“Once the orders for the custom jobs start coming in, we’ll discus a two hundred dollar holding fee.”
“A holding fee for what?”
“Well, you’re going to be really busy. You may have to start scheduling your jobs well in advance. Maybe even months.”
This was ridiculous. What did he think was going to happen? It wasn’t like I was going to have that many clients.
Was it?
I suddenly felt a cold jet of fear scratch its way down my spine. That could be overwhelming, having that kind of business.
My inner voice cracked up at me, laughing like a deranged witch parody.
As if… she gasped between giggle fits. I’m just saying… as if!
I needed to get a new inner voice… and maybe an exorcist for my current one.
As if!
Raphael started typing at warp speed again, and I caught a glimpse of a Twitter page, a Facebook page, and a few other social media sites.
Whoa, I didn’t want to be on all those pages. “I’ll never get anything done if I spend all my time on those things.”
Raphael clicked his keyboard and a pretty little blog that matched my sunset cloud website popped into existence.
“Just type some stuff here, about your day, a new project, a sale… whatever, and it will post to all the other sites.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Bette leaned in and her hand brushed against Raphael’s as she moved to point at something on the screen. She flinched and moved back some, Raphael just looked up at her, his gaze practically smoldering.
Bette gulped, but then pointed back at the laptop screen. “And what’s all that?”
Raphael didn’t even look back at the screen. He sat there, staring up at Bette as if she were the only thing in the world.
Wow… it was a heady look, one that Jake had given me on more than one occasion.
“That’s a program that’s searching for other sites that she may want to post an advertisement on, or blogs of indie authors that are looking for a cover artist.”
“Really?” I stood there and cringed at the eagerness in my voice. I sounded like a repetitive teenager who was being told she was going to get a car for her birthday.
Raphael turned and looked at me, a wan smile spreading across his face.
“Plus the program will automatically send an email message to those looking for a cover artist, something simple and polite, with some of your previous work embedded in the email and a link to your site.”
He really was amazing. All this in under thirty minutes.
I was exhausted just watching it all.
I was also feeling a little light headed.
I sat down, pulled the plate of peach bread to me, and my cup of coffee, and started eating.
Bette shook her head at me. “I don’t know where it all goes. She must have a second stomach in a parallel universe, that’s the only explanation I can think of.”
Chapter 50
I sat on my couch and watched my email box. Clicking the refresh button on my laptop every five minutes or so… or every thirty seconds. Whichever.
The lack of emails was starting to make quitting my job seem like a rather stupid move.
But then again, Janine had been on the verge of firing me, so it was more a preemptive strike.
But, had I even quit?
It wasn’t like I’d called Janine back and quit. And Raphael hadn’t said that I’d quit either.
Strangely my phone hadn’t rung, and Janine hadn’t emailed me either.
That was strange.
A sneaking suspicion tapped me on my shoulder. I clicked on my spam box, and low and behold, there were seven emails from Janine. Raphael had re-routed her emails to my spam box.
I picked up my phone and clicked on Raphael’s number.
“Be patient,” he admonished me.
“What, were you raised by wolves? No hello?”
Raphael chuckled. “You never want to meet the woman who raised me, believe me.”
“Do you really think she’s as bad as my mother?” I had, hands down, the nastiest, coldest bitch of a mother, ever.
“As I said, you don’t want to meet her.”
Okay, that gave me a chill.
“So,” I asked, “did you, by any chance, block my boss' calls and emails?”
“She’s not your boss any longer.”
Aha…
“But what if all this doesn’t work? I’m going to need to…” Dear god, I’d need more than to grovel at Janine’s feet. I’d need a miracle to save me from having to move back in with my mother and father.
“Relax,” he said gently. “Breathe. It will take a couple hours for your site and my program to splice their ways into the internet algorithms.”
“Now I know I’m doomed, if my fate is being decided by math equations I’m toast.”
“Where’s Jake?”
I blinked at the phone. “Way to change the subject.”
“I just meant, you should go surprise him at work, plan another trip to the swimming hole…”
“Christ! Do you and Bette have my entire life under surveillance?”
Raphael laughed. “Just go do something, and quit worrying. I promise, with the right exposure, you’ll have more than enough clients to keep you out of the poorhouse.”
And he hung up on me.
I stared at my empty inbox, and decided the idea of visiting Jake at Wal-Mart—and then maybe doing a little shopping therapy (good lord, Bette and Darla were starting to rub off on me)—might just be the ticket.
###
Wal-Mart was slammed. I don’t think I’d ever seen so many cars in the store’s parking lot. I checked my phone, and it wasn’t the first of the month madness, or a holiday. A real head scratcher.
I grabbed a cart and swung by the deli on my way back to where Jake worked in TLE. I picked up some Italian bread, a small jar of Hellman’s, smoked turkey and Swiss cheese, and a couple bags of chips.
I thought that Jake might like to have a little picnic out by the trees in the parking lot.
