by Kristi Rose
“Hear! Hear!” She clinks her glass to mine and we laugh before taking a drink.
“Do you think men get depressed because someone tells them no?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “Duh.”.
“I mean aside from sex. I mean in business. They just plan around it, right? But I’m all weepy because someone told me to get my books together for an audit and they might change their mind. So, I’m going to spend time I don’t have because I’m a hopeful person and believe all opportunities are open to me.” I wave my fortune in the air. “Unless my answer can be found here.” I unfold the tiny paper and read it aloud, “It could be better, but it’s good enough.”
Deflated, I droop onto the couch next to her.
“Can I help?” She kicks her heels up on the ottoman.
“How are you with adding columns and entering info?” I do the same with my heels. It’s an amazing feeling to relax back into the couch, knowing food is going to be delivered, and having someone to talk with.
“Not very good. But I know someone who is.” She cocks her head toward my front door.
“What are you talking about?” I murmur, sniffing my wine, the tension in my shoulders melting away.
“I’m talking about the dude across the street. The one who is handy with numbers.” Her stare is pointed.
“Oh, right. Duh. I dunno—”
“Why would you not ask him?”
“Well, it’s awkward—” I cut myself off. I hadn’t told anyone about my one night with Stacy.
Her brows raise. “Why would it be awkward?”
“Er, to show him my finances.” I do lightning quick thinking. “Lay myself out there, so to speak.”
“Oh. I thought you hesitated because of the S.E.X. Because you want to sleep with him.”
“I do not—” Before I die I want to master the art of masking a blush. A skill that would come in handy right now.
She cocks her head to the side. “You do too, and that’s okay. Any of us would hesitate if we needed help from a guy we want to bang.” She narrows her eyes.
“Paisley—”
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” She sits up and faces me. “Didn’t you?”
I blow out a slow steady breath and meet her gaze.
“Oh, boy,” she says then slaps her knees. “I knew the two of you would work together.”
I sit up. “Wait. Don’t go there. It was one night and we agreed to never do it again. We got caught up in the moment. The wedding, the shots—we did some of those after you left. Don’t make it into anything because it’s not. It can’t be.”
She searches my face. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.” If I knew an oath, a magical unbreakable vow, I’d give it.
“So why won’t you ask for his help? Are you afraid you’ll repeat that night?” She relaxes back into the couch.
“Er, well. I haven’t seen him and it feels awkward.” I settle next to her.
“Which would you rather? An awkward moment with no one around or when Josie and Brinn return from their honeymoon?”
“Good point.”
“Listen,” she says, sitting forward again and setting her glass on a tray I’ve placed on the ottoman. “I don’t know much. My life is a hot mess. It’s taken me a long time to figure stuff out and because of that I missed out on time with Hank. It may be over for us.” Her voice catches and after a deep breath she continues. “One thing I do know is our group is a tight circle and Stacy is now a part of that.”
“What are you saying?” My shoulders clench, folding inward.
“If you don’t want the others to know you slept with him then you need to get that first encounter over with. If you think you might want to fool around with him some more just be aware of the consequences.” She gestures to herself. “If Hank doesn’t talk to me, if we can’t resolve this somehow, then it changes my relationship with Gigi and his parents. They’re just as important to me as my own family and I stand to lose them too, in a roundabout way.” A single tear rolls down her cheek.
“It might still work out.” I swallow but I don’t have the conviction people of faith have.
She palms away her tear. “I’ve emailed him every day, sometimes several times a day. I’ve heard nothing but I know he’s able to email because Gigi says he’s been emailing their mom.”
From what I know, from the little bits she’s fed me and I pieced together, Paisley confessed her feelings to Hank right after Josie’s wedding but they did not have a lover’s reunion. Instead, he told her it was too late and to complicate it further had to leave for work. As a Naval Intelligence Officer his location and duration of time away are unknown.
“I hurt him a lot. That’s a hard thing to live with.” She takes the tissue I hand her.
“What are you going to do?” Is she worried about the worst-case scenario? A broken heart that never mends or does she already have that? My naive heart can’t begin to fathom what she must be feeling.
“I plan to celebrate my sister’s wedding anniversary and get ready to start back to work. I love the beginning of school.” She smiles but it’s wobbly and looks forced.
“And Hank?”
“I survived my divorce. I can survive this too.” She pushes up from the couch, going to her garment bag. “My sister loves pictures so there will be a photographer. For once I’d like to not look like a train wreck. Which one of these do you think works best?”
Subject change noted. I get up and stand next to her. “So it’s cocktail, not formal.”
“Right.”
“Let’s take a look at what you’ve picked out.”
She slides down the zipper. “Okay, I can take any of these back. I was in your store the other day and your employee told me to stick to earth tones because of my hair. Or else I would have bought something there.”
I spin toward her in surprise. I’ve taught my staff that certain tones definitely do look best on some people versus others, but hues are the trick for any color. And sticking Paisley in earth tones is so nineteen ninety-nine. “She said what? Please tell me it wasn’t Shara.”
