Pretty Woman

by Fern Michaels

  Kent fretted all the way back to his depressing orange-and-brown efficiency at the Days Inn to change into his work clothes.

  “You aren’t going to get away with this, you mountain of blubber,” he snarled.

  Dolly’s Cafe was a small establishment filled with huge baskets of live greenery, cozy nooks, tantalizing aromas, and a bustling staff, all of whom wore infectious smiles even so early in the day.

  Rosie arrived first and was shedding her snake boots when Vickie pulled up alongside her. She grinned. It was like old times, the two of them meeting at Dolly’s. It was like the past three years had just flown away on the wind.

  Vickie climbed out of the car and immediately linked her arm with Rosie’s. “So, how’s it going,partner?” She chuckled.

  Rosie beamed. She felt like singing as she held the door for her friend. “Oh, look, our booth is empty. Hurry up, Vic, before someone snatches it.”

  Almost immediately, a carafe of coffee was placed in the center of a table that already held silverware, napkins, and cups. Vickie reached for the pot and poured. She added cream and sugar. Rosie shook her head. “Besides kicking Kent out, I’ve gone on a diet. I bought a bunch of exercise equipment and am going to hire a personal trainer.”

  “Good for you, Rosie. Want to talk about it? If you’d rather not…”

  “No, no, no. I want to talk about it. Ineed to talk about it, Vic. I just don’t know where to start. This probably won’t mean anything to you, but I did try to find out where you were after the first week. I didn’t try hard enough, I guess. I kept hoping you’d send me a card or something. Not that I deserved it. I did hope, though.”

  Vickie brushed at her honey blond hair before she leaned across the table. “Start at the beginning. It’s okay, Rosie, this is me you’re talking to. I’m not going to judge you. I’m your friend, remember.”

  Rosie leaned back in the booth. She bit down on her lower lip before she sipped at her coffee. “I feel like such a fool. You were right about everything. So was Luna Mae. It was me. I wanted to be married. I wanted to be Mrs. Somebody. Let’s face it, Kent is a very good-looking man. Unfortunately, it’s all a facade. I don’t think I loved him. Iknow he didn’t love me. He loved my money. The truth is, I bought myself a husband. The only time he was ever nice tome or smiled at me was when I gave him an expensive present. It had to be expensive, Vic, or he’d make a comment about its being a white trash present. I learned real quick what I had to do if I wanted that smile. I went through just about all of my money. I didn’t touch my parents’ insurance money, though. I didn’t sink that low.

  “I knew he was having affairs. I saw the way people looked at me. If he worked an hour a day, it was a lot. Luna Mae kept jamming it in my face, and you know what, Vic, I ignored her. I pretended she never said a word. Luna Mae went after him once with a butcher knife when he said I stank like a smelly farm animal. I didn’t say a word. He rarely came home for dinner, preferring to eat at the club. I got the bill. They were always dinners for two, lunches for two. The credit card bills were astronomical. I just paid them even when the jewelry he charged wasn’t for me.

  “I was so miserable, I started to eat. As you can see, I packed on fifty-five pounds. Food became my best friend, and it doesn’t talk back to you. Kent said he was ashamed to be seen with me. I ate more. He said I didn’t look good in the Porsche I bought him. He hated me, and I knew it, but I didn’t do anything about it. How sick isthat?”

  Rosie was like a runaway train, the words tumbling out of her mouth at almost the speed of light. “When I woke up on Tuesday morning, our third anniversary, I knew he wasn’t going to remember. I said I wanted him home for dinner, and when he looked at me I could see the revulsion on his face. I guess I snapped because I cut off everything. I even had Luna Mae take the distributor cap off his Porsche. I had the dealer pick it up yesterday. I’m selling it. I cut him off at the club, the charge cards, the whole ball of wax. He didn’t come home for dinner that night. I sat at the table the whole time, waiting. He came home at ten-thirty, and I kicked his ass out. I had Luna Mae pack his stuff in trash bags. He didn’t know what hit him. I haven’t gone to a lawyer yet, but I will. We changed all the locks on the doors, too.