Georgia was working and smiled radiantly at me. Part of me understood why she’d left Billy with me after she’d broken his heart, but part of me still wanted to snatch a clump of her thick, pretty hair out for it too.
“Is Jake in?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Jones, but he had to go out and help the General Manager with his Chevy.”
I raised my eyebrows. “He’s in high demand, huh?”
Georgia smiled, and it was just too damn hard to stay mad at her—of course, the fact that Billy was involved with Stacey made Billy’s past heartache a little easier to swallow.
“Our Jake can fix almost anything. Would you like me to leave him a message?”
“Nah,” I said, looking down at my unneeded impromptu picnic. “I’ll talk to him after work, I’m sure. Thanks.”
I walked back through the store and almost started to put things back, but instead picked up a big old jar of dill pickles, the big ones you have to gnaw on. Then I made my way up to the front of the store, ready to check out.
The lines were long, per the usual, so I had time to peruse the magazine racks.
I have to confess, I have a guilty pleasure. I love reading the scandal magazines… but not buying them.
I mean, it’s bad enough even to read the ridiculous stories these rags publish, but to go so far as to steal them by reading them in the checkout line, and not buying them, is even trashier.
Angelina and Brad were getting divorced again, this time because he couldn’t handle her wanting to move the family to North Dakota.
As if that man would ever leave her. They were a Hollywood love story come true. And he had the greatest hands I’d ever…
I closed my eyes and shook my head. I didn’t really know Brad and Angie. I just had very interesting daydreams about him.
But still…
Another tabloid said that the p
retty Kardashian—is there really a pretty Kardashian?—was going to have another baby, and that it was fathered by her bodyguard, not her soon to be husband… or was it her soon to be ex-husband?
I had to put that one down unfinished. I just couldn’t be excited about reading about reality TV stars. I mean, really, what was the point?
I paid for my groceries and headed out to my trusty Taurus.
In the space next to my car there was a woman trying to get her trunk open, her skinny arms weighed down with about ten plastic Wal-Mart bags. She was gouging the already ruined paintjob of the little Honda Civic she was driving.
I walked over and offered to help her with the trunk, taking the keys out of her hand and popping the trunk open for her.
She dropped her shopping bags into the trunk and looked up and smiled a lopsided, rather loony smile at me.
That smile seemed familiar…
“Well as I live and breathe, is that you Hope Jones?”
Something about the woman’s voice was familiar too. But looking at her left me with a big blank in my mind.
I smiled. “Yep, it’s me. I’m sorry, but I can’t—”
Her eyes went wide and she slapped her hands down on her bony hips.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Hope! I can’t believe you don’t remember me!”
I cringed as her voice shrilled maniacally.
“I mean, I was your best friend for six years!”
I felt my jaw drop, my eyes bugging out until they felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets.
“Janie Gregory?”
“Yessss!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and flung herself at me, her arms wrapping around my neck like a noose.
No way…
“I’ve missed you so much! Why haven’t you called me?”
Is she kidding?
“I-I didn’t know you were back in town.”
She let go of me long enough to jump up and down for a few seconds, and then she spun around like the Tasmanian Devil. “I just moved back with my folks two days ago!”
Oh my…
She lunged at me again, her skinny arms surprisingly strong.
“I’ve missed you so much, Hope.” Her grip on my neck tightened. “Why on earth haven’t you called me?”
I gasped, trying to take in some oxygen.
“I… can’t… breathe…” I wheezed.
It took about ten seconds for my words to sink in. By then I was starting to see dark spots in front of me.
“Lordie, sorry Hope. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength, like I was bitten by a radioactive spider or something!”
I gulped in some air, and fell against the side of her car. I looked at her and just couldn’t believe it.
Janie Gregory, after all these years…
Unbelievable.
She actually stood still for five seconds while I sucked down some more air, but then she started to tremble and vibrate where she stood, and before I knew it she exploded, jumping up and down, and laughing.
Was the woman on meds, or did she need to be on them?
“So why in the hell haven’t you called me? I’m your best friend in the whole goddamn world.”
“You stopped talking to me when I went off to art school,” I said, ready to jump out of the way if her mood changed and she decided to try and strangle me for real.
She scoffed, her teeth now looking too big for her face—she’d lost at least thirty pounds—and she rolled her eyes. “That was eons ago!”
“That was when we graduated, like nine years ago.”
Janie blinked, suddenly lost in the apparent verbal math problem I’d presented her with.
“Good god,” she said, blinking her way out of her confusion. “That really was a long time ago. How do you even remember that shit?”
Seriously?
I saw her shoulders start to shake, so when she suddenly exploded into giggles, and flying, flinging arms and legs, I sidestepped and got out of her way, sending her crashing into the back bumper of her Civic.
Janie blinked and looked around, a little stunned to have missed her mark.
“Well,” I said, moving around to my car, reaching for the driver’s side door. “I’ve really got to be getting home.”
Janie suddenly got a very sober, serious expression on her face.
