The Chronicles of Stella Rice: February Read online

  “Well Ms. Rice, I really like the idea of taking you out sometime.”

  I had to bite my inner cheek hard to keep from smiling. At that moment I knew I wasn’t supposed to be with Dr. Taylor as Stella Rice the woman. At every client consultation I was there as a representative of AIR, and as such, it was my responsibility to keep this meeting professional. Least that’s what I always told Ann anytime I found her flirting with a client. It had always seemed like a reasonable request when I advised Ann. However, at the moment, keeping things on a professional level didn’t seem all that important or reasonable. After all, I could still do a kick-ass resume and cover letter for Dr. Taylor even if I went on a date with him. One date wouldn’t ruin my level of professionalism. I supposed it wouldn’t ruin Ann’s either.

  “Is that so?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant, as though California type heartthrobs always tried to pick me up.

  “That’s so,” he agreed. “What do you say?”

  For reasons I couldn’t explain, I thought of Jake. We weren’t together and hadn’t shared anything but one night of great sex. Jake was a non-issue. Still, by going out with another man I felt that I was permanently closing the door on any possible reconciliation.

  “You don’t date white men?” he asked, mistaking my silence for a refusal.

  “No, it’s not that,” I began to say.

  “You aren’t seeing anyone else are you?”

  Damn if his Southern drawl wasn’t the cutest thing I’d ever heard. This man was downright lethal. He had “golden boy” good looks with a down to earth, Southern charm that had me near to drooling.

  “No, I’m not seeing anyone. But I don’t date clients. It’s one of my rules.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard that rules were made to be broken?”

  “I’m not a rule breaker.” I pushed back from my desk and got to my feet, determined to end this meeting before I did something stupid. Or, God forbid, said anything more idiotic than the Indiana Jones comment.

  “Sorry to hear that,” he said, rising as well. “You’ve got the prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. But just now they look like that deer’s eyes; wide and spooked. So I’ll back off, but I want you to promise me you’ll think about it.”

  “Think about what?”

  We both turned as Ann strolled into the office.

  AIR’s office was housed in what was supposed to be my den. The room was large enough for two desks—set at opposite ends of the room—two client chairs, and a bookcase. Clinging to her third cup of tea, Ann moved behind her desk and sat. Though she hated the formality, especially on days like today when she wasn’t feeling good, she had gone into my closet and put on a blue and red pantsuit. With her short, chestnut hair pulled back and held in place by a clip at her nape and the bit of makeup she’d put on, she looked almost human again. I could barely tell she was suffering the results of an all night drinking binge.

  “Going out with me,” Dr. Taylor explained before I could maneuver him out the door.

  Ann depressed a button on her CPU and the motor whirred to life. She looked at me, at the good doctor, then back at me. “A date?”

  “Yes,” he said at the same time I was saying no.

  “I think it sounds like a good idea.”

  “Nobody asked you,” I informed my turncoat of a friend.

  Ann let loose with a snort. “The rule?”

  Dr. Taylor nodded. “Good to know it isn’t just me.”

  “Oh no, it’s not.” Ann assured him. “Stella’s a stickler for rules. I think she has a rule for everything. When to wake up, when to eat, when to take a sh—”

  “In any case,” I interrupted. I placed my hand gently, but insistently on his lower back, leading him out of the office and toward my front door. “You said you need your resume in a week. I’ll have it and your cover letter done by Monday. You can pick it up Monday morning. What time is good for you?”

  Though he allowed me to propel him forward, he came to a halt in the foyer. Turning, he smiled down at me.

  My heart skipped and I took a step back.

  This man was more than lethal. He was positively toxic.

  He set his hands on his hips and shook his head. I was amazed that such a simple movement could look so sexy.

  “Think about it,” he said, then pulled my front door open, stepped into the hall and turned to face me again. “You can tell me Monday morning at eight-thirty five, five minutes after you give me my new resume and cover letter and I pay you the remainder of your fee. Deal?”