  “The business is doing great, Vic. I need more help. I can’t keep up with the orders. There’s more I have to tell you, but I want to hear about what you were doing and what’s been going on in your life. Don’t leave anything out. God, I’m so glad you’re back. You have no idea how happy you just made me.”

  The waitress appeared.

  “I’ll have pancakes with a side order of sausage,” Vickie said.

  “Just melon and toast for me,” Rosie said. She smiled when Vickie nodded approvingly. “Okay, shoot. Tell meeverything.”

  Vickie leaned back as she tugged at her loose-fitting jersey that was the same color as her summer blue eyes. She smiled. “Believe it or not, there isn’t all that much to tell. I fell into the job with Adeline. She was a dear, sweet lady who was living on borrowed time, and she knew it. She wanted to travel through Europe the way she had with her husband when they were young. They had a yearlong honeymoon. I guess you can do that when you’re rich. So, that’s what we did. She was my tour guide. I pushed her wheelchair, and we went everywhere. She had the time of her life. The last year we didn’t do much traveling because her health had started to fail. We had a nurse with us all the time.

  “We spent the last six months in Paris. I met a man while we were there. He’s an American lawyer at the American embassy. Oh, Rosie, this guy ishot! I’m in love with him. I don’t want to live in Paris, though. He has to stay through the end of the year. He said he’s coming back here for New Year’s, then he’s really going to sweep me off my feet. We’ll see. He calls every day. We e-mail several times a day. He’s really a nice guy. You’ll like him. I want you to be my maid of honor if…if we make it down the aisle.”

  “Oh, I’d love to be your maid of honor, but give me a chance to take off this weight. I don’t want to embarrass you. I’m happy for you, Vickie.”

  “First of all, Rosie, you could never embarrass me. His name is Calvin Rhodes. He’s tall, dark, and…ordinary. He wears glasses, and his hair is starting to thin on the top. It doesn’t bother him. He’s one of those guys comfortable in his own skin. He’s got a wicked sense of humor. Adeline loved him. He could make her laugh, and that was important. He flew over for her funeral. He didn’t have to do that, but he did. He’s caring, compassionate, and a gentleman. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with him. Six months is a long time to wait, though.”

  “It’ll go by in a heartbeat now that you’re coming back to work. The Christmas catalog goes to press next month. We’re going to be inundated. I have to find a bigger workplace. The garage, even though it’s huge, simply doesn’t have enough room. We need more help, and supplies are sparse. You’d think weeds would be plentiful. What I picked this morning won’t get me through one day’s orders.”

  “Wow! The business really did take off while I was away. Rosie, I never touched the money. Not once. You should take it back.”

  “Absolutely not. Nature’s Decorations is as much yours as it is mine. The reason it took off is because I was working twenty-four/seven. You do things like that when you’re miserable. I worked around the clock, getting by with catnaps. Working kept my mind occupied, so I didn’t dwell on my disastrous marriage. Why didn’t I listen to you? I’d give anything if I could erase those four years of my life.”

  Ever practical, Vickie said, “You can’t erase those years, Rosie. They happened, and, hopefully, you’ll be a better person for the experience. Like Adeline said, everything in life is a learning experience.

  “Rosie, think about this. Adeline left me that big old house. I’ve been thinking of donating it to the historical society even if it isn’t in the historic district. But maybe we should use it for the business. It has twenty-two rooms and a six-car garage. I’ve been staying there since I returne
d, but I’m moving back into my own little house today. What do you think?”

  Rosie reared up in her seat. “What do I think? I think that’s the answer to our prayers. A room for each weed! We can do the packing in the garages. It will make it easy for UPS when they come for pickups.”

  “The wraparound sunroom will be perfect for the painting and spraying. It’s air-conditioned, so even if it’s humid the way it is here in the summer, we won’t fall behind.

  “As soon as I get settled and clean up my house, we can start moving stuff into the mansion. The best part is we can both walk to work.” Vickie clapped her hands in glee.

  Rosie burst out laughing. It was so good having Vickie back and on her team. They’d hardly missed a beat and had picked up where they left off three years ago. There was nothing better than a true friend. Nothing.

