Pretty Woman

by Fern Michaels

  Jason was behind his desk when Kent rapped on the plate-glass window of his office. “Can I talk to you, Jason?”

  “Sure, come on in. You look…awful. Is something wrong, Kent?”

  “Yes, and no. I’m sure I can straighten it all out, but in the meantime, I’m in a real bind. Rosalie and I had a terrible argument, and she kicked me out. She took my car, cut off my credit cards, the club, the whole ball of wax. I had to stay at a Comfort Inn last night. I need an advance on my last sale, Jason. I hate to ask but I have exactly thirty-three dollars in my pocket.”

  I’m loving this,Jason thought to himself. “Sounds to me like your wife wears the pants in your family. I thought she was a pretty easygoing young woman. You a kept man, Kent?” Yes, sir, he was loving every minute of this.

  “No, I’m not a kept man, Jason. I resent you implying that I am. I forgot our wedding anniversary. Every man forgets something once in a while. Rosalie just needs to calm down a little. Can I use the company car?”

  Jason pretended to think about the matter as he massaged his freshly shaved chin. The decision would have been easy and simple if the man standing in front of him had a humble bone in his body. But Kent was arrogant and cocky, traits Jason hated with a passion.

  “Well?” Kent said impatiently.

  “I never forget my anniversary, Kent, and I don’t know any man who has. It’s one of those sacred days that’s burned into your brain, like Mother’s Day. I don’t like it when my employees carry their personal problems here to my business. I’ll float you this one time. I suggest you give up the fun and games and sell some properties. You can use the company car until you can make other arrangements. That means one week. You’re going to have to use some of your thirty-three dollars to buy gas, because the tank is empty. Give this to Camilla,” he said, scrawling his name across a pink slip of paper. “She’ll write out a check for your commission. You have three appointments today. I want to see at least one sale within the next week, or your ass is grass. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, Jason, we understand each other. I never thought you were the type to kick a dog when he was down.” Without another word, Kent turned on his heel and left, the keys to the company car in his hand.

  “Miserable excuse for a human being,” Maloy muttered under his breath. He watched through the window as Kent stormed his way to the battered company car that had 126,986 miles on it. He grinned as he watched Kent chug out of the parking lot.Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  Maloy swiveled his chair back around so he was facing the door. He liked Rosalie Gardener. His wife liked her, too. To him, she’d never been Rosalie Bliss. He and his wife Harriet had talked about Rosalie once because neither one of them could figure out how and why she had married Kent Bliss. Harriet said it was because she’d needed someone after her parents died. She didn’t want to be alone. He’d always thought Kent had bamboozled her and just wanted a free ride. He laughed then, thinking about the bumpy ride his salesman was experiencing at that very moment.

  As his wife was fond of saying, all good things eventually come to an end.

  “Bravo, Rosalie!”

  Kent rattled into the gas station on fumes. He turned off the engine and waited, embarrassed to be seen driving the clunker he was sitting in.

  “Hi, Mr. Bliss! Where’s the Porsche today? Is it true you guys won the lottery?” The kid was so excited he could barely get the words out of his mouth.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Kent snarled as he peeled a five-dollar bill off his slim wad of money. No point in buying more than five bucks’ worth of gas because the damn car would probably conk out, and he’d be stranded. “Five dollars’ worth, Bill.”

  “Bobby. My name’s Bobby. I get it, you guys are playing it cool, huh?”

  “Bill, Bobby, same thing. Put five dollars in. Make it snappy, okay? Since I don’t know what you’re talking about, just cool it, okay.”

  “Yeah, cool. I can’t serve you. You’re in the self-serve lane. You have to pump it yourself. I only pump when you’re in full-serve. Those are the rules. Sorry.”

  When there was no further response, Bobby hopped first on one foot then the other. His wild exuberance seemed to melt away at the ugly look on Kent Bliss’s face.

