Bachelorette for Sale

by Gail Chianese

  “You put a bunch of old geezers to work around here? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

  “Mr. Ford, I think the point is, and the focus of your next article should be, how much this place means to the residents who use it. The center’s board and fund-raising committee appreciate your help, Mr. Ford, and we really need to get as much attention as we can. We’re hoping once people read how others have stepped up and what still needs to be done, more people will volunteer their time, skills, and monetary donations.”

  The man preened like a peacock on the prowl. “Just doing my job.”

  “Of course. Is there any other information you need for your article?”

  The man scribbled a few lines in a notepad before looking up. “I hear Ally from your first season is getting married in a couple of weeks. Going to be a big-time cast reunion at the event. You planning on attending, and if so, are you planning on taking Valentine as your date?”

  Yep, yep, nope, no way in hell. She’d love to attend Ally’s wedding. They’d become fast friends and had been each other’s support through the weeks of doubt, turmoil, and drama. Unfortunately, the wedding was taking place in Florida and (yes!) the number of former cast members attending would assure the tabloids plenty of conflict-filled pages. As much as she wanted to share the day with her friend, she wasn’t ready to step back into that piranha-filled pool, definitely not with Jason in tow.

  “No.” Please take a hint and drop the subject. “If you want more details on the telethon, you’ll need to talk to Holly Kimball.”

  Feeling like she’d given him everything she had to make the article beneficial, she led them toward the main room, where the photographer could take pictures of the work and Ford could note everything that had been done, along with what was left to do.

  Jason and his crew were busy at work, doing their best to ignore the visitors. All the men had their backs to them. None were looking for pats on the back, just a job well done. They’d all worked hard to rectify the damage, to get back on schedule, and by the end of the day they should have achieved it.

  Come Monday they could start with a fresh slate and a healthier bank account. Hopefully.

  “They’ve done a lot of work in two weeks. I’m impressed,” Ford said as he directed his photographer to the shots he wanted. “It seems Mr. Valentine is very motivated to complete this job as promised.”

  Jason’s gaze shot straight through her, proving he was paying attention to every word and move from Ford. Great, and it had been going well until now. What was the weasel up to anyway?

  “Valentine Rehab Services prides itself on always finishing a job on time, Mr. Ford. I can’t see why this project would be any different. If anything, I can understand why they might be more motivated than usual, given their past connection with the center and the community. As you know, both Mr. Valentine and Mr. Farber grew up a couple of streets over from here. Both hung out here as kids, and like so many others in the community, they’ve given of themselves to reverse the damage done.”

  Dave reached out, clasped Jason on the shoulder, and pointed to a spot in the opposite direction from Cherry. Bless Dave and his nose for knowing when Jase was going to blow.

  “I don’t doubt his passion for the project, Ms. Ryan. Based on what I’ve seen and heard, it seems he might be a man with a more than one passion. Working eighteen-hour days, seven days a week, takes a special kind of commitment, one most people don’t give without a real reward waiting for them.”

  “Isn’t a job well done living up to your word a real reward?” It took everything she had not to go off on the jerk.

  “Hey, Ralph, make sure you get a lot of shots of the guys working. We want to have those on the website for people to see.” Ford turned back to Cherry, apologizing for his interruption. “Of course it is. Can we get real for a minute?” He scooted closer, invading her bubble, tainting her air with his foul stench. “You’re a beautiful woman, single and looking for your Mr. Right. Valentine is a reasonably decent-looking guy, if you go for that tall, built, rugged look. He’s single. The two of you have spent a lot of time together on this project. You like him, don’t you?”

  Of course he went there, how could he not. After all, there was nothing more interesting or important going on in the world than the social life of a has-been reality star and a contractor. No way could rebuilding a community center that would help keep kids off the streets and away from gangs compare. How blasé, reporting on the efforts of a community coming together to take care of their own, to feed those in need, to educate, to provide counseling to those suffering, when you could fill your website and newspapers with stories about who was dating whom and who’d cheated on whom.

