by India Ink
She glanced up at the house, then over her shoulder at the gardens. “I love this place. I love working here, and I adore your aunt. You, too, Persia. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when Miss Florence first told me you’d be overseeing the gardens, but I’m glad you came. You know what you’re talking about, and you’re easy to work for.”
“I try,” I said, a hint of a smile springing to my lips. When I first arrived, Trevor seemed amicable enough, but Sarah had taken a while to win over. I knew she didn’t like me interfering, since Auntie had pretty much left things up to the two of them. But we’d worked it out. I refilled our glasses.
Sarah leaned back, playing with the condensation on her glass. “While I was at the llama show, I started talking to one of the breeders there. She’s been raising llamas for years. Last year, somebody snuck into her barn and killed one of her favorites. Just gutted the poor thing. She doesn’t know who did it, doesn’t know why. Police haven’t got a clue. I asked her what she planned on doing to prevent a repeat. She just stared at me blankly and said, “Oh, I doubt that it will happen again. We’re just making sure the barn door is locked tight at night.”
She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “She really doesn’t care enough to take any extra precautions. Made me wonder how she can call herself an animal lover.” Sarah lifted a Danish and bit into it, closing her eyes against the first burst of sweetness. “You guys are going to need a lot of help to shore up security, especially after what happened to the roses. I’ll be here.”
I let out a long sigh. “What about your own business?”
She shrugged. “I’ve made the decision to scale back. I knew this was coming, and I thought long and hard over the past few weeks. The llama show just brought it home to me. I didn’t buy any new stock. The truth is, I’m not making enough money to branch out full-time. And I love working in the gardens. So I’m cutting back the amount of spinning I do, and I’m going to raise my prices a little. There’s leeway for me to do that and still bring in customers. I’m also going to take more custom work—fewer orders, but pricier goods.”
My relief must have shown on my face, because she laughed.
“Oh Persia, you look like you just escaped a fate worse than death. Don’t sweat it, okay? I know you had to talk to me about this, and I’m fine with that. So, should you and your aunt and Trevor and I get together and discuss security?”
I flipped open my Day-Timer. “Yeah, but let me talk to Auntie first and find out her schedule. Either she or I will let you know. I suppose it’s about time we ironed out some interim measures, as well as plan for long-term strategies.”
She pushed herself out of her chair. “Sounds good. And now, I’ll see what’s left to do in the rose garden. Trevor worked his ass off because of me, and I’ll repay the boy in kind. Trust me, whoever did this has their head up their butts…or will, once we get hold of them.” With a wink, she headed through the trellis, down the path, into the gardens.
I closed my Day-Timer, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Thank God that had worked out. Now, one day left of the convention, and then I could get back to focusing on important issues. Like whoever trashed our gardens. Sarah had nailed it on the head. If I found out who destroyed our roses, I’d shove their head up their butt so fast they wouldn’t have time to even squeak.
Chapter Seven
Buoyed by the satisfactory resolution to the first problem of the day, I hoped everything else would go as easy as my talk with Sarah. I decided to stop off at In-A-Fix Computers before I forced myself back to the convention. Just one more day and I’d be free from the clutches of the beauty barons. Of course, first I had to make it through my speech, but I didn’t foresee any problems. I picked up Barb on the way, thinking she’d be a good foil to Andy Andrews and his handy hands.
“So good old Andy is working here?” she asked. “That must have come as quite a shock.”
I shook my head. “Yes, and the little twit tried to put the make on me again. One of these days I should surprise him and say yes—he’d be so scared, he’d piss his pants. I honestly think he wouldn’t know what to do with me once he got hold of me. Andy doesn’t strike me as the go-getter type.”
Barb suppressed a snort. “Yeah, or at least he’d be scared of you after you got done with him. There he is,” she pointed to the service counter.
We sauntered in his direction as he motioned us over to the desk. “My computer working yet?” I asked, giving him a lazy smile.
