Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  “Hey, your ex, Lover Boy, is now sitting in your corner office with his personalized shiny new name plate on the door.”

  “That scumbag of a boss of ours reassigned me to Communications, the job I told you I’d never perform again, even if my life depended on it, and get this, I came to work today, but guess where my office is? That cold, gloomy, windowless back room in the basement.”

  “By the way, I quit.”

  But quick as a whip, Angelica had a new job before collecting her first unemployment check. Beckham Johnson’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He’d coincidently reached out to Angelica to chat and get an update on her dad’s health status. Angelica shared that her father was great and recently released from his doctor’s care but that her boss had just fired her. Without hesitation, excited at the opportunity to work with her again, he chimed, “Hey Angelica, guess what? I need a project manager, and I’d love for it to be you.”

  Voilà! Angelica not only had a new job but had worked a deal with Beckham to have JaRew on her project team. She eagerly looked forward to the new position, viewing it as the next fork in the road—one that would lead to another step up the ladder. More importantly, she believed it was definitely a “sign” that Shawn Mallory, the ex that had just stolen her job, was definitely a “fling” of the past.

  Little did she know that her new project would expose her to a cloak and dagger new world—a 21st century urban Twilight Zone.

  Angelica walked and talked it as best as she could for two months—twenty-four hours a day.

  She lived it. Immersed herself in it.

  She escaped it. But barely.

  Actually, she was mercifully rescued. Some might say, JaRew saved the day; others, that he literally saved her life.

  Chapter 1

  This is insane… “Take me or leave me, but I’m sure you’ll take me.” Angelica Marie had only shared her personal mantra with five people: her parents; Nicole Honeywell, her childhood BFF; and, JaRew, her colleague and now one of her closest friends.

  She and JaRew worked together for more than five years, always finding themselves in peculiar circumstances. They quickly bonded and learned that they could depend on each other—for anything and under any conditions.

  Confidante number five, the BLUE LADY, Angelica’s mysterious alter ego, not only knew but understood Angelica better than she understood herself and had bailed her out of more situations than Angelica cared to recall.

  Angelica couldn’t remember the last time she checked her cell phone for calls or messages. Last time she talked to Jarewski, she’d promised to send him a draft of a new business concept for comments. He’d agreed with no reservations—always eager to delve into the new and different. She’d forgotten the specifics, but they’d even brainstormed about names for the business. Nor could she recall any irritating pokes, nudges, interruptions, or innuendos from BLUE LADY.

  And her online life was nonexistent. She no longer cared about how many Facebook friends she gained or lost or how many new followers she had on Instagram. This morning she almost called her phone carrier to temporarily disconnect the only remaining link she had to the outside world. The one she was struggling to forget. The non-stop nerve-wracking chirps, clacks, and beeps were more than she could tolerate. Besides, why did she need a phone if she no longer planned to talk with anyone?

  With confidence and self-esteem levels at an all-time low of zippo—yes, zero on a scale of one to ten—this savvy, sophisticated, some might say kinda sexy lady—despite her bougie infused bloodline—was quite satisfied with her current lifestyle. She’d found her zone: 753 Magnolia Lane, SE., Smoothville, Georgia. Her new townhouse contained all the features she had sought when she made the purchase less than two years ago, including the must have, custom-made office adjoined to the master bedroom. The current problem? Her computer was on shutdown—just like its owner.

  What the heck had happened?

  Some might say, “‘Stuff happens.”

  If anyone had asked Angelica to describe her malady, she’d be stumped—fumbling to find the right words. Normally, BLUE LADY would step up to the plate and bail Angelica out by offering one of her plethora of profound, yet saucy retorts. Interestingly, the infamous BLUE LADY had decided Ms. Problem Solver needed to handle this one by and for her little ole’ self. Poor child…she’s as broken as the mirror in that fancy compact Marilyn gave her for Christmas last year.

  Angelica’s self-imposed lockdown was also a lock-in. Not that anyone visited her. Once or twice a year, her parents drove up for a weekend of shopping and visiting with old friends.

  Last she’d spoken to them, they had arrived safely in Paris and would call her when they returned. The Masons were happily celebrating their 40th anniversary and her dad’s recovery from his heart attack. France had been on their bucket list for years, and after the big scare, they decided that now was the time.

  If one could sleep one’s self to death, Angelica’s time on earth was limited. From all appearances, the countdown had begun. She slept all night and a good portion of the day. Her eyes were most often closed, her body semi-comatose.

  She managed periodically to make it down the corridor to her gourmet kitchen to replenish her makeshift bedroom supply of basic necessities: jasmine herbal tea, an electric teapot that someone had given her for a housewarming gift—and that she thought she’d never use—another box of saltine crackers, and a ready supply of 500 ml bottles of Fiji—the only bottled water she drank.

  For the first time in her life, Angelica had no energy. Her symptoms?

  Fatigue? No, because she wasn’t tired.

  Pain level? None.

  In between naps, she was awake long enough to ascertain two things.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  She needed to do something about it.

  Unfortunately, she was never awake long enough to figure out what.