  I considered arguing the point but figured the quickest way to get rid of him was to agree. “Agreed,” I said.

  “Because five minutes after you give me my new resume and cover letter,” he continued, “I won’t be a client anymore.”

  I smiled. “Touché.”

  “See you Monday.” That said, he turned and walked away.

  I had to force myself to not peak into the hall and watch his progress. Instead, I shut the door, locked it, and went in search of Ann.

  CHAPTER THREE

  4:47 p.m.

  Why! Why! Why?

  Why do I get myself into these stupid situations? Better question, why do I surround myself with loonies? All of my friends belong in loony bins. And I belong in a loony bin for associating with them.

  “I just want to see her, Stella,” Ann had explained. “I just want to see if she’s better looking than me.” And I was fool enough to believe her.

  Mistake 1. Agreeing to go to Laurel to have a look at Gerard’s new girlfriend.

  Mistake 2. Not having a car of my own for this little expedition.

  Mistake 3. Agreeing to get into a car with Ann behind the wheel.

  So there I was, sitting innocently in the passenger’s seat of Ann’s monster SUV, wondering how bad the twenty-five mile drive back to Baltimore from Laurel would be during rush hour while Ann the Nut pulled into the Chevy Chase Bank parking lot.

  Okay, the first sign of trouble was the fact that the bank wasn’t the sort of bank I’d been expecting. I had envisioned something with cash machines, drive-through banking, and an interior filled with tellers who doled out cash to customers. What I got was a one-story brick building, sans the usual bank paraphernalia, and two security trucks sitting in front of the main lobby. This wasn’t a customer service bank; this was the bank’s corporate office.

  I stared out my window, a niggling of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. “We can’t go in there, Ann.”

  “I know, but it’s almost four thirty.”

  The dread grew. Nevertheless, I asked, “What happens at four-thirty?”

  “She gets off work. All we have to do is drive around the parking lot until we find her car, and wait.”

  I began gesturing out the window at the security trucks. “Drive around the parking lot? We can’t drive around the parking lot. This place has security guards.”

  “Big deal. For all they know we have business here. We could be perspective employees looking for a job.” She gave me a wink, a gesture clearly meant to calm me.

  It didn’t.

  “Promise me all you want to do is look.”

  She raised her right hand in the air, an unmistakable sign of good faith, and proceeded to lie through her teeth. “I promise Stella,” she said. “All I want is a look. There’s her car. The red Jetta.”

  I didn’t ask how she knew what Candace drove. I didn’t want to know.

  Five minutes later, when Ann looked solemnly at me and said, “If something bad happens, you got my back, right?” I knew I was in trouble.

  I stared for a moment, unable to respond.

  “Right?” she repeated.

  “What could happen?”

  Ann shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably nothing. I’m just asking if something were to happen, you got my back.”

  I suddenly felt like I was in high school again, a period of my life you couldn’t pay me to repeat. There were so many things I hated about high school
I hardly knew where to start. But if I had to pick a starting point I’d say it was those days I went in knowing sometime during the day I’d be forced to fight because somebody did something to upset one of my friends. The other girl’s friends would inevitably get involved which, of course, meant my girlfriends and I had to get involved. Threats would be bandied about for the better part of the day, there’d be much trash talk and posturing—I would be doing more than my share of both—while all the time I was silently praying nothing would happen.

  I hated fighting. I loathed fighting. I simply wasn’t very good at it and didn’t fancy the idea of finding myself in a parking lot brawl at the age of thirty.

  I supposed this was part of friendship, watching your girlfriend’s back no matter how much of a nut she acted.

  “Of course I have your back. That doesn’t mean you should start a fight with this girl, Ann.”

  Ann snorted. “I’m a grown woman, Stella. This isn’t high school. I don’t start fights.”