He winked, but then actually let his professional side come out and the smarmy look disappeared from his face. “Hey Persia. Listen, you have some seriously bad shit going on with your machine here. I can’t believe you didn’t have any AV protection on it.”
“AV? What do you mean?”
“Antivirus software. You picked up a nasty virus, and it wiped out your files. What were you thinking? Nobody in their right mind should be without AV protection in this day and age.” He grumbled something I didn’t catch, and I had the same feeling I would have if I’d been caught having sex without a condom.
I frowned. Computer virus? Great, just great. Served me right for not listening to Jared and learning more about computers. “So what do I do? How do we get the information back?”
Andy gave me a look that read, You’re out of the loop, then shook his head. “You don’t. Not unless you kept a floppy or burned a CD of your data. Since you told me you didn’t back up your files, I don’t suppose you managed that?” I had the feeling he was enjoying this in some perverted way. Unfortunately for me, he was also correct in his assumption.
“Guilty as charged. I guess we should have, right?”
“Uh…it’s pretty much standard if you want to be sure you’re okay,” he said. “I can’t believe you made it this far without something like this happening.”
“All right,” I said, unable to take being scolded by slacker-boy anymore. “We screwed up. Big time. What do we do now?”
“Your registry files are all messed up. I need to reformat the hard drive, which means most of your data’s going to be toast because the virus already deleted a good share of it. Pretty much, you start from scratch. I’ll save what I can and slap on a good AV software and a firewall while I’m at it.”
“A firewall?”
Barb spoke up. “Firewall. It keeps hackers out of your computer.”
“That’s another thing,” Andy said. “I think somebody has been browsing around through your data. I can’t be sure, but I checked the log files…” At my questioning glance, he held up his hand. “Don’t ask. What I think happened was that somebody sent you a virus through e-mail and you—or your aunt—opened the attachment. This created a back door in your computer, which allowed whoever sent it to sneak into your files and look around, then destroy them.”
I grimaced. A back door? “That sounds deliberate.”
And right up Bebe Wilcox’s avenue. For a brief moment, I realized that I was sounding paranoid, even to myself. Next thing I knew, I’d be placing the blame for the federal deficit and world hunger on her shoulders. But the old adage, “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you,” kept running through my head.
He shrugged. “Could be, or could just be some joker. You have no idea of the number of wannabe hackers out there, just looking for an open port. I can’t tell you whether it was deliberate or just random.”
Barb tapped me on the shoulder. “The roses? The computer? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I glanced at her. “Yeah, I am, but let’s talk about it later. Okay,” I leaned on the desk. “Here’s the deal, Andy. Fix the computer, clean it, protect it, do whatever you have to in order to ensure both our privacy and the safety of our information. Can you have it ready by tomorrow?”
He saluted me. “Will do. Say, you sure you won’t come over and hang out? We could have a rockin’ time. I could show you my hard drive.” Again with the grin. Apparently Junior Lecher was back.
I had to
hand it to him; the dude had perseverance. “Andy, I guarantee you, your hard drive just wouldn’t be big enough for me, but thanks for the invite. You’re all right.” Leaving him openmouthed, I turned on my heel and led Barbara out of the store.
Once we were at the convention, we got right down to business. We’d almost sold out of samples when a ding, ding, ding echoed through the hall. The loudspeaker blared to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased to announce the winner of our first door prize for the day—a boxed set of Bedroom Beauty Delights graciously donated by the Inner Beauty company! And the winner is…Persia Vanderbilt, of Venus Envy!”
I almost choked on my lemonade. Bedroom Beauty Delights? Oh God, that meant body paints and edible gels. Barb snorted as I groaned.
“Wonderful—probably full of dyes and chemicals and preservatives,” I muttered as the leader of the prize patrol marched my way, a gift wrapped box in her hands.
“Persia, congratulations, you lucky girl!” The hostess presented the boxes to me and scrunched in too close for comfort. I winced as her voice spiraled into the upper register. “Now, if you’ll hold up the box, we’ll just take a picture for our brochure—”
“Picture? Of me holding up a box full of body paints? I don’t think so,” I said, arching my eyebrows. “Why don’t you pick another winner? I shouldn’t win; I’m one of the vendors.”
