It isn’t over until it’s over.
There’s always time for another curtain call.
Look like a star even though you feel like a meteor.
She tucked the eighteen hundred-dollar bills into her purse. Fifteen hundred would go to Mr. Page to show good faith that she was trying. Three hundred would stay in her wallet so she could eat and put gas in her car.
Once she was put together, she glanced in the mirror. “You may be nothing and have less, but no one else knows. Fake it until you make it.” She leaned in and stared at the lines branching out from the corners of her eyes. Mom always told her she’d regret those days in the sun and boy did she.
She pulled out her black sharpie and touched up the heels of her boots before she grabbed her coat and walked out. The elevator arrived to take her down and when she exited, a smiling Derek greeted her.
“Good morning, Ms. Sutherland.”
“Good morning, Derek. You’re in good spirits.”
“I’m earning a bonus today.” He walked to the door and held it open. “Will you be gone long?”
She rather liked the smiling Derek.
“Running to the bank and then to grab a bite to eat.” She was really stopping by the corner coffee shop for a muffin and a tea, but he didn’t need to know. “Can I bring you anything?”
“I’d love a latte if you’re passing a coffee shop.”
She frowned on the inside but smiled on the surface. A damn latte would put her back at least three bucks, but she supposed a rare smile from Mr. Manly was worth it.
“Sure thing. I’ll see you in about an hour.”
“Take your time.”
One step outside reminded her that her life wasn’t so warm and fuzzy. The chill of the morning air sank into her bones. She trudged up the street toward an uncertain future.
It took a half an hour to run her errands. She sat in the coffee shop eating her muffin and sipping her English breakfast tea.
The sign on the door said they were hiring. Goldie chewed her lip trying to get the courage to ask for an application. No job was beneath her, but she’d fallen so far. She likened it in her mind to going from the President of the United States to being the president of the PTA.
Never in her life had she applied for a job before. However, starvation and homelessness looked less appealing than asking for an application. Before she could lose her nerve, she got up and walked to the register.
“Can I help you?” asked the girl who had made her tea.
“I see you’re hiring?”
The cashier nodded. “You got a kid looking for a job?”
Goldie’s head snapped back. There was no way she looked old enough to have a working-age child. That would mean she would have given birth at sixteen or younger. It was a possible scenario, but geez, did the world have to kick her with steel-toed boots while she was down?
“No, it’s for me.”
The girl’s head sprang back. “Oh, right.” She reached under the counter and pulled out a packet of papers. No less than five sheets were attached. “Fill these out and bring them back. The owner is interviewing for the position next week.”
She picked up the stack of papers. “Is there a shorter application? You don’t need a security clearance to sell coffee, do you?”
“Nope, but that’s the one they use here.”
Goldie took it back to the table. “I feel like an organ donor,” she said louder than she wanted.
“Oh, that’s for certain. Working here will suck your soul straight from your body.”
“Great.” She sipped her tea and stared at the first page. It would take her several days to get through the application. She didn’t have that kind of time today, so she folded the pages in half and put them in her purse. She was on her way out the door when she remembered Derek’s coffee.
A pivot on her boots brought her back to the counter to order his latte. Three dollars and fifty-nine cents later she was headed back to her building with his drink in one hand and a cashier’s check in her purse. Things weren’t looking up, but she hadn’t hit rock bottom. She still had her pride and two packages of ramen.
Derek was behind the counter when she arrived. She slid his latte across the smooth marble finish.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks, Goldie.”
It was odd he used her first name, as they were required to address the residents formally. Movement to her right drew her attention. Mr. Page followed a man pushing a hand cart full of boxes.
“Oh, Mr. Page.” She hurried toward him, the heels of her boots thwacking against the granite floor. “I’ve got money for you.” She opened her purse and pulled out the check. “It’s not everything, but it’s something.”
He adjusted his tie and reached into his jacket pocket for a pair of glasses he then balanced on the bridge of his nose.
“This is a bonus.” He smiled at her and held out his hand. “I’ll need your keys.”
Heart was all she had left but hers did a high dive and landed in the pit of her stomach. “Why? I just gave you money.”
“For last month, Goldie. This month you’re out.” He pointed to the guy pushing the handcart toward the loading dock. “I’ve taken the liberty of having your belongings packed up. They are waiting on the loading dock for you to claim. Anything not gone by five will be thrown away.”
“But Mr. Page. I don’t have anywhere to go.” Tears ran down her cheeks. She turned toward Derek. “You knew, didn’t you?”
He picked up his latte and sipped it. “I did. Thanks for the bonus, Goldie.”
She stood in the building's lobby and wept.
Mr. Page got tired of waiting for the keys and told Derek to have the locks changed. When he was off the phone, he stood in front of her and asked if he should get her car.
All she could do was nod.
When he pulled her Acura MDX in front of the building, she walked out with her shoulders rounded in defeat. Derek held his hand out in hopes of a tip.
“You want a tip?”
He nodded. “It would be standard procedure.”