  “So, did you or didn’t you and Miz Bliss win the lottery? The lottery commission issued a statement saying the ticket was sold out of this station. Miz Bliss bought five dollars’ worth of tickets. I got them for her myself. She had all low numbers. Single digit if I remember correctly. My boss said other people bought low-number tickets, too, so maybe it wasn’t your wife who won. Do you want the gas or not, Mr. Bliss?”

  What the hell is this kid talking about?Kent climbed out of the clunker and walked around to the gas tank. It took him a full five minutes to get the rusty cap off.Damn, now I’m going to smell like gasoline. He looked over at the kid, who was staring at him. He felt embarrassed all over again to be seen with this junker.

  While he waited for the gasoline to gurgle into the dry tank, Kent started to think about what the kid had said. He felt a wild adrenaline rush at the mere thought that his wife, soon to be ex-wife, might have won the lottery. Was it possible?

  As far as he knew, Rosalie never bought lottery tickets. She thought it was a waste of money, whereas he couldn’t wait to buy them in the hopes of finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

  If she had won, it would certainly explain her actions of the previous night. Well, hot damn. He was so excited, he yanked the hose out of the tank, spilling gasoline everywhere, even over his tasseled loafers. He cursed loudly and ripely as he clicked it off and jammed it into place.

  “Six dollars and eighty-five cents, Mr. Bliss.”

  “I only wanted five dollars’ worth.”

  “Maybe that’s what you wanted, but you pumped six dollars and eighty-five cents.”

  Kent dug in his pocket for two singles and handed them over along with the five-dollar bill. “Keep the change, Bill.”

  Kent prayed the clunker’s engine would turn over, and it did. He chugged out of the station, not knowing if he was furiously angry or elated.

  Three hundred and two million dollars! He’d seen a rerun of the drawing on the early-morning news. That’s what the Wonderball jackpot had turned out to be.

  Rosie looked up when Alice, her number one full-time employee, entered the garage. She started to babble the minute she tied on her canvas apron. Alice knew the business almost as well as Rosie did. She was full of nervous energy she transferred to her work. She could pack a carton at the speed of light, spray a line of weeds, and not miss a spot while she talked nonstop. Alice was one of those people who actually worked her eight hours and was proud of her productivity at the end of the day.

  “What do you need me to do today, Rosie?”

  Rosie raised her paint goggles to stare at her helper. Alice was a butterball with frizzy hair and eyes that were bluer than a summer sky. Her foot was tapping to some unheard music. Within minutes she’d clip on her Sony and earphones, then she’d really rock through her work hours.

  “I’m going to have Danny pack up orders today. Luna Mae will help later this afternoon. I want you to process the Internet orders, then you can help me with the painting and spraying. There are 867 Internet orders, and we have very little finished stock. Luna Mae and Danny are going to make the trip to North Carolina this weekend, and I’ll be here working. If you can use the overtime, I can use the help this weekend.”

  “You got it!” Alice said, dancing away. She returned a minute later, removed her earphones, and pointed to the small overhead television set Rosie kept on just for company.

  “I don’t believe it. What kind of idiot would pick numbers like 1, 3, 6, 7, 9, and 2.”

  “Obviously someone very smart since they won,” Rosie said, adjusting her paint goggles again. A heartbeat later she removed them.“What did you say?”

  Alice didn’t hear what Rosie said. Her earphon
es were back in place and she was already dancing down to the far end of the garage. Rosie looked up at the television again, the numbers searing her eyeballs.

  It couldn’t be. Impossible. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again, but the numbers were gone from the screen. The announcer had moved on to other things.

  Her numbers.

  She had to move, too.Oh God, oh God, oh God!

  Rosie tossed her goggles onto the table, and shouted, “I’ll be right back.” Alice ignored her as she snapped open a cardboard carton.

  Rosie ran as fast as she could up the walkway to the back verandah and into the kitchen, where Luna Mae was cleaning out the refrigerator. She whizzed by her to the back stairway, where she galloped up the steps, shouting for Luna Mae to follow her.

