Bitch. Too healthy for me with spinach and cucumbers and sprouts and all that crap. Real men do not eat sprouts
.” He took a large bite, dribbling BBQ sauce down his chin.

  She could hear his arteries clogging with the roast beef and cheddar. Geoff ’s was never stingy on the toppings. “What’s Gram doing today? Is she at one of her club meetings? I tried to call on the way here to let you know I’d be a few minutes late. No one answered.”

  “Nope, she’s taking a nap, or she was when I left.”

  He didn’t look up or slow down while eating his sandwich—nothing to indicate there was anything unusual about her grandmother taking a nap. As if the man hadn’t been married to the woman for the past fifty years, and in that half century the only time her gram had been known to take a nap had been when her mom was a newborn or when she’d had the flu.

  “Gramps.” Cherry put her hand on his arm to get his attention and his focus off the food. “What’s wrong with Gram? Monday when I came over for breakfast, she was still in her robe. I’ve never known her to leave your bedroom without getting dressed first. As a matter of fact, I can still recall asking her once why she didn’t stay in her robe when she came down for breakfast, you know, to stay comfy, as it was just the two of us. She told me, ‘Cherry, you never know when you’re going to have visitors calling, and really, you don’t want to be caught in your undies.’ So, what’s going on?”

  He squeezed her hand. “Honey, your gram is fine, fit as a fiddle, and that’s straight from the doctor. She had her annual checkup not long ago. She stayed up late Sunday night reading, and I think she did the same thing last night. Now you stop worrying about us, we’re old but tough. I want to hear about the fund-raiser and this Valentino guy who you went out with.”

  Stayed up late reading? Hmm. According to her gram, they were watching a movie. Something was up. She’d let it go for now, only because the only person more stubborn in this universe than her was her gramps. “Jason Valentine, not Valentino, and it’s nothing. Gram told you how Tawny talked me into participating in the auction. He’s the guy who won the bid. We had dinner and that’s that.”