Fury and worry bubbled under her skin. “I’ll give you a tip. Stop being an asshole.” She climbed into her car and drove off. The trip was short since she had to pick up her stuff from the rear dock.
It took her an hour to load the boxes that contained her life. Her mattress was already in the alleyway comforting a homeless man and his dog. Anything else she couldn’t fit, she left behind.
Her phone pinged with another message from her site. #where’sTilden.
She knew where he was. She put Aspen Cove into her GPS and started her journey to an uncertain future.
Chapter Eight
With something akin to a Venn diagram in front of him, Tilden sketched out what he knew about the Carvers and the Coolidges. In the right-hand corner, he made notes of the new information he’d gleaned from Doc.
Ray Bradley was both a Carver and a Coolidge. He chuckled to himself. It was a good thing Abby Garrett never set her sights on him because if what Doc said was true, he and Abby were related. He’d have to do the math, but they were most likely second or third cousins.
He’d always felt odd that Ray left him his estate. While it wasn’t a mansion, it was something. Something that sat on several acres of land. A solid structure with potential. If there weren’t so many soil samples waiting their turn for testing, he’d have running water in the house.
“You want the usual?” Riley asked. She leaned her hip on the edge of his table, her pad and pen in hand.
“What’s my usual?” He raised a brow. Had he become so predictable?
“Blue plate special, coffee black. If you don’t look like you’re ready to pop at the end, a piece of cherry pie.”
“Damn.” He wanted to change his order just to prove a point, but Friday was fried chicken night and he loved Maisey’s. Just to prove a point that he wasn’t as predictable as she believed, he said, “Blue plate special but fries instea
d of mashed potatoes.”
“Living on the edge?” She scribbled the order on the pad and disappeared. It was funny to see her still working here. She’d made quite a name for herself after the benefit concert where Indigo had used her metalwork as focal points on the stage. Word had it that Riley was earning twenty-five grand for most of her larger pieces.
He supposed she was here because of loyalty to her aunt and cousin. They’d taken Riley in when she had little to nothing. Too bad most people weren’t as kindhearted.
He scribbled a few more notes and looked around the diner. Two years ago, if anyone had told him he’d be living in small-town Aspen Cove he would have laughed. He’d been a city boy most of his life.
That was probably his ancestors’ plan. They’d get as far away from Colorado as they could without turning back east to their roots. That was how his family had ended up in Sacramento. They ran from the accusations. Ran from the state. Ran from their lives or possibly ran for their lives.
“Here you go,” Riley said as she dropped his dinner off.
He breathed in the scent of deep-fried perfection. Cooking wasn’t one of his strengths. He had a gas range at the cabin, but it got very little use. Most recipes were designed for family and he wasn’t fond of leftovers. That came from his youth when his mother would make a big pot of soup or spaghetti, and they’d eat it all week long. It wasn’t until his late twenties that he started eating pasta again.
He lifted a chicken leg and was about to bite into it when the diner door opened and in walked a familiar face.
She scouted out the place as if looking for someone. Each second that passed caused her shoulders to droop farther. When she got to him, it was as if a light turned on and a string attached to her head pulled to full height.
“Hey.” She stood tall and offered him a weak smile. Goldie Sutherland was back for more. Too bad he had nothing else to give.
He bit into the chicken, the juice running down his chin to his beard. He didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t show that he recognized her. She no longer wore a wedding dress. Her lips were a soft kissable pink, not the blood-red he’d had to scrub from his mouth.
Too bad it wasn’t as easy to scrub the memory of the kiss from his brain. He’d had two dreams about her in the weeks that had passed. Both of them pleasant. Waking up to a boner brought him back to contraband naked centerfolds and sixteen.
She ambled toward him and when she reached him, she didn’t take the seat across from him like she’d done before. This time she waited, as if she wanted to be invited.
“Evening, Goldie.”
A whoosh of air rushed from her. “You remember me?” Her voice quivered.
When he looked up at her, he saw a different woman. Weeks ago, she was strong and vibrant and desperate. Today she looked downright beat.
“You’re a hard one to forget.” He pointed to the chair across from him. “You want to join me?”
She moved into the red upholstered seat in a flash.
Riley swung by. “Can I get you anything?”
Goldie looked at his plate like a starving animal. “Just water please.”
“New diet?”
She frowned. “You could say that. Poverty puts a new spin on things.”
He leaned over to look at her outfit. No doubt when she bought it, the money spent could have kept Zachariah in canned stew for years.
He set down his half-eaten chicken leg and wiped his hands on his napkin. “You here to see if I’ll give you your money back?”
She laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh, more of a sardonic one. “No, that money wouldn’t make a dent in my life. I’ve got much larger problems these days.”
“And you think your solution to them is here?”
Riley dropped off the water. “You want to introduce me to your friend?” She eyed Goldie with interest.
He didn’t have to do anything. Goldie offered Riley a brilliant smile and a handshake. “I’m Goldie.”
“Nice to meet you.” A group of tourists walked in and took up the large booth in the corner, which sent Riley on a race to get drink orders.
“She seems nice.” Goldie lifted her water glass and took a long drink.
