A Mile High Surprise

by Cassidy Coal

  Sarah couldn't explain it. None of her family would understand because they hadn't had to live that life every single day. The looks, the silent judgment, the feeling like she'd never really belong. It had all been that much worse when she was with Tyler. Like he'd wake up one day and look at her and realize what she really was—a trailer park queen that didn't deserve to be with the likes of him.

  She wanted to be wealthy someday, (didn't everybody?) but she knew now that she'd never be able to fit herself into their mold.

  No, if she was going to do this, she needed to do it her way.

  She took a sip of beer. "I want to start a business."

  "What business?"

  Sarah took another swig of beer. "I'm not sure yet. I have a few ideas, though."

  "You could've stayed on until you were, you know." Mary pushed the swing back and forth with her foot, the small squeaking noise a sad accompaniment to her words.

  Sarah laughed. "If I'd waited to be sure, I'd've never left. By the way, you still making those scarves?"

  Mary had given her a scarf for Christmas that was absolutely gorgeous—she'd received more compliments on it than on anything else she owned.

  "Yeah, I try to find the time to experiment with them here or there, although I don't really know what to do with them once they're made. I mean, how many fancy scarves does one person need?"

  As they talked, the wheels started to turn in Sarah's mind. She'd been worried about leaving her family behind, but maybe, just maybe she could find a way to bring them with her…

  * * *

  Over the course of the next two months, Sarah's idea blossomed into a full-blown business plan until she found herself in her mom's kitchen smiling at her four new business partners: her sister, Mary; her best friend, Hannah; her mom; and Jane. (Who'd waited until she received her bonus from Corrigan, Inc. and then quit because "it wasn't any fun without you around to keep people on their toes.")

  "Anything else we've missed?" Sarah asked.

  Each woman shook her head.

  "Then let's try this thing."

  They'd taken Mary's scarf idea and fancied it up. Custom pieces deserved a custom price and they were going to sell the scarfs at local boutiques for $1,000 each. Maybe more. They'd keep upping the price until the scarves sold—rich people were weird that way. It wasn't about price it was about status.

  Thanks to Jane's connections, they already had an order for five scarves from Madame Claire's. Not a bad start for four women working out of a trailer.

  Sarah was proud. More proud than she'd ever been working for Corrigan, Inc. But she missed Tyler. There was a great big hole in the center of her chest and nothing she did could fill it.

  She'd been tempted to try—her ex from high school was back in town and sniffing around—but she was still on a man hiatus for another week. Good thing, too, because Billy was the worst possible mistake she could make right now.

  It didn't help that Tyler was all over the place these days—Forbes, Fortune, the Wall Street Journal. Everywhere she looked she saw him smiling back at her with those intense green eyes like he knew something she didn’t.

  She'd made the right decision, she knew she had. But some days were harder than others. Like now. All she wanted was to tell him what she was doing and bounce ideas off him and have him tell her how proud he was and that he didn't doubt she'd succeed.

  She missed him.

  A man like that…Hell, a person like that, was rare.

  But it was her fault he wasn't in her life.

  He'd tried to call after she quit, but she'd ignored his calls. And Jane assured her he was behind the sizable severance check she'd received, the check that had made this whole venture possible.

  She missed him terribly and wanted to call him every single day, but she wouldn't. No point.

  There was no future for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks and the boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Jane waved two gold-embossed invitations in front of them. "Look what I snagged us! Seats at the annual Golden Gala." She was practically dancing around the room.

  Mary and Sarah's mom glanced at each other. Mary shrank down in her seat, shaking her head. "I won't go."

  "But you have to! This is our big chance to impress all the society types at once. We donated a scarf to the charity auction, too. Just think! It might go for thousands and then everyone will want one and they'll want to meet the designer."

  Mary frowned. "No. I won't do it. I can't do it. It's not me. I'm just a seamstress."

  Jane stared at her, mouth hanging open.

  "Me neither." Sarah's mom crossed her arms tight across her chest. "You go. Take Sarah or Hannah."

  Hannah glanced up from playing with her phone. "Can't. I have my son that weekend and I'm not going to leave him with a sitter just to mingle with the uppity ups. Count me out."

  Jane turned to Sarah. "I guess it's just you and me then."

  Sarah opened her mouth and closed it again. Tyler was going to be there. It was all over the papers—Corrigan, Inc. was the major sponsor of the event. She couldn't go.

  Jane narrowed her eyes. "You're going, Sarah."

  Sarah bit her lip, but before she could say anything, Jane stepped close and whispered. "I know he's going to be there. That's the whole point. We need the boost his attention will give us."