  “Come on, you can tell me. I know you like him.” Ford pushed, trying to find the right button, the one to make her lose it and spill her guts. Good luck, buddy, it’ll take more skill than you’ll ever acquire.

  “Mr. Ford, there is no story. Give it up.”

  “No, you’ve got it wrong. I’m looking for the human-interest angle for the article. You know, let our readers really get to know the people behind the work. You should check out Yelp or Google sometime. There’s a lot you can learn about a business or a person on the Internet.” He paused long enough for his words to sink in and pique Cherry’s interest before going on. “I understand Mr. Valentine was engaged before, to a woman from the neighborhood. Wouldn’t happen to know her, would you?”

  Engaged? Holy cow, talk about dark secrets.

  “It’s a big neighborhood, so no. If you don’t have any more questions regarding the progress on the building or tomorrow’s telethon, I have an appointment to get to.” Someone ought to give her a ribbon for keeping it under control, because she was anything but.

  The photographer joined them, indicating he’d taken all the shots Ford had asked for. Cherry stepped toward the main door intending to escort them off the premises, but Ford held fast.

  “Mind if I ask Mr. Valentine a few questions?”

  Cherry glanced over to Jason, who stood in the far corner with Dave. His arms were folded over his chest, hands clasping his upper arms, and even from this distance she could see the tic by his right eye.

  She smiled. Ford, thrown off balance at her reaction, stepped back. “I don’t mind at all if you speak to him, but you may want to remember he is holding a rather large hammer right now.”

  It took everything in Jason not to pick the weasel up by the back of his three-dollar suit and toss him out the front door. Knew he’d go there, trying to dig up dirt on him and Cherry. Where in the hell had he found out about Steph? And frickin’ Bronson, with his negative reviews. He needed to get Brody to do something about the guy and get him to stop spreading lies. Jason got why they needed Ford and the rest of the media for the center, but man, give it a rest already and leave the past the frig alone.

  It would be different if they asked because they cared, because they wanted to see Cherry happy after all this time, but not because they knew the one who broke the story got the ratings. Cherry was an instrument to the media, not a person with feelings and rights, and it pissed him off to see her used.

  “Bro, chill, they’re leaving. She handled them like a pro.” Dave dropped a box at Jason’s feet. “Ha, did you see that guy’s face when she mentioned the hammer? I thought he was going to piss his pants. Priceless.”

  “Kick in the pants.” Jason nodded toward the box. “What’s this?”

  “Nanny cams. Brody dropped them off at lunch. Enough for each entrance and then two for this room.”

  Cherry joined them, studying the box. “You’re going to put teddy bears out? Don’t you think someone will notice?”

  Dave bent down, opened the box, and pulled out a smoke detector and a small gray box. Jason pulled out another one. “Sweet. These will fit right in, and if our friends come back they won’t think twice about them.”

  “I don’t get it.” Cherry stood, fist on her cocked hip, looking like a sexy, mad librar
ian. “I thought you said they were nanny cams.”

  Jason handed her one to look at. “Nanny cams come in all sorts of disguises now: smoke detectors, building blocks, alarm clocks, even coat hooks. These are perfect, as you would expect to find them here and generally a person wouldn’t think twice when they saw one. They’re also motion activated. This small gray one can go up outside by the entrance behind a sign with a small hole in it and catch everyone walking up to the door. We’ll get them installed before we leave tonight.”

  “Here, give them to me.” Dave gathered the cameras. “The guys and I’ll have these up in about five minutes.”

  “Guess that frees me up to finish the wall. See you later.” Jason gathered his supplies and started taping the drywall. As much as he’d like to flip the coin and see who played out what fantasy, he was pissed about the interview and knew he’d say something he’d later regret.

  “Jase, is something wrong?” Cherry’s voice caressed his nerves. She had too much faith in others, always looking for the good. She couldn’t see the wolf beneath the sheep’s wool.