“Pretty much everyone here is nice, but that’s what you’re counting on, isn’t it?”
Her eyes grew wide. “What?”
He leaned back in his chair and studied her. This woman was different from the one he’d met before. Those cognac eyes had turned muddy and dull. Her skin was pale. Not porcelain pale, but the color flesh turned when someone was worn out. Even her once shiny hair had lost its luster. It was like someone had reached inside her and ripped out her sparkle.
While his personal policy wasn’t to engage in conversation with anyone, he knew she wasn’t going anywhere. He needed to get to the heart of this issue because he had chicken that was getting soggy and cold.
“What can I do for you, Goldie?”
“Umm.” She picked up the napkin in front of her and twisted it until it tore in half.
“Spit it out. I’d like to eat.”
She frowned. “By all means eat. Don’t let my miserable life disrupt you.”
This was why he wasn’t married or had a girl. Women were damn confusing. She came into the diner and interrupted his meal and yet, he was at fault because somehow her problems took precedence.
He did what he knew was smartest. He once had a mom, so he knew how this worked. “I’m sorry. What can I do to help you?”
When she opened her mouth, it was like turning on a tap. “I just thought since you helped me out before you might do it again. Not a picture. I’m well beyond that, although you are getting quite a bit of play on social media. In fact, I should be mad at you because people are more interested in who you are than me.” She moved from one thought to the next. “I expected the wedding to boost my career.”
“A career based on nothing?” He popped a fry into his mouth.
“It wasn’t nothing.” She gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. Her position wasn’t to tell a secret but to make a point. “It’s exhausting being under a microscope. Everyone looking for a wrinkle or a dimple of cellulite. Who are you wearing? Where can I get it? Pimping shit products online so I can live in a place I don’t belong and eat caviar in public but ramen in private.”
He sat there and waited for her to finish, but she was a long way from being empty.
“I have a damn bunion from wearing heels. My eyelids start on fire each time I glue those false lashes on. Don’t get me started on lingerie. I don’t know how girls wear thongs. It’s like flossing your ass. Not once but all day long. And those lacy bras, they chafe the hell out of my nips.” She shrugged. “Not the La Perla, those are amazing, but who can afford hundreds of dollars for a bra?”
“Apparently you.”
“That’s the point. I can’t afford anything. I never bought any of it. It’s sponsored products that I wear, and other people buy them because I say so. The only thing I paid for was rent and sadly I ran out of money for that two months ago.” She sagged against the table. “Over the last week, I sold nearly everything I own trying to come up with money so I didn’t get evicted. I went to the bank and got a cashier’s check for what I had, which was a quarter of what I needed. When I got back to the building with a latte for the asshole—”
“Your landlord?”
“No. Pay attention.” She took a quick sip of her water. “The latte was for the doorman who had been kind to me for the first time in his life. Anyway, I got back and handed the landlord a cashier’s check and he asked for my keys.” She swiped at her dry cheeks. No doubt by her puffy eyes she was out of tears. “While I was getting a damn latte, they packed up my apartment.”
“How far did you go for the coffee? Egypt? Doesn’t seem long enough to pack up an entire apartment.”
“Have you listened to nothing I’ve said? I had nothing left. I’d already sold my furniture except for the mattress I had on the floo
r. It was all a sham. Big beautiful penthouse apartment without a stick of furniture inside.”
“Okay, so let’s get back to basics. Why are you here?”
“You were nice to me, and I had nowhere else to go.”
“You came here for what?” He looked down at his meal. It no longer seemed all that appetizing.
Her expression was unreadable. Her body was stiff. “I need a place to stay, and I have no one else to turn to.”
He tried not to react to the fist-like punch to his gut. How could a woman who once had a million followers have no one to turn to?
“I live in a one-room cabin.”
She pulled her lip between her teeth and gnawed on it. When it popped free, she said, “Sounds fabulous.”
“Are you crazy? You just said you left a penthouse. You party at the best clubs and shop in Cherry Creek.”
“How would you know?”
He was ashamed to admit he had looked her up. He went back five years when she was at the height of her career. Funny how popularity could be considered a job. He’d always stayed on the down-low. Maybe that was a learned habit from decades of his family trying to stay under the radar. It’s possible they passed that leave-me-alone trait down so no one knew their line held a murderer. Which was something he was set on disproving.
“We have internet here.”
“Right, got it just after running water.”
He laughed. “That’s still coming.”
She turned and smirked. “Haha.”
“You think I’m joking.”
“I know you’re joking.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, making her breasts lift like an offering.
He shook his head. “Darlin’, you definitely don’t want to stay with me.”
Her lower lip jutted out. It wasn’t a practiced move, more of an automatic reaction. “Okay.”
He didn’t expect her to give up so easily. “Okay?”
She shrugged. “I asked and you said no. I’m learning mighty fast that I can’t have everything I want. Hell, I can’t have the basic things I need.”
Riley swung by and topped off his coffee. “Pie?”
He nodded. He had a feeling he’d need it.
One Hundred Secrets Page 6