  Vickie filled their coffee cups again. “You hinted that there was more to tell me. C’mon, Rosie, did you meet someone? What’s the secret?”

  Rosie leaned across the table, Vickie did the same thing. Rosie looked around furtively, so did Vickie. “I won the lottery Tuesday night,” she whispered.

  Vickie was stunned. “You did!”

  “Uh-huh. I didn’t realize it till yesterday morning, though. It’s a long story. We can talk about it later. Kent suspects I won because he talked to the boy at the gas station who actually bought the tickets for me. I think I have it covered for now. I have a whole year to claim it, so I’m not in a hurry.”

  “Oh my God, Rosie! The odds of that drawing had to be like one in a billion! You actually won! I heard there was only one winner. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t know what to say either. I’m still in shock. Kent is not going to give up on this. We’ll talk about it later, okay? I start to twitch and shake every time I think about it.”

  “I can understand why. Okay, we’ve diddled around long enough. I have to go to my house and start to clean.”

  Rosie suddenly turned shy. “Want some help?”

  “Damn right I want some help. I was wondering if you were going to offer.” Vickie pulled some crumpled bills out of her pocket and placed them under the saltshaker. “Let’s go, partner.”

  The receiver pressed to his ear, Kent Bliss waited for someone on the other end of the line to pick up the phone. Like he cared one way or the other. He was just sitting there, going through the motions for the benefit of his boss. He hadn’t done cold calling in years, not since he’d married Rosalie Gardener. Now, though, it was a whole new ball game.

  He hated the position he was in. And he damn well hated his wife. With a passion. He broke the connection when there was no response after seven rings and stared out the window. On rainy summer days he liked to do lunch at the club with some willowy blonde, then head for a classy motel or hotel to while away the dreary afternoon.

  His life until a few days ago had been wonderful. While his fingers punched out another number he tried to remember if he knew a sharp lawyer who would take his case on a contingency basis. Everyone wanted money up front. That limited his options.

  He wasn’t used to dealing in pennies and small change. He liked bills, the bigger the better, and he loved the solid gold money clip Rosalie had given him one year for his birthday. The clip had five one-hundred-dollar bills in it.

  Whom did he know at home on a rainy Thursday afternoon? Husbands had a bad habit of showing up at home for lunch or even leaving the office early if it was raining. He should know since he’d slid out way too many back doors over the years.

  What lie could he come up with to explain why he was staying at the Days Inn? The house was being fumigated, his wife was away, the roof leaked? He could probably bluster his way through any explanation he needed to come up with. But how was he going to explain that he no longer had a cell phone? Everyone who was anyone had a cell phone. You needed to have good credit to get a cell phone. Rosalie was the one with the good credit rating. His own wouldn’t allow him to buy a package of gum on time.

  How would he explain driving a Ford Mustang? The red Porsche had been his trademark. That and his Rolex. The kind of women he liked to associate with, were impressed by those two particular power items. They liked that he tipped big and bought them memorable little gifts. He also let it be known that he, too, liked gifts.Expensive gifts. If the woman was foolish enough to give him a silly gift, he scratched her right off his list. He loved it when they called and asked him what they had done wrong and why hadn’t he called. Sometimes, when he was in a hellish mood, he’d blurt out, “You can’t afford me.”

  Sometimes he even told the woman on the other end of the line that she bored him.

  Another turnoff was cotton underwear because it reminded him of his wife. He insisted on lacy, sexy undergarments. Thongs gave him an instant erection, like the one he was experiencing right now just thinking about them.

  He turned when he heard footsteps behind him and looked up to see Jason Maloy.

  “Bad day, eh, Kent.”

  “It’s raining,” Kent snapped. “When it rains everyone goes to the club or to the mall. This is just a waste of time. I’m going to lunch.”

  “Lunch! I thought you’d be brown bagging it, Bliss. Like in the old days, when I first hired you.”