“No, the other one. She knew we were friends. Told me to talk to you.” Paisley grimaces.
“Brilliant. This feels like an omen. Like I’ll need to be looking to replace her soon. I’m sorry. She’s a...well, never mind. Let’s get you sorted.” I add the worry to my list and push it aside, instead pulling out the three gowns she’s tucked in the bag.
“Is this event inside or out?” I spread the dresses beside each other. The navy gown she wore in Josie’s wedding, next to a simple black dress more suited for a funeral, and the last a peach gown with a sweetheart neckline and a beaded bodice.
“It’s both.”
“All right. Take this back on your way home. It’s bloody awful and will wash you out.” I tuck the peach dress back into the bag.
“It’s an earth tone,” she says, fingering the material. “But the fabric is kinda scratchy so back it goes.”
“This black one should be your back up. Wear it with the silver heels from Josie’s wedding. Hold on.”
I find what I’m looking for in the back of my closet and join her in the kitchen a few moments later. “Use this shawl and bag.” I snap a picture on my phone and text her because I know she’ll get freaked out in the moment and will need the prompt.
“Okay, so go with the bridesmaid gown?”
“No, I’ve got a lovely bright green gown in the shop that’s perfect for what you want. It’s fresh and will look amazing in pictures. Come tomorrow and try it on.” I tuck all the dresses back into the bag and zip it up. “You okay with that?”
“Yeah, for sure.” She grabs my hands. “You’re the best, Jayne. Whatever would I do without you?” And I know she’s talking about more than the dresses.
I roll my eyes and keep it light. “The horror. You in an ill-fitting or poorly colored dress will never happen
on my watch.”
We laugh and are interrupted by the chiming of the door.
“Goody, food,” I say. “Want to stay? I can share.” I find cash in my purse then open the door to the delivery guy. I’m on a first name basis with him.
“Thanks.” I hand him the money and he hands me my lifeline.
“Anytime, Jayne. Have a good night,” he says.
I stare across the car park toward Stacy’s house. Paisley’s right, not only is he in possession of a mathematical brain, I also need to make sure it’s all good before we’re surrounded by our friends.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
I turn to face her and kick the door closed. “That you’re right. I’m going to ask for his help. I’m not going to take no from these banks, not until I’ve exhausted every avenue.”
“Good for you.” She takes down her garment bag, only to freeze in motion at the halfway point. She stands there blinking.
“Paisley?” I place the food on my table before taking a step toward her.
“You know what?” she says, turning to face me. “I’m not done yet either.”
I wait for more.
“I’m going to take this gown back and get home so I can email Hank some more. Just because he’s not responding doesn’t mean he’s not reading them, right?” She bumps her shoulder to mine and there’s a new sparkle in her eyes that wasn’t there earlier. “See ya tomorrow.”
I bump back. “You got this.”
When she’s gone I lean against the door and silently wish it to work out for her. My skeptical self fights to have the last word but I reason that Paisley already paid some sort of price by being married to a cheating bastard. Isn’t she due a lucky break?
Desperate to eat but knowing I need to shed the day from me, I quickly change into yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, to deliberately hide the pooch of my tummy that’s being pushed up ever more by the tight band of my pants.
But I’ll be buggered if I’m going to spend a second thought over it. I am, after all, in fashion and therefore able to select clothes for any shape. Including ones with pooches.
While enjoying my Pad Thai, I pull ledgers from my messenger bag and straighten out papers, droplets of gravy falling to the pages. I need to sort them before I can ask for help. They’re in such a state it’s the least I can do.
While logging the numbers on the computer program Josie installed for me, I let myself fantasize about being rescued from this task. Better yet, of receiving a suitcase of money, left to me by an old distant relative so there’s no issues about thievery. Then I can buy the building outright and step up my game.
Weary, I sigh.
See Jayne stall and her dream fail due to her own inaction.
It’s no use. If I were able to put these books into a decent order, then I wouldn’t need help. Tossing the fork on my table, I stand and stride purposefully out my door and across the car park, stopping at Stacy’s door. I knock, wipe my mouth on my shoulder, and search for the words I want to use.
Chapter 12
My mind races at the million and one ways this can be awkward. Will he misread it as a ruse to get his attention? My desire for success wins out over personal pride in this instance. One look at my ledgers and he’ll know I’m not making anything up.
Cordie swings the door open. “Dad, it’s Jayne,” she calls over her shoulder.
“How’s camp?” I’m not so ignorant with children that I can’t make pleasant conversation or be aware of what’s going on in their world.
“I hate it. It sucks.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Stacy comes from the kitchen, folding pizza boxes in half. Dinner is in the air.
I read his expression as surprised.
“Yum, pizza.” I smile widely at Cordie. What kid doesn’t like pizza?
“For the third time this week.” There’s a measure of disgust in her voice.
“Wow, that’s a lot.” Even I can’t do pizza three times a week. Thai or Indian takeaway perhaps but not pizza.