  The sigh of relief had barely escaped my lips when, from the corner of my eye, I saw Ann throw herself at her horn. The loud honk seemed to echo for seconds after Ann pulled back.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “That one there.” Ann pointed toward a statuesque blonde who’d been about to step into the Jetta. Her hair was long, swept away from her face and held in place by a pink clip. The clip was the perfect match of her high-heeled pumps and floral dress.

  She was very pretty. In fact, she seemed perfect. Not a hair out of place, not a stitch of clothing rumpled. This girl was, in a word, the “Anti-Ann”.

  Along with the other people who’d exited the building, this woman turned to see where the noise had come from.

  Ann waved a hand at Gerard’s new girlfriend, a bright smile affixed to her face. “Come here,” she pronounced carefully, so the girl could read her lips.

  “What the hell are you doing, Ann?”

  “Shh.” Ann said.

  The woman looked around for a moment, unsure of what to do. But when Ann waved again, motioning for her to come over, the blonde seemed to come to a decision.

  Cautiously, she started for the truck. When she got to Ann’s open window, Ann offered her a shake. The bright smile remained in place.

  “I’m Beverly,” Ann said.

  I groaned. Whatever was about to happen, I was sure I wouldn’t like it.

  “Candace,” the girl said, clasping Ann’s hand and shaking it.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Ann began, “but I figured you should know.”

  “Know what?” Candace asked.

  “I’m Gerard’s ex.” Ann waited for a reaction. When none came she continued. “I broke up with Gerard last month because he gave me chlamydia.”

  Candace, who’d been leaning into the car, abruptly straightened and took a step back. “What did you say?”

  Ann nodded. “The bastard didn’t say a word about having it.”

  Candace’s mouth opened, shut, and then opened again. “Who are you?”

  “We were dating seven months before I found out. Anyway, I thought you should know.”

  “Gerard hasn’t said anything about having a health condition.”

  Ann gave Candace a condescending smile. “He goes to the block,” Ann said of Baltimore’s sex district, “and sleeps with strippers. He did it the entire seven months we were together. The bastard only admitted it to me when I confronted him about the chlamydia.”

  “Gerard’s not like that.”

  “I doubt he’s changed.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Ann shrugged. “I just thought you should know. Don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. Wish somebody had told me about it before I slept with him.” Ann paused, gasped, and clutched her throat. “You haven’t slept with him, have you?”

  Obviously dazed by this encounter, Candace shook her head no and took another step away from the truck.

  “Good. Don’t.” Ann smiled. “Have a nice day.” Mission accomplished, Ann put the car in drive, gave Candace enough time to take another step back, then pulled out of the parking spot.

  For a long time I didn’t say anything. I stared at Ann as she maneuvered the truck through the stop and go traffic on I-95 and would have remained silent had I not seen the slight quiver of her lips when she was pulling onto Pratt Street.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Ann finally said.

  “So are you.”

  Ann snorted. “She’s perfect though. Like something out of a movie. No way Gerard’s breaking up with her.”

  A lone tear slid down Ann’s cheek and plopped onto her shoulder.

  “Why don’t you stay at my place again tonight. We’ll watch movies, eat junk food, and stay up all night.”

  Sniffling, she nodded. “I’ll swing by my place and pick up some clothes.” She paused. “I hate feeling like this. I absolutely hate it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  2/4/05 7:45 p.m.

  I’ve spent the last two days avoiding the phone. Katarina has called a bazillion times about Stay Fit. I know I was supposed to go there on Wednesday, but I didn’t get a chance.

  After leaving the bank in Laurel and seeing Candace up close for the first time, Ann was devastated. “Why did she have to be so pretty?” She’d wanted to know. And, “Why did she have to drive a Jetta while I drive a man truck? Why did she have to have such perfect hair and such a perfect body?”

  I’d spent most of the night commiserating and trying to comfort Ann. When the task seemed too much for me I’d called in reinforcements. Katarina and Meagan arrived on the scene with a stack of DVDs, ice cream, and munchies. Though the movies had helped distract Ann for a while, they weren’t enough to get her feeling like her old self again.