  “You’re busting me, Jason, and I don’t like it. I’m entitled to a lunch hour. If you look around, you’ll see I’m the only one here today. The reason I’m the only one here is because no one wants to do business or talk with a real-estate salesmen when it’s raining. It’s pouring outside in case you haven’t noticed. I sold your three properties and the lot. My million-dollar status is still intact. That’s more than anyone else sold around here in the last month. I’d appreciate you cutting me a little slack if you don’t mind.”

  “Well, sure, Kent. Take all the time you need. Don’t come back to the office if you don’t want to. I’m betting you aren’t going to make it, Mr. Bliss, without some woman in the background picking up your bills. Oh, one other thing. You better get yourself a tax man so you can make some estimated tax payments on the commissions I’ve paid you this quarter. Uncle Sam doesn’t like it when you don’t give him his fair share, and neither does the governor of the fine state of Georgia. I don’t think your wife is going to have her tax man continue to take care of your business. Nor will she want to file a joint return with you if she booted you out. Just wanted to give you a heads up, Kent.”

  Son of a bitch.He hadn’t thought about that. Kent stood up and reached for his jacket. Now he had something else to worry about. He didn’t bother to say good-bye as he ran from the office and through the parking lot to his car. He was drenched within seconds. He cursed long and hard when he started up the Mustang.

  This was all Rosalie’s fault. He wondered what would happen if he showed up at the house and asked her for a loan to tide him over. He almost choked on his own anger. He knew it wasn’t an option. Even if he had the nerve to show up at the house, he’d want to put his fist through her fat face. No, it wasn’t an option.

  He needed to find a lawyer.

  Kent drove up one street and down the next, anything to avoid going back to the Days Inn to watch television.

  Before he knew it, he was cruising past the house he’d lived in for the past three years. He’d liked the house, liked the freedom he’d had to come and go with absolutely no responsibilities. Rosalie had taken care of everything. She’d been like a puppet whose strings he’d jerked whenever he wanted something.

  Four cars were parked by the garages. That had to mean the weed business was doing well. Rosie hadn’t returned with the van. He wondered what that meant. He did a second cruise by, but nothing had changed. He rolled around the corner and noticed the van in the driveway of Vickie Winter’s old house. So the two of them were buddy-buddy again. That couldn’t be good for his cause, that was for sure. He did a second drive-by, hoping to see something. He didn’t know if he dared risk a third time around the block. Some nosy neighbor might
call it in to the police, and they’d roust him.

  Fuming at his circumstances, he drove away, stopping at a Taco Bell for food and coffee. At least he wouldn’t have to leave a tip.

  “I should kill you for what you’ve done to me, you bitch,” he muttered under his breath. He grabbed his food and peeled out of the drive-through line.

  “You are going to pay for this, Rosalie. One way or another.”

  5

  Rosie rolled over on the big marital bed that had never been a marital bed, aware that she was alone. But then, that was nothing new. She’d slept alone since she’d returned from her honeymoon, exactly three years and seven days ago. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was 3:10 in the morning. She’d dozed off, sleeping perhaps two hours. This had been her pattern since the night of her anniversary. Some nights she didn’t sleep at all. When one made a mess of one’s life the way she had, sleep was a luxury. Obviously one she didn’t deserve.

  She got up the way she always did and walked over to her rocking chair. She dragged it over to the big bay window that overlooked the gardens and the side of the garage. Earlier, before climbing into bed, she’d pulled the drapes wide and opened the window all the way. The sheer curtains billowed in the warm night breeze. She drank it in greedily before she sat down in the rocker. The scent of tea olive and jasmine tickled her nostrils.

  Rosie did her best to shift her thoughts into neutral but knew it wouldn’t work. Maybe it was the feeling of being so alone, the darkness of the night, the uncertainty of tomorrow. Whatever it was, she hated the feeling.

  The lottery ticket under the cushion she was sitting on felt hot to her backside. She’d looked at it a thousand times in the past two weeks. Each time she picked it up, her hands started to shake. Three hundred and two million dollars was an obscene amount of money. Even now, one week later, she still couldn’t comprehend the sum. She wiggled on the chair, uncomfortable with her thoughts. Damn, was she ever going to be able to sleep again? Maybe when she was finally divorced. Or maybe she wouldn’t sleep again until she resolved the lottery ticket business.