Drive Me Wilde (Breathless Book 6)

by Shani Greene-Dowdell

  Table of Contents

  Drive Me Wilde

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Drive Me Wilde

  by Shani Greene-Dowdell

  @All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  Tasha

  Fired Up

  My heart rate sped up. Blood raged through my veins at an astounding rate and pressure that made every part of me feel alert. I saw red. My temples pulsated. This could not be happening.

  “Fired? You’re firing me?” I asked in a low and unbelieving tone that didn’t match the explosive volcano of emotions erupting inside of me.

  Melinda Lory had the nerve to look at me as if she actually felt bad for firing her best writer. “I’m sorry Tasha, but we gave the head writer position to Nina after she submitted that raving Hollywood Jailbreaks and Heartbreaks piece last week. She was supposed to be temporary, but she has solidified her place here and we just don’t need you right now.”

  “Oh, you mean she’s being promoted after she stole my story from me?” I asked. More pressure built inside of me, this time slamming into my gut and causing physical pain. I tried to mask the sorrowful look that I knew was piercing from my deep-set brown eyes.

  “You’re kidding right? What are you suggesting, Tasha?” Melinda’s round red cheeks flew up into a smirk, and she had the nerve to try to look indignant. She knew very well what I was saying.

  “Mel, we both know she doesn’t write the type of content that was in that article, and the fact that she’s sleeping with Richard is the only reason she can do what she does and get away with it. She’s the reason I wrote the story about sexual misconduct in Hollywood, and she’s getting promoted to head writer while I’m losing my job. There’s nothing right about this,” I said in disbelief.

  After building my own popular blog, I had landed a position writing for the celebrity column for two full years, the longest I’d ever been at one particular nine to five job in my adult life. Before coming to Colorful Times, I’d put in my time generating clicks on my personal blog and growing my following. Except lately, I’d been losing traction of what I created, all because of Nina’s sticky fingers.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry Tasha. Your column just isn’t doing good, and numbers are all that matter to the big wigs. I hate to say this, but maybe you should consider another profession,” Melinda said slowly, or at least the words hit me slowly…and hard.

  My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the tension from our conversation bubbled over to a climax. “You have some nerve, Melinda! I’m a damn good writer, and the only reason my column isn’t doing well as it should is because Nina keeps hijacking my stories,” I said through a clenched jaw.

  “As far as that’s concerned, it’s your word against hers, Tasha.”

  “This is so unfair. You know I’m not lying. Hell, you might as well give her the password to my computer, because she’s getting my stories to print faster than I can press ‘the end’ and submit them,” I continued to state the same argument I’d been putting up since Nina stole my first story.

  “The higher ups are not falling for your argument. They’re only concerned about what’s making money, and right now you’re not it. Listen, I’m just following orders,” Melinda briefly looked away from me before returning her dead hazel eyes to mine to say her final devastating words. “Clean out your desk and be out by lunchtime. Your last paycheck will be in the mail.”

  “This is really fucked up,” I said as I stood up and stormed out of Melinda’s office. I had no doubt that she knew what Nina was doing. She had been reading my stories for years, and she could pick my writing style out of a line up. Still, she let me take the fall instead of the slimy, opportunistic office pass-around. I felt hoodwinked. Without being able to prove Nina stole my stories, I had no choice but to pack my things and leave the Colorful Times office building hoping karma would bite all of them in their asses.

  Good people always get the shaft, I thought as I marched across the parking lot to my car, holding the small box with my belongings in my hand.

  I managed to crank my few years old Chevy Malibu car and drive home, crying until I couldn’t shed another tear. I had dreamed of becoming an editor for a high-profile blog or magazine one day, and that was dashed by two conniving women who were too lazy to squeeze an ounce of creativity out of their own brains.

  I kept asking God why was this happening to me, when I always followed the Golden Rule of doing to others as I would have them do to me. By the time I arrived home, I was still hurt, but I had come to terms with not being employed. I had been dealt a low blow, but I would somehow recover and find a way to pay my bills.

  ***

  Two weeks later, I was done licking my wounds, but the thought of writing another word drained the life out of me. I’d unwillingly lost my thirst for storytelling, for research, for creative writing. I found myself doing what I never thought I’d do—taking Melinda’s advice and working in another field. It seemed Melinda also set another precedent in my life, me becoming all too familiar with being fired. After a week at a local photography studio, again I was let go.

  “Fired?” I questioned the overbearing manager, when she ambled into the session I was shooting and asked me to come to her office.

  “You can’t tell parents you need a wide-angled lens because their kid has a big head,” she said, giving me the side eye.

  “He did have a big head, and I was trying to get the whole thing on the picture. It wouldn’t look right if I took the picture with half of the head on there.” I argued my point, and well, she didn’t see things my way. I was let go.