  When she reached the guest room Rosie doubled over as she gasped for breath. “In a million years, Luna Mae, you are never, ever, going to believe this. Look!”

  Luna Mae gasped in shock when Rosie pulled her five lottery tickets out of her purse as she fumbled for the winning ticket. “Look, Luna Mae! Look!”

  For once in her life, Luna Mae was speechless. She flopped down on the unmade bed and stared at the ticket her wild-eyed employer had handed her. She raised her eyes to stare at Rosie. “You won! You’re the mystery winner!”

  Rosie backed up and literally fell into the rocking chair, the dress she’d been wearing the night before at her feet, exactly where she’d dropped it before she got into bed.

  “I know. Oh, God, Luna Mae, what am I going to do? Kent will want half. Are you listening to me? He’ll want half! It won’t matter that I kicked him out last night before I heard about this. Half! Tell me what to do, Luna Mae. I can’t think.”

  “Well, baby, you better think fast,” Luna Mae said, giving the ticket back to Rosie, “because I think that’s your husband who just pulled into the driveway. He can get in the house because the locksmith hasn’t been here yet. He can’t know. How could he know? You just found out yourself. Stay here, baby. I’ll go down and boot him out. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. No. Luna Mae, I can’t think. The only way he could possibly know is if he went to the gas station and Bobby remembered the numbers and told him. Go. I don’t want to talk to him. I need to think. If he gives you trouble, call the police.”

  The minute the door closed behind the housekeeper, Rosie struggled to take a deep breath. Her mind was racing as fast as her heart. She bent down to pick up the dress she’d worn the night before. She was about to fold it up for the cleaners when she remembered Luna Mae’s lottery ticket, which she’d shoved into the pocket of her dress. She fumbled and finally pulled it out. Her hands were so feverish she kept dropping the tickets from her purse onto the floor.

  The winning ticket went under the cushion on the rocking chair. Luna Mae’s ticket went with the remaining four. She put them all together, crunched them into a ball, then tossed them in the wastepaper basket. Five tickets. Five nonwinning tickets.

  Proof that she hadn’t won the lottery. At least for Kent’s benefit.

  She felt like a criminal.

  Rosie almost jumped out of her skin when the knock sounded on the guest room door. Before she opened it, she ran into the bathroom, flushed the toilet, waited a few minutes, and opened the door. She pretended to be surprised at the sight of her husband.

  “What are you doing here, Kent? I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night that this house is off-limits to you. Luna Mae, call the police.”

  “Yeah, you do that, Luna Mae.” Kent sneered. “Call the newspapers while you’re at it. We’ll all look real good on the news. Me saying you kicked me out because you won the lottery and didn’t want to share with me. I know all about it, Rosalie.” He sneered again for her benefit. “That’s why you were so quick to hustle me out of here last night. You knew you won before I got home. It isn’t going to work. I’m going to get the best lawyer in the state and claim my rightful half of that $302 million.”

  Rosie held on to the back of the rocking chair. She prayed she wasn’t going to black out. “What in the worldare you talking about, Kent?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me, Rosalie. The kid at the gas station congratulated me when I stopped for gas. He said he sold you the winning ticket.”

  “Bobby said that! I don’t believe it,” Rosalie said, feigning surprise. “He must have me mixed up with someone else.”

  “Yeah, right. He sounded pretty sure to me.” Kent was turning sneering into an art form.

  “First of all, Kent, I kicked you out of here before the lottery went off. You left here at ten minutes of eleven. We didn’t even have the television on if you recall. I heard this morning that the winning ticket was sold here in Savannah. That’s all I know. Take a look in the wastebasket. Those are my tickets. All five of them. They’re yours if you want them. Now, get out of my house beforeI call the police.”

  Rosie reached out to grasp Luna Mae’s hand. Both of them were trembling as they watched Kent almost kill himself as he raced to the wastepaper basket. He took the tickets over to the window to look at them. He cursed then, long and loud, his face turning ugly and threatening.