  Chapter 2

  What’s going on?... “What the heck is wrong with you, Ms. Mason? I’ve been ringing your doorbell for the last five minutes. I knew you were here; your car is parked in the driveway. And when is the last time you treated your pride and joy to a car wash?”

  Nicole barely stopped to take a breath and continued her rampage as only a BFF could do. “More importantly, since when do you ignore my phone calls?” She paused, opened the blinds, and continued her rant. “Do you know how many times I’ve texted you?”

  Frustrated, not only at being ignored but at her friend’s refusal to even acknowledge her presence, Nicole yanked the covers off the bed. Angelica’s cell phone fell onto the carpet. Nicole sighed as she bent down to pick it up. “Dang, it’s not even on, Ange. When did you turn it off?” She was totally frustrated and now even more concerned about her best friend, who was never without her ‘livelihood,’ as she called it. She hesitated, not knowing what to say… “Gosh, Ange, your cell phone is always on.” She powered up the phone. “Where’s your charger? You’ve got less than one bar—and look, O-M-G, Pop Mason called you.”

  Angelica blinked but didn’t raise her head. “I’ll call him later. Can you shut the blinds?”

  Now, truly concerned, Nicole sat on the bed. “Ange, don’t you think he might be worried?”

  Nicole’s obviously exasperated sigh didn’t disrupt Angelica. “Where’s your phone charger, Ange?” Deciding it was time to take things into her own hands, she opened the top drawer of Angelica’s bedside table—no cord. She turned on the bedside lamp for more light only to see the charger options at the base of the lamp, and mumbled, “I should have known.”

  Angelica sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her long auburn hair, naturally curly, was tangled and matted in some spots.

  “Finally. And by the way, you look a mess. Don't envy you, girl…wait until you tackle that hair of yours.”

  “Nik? What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  “Ange, how could you forget you gave me a key? And did you hear me say you look a mess?”
/>   Refusing to speak to her friend’s back, Nicole trotted to the other side of the bed. “And, in case you forgot, you have a key to my place, too. Remember?” She looked around and mumbled, “Although, I doubt you’d be able to find it in here. I don’t know which looks worse, you or your bedroom.”

  “Oh.” Angelica collapsed against her pillow, closing her eyes.

  “Is that all you can say? Ange, this place is a disaster. How many cups do you need? Cracker wrappers on the floor? Crumbs, too? Good Lord. Ugh, and I hate to ask, but I will. When’s the last time you took a shower?”

  Angelica reversed her move, turned over, plumped her pillow and mumbled. “Can you please close the blinds? Too much light in here.” She shifted again, turned off the lamp, and muttered, “My eyes hurt.”

  Nicole shook her head, grabbed the overflowing wastebasket, dropped more trash that she picked up, and turned on the floor lamp on the other side of the bedroom. “What a mess. Somebody had to come to check on you, Ange. You’ve not answered my calls. But that’s not a surprise. You never do. But my text messages? That’s a no-no. Never happened before—not even when you’re away on business. I know how you can get caught up in your projects, but last I talked with you, you had finished up that fiasco in upstate New York. The one where Beckham turned his back on you or whatever he did to get you going. You were supposed to call and talk to me about it when you got home. But you never did.”

  Angelica mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “Sorry? Is that all you can say?”

  “Yeah.” Angelica turned over again, and this time wrapped herself in her comforter—face down.

  “Oh gosh, is that what’s wrong with you? What the heck did he do? I thought you guys were tight?” She thought, ‘Oh, no. Is that the problem; were they that kind of tight?’

  “Ange? What happened? What did he say to you?”

  “Can you just leave me alone? I’m okay, all right?”

  Shocked at her bestie’s reaction and not at all sure of what to do, Angelica resolved the problem for both of them.

  “And, by the way, lock the door when you leave, and when you call my dad, tell him I’m fine. By the way, he’s not home. He’s in France.”

  “Oh, my God.” Nicole burst into tears. She’d never seen Angelica like this. She was her rock. Her shoulder to lean and cry on. Ms. Reliable, who had an answer to everyone’s problems.

  What could have happened? Angelica was fine the last time they spoke. She had jokingly dismissed that Beckham had hurt her feelings and that JaRew had threatened to wipe up the floor with him. Before Nicole could get any further details, Ange had dismissed it with a huffy “Men!” and promised to give her the details later. But later never came.

  Nicole slumped across the corner lounge chair, flummoxed by Angelica’s behavior. Totally confused, she wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Since the Masons were in France—not that she wanted to bother them, there was only one other person she could call. Tears blurred her vision, making it hard to manipulate her keypad.

  She lowered her voice. “Hi, Jonathan. Sorry to bother you, but this is Nicole Honeywell.”

  “Yes, Angelica’s friend.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

  “Hey, do you have a minute?”

  She glanced over at Angelica, who remained motionless. After a quick reassessment of the situation, Nicole decided it might be better to talk privately with Jarewski. She lowered her voice. Glad for the plush carpet, she tiptoed across the room and gently closed the door. “I don’t know where to begin…”

  “So, what’s going on with JaRew?”