  Then, there was the coffee house. I didn’t believe it would be that hard to make coffee. After all, it was coffee…not gourmet dishes. However, staring at the contraption with buttons, nozzles and steam maker attempting to make a mocha something, I felt so helpless. I yelped when I dropped yet another cup of the hot liquid on the floor.

  “Holy cow, Tasha. This just isn’t working out,” the frustrated manager was livid, though I could tell he struggled to talk to me in the calmest voice he could muster. “The cup is too hot for you to hold because clear plastic cups are for cold drinks,” he said.

  “My bad. I think this cup was in the wrong spot,” I said.

  “Look, we’ve given away too many complimentary beverages because of your mistakes. You’re fired,” he said easily, before stripping me of my apron and telling me not to come back.

  By the fourth firing, I was harshly reminded that answering one’s cellphone instead of ringing up groceries was unacceptable. “I know, I’m fired,” I told the manager. Yeah, I had been fired that day, but not before I had been so lucky as to have to ring Melinda’s groceries.

  “Tasha, is that you?” she’d asked with so much glee in her voice as our eyes met. Seeing me ringing groceries made her smile so hard that one would have thought she’d gotten the news that her bank account would be credited ten grand by midnight.

  I didn’t respond to her. Instead, I scanned her goat cheese, salad mix and alkaline waters as quickly as I could, s
o I could get her out of my space.

  “Well, I’m happy that you found work,” she said as she scanned her card to pay for her groceries.

  She tried to sound sympathetic, but I knew she was gloating, and a part of me wanted to reach across the counter and knock the smirk out of her.

  “Thank, you ma’am. Have a great day,” I gave her the usual greeting I’d given all of my customers that day and moved on to the next customer. When my line slowed down, I sneaked my phone out of my pocket and called my best friend, Dana. “Girl, I’m about to lose it. I may need bail money, if I see this bitch again,” I said when she answered.

  “What happened?”

  “Melinda just came through my line throwing shade at me.”

  “Melinda came in there?”

  “Yeah, she just left.”

  “That shady weasel! Someone had to tell her you were working there. That’s too much of a coincidence that she showed up at that store and went through your line. She lives all the way in Broward County,” Dana said; her usual soothing tone sounded suspicious.

  “You know what. I don’t even care. I’m just done with all of this. I feel like walking out right now.” I already felt like I was selling myself short by taking the job as a cashier instead of working to revive my writing career. However, I just couldn’t see myself writing again, not if it was that easy for my hard work to be stolen and my credibility erased like Nina had done.

  “I may have something better for you, anyway. Meet me at our spot at seven tonight, so we can have drinks and talk about it,” Dana said.

  I was just about to hang up when my boss walked up behind me. That’s also when I noticed my line was so long it was starting to go down one of the food aisles. An elderly gentleman stood in front of me with shaky hands barely hanging on to his walker and waiting to be rang up.

  My boss permanently relieved me of my duties before I could say anything, making it four jobs in just over a month that I’d lost. I went home that evening and just thought about giving up on working altogether. Maybe I’d just become a ward of the state and live off government assistance. Hell, there was no use in working. I was only going to get used or get fired anyway.

  Maybe I was the problem. Maybe I had done something so vile it was just time for karma to rain down on me and make me atone for my past wrongs, whatever they were. I thought I treated everyone pretty decent, but perhaps the reason I didn’t get credit for my stories I’d written was because there was a bad omen hanging over my head.

  Well, I knew that was BS. Nina and Melinda were just threatened by me working in that office. They knew if I were to ever get the writing credits I deserved, I’d run that place and they’d be the ones out of a job. They were probably laughing their asses off knowing I was out of the industry and bouncing around from job to job.

  I showered and changed out of my khaki pants and tee-shirt into a comfortable romper and slide-ins and headed to meet Dana at our favorite Cuban restaurant. She was inside waiting for me when I arrived. She was seated close to the back but still in view of the doorway.

  “Hey Dana,” I said when I reached our table.

  “Hey Tasha, how are you, love?”

  “Girl, the most I can say is I need drinks. Lots of them,” I replied, and she laughed as she slid a mojito in front of me.

  “I already ordered for you, because I knew you would want one.”

  We sipped our drinks, and I made humor out of the past month of my life. “So, here I am. I’ve gone from potential lead writer of a world-famous blog to being unworthy of bagging groceries. Oh, how the mighty fall. Cheers!” I tilted my glass toward Dana and took another drink.

  “Girl, I’m still seething about Mel and Nina. Those are some sneaky bitches. They make me want to just suit and boot up and go up in there and kick their asses. That, or sneak them; I know where they live, and I have black masks and gloves. We could roll on them at any time.”

  I laughed and waved her off. “Nah, I’m not trying to let them take me down any further. You’re crazy though, and that that’s why I love you.”

  “Damn right, I’m crazy when it comes to my family and friends. But, neither of us would look good in orange jumpers, so we’ll just have to settle with knowing that Mel and Nina are going to get what’s coming to them one day, and I just hope we’ll get front row seats, when someone sues their asses for stealing,” she said with a smirk. “I wish you would sue.”