She stared at me blankly. “But why not? You’re part of the convention. I suppose if you don’t want your picture taken we can’t force the issue, but you’d be such a good sport if you’d let me.”
I grimaced and shook my head. Even Auntie wouldn’t berate me for saying no in this case. The girl backtracked, leaving Barbara and me alone again, both of us staring at the box full of tubes and tubs.
“What are you going to do with it?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Garbage. Unless you want the kit?”
She snorted. “Oh yeah, I can just hear what Dorian would have to say if I brought this home. He’d laugh me out of the bedroom.” She opened one of the tubes of edible body shimmer and stared at the squiggle on her finger. “I wonder if it tastes any good?”
I shook my head. “We’re not going to…oh all right, here.” I opened another tube of what was supposed to be cherry flavor. Unable to believe we were actually going to do it, I hesitantly licked the gel off my finger.
As the thin film of fruit flavor hit my mouth, I glanced around, wildly looking for my bottle of water. Pure sweetener and neon flavor. I chugged, trying to wash the metallic taste out of my mouth. Barb was doing the same.
“Shit, that tastes bad,” she said, gasping after she downed an entire bottle of San Pellegrino. “I feel like I just rotted out half the teeth in my head. Man, I wish I had some of your aunt’s barbecue to take away that taste. Last night was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?”
I nodded, still trying to wash away the lingering flavor.
“Yeah, everybody seemed to enjoy themselves. Did you notice Auntie and Kane? I think there’s romance brewing.” I grinned at her. “Speaking of romance, this crap isn’t it.” With one sweep, I gathered up the box, marched over to one of the trash bins, and dumped it in. As I turned around, the sound of applause hit my ears. Killian was clapping, a grin a mile wide on his face. I let out a muffled groan and joined him.
“So, you aren’t into kink?” Killian asked, leaning over my shoulder to whisper in my ear.
Once again, I found myself short of breath. His eyes were sparkling, and I wanted to reach up and smooth out the wild mop of spikes that covered his head.
“I didn’t say that.” I winked at him. “But body paints aren’t part of the food pyramid. So, you coming to hear me give my speech today?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, giving me a long look. “Persia Vanderbilt, would you join me at the hors d’oeuvres table?” The way he said it made me think it was an invitation to something more than a bite to eat.
I hadn’t felt this nervous since my first date. “I think I’d like that,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Barb. “Can you watch the booth for a few minutes?”
She gave me a wicked grin. “Are you sure it won’t take longer than that?”
I stuck my tongue out at her, then followed Killian toward the buffet that had been set out for the vendors. We’d barely gone two yards when Sharon Wellstone sauntered past. She flashed us a snide look and headed in the direction of Bebe’s booth. Beside me, Killian tensed.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ll meet you at the buffet. There’s something I have to discuss with Ms. Wellstone.” He hurried to catch up with her, catching her arm to whirl her around. “How can you just swish your merry little way past like that without even saying a word? I demand that you return what you stole.”
I blinked. What was this? Sharon had stolen something from him?
She yanked her arm away. “Killian, you’re a loser. You always have been, and you always will be. I’ve got nothing to say to you. Why don’t you face facts? You just can’t cut it in the business. We’re smarter and faster than you.”
Just then, Trish strode up to drag Killian aside. She leaned close, cupping her hand around his ear. Whatever she whispered to him only infuriated him even more. He spun on one heel, and leaning close, snarled in Sharon’s face.
“I warned you before, little girl. Mess with me again, and you’re in trouble. You’re a thief, Wellstone. A thief and a spy. Maybe you think you can bring down Donna Prima, but you and your cronies had better think again. If you so much as blacken my door, I’ll kick your butt to the curb! Now, go tell your owner to prepare for a lawsuit because baby, I’m going to slap a doozy on Bebe Wilcox.”