  Shocked to find her friend sitting on the edge of the bed when she returned, Nicole giggled. “Oh Ange, I’m so glad that—”

  She canceled her plans to sit with her friend and chat when Angelica trounced her with the sizzling venom of a boa constrictor. “Don’t even try it, Nik. What did he say?”

  Nicole’s sigh and reddening eyes aggravated Angelica even more.

  “My God, Nik. Come on with it. I’m a big girl despite how it looks. I can take it. Nothing can be that bad.”

  Nicole thought, ‘I’m not too sure about any of that.’

  Not at all sure of how Angelica would react, Nik took her chances, knowing in her heart of hearts that nothing could destroy their relationship—not even this—whatever the this was.

  “I’ll tell you if you promise me two things.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Nicole cringed at the tone—one she’d never tolerate from anyone else and never expect from her BFF.

  “No, Ange. You’re my girl. I’m as serious as a heart attack, as my grandmother used to say.”

  Silence. Truth or dare. Nicole thought, ‘Two can play this game.’

  “All right, what’s the deal?”

  Nicole’s smile was obliterated by Angelica’s unexpected, not needed follow-up.

  “Get on with it.”

  Trying to ignore the mounting fear, Nicole responded with the heartfelt devotion and compassion she felt for her best friend, who seemed to have lost her way.

  “I need you to promise me that you will call Pop Mason. Just touch base with him, Ange. He would expect you to check in on him, right? Besides, if he’s called you while your phone was off, you know he’s worried.”

  Angelica didn’t need to acknowledge that Nicole was on point, but she did.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” This time, Nik opted to ‘get on with it.’ Before she could, Angelica prompted as though reading her mind.

  “And number two?”

  Without hesitation, Nicole responded. “I need you to take a shower, wash your hair, put on some clean pjs, and eat some homemade minestrone soup…if I decide to make it.” Nicole couldn’t hold the giggle on her spur-of-the-moment improvisation.

  “And what did JaRew say?”

  Nicole hesitated.

  “Wait! Sorry.” This time, to Nicole’s surprise, Angelica offered up a halfhearted smile. “I guess I should first ask, what did you tell JaRew?”

  Nicole joined her BFF and sat beside her on the edge of the bed, their hands entwined.

  “I told him the truth, Ange.”

  “Umm…”

  They eyeballed each other—not that there was a need for verification.

  “And what did he say, Nik?”

  “He said he wasn’t surprised.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “No.”

  Silence.

  “Jarewski’s catching the next flight out.”

  “I’m calling Dad now.”

  “I’m making soup.”

  Nicole thought it better to omit JaRew’s casual reference to PTSD during their phone call. She had personally found it strange, didn’t know the basis for his questions and possible assumptions, but made a mental note to check Angelica’s medicine cabinet when she had a chance. Why would Jarewski follow his post-traumatic stress disorder comment with, “Check to see if she’s taking any anti-anxiety meds and call me right back.” Nicole prayed that she wouldn’t find anything other than the usual over the counter pain killers and first aid supplies.

  When Angelica finished up her shower, she returned to a freshly made bed, a bowl of steamy, tantalizing minestrone soup, and a carafe of freshly brewed tea. Nicole assured her that she’d stop by when she headed back from Nashville and reminded her of the leftover soup in the fridge.

  Angelica didn’t know if it was seeing her friend’s face, or the security she felt knowing that Nik and JaRew were looking out for her.

  Or perhaps, it was the invigorating shower or her squeaky clean, bouncing curls.

  Or, the spicy homemade soup.

  Perhaps it was all of it.

  Angelica thought, ‘Hmmm...and JaRew wasn’t the least surprised. I wonder what that means?’

  Chapter 3

  Looking for me… From somewhere deep inside, Angelica remembered she’d never been afraid of anything. How
could she let something she couldn’t understand, create so much fear that she hid like a frightened little girl under her blankie? After Nicole left, she spent the rest of the day mulling over her situation, finding no answers, and left with the same questions. What and why?

  Angelica knew it would only be a matter of time before Jarewski arrived. She had no doubt that Nicole would be true to her word. She was obligated to the two-and-a-half-day business event; Angelica had no worries in that regard. But Nik would definitely be back—key and all—probably ready for a clean-up, get your act together, and I’m not leaving this time until you do, wrap up session. And, she’d have a full weekend to prove her point.

  If JaRew showed up first, he might be in trouble. Her fail-proof steel door would challenge his skills.

  No worries regarding her parents since she’d chatted with them and promised to visit them upon their return. So much for promises, but she’d deal with that then—when or if—she needed to.

  She needed an interim plan. Letting childhood friend Nicole witness her current semi-invalid like state was one thing. Facing tough guy Jarewski while she languished her life away in her bed for no explainable reason was equivalent to friendship suicide. Her only alternative was to escape. She packed and loaded her car with a plan to head out in the morning.

  She’d had a restless night but had hit the road early, filled up her tank at a neighborhood service station with plans to start her more than nine-hour drive to Fort Lauderdale with a cup of tea. ‘Since when do I drink hot tea? Or, for that matter, any kind of tea?’ she thought. ‘Geez Louise, I have been sick. No coffee. Wow!’