“Oh, yeah… you probably have to cook dinner for Jake.”
I stood there in stunned silence. Back two days and she already knew about me and Jake?
“How did you know about me and Jake?”
“Oh hell, Hope. The whole town’s talking about it.”
“Really…” I felt my heart jump up into my throat and then drop to my stomach. The thought off so many people scrutinizing me and my life was… well, it was just disturbing.
“Yes indeed. Soon as I parked my ass on my mama’s sofa she told me I’d been replaced.”
Replaced?
“But you’ve been divorced for years.” I don’t know why, but my voice sounded pretty darn defensive.
Janie leaned her elbows against the roof my Taurus. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean that like I said it. Me and him were a wrong fit from the get go. But let me tell you, it was well worth the effort I had to put out.”
I so didn’t want to hear about her and Jake. I pulled open the driver’s side door, ready to angle in behind the wheel and leave Janie and her confessions in the Texas dust.
“I just don’t know how you’re going to do it,” she said, her shrill voice gone wispy.
I knew I should’ve just plopped my ass into the car and drove away, but…
“Do what?”
“Well, live up to Jake’s ideal of you,” Janie chirped.
“His what?”
She shot me a look that plainly said I was just the simplest of country bumpkins.
“He’s had a crush on you since high school, and the whole time I was married to him he kept comparing me to you.”
I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out.
“I don’t think Wonder Woman and Miss Universe together could live up to the picture of perfection he has of you in his head.” She leaned in and touched the paint on the roof of my Taurus, pity clear in her green eyes. “I’m sure glad I’m not you right now.”
She smiled, gave the roof of my car a tap, and then got into her car. About thirty seconds later I was standing by my car, all alone, the afternoon sun shining down on me, my mind a cacophony of panicked thoughts.
The good news, my inner voice chimed in, is he had you up on a pedestal.
The bad news is, well, you’re going to fall right off it.
Chapter 51
I didn’t know why, but I was packing an overnight bag.
I had some jeans, some t-shirts, a hairbrush and some shampoo already packed.
I should’ve know I wasn’t thinking clearly, I didn’t pack conditioner, and with my kinky curly hair I’d look like a walking tumbleweed after one shower.
But I didn’t go back for my conditioner. I also didn’t seem all that concerned that I hadn’t packed any panties or a clean bra.
I just wanted the hell out of my house, out of town…
If there was a lunar shuttle taking off anytime soon, I wanted on it.
But I didn’t really know why.
Jake really liked me. REALLY liked me. And it had been confirmed by my long lost ex-best friend, and Jake’s long lost ex-wife.
It was crazy. How could a man like you too much? I mean, so much that it would send you off the beam and running, racing for the city limits?
I dragged my hastily packed bag out to my car, threw it in the trunk, right beside the groceries I’d failed to take in the house, and then plopped myself behind the wheel.
It was simple. I just couldn’t live up to the perfect version of me he’d created in his head.
No one could.
And sooner or later the man would realize that and ask himself what the hell had he been thinking, getting involved with a fr
uitcake like me?
The fact that I was sitting behind the wheel, arguing with myself about it was more proof than I needed to know I was, in fact, quite crazy.
“Cupcake?” Bette said in a gentle tone.
I jumped up in my seat, and then turned to look at my redheaded neighbor.
“Are you going somewhere? Meeting Jake somewhere?”
I turned away from her and tried not to let my eyes tear up. I just needed to get away, to let everything just stop for a while.
Again, everything was moving too fast.
Hadn’t I learned yet?
“Because,” Bette continued, “I thought you and Jake where back to the doing it like bunnies stage, and now I see you sneaking off with an overnight bag.”
I blinked away some pesky tears.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
I hated it when she called me cupcake or sweetie… but I just couldn’t get mad at her. All I wanted to do was melt into tears and for someone to comfort me.
It wasn’t fair. It made even less sense.
Whether he loved me or was obsessed with me, he felt something for me.
Which, hello, was a huge step forward in the relationship department!
But it also meant that we were doomed to him becoming disenchanted with me, because, let’s face it, I’m a mess.
“I-I-I… just need…”—Therapy, medication, a straightjacket—“I need to get away for a little w-w-while.”
That didn’t sound too pathetic… nah, not at all.
Bette smiled sweetly, her eyes filled with empathy.
I must have looked really far gone for my smart-assed neighbor to look so solemn.
Bette pulled a small, four by seven cube of electronics from where she’d been holding it behind her back, and handed it to me.
“Looked like you were going on an impromptu road trip. So I thought you should have someone with a map with you.”
It was a state of the art GPS system.
Bette was so damn sweet sometimes.
I felt my eyes well up to the point that if I blinked too hard the tears would spill all over the place.
I sat it up on my dash and waved to Bette as I stamped on the gas and headed east toward the interstate.
A GPS was a great idea… if only I knew where the hell I was going.
Love Him: A Love Him, Hate Him, Want Him Novel Page 33