Sharon laughed. “Try and make it stick.” She sashayed over to her booth, where a group of her yellow-jacketed sisters were tittering behind their hands. The look on Killian’s face was one of sheer hatred, and I edged my way back to Barb’s side as he stomped through the door into the gardens, our trip to the buffet obviously forgotten in the heat of the moment.
“Jesus, what was that about?” Barb asked.
I shrugged. “Don’t know. But man, did you see the look on his face? And what did he mean about her bringing down Donna Prima? I’m going to find out.” I started to go after him, but Barb tapped me on the shoulder.
“You don’t have time. Look at the clock—you’re due to give your speech in less than ten minutes. Here comes Tawny to take over the booth.” Sure enough, Tawny was jogging down the aisle toward us.
She stopped, panting. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Traffic. But you can go now. You don’t want to be late for your presentation.”
I wanted nothing more than to blow off the speech, but I’d promised. I couldn’t let the shop down. Not that I really thought they’d be paying much attention once they found out it wasn’t going to be a scintillating treatise on hog-tying a man. With a regretful look at the doors leading to the hotel gardens, I headed toward Conference Hall C, followed by Barb.
The room was packed. If the convention had three hundred attendees, at least two-thirds of them were in my audience. I swallowed a lump in my throat and headed toward the stage, where I faced the mass of expectant women. The expressions on their faces made me think of a group of starved alley cats, waiting to pounce on a mouse.
Wendy Bartleby, the chair of workshops and presentations, was playing hostess. She tapped the microphone to make sure it was working, then introduced me. “Please welcome Persia Vanderbilt, from Venus Envy. Persia is a sensory specialist who custom blends fragrances for her clients.” After leading everyone in a polite round of applause, she stepped aside.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced at my notes as I took the podium. “Thank you, Wendy, and many thanks to the Beauty Bonanza Cosmetics Convention for asking me to speak on this subject. Welcome to ‘The Fragrance of Desire: Driving Men Mad With Your Scent.’” There were a few titters from the audience. As I stared into the sea of faces, two hours promise
d to stretch into eternity. I suddenly had doubts that my speech would cover even a fraction of that period.
“Since the beginning of time, our sense of smell has served us by protecting us against potential dangers, fed and nurtured us by leading us to food and water, and propagated our species by leading us to the proper mate….”
And I was off and running. With the exception of a few bored yawns, my audience seemed more appreciative than I’d given them credit for. Perhaps they were in the mood for more than just the fluff that made up most of the fashion and beauty magazines, because by the time I finished the Q and A period, I’d not only worked up a sweat keeping up with the flurry of questions, but I was besieged by a bevy of women asking how they could make an appointment with me. Auntie had the foresight to remind me to bring my Day-Timer, and I scheduled a week’s worth of consultations before Barb and I managed to edge out of the room. Take that, Bebe Wilcox, I thought.
The minute we were back in the Garden of Beauty, I looked around for Killian, but he was nowhere to be found. Tawny was manning the booth, and finally, unable to locate him, I left instructions with her to give Killian my number if he should ask for me. Barb and I headed out. I was relieved the convention was over for me but couldn’t help but wonder about the fracas between Killian and Sharon. And about whether Killian was seeing anybody or not.
The next morning started out just fine but deteriorated rapidly. While Tawny was at the convention, Auntie manned the counter at Venus Envy. I reached the shop an hour before my first appointment and, chatting brightly with her, went to organize my station. As I set out my oils and eyedroppers and rubbing alcohol, it struck me that something was off. I glanced through the drawers, trying to pinpoint what seemed out of kilter.
The oils were all there, everything I needed to create a new blend, the measuring cups and spoons I used to make the bath salts…and then it dawned on me. I knew what was wrong. I pushed back my chair and dropped to my knees, peering under my desk. Nothing. Another glance—nope—clean and neat and tidy. Not a dust bunny in sight. At least the new cleaning woman we’d hired was doing her job.