  “I’m busy, Cherry, we’ll talk later.” His voice was gruff, which pissed him off even more. He didn’t want to be mad, he wanted to pull the pins out of her hair, to play cabana boy, to hear her call out his name as her eyes glazed over and she slid down the slope to ecstasy.

  He wasn’t angry at Cherry; it was the situation that pissed him off. Not true, his mind whispered. The ghosts of the past were wreaking havoc with his brain, which was something he needed to deal with. Shove them back in the closet where they belonged. If only the worm of a reporter would leave them alone.

  “Fine. I forgot I’m supposed to meet Tawny tonight, go over some plans for tomorrow’s event. Guess I’ll owe you a rain check on dinner. One of us will let you know how the telethon went Monday. Enjoy your weekend.” Icicles could have formed in hell from the tone in her voice.

  And if that weren’t enough, she’d used “fine.” He might have been dense at times, but he knew “fine” didn’t mean the same thing coming from a woman. His only chance at salvation involved groveling at her feet.

  Wasn’t happening.

  Heels click-clacked across the concrete floor, pounding nails into his coffin with each step. The front door slammed shut, rattling the glass pane. Whatever. They could use a night off anyway. They’d been practically glued to each other for weeks. A guy needed his space. Room to breathe. Hang with his buds.

  “Cupid, what the hell did you do to Cherry?” Dave asked as he came around the corner. “First she almost knocked me off the ladder. Now she’s sitting in her car crying.”

  Jason dropped the tape and made double time to the parking lot. Cherry’s head rested against the steering wheel and he could hear the soft sobs through the open car door as he approached. Squatting down, he pushed her hair behind her ear.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “You didn’t. I stubbed my toe.”

  “Through your shoes?”

  “Yes, and it hurts really bad. Kind of like someone stabbing you in the heart bad.”

  “Baby, that’s not fair.”

  “Don’t ‘baby’ me. Go back to your drywall. I’m fine.” She blew her nose, turning her head away from him.

  Deep breath in. He swallowed hard, pushing the crow down. He wouldn’t apologize, but if she wanted to talk, fine, he’d talk. “You want to know what’s wrong?”

  “No, not anymore. Now I just want my toe to stop hurting so I can go home.”

  “I thought you were going to Tawny’s?”

  “I am, right after I pick up Tucker. So, if you’ll move,” she shooed him away with her hand, “thanks, bye.”

  “You don’t want to talk about what upset me?”

  She slammed the gearshift into park, pushed him out of her way, and slid out of the car. Standing in front of him, even in her pumps, she still didn’t come close to being eye-to-eye with him. “You know what your problem is?”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “Someone needs to. You’re so used to getting everything your way, you can’t compromise. And then there’s that high-and-mighty attitude of yours. Mr. I’m Always Right. Well, let me tell you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Arrogant, you’re not always right. And when you are, it’s not polite to gloat over your friends or girlfriend. That’s plain rude. Everything doesn’t have to be your way.”

  Jason took a step forward, backing her up against the open car door. His blood boiled. He wasn’t always right and everything didn’t have to be his way. He’d compromised last night on the pizza and agreed to work with the media. And he didn’t gloat. Ever.

  “Why didn’t you let me deal with Ford?” He stopped her before she could utter a sound. “Because you see me as nothing more than a lowly carpenter from the bad side of town who only knows how to do things one way, with his fists.”

  Her mouth flew open, then closed. “That’s not true. I was only teasing in there, but you have to admit you two push each other’s buttons faster than a pair of siblings. I may not like dealing with the media, Jason, but I won’t hide from them. I’m not an idiot and I can do my job. I think your response has more to do with what he said to me than anything else. Something about your ex. Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really. Suffice it to say it happened a long time ago and then it was over. End of story.” He didn’t want to drag Steph into their relationship, to let the past taint the present or future. Better for everyone to forget about her and what went down. “Didn’t I tell you Ford wouldn’t play fair? That he was up to something? Sure enough, he tried to drag our relationship into it, or rather out into the public eye.”