“Hey, Jayne. What’s up?” He tosses the boxes in a bin before tucking his hands in his front pockets. He’s wearing low-slung jeans (that I picked out), which emphasize the exceedingly long length of his legs. Lord, how I fancy him. I mentally slap myself in the head.
His t-shirt spans the width of his shoulders, showing off his swimmer’s physique. It’s a cute graphic tee with some unknown-to-me math equation on it. Probably his favorite, he’s such a nerd for math.
I have a mini-fantasy of us back in the hotel bed, his large hands running the length of me.
Stop! I scream in my head then mentally bang it on the wall.
“Er, I need your help.”
“Need something manly done. Should I get a hammer?” He looks excited.
“Do you own a hammer?”
“Yeah, and a laser level.” Definitely excited.
“Actually, I need math help. Er, um...book-keeping guidance.”
“Okay,” he says then shrugs. “Let’s see it.”
I point behind me. “I left it at my house. I suppose I could have brought it with me. That would have been helpful.” I’m ill prepared and I hate how it looks.
“Okay, well. Let’s go take a look. Cordie? You wanna go or stay here? I should only be a few minutes.”
“I’ll stay. Can I watch TV?” She’s already moving to their living room.
“Yes, lock the door behind me. I’ll take my keys. If you get scared, call my cell and I’ll come home. I’ll be right at Jayne’s.” He motions in the direction of my house.
“I’ll be fine, Dad. Just go already,” she says with the telly remote in hand.
He follows me out. An awkward silence fills the space between us. I consider bringing up the amazing shag just to get it over with but the car park seems like the wrong place.
“I appreciate you taking a look.” I glance over my shoulder and try to see where he’s looking.
“No sweat.” He’s looking straight ahead. I wait until he’s next to me.
“I’m trying to land a loan and er...well, I need to provide more information. But I’m having issues pulling it together.” Understatement, show thyself.
Once in my house I head straight for the table and the pile of papers. “Here you go.” I want to shove the disaster into a bag and send it home with him.
He slides into the dining chair and looks up at me. “You’re kidding me, right? You still do this old school?”
“Well, no.” I push my laptop toward him. “Josie set me up with a program that tracks purchases and deposits, but I need to manually log other expenditures. Which I haven’t yet. Sorry.”
He rubs his chin as he surfs through my computer and accesses the program. “I’m guessing they want to audit you, so you’ll need a few years of figures.”
“Right.” I slip into the chair across from him. I’m so glad I did this now. I can’t imagine getting this moment out of the way in a different venue where we’re making forced pleasantries over chicken wings and veggie sticks.
“Okay.” His attention returns to the screen.
My phone chimes to indicate a message. It’s from Shara, my star employee. I would not be able to do any of this without knowing she was at the helm of the shop.
Her text reads: Check your email.
So I do and what awaits me is the final straw.
Shara has up and quit.
Apparently, having been inspired by working for me these last two years, she’s applied to New York School of Design. She’d been wait-listed but, apparently, that’s no longer the case as she’s just received a call accepting her to the dream school. Classes begin next week.
She’s leaving with no notice whatsoever and though it’s in an email, I can hear her bubbly “I know you’re just as excited as I am” and “Of course you understand” as clearly as if she’s standing next to me and saying it.
“Bloo
dy hell,” I say.
Chiefly, I understand, but her good fortune leaves me with Amber, now my sole employee. A sunny and willowy college girl who doesn’t know how to count money back and tried to use her babysitting certificate as college credit for gym. She’s brilliant with the high-paying customers but shite with everything else. Paisley’s earth tone comment is case in point.
“You okay?” His voice breaks me from my toxic thoughts.
“My best employee just gave notice. By notice I mean up and quit.” I stare at my phone and blink away the tears. I’ll have to look at my timetable and rethink my plan. My time, which I planned to use to pull the paperwork together, will now be spent in the shop. I’ll have to reschedule personal shopping as well. Though, thankfully I managed to get some in while in Miami. I suppose one good thing came from that trip. Then there’s the pub. Covering the extra shift. Had Pippa not shown up I’m not sure this last week would have been manageable for my parents.
I pull in a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry, Jayne. How can I help?”
When I look at him, his focus is on me.
“Help me with these books?” I ask, slightly pleading.
“Done.” His lips lift in a slight smile.
I could get lost in the memory of how gently he uses those lips, a distraction I could well afford on this crummy day, but it wouldn’t be wise with him sitting a few feet from me. I can’t be held accountable for my actions. Instead, I push from the table and with the intention to toss the now-cold food in the bin and straighten up, I reach for the containers of Thai food.
He grabs my arm. “What are you doing with that?”
“I was going to chuck it.”
“Leave it. It smells good.” He picks up the fork I’d tossed down earlier and takes the Styrofoam container from my hands. “You put any soy sauce on this?” He raises his gaze to meet mine.
“No, but I have soy—”
“No, this is perfect.”
“Shall I warm it?” I reach for the container again.
“No, I’m good. How about some of that wine?” He nods with his chin toward the bottle on my ottoman before looking through some papers.