  Waving the crumpled tickets like a weapon, he advanced on the two women. “The kid said you won. He said you had all low numbers. I think you’re trying to pull a fast one on me. Give me the keys to my goddamn car.”

  Rosie drew herself up to her full height and stared her husband down. “The car has my name on the title because you have bad credit. That means it belongs to me. Get out of my house,NOW!”

  “I’m going, but not because you’re scaring me. I’m going back to that gas station and talk to everyone who works there. The kid said you won. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Well, it isn’t good enough for me.” Before Kent knew what was happening, Rosie snatched the tickets out of her husband’s hand. In the blink of an eye, she stuffed them down her bra. “My proof that I didnot win,” she said. “You have now crossed the line, and you’re harassing me. I want you out of here.”

  Kent shot his wife another ugly look before he stomped his way out of the room. Both women ran to the window to watch him climb into an old car and back out of the driveway. They huddled together, shivering. Rosie started to cry.

  “I married that man. I thought he was the answer to all my prayers. Do you believe he had the nerve…Oh, God, now what’s going to happen?”

  “Rosie…where’s the ticket?”

  “Under the cushion on the rocker. I remembered stickingyour ticket in my pocket when you showed it to me last night. I don’t think I’m going to get away with this, Luna Mae. The machine will show that the five tickets, including the winning one, were rung up at the same time. Maybe they have a time stamp or something. Bobby, the boy who pumps gas and got me the tickets, said something was wrong with the machine and it printed out individual tickets instead of all five sets of numbers being on one ticket. He said I was never going to win because my numbers were so low. He remembers. On top of that, I promised him if I won, he’d never have to pump gas again, and I would put him through medical school. Oh, God, Luna Mae, what did I just do?”

  “You panicked just the way I panicked. We both need to calm down and think about this. For the moment, you pulled it off. Your husband was like a scalded cat when he left here. He’d already spent half of his share in his head. He saw the tickets, and he has to take your word that you weren’t the winner. It could have been anyone. Thousands of people bought tickets the day of the drawing. The boy could have made a mistake. As to your promise to him, you can always do that anonymously through an attorney at some point in time. You bought five tickets. You produced five tickets. Yes, if they check, they’re out of sequence. I’m sure we can come up with a likely story of some kind. You can say you gave me the ticket. The one I gave you could have been given to you at an earlier time. I bought mine before you bought yours.”

  Rosie rubbed at her temples. A headache was s
tarting at the base of her skull. “You know what they say, Luna Mae. You tell one lie, then you have to keep telling more lies to cover up the first one. I’m not being greedy, I’m really not. I just don’t want to give that man one more cent. Maybe I could put his half in a trust and be the conservator and dole it out to him in small amounts. I’d do that.” Her voice was so desperate-sounding she couldn’t believe it was her own. She felt light-headed all over again.

  “Stop it, Rosie. Let’s go downstairs and have some coffee. Or, let’s not go downstairs and have coffee. Sitting here talking it to death isn’t going to get us anywhere. I say we get on with the business at-hand and discuss it tonight. There is nothing anyone can do until you decide to go public. You have a whole year to do that. Another thing, when that gas station owner gets wind of all this, the story is going to change. The boy was not allowed to buy tickets. You have to be eighteen. I know he got them for you, but he had the money in his hand and he paid for them, then took those tickets and handed them to you. I will bet you my new gold shoes that his story is going to change by the time the six o’clock news comes on this evening.”

  “See, see! This is what happens when you lie. I didn’t know you had to be eighteen. He offered to get them for me. I had no intention of buying a ticket when I stopped for gas. Now I involved an innocent kid! Bobby’s going to college in the fall, so maybe he is eighteen.”

  From down below a horn sounded. Luna Mae looked out the window. “It’s the locksmith. We’ll talk more at lunch. Hide that ticket somewhere safe, Rosie.”