  “All I want right now is to be able to make a pay check. I can’t worry about them.”

  “Well, the reason you’re not making it in these jobs you’ve been doing is because you’re not supposed to be doing them. You’re a writer, and I hate that they made you feel less than that.”

  “That waxes poetic in my mind and all, but unless I start my own freelance business, I’m pretty sure Melinda has blackballed me with every credible employer in the industry. She gets a kick out of rubbing elbows with other editors and gossiping about whatever’s hot that week. Plus, I’m pretty damn sure I can’t use her as a reference. That’s just my reality right now,” I said.

  “Well,” Dana said thoughtfully. “I know it’s not a writing gig, but I have an opportunity that could hold you over financially until you get back in the field. I have a new celebrity lawyer client who needs a sitter asap, and the pay is very good at two grand a month for mainly afternoons and some evenings, with a bonus for weekends when he’s out on business.”

  “That money does sound good, but a sitter? What for his dog?” I cringed. “You know I don’t like animals like that. I wouldn’t make it a day.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” Dana laughed. “He has custody of his nephew and he’s looking for someone to be there when he’s working or away on business,” Dana said, as she gauged my response to the business card she handed me.

  I wrinkled my nose at the card. “Sitter? I don’t have any children, and I don’t know a thing about babysitting. I’ve spent time with my little cousins, but I’ve never actually kept them by myself for any long period of time.”

  “You didn’t know anything about photography, coffee, or groceries either, yet you earned a few dollars doing it,” she said.

  “Well, we see how well that turned out.”

  “Matt is a good person, and I know that he’ll be patient and work with you. He’s just looking for someone he can trust. I trust you with my life, so I know I can refer you and feel good about it,” she said looking at me with genuine eyes. My beautiful friend with long flowing black hair, perfect little nose, cheekbones that celebrities pay for, and brown smooth skin looked like a glowing angel as she smiled at me.

  “Awe, thank you Dana. I know you love me, but—”

  Dana put her hand up to halt me from continuing. “If there’s one thing about you, it’s that you have a good heart. As far as the job, you’ll figure out the rest once you get there. How hard can sitting with a ten-year-old be? All you have to do is be nice, let him do what he wants, as long as he’s not doing anything wrong, of course. You can handle this with no problem, Tasha. I know you can.”

  “Oh, ye of much faith,” I said and tilted my glass to take another drink. I thought long and hard about Dana’s offer. She was asking me to do something I’d never imagined doing. Be responsible for someone else’s kid.

  “I have faith in you, my friend. You know I aim to impress my clients, so you won’t do anything to get fired, again.” Her response was a mixture of a question and a statement.

  “Are you seriously depending on me not getting fired, after losing my last, I don’t know, say ten or eleven jobs? I think the jury is back in. Me and people, just don’t play well together.”

  “Tasha, just make it work. For you and for me, please…”

  “Alright Dana, for you, I’ll try. And, it’s not like I don’t need the money,” I said and drank the rest of my drink while staring at the card.

  In the pit of my stomach, I felt this job would end in a hat tilt just like the others had. Th
en, I would go live in the perpetual black hole of failure that had become my life. This time, I would not only have let myself down, I would be letting Dana down too.

  Have a little faith, Tasha. A tiny voice pushed through the growing cynicism that had taken root in my spirit. I was going to try for Dana…and for my landlord’s sake.

  “Be there tomorrow and don’t be late,” she told me.

  “I’ll be there, just tell me what time.”

  No one in my circle of family and friends, other than my best friend, Dana, knew I had been job hopping since being let go by the lucrative celebrity blog that I helped build. I didn’t tell my Aunt Clara or Cousin Destiny that my column got hijacked and stopped generating money, because of the influx of content thieves and new blogs columns similar to mine. I’d been thrust back into the workforce and trying to find a spot that fit for me. So far, nothing I’d done with my creative writing degree had worked out for the long term.

  When I came out of my thoughts, I noticed Dana scrolling through her phone. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m trying to get Matthew’s schedule organized. His name is Matthew Wilde, by the way. He has several out of town meetings coming up, so he will need you to be with his nephew quite a bit over the next month. That’s if you guys hit it off at the interview tomorrow. I’m looking at his schedule, so I can schedule you a time for the interview.” Dana was a personal assistant to people with pockets deep enough to pay her for tasks that would seem effortless to most people, like keeping one’s schedule in order, calling ahead and making sure the person they’re to meet will be there on time, and setting reminders for important events. Her motto was ‘time is your money, so leave the petty tasks to me.’

  “This job requires an interview? No Dana, I don’t want to mess this up for you,” I said.

  “Your other jobs, you messed up because you didn’t have your best friend’s reputation on the line,” she said, and her well-sculpted pecan colored face went deadpan. “So, this is different. More is at stake.”

  “I know.”