  Cherry pressed her hands against his chest trying to move him back, but he wouldn’t budge.

  “Fine, you don’t want to talk about her? Okay. We’re all allowed our secrets. Do me a favor? Don’t put her flaws on me. Whoever she is, I’m not her. And I knew he’d bring up the subject of us. He’s like a dog with a bone. I was ready for him and handled him, thank you very much. Don’t think I didn’t see you getting all puffed up, ready to rip his head off. Thank goodness for Dave. All I’m asking is have some faith in me, Jase.” He heard it then, under the angry rant, the hurt he’d caused her by not trusting her to know what she was doing. He wanted to kick himself in the ass. No better than the other guys who’d come before him, he’d done the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t do.

  She squinted up at him. “Are you growling at me?”

  He stepped closer, pushing out all the air from between their bodies, placed his hands on the door frame next to her shoulders, and looked her in the eye. “At times. Although right now, I’m growling at myself.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I was an overprotective jerk. Forgive me?”

  A little sigh escaped past her lips, breathing life back into him.

  “Forgive me?” she asked.

  The bands restricting the blood flow from his heart released. Air flowed from his lungs to his brain again. Once more his world was right.

  “Does this mean we get to have make-up sex?” he asked.

  “Cabana boy or naughty librarian?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  What had started out as a small tag sale had quickly morphed into an all-out fund-raiser. Along with the usual cast-offs, there were baked goods and a pie-in-the-eye contest. Jason hoped the weather would hold. Gray clouds crept across the sky, making their way toward the festivities under way on the community center’s green. Thankfully it would all be over soon. Jason dodged people tall and short as he made his way to his buddies. Dave and Brody stood apart from the crowd under a huge oak tree on the front lawn, munching on cookies. Taking his place next to them, he realized this was how it had always been, the three of them against the world.

  Snagging a cookie from Brody, he leaned back against the tree trunk. “Nice of you to donate.”

  Brody tucked the bag of goodies under his arm, out of Jason’s reach. “
Least I can do. I’ve also got a loaf of banana bread and some homemade doughnuts in the car for my mom.”

  “Can you believe all of these people?” Jason asked.

  “Yeah, I can. Not all the residents of the west end were like my dad. Plus, most families in the neighborhood don’t have the financial means to give big donations or attend a gala dinner. What goes in the coin jar can go a long way at an event like this. They can justify the baked goods as food on the table, and the clothes are items they’d have had to buy anyway, if not here then probably at the Goodwill. This is good, gives them a sense of ownership, of pride; even more, of accomplishment. Your girl does good work, Cupid.”

  Jason snagged Dave’s last cookie, popping it in his mouth before his friend could snatch it back. “She does. However, this wasn’t her work. Two of the other committee members suggested the idea, and the schools ran with it when they heard about it.”

  “Tawny told me they’ve got thirty high school seniors working the phones today for the telethon, and none of them had to be bribed with extra credit. Couldn’t see that happening in our day. Although, gauging by the mile-long line to throw a pie in Mr. Lilly’s face, I’d say his history class is still as boring and tough to pass as in our day.”

  Jason tracked his friend’s gaze, noting Tawny manned the pie-tossing table and Dave hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he’d joined them.

  “I think I have a few dollars left, might as well donate them and warm up my arm before softball season.” Dave headed off to join the long line.

  Interesting, he hadn’t seen that coming. Then again, he’d been a little preoccupied with work and trying to keep up with his own love life. Still, Dave was one of his two best friends, and more, which meant he should have been paying attention.

  “Hasn’t mentioned Mandi in a while,” Brody noted.

  “Not his usual type. For one, Tawny has a brain,” Jason replied while watching his friend flirt with the feisty brunette. “For another, she’s real, not one of those Barbie wannabes. Think he can handle her?”