  Today I’ve been dodging calls from Katarina and, surprise of surprises, Gerard. He wants to know why I let Ann tell Candace he slept with strippers and had STD’s. I didn’t have an answer for Gerard so I let him talk to my machine.

  In any case, I’m too mentally exhausted to even considered going to Stay Fit today.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  2/6/05 2:47 p.m.

  Had I really thought Jake had it in him to be reasonable? Had I forgotten how persuasive he could be? Yes and yes!

  Purposely, I waited until two in the afternoon to go to the gym. My hope was that by waiting I’d prevent a run in with Jake. I knew from experience that on a typical day, Jake showed up at five in the morning and was gone for the day by one. I left an extra hour in there for safety’s sake, figuring that by two he’d be long gone.

  At two p.m. sharp I sauntered through the lobby of Stay Fit, headed to the front desk, and asked to see the manager on duty.

  The guy behind the counter, a mega-sized man, gave me a gap-toothed grin and attempted to arch a brow. It was probably then that I should’ve turned tail and fled. Clearly this man knew who I was. I didn’t flee though. Instead, I scolded myself for being paranoid and made myself remain calm and impassive. I could handle this. I’d come prepared. I was dressed in a severe, black on black business suit, designer pumps, and showing just enough leg to titillate and tease. Decades earlier, women had mastered the art of looking professional and aloof while maintaining an in-your-face sex appeal. All women knew how off kilter this made a man, and I wasn’t above using this look to my advantage.

  My confidence lasted for about five seconds. The act crumpled as soon as Mega-Man said, “Ms. Rice, Jake is waiting for you. He said to bring you to his office when you got here.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “This way.” Mega-Man stepped from behind the counter and walked through the archway that led into the gym. He’d gone a good twenty feet before he’d realized I was still in the lobby. He paused, turned to look at me, and gave another go at raising his brow. “Coming?”

  I considered the question then nearly told him no. I thought better of it, reasoning that sooner or later I’d have to face Jake. Baltimore wasn’t the larg
est city in the world, and we were likely to come across one another in a restaurant or lounge one day. Either I turned tail and ran away from him today, dodge him the same way I’d dodged his calls, or I could be a woman and face him. After all, I hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who’d slept with me knowing he was involved with someone else. He was the one who’d pursued me until I gave in. He was the one who should be ashamed and running scared, not me.

  Deliberately, I held my head high and started forward.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Mega-Man as he led me through a side door I hadn’t noticed on my earlier visits to the gym. “I didn’t call Jake to tell him I was coming so hearing he’s been expecting me caught me off guard.”

  Mega-Man grunted. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to make of that, so I fell silent and followed him up a stairwell. As I stepped onto the first landing, I realized this would be the first time I’d get to see Jake’s office. Jake had two managers and three assistant managers at Stay Fit to cover the hours of operation. I’d been in the day manager’s office when I signed the Stay Fit contract, but that was down on the main level.

  The stairs led up to the second floor and ended abruptly facing a plain white wall. To my left was another white wall, but to my right was a door. Mega-Man rapped on the door three times then retreated down the stairs. He paused long enough to wink and give me another grunt.

  My stomach writhed. I was about to see Jake for the first time since the night at Hammerjacks when I’d caught him locking lips with his boyfriend, Cinder, a.k.a. Devlin. How on earth could I nonchalantly demand this guy break a fitness contract with me when last month I’d been tied to his four-poster bed being paddled within an inch of my life and loving every second? I’d explored my fetishes with this man, done things with him I’d never contemplated doing with another. I had oral sex, swallowed his love juice, been made love to while I intermittently moaned and screamed his name. Dear God, my entire family would live in shame if they knew half of what I’d done, and the sad truth was, I wanted to do every one of them again. And with Jake.