  Sarah stared at her goggle-eyed. "You want me to use him?"

  "Yes. Exactly. He owes you that much, doesn’t he?"

  Did he? What had he done that he'd owe her anything?

  He'd been good to her. He hadn't led her on or used her or…

  He'd loved her. And she'd loved him. It wasn't anyone's fault that it hadn't worked. So how could she set out to use him like that?

  Jane shook her head. "You're too nice, Sarah. If it's any consolation, it seems Fiona Jones will be there on his arm—like she has been for every major event the last month."

  Sarah suppressed the wave of fury that passed through her at the thought that Tyler had replaced her with that, that emaciated, cadaverous, vile, pretentious excuse for a woman.

  Maybe Jane was right. Maybe he did owe her.

  * * *

  Sarah stared at herself in the full-length mirror in Jane's apartment and barely recognized herself.

  She was wearing a form-fitting red dress with a cut up the left side that reached just a tad above mid-thigh and had a plunging neckline that drew attention to her ample curves. She'd be damned if she was going to try to blend in with these people. She was who she was and she wasn't afraid to flaunt it.

  So she said, but she was scared as hell, her stomach fluttering at the thought of so many people watching her every move.

  Jane came to stand beside her wearing a flattering but forgettable black dress. It wasn't too short or too long, the neckline was somewhat low but not so low that there was any risk of showing off anything inappropriate. It was how Sarah should've dressed.

  "They're going to skewer me," Sarah said.

  Jane gave her a side hug as they stared at their images in the mirror. "Hardly. Every man in that room is going to want you."

  "And the women?"

  Jane laughed. "They'll be too busy debating the calories in everything to even care."

  "You know we need them to notice so they'll buy our product, right?"

  Jane shrugged. "Not if we get their husbands to notice. Here." She settled the stunningly-beautiful red and black drape that Mary had made over Sarah's shoulders. "Now let's go turn some heads."

  * * *

  Sarah walked up the stairs to the Natural History Museum with her head held high, forcing herself to breathe slowly. This was nothing. These people put on their pants one leg at a time just like her. Forget the fact that those pants probably cost more than her monthly rent or that someone else picked those pants up from the cleaners and laid them out on the bed for them.

  She was equal to anyone, anywhere, damn it. And sh
e wasn't going to let them forget it.

  As she reached the top step, an older woman in a blue sequined gown approached her.

  "That wrap is absolutely exquisite. Where did you get it?"

  Sarah tried not to smile too much at the woman's question. Their plan was working. "A designer friend of mine made it exclusively for me. I know she sells some scarfs through Madame Claire's as well, but…" Sarah glanced around as if making sure no one was eavesdropping. "Her best work is the work she does to order. Here. Tell her Sarah sent you."

  Sarah slipped the woman one of the business cards they'd created just for this event. Printed on heavy card stock with embossed lettering, it just screamed high-end.

  "Thank you." The woman tucked the card away in her purse and wandered away smiling.

  Jane stepped up to Sarah's side. "One down, hundreds to go…" She too had a gorgeous wrap draped over her shoulders—this one was sapphire blue and black and matched the color of Jane's eyes perfectly. "Shall we mingle?"

  Sarah desperately wanted to stay next to Jane for the entire night, but they'd agreed before they arrived that they'd split up and wander the room. More opportunity to attract clients.

  Sarah nodded.

  She took a deep breath and set off to peruse the silent auction tables. She saw the open bar on her way and hesitated for just a moment, desperate for a quick shot of whiskey, but forced herself to continue towards a large painting displayed on the far left table.

  * * *

  Sarah studied the painting. The note said it was an impressionist painting. The name was one she'd never heard before, but obviously others had because the bid amounts already listed were more than most houses would sell for. Donated from the personal collection of Mr. Tyler Corrigan, of course.

  Show off.

  She was about to move on to the next item—a luxurious fur coat—when a man approached her. He was older, his hair graying at the edges in a very dignified way, tall, and slim. His tuxedo was impeccable and he was clearly used to owning a room since he walked straight through people to reach her side.

  Sarah smiled at him. Normally she would look away from a strange man who approached her so boldly, but she was here to make connections and sell a product, so she held his gaze.

  "Good evening." He bowed his head towards her.

  She pulled her drape a little closer. "Good evening."

  "Wonderful event isn’t it? Such a good cause." He eyed the wrap appreciatively.

  She tried to remember what cause the event was raising money for, but couldn’t. It was different each year. "Yes, it is."

  "Indeed. I always like to help those less fortunate." He glanced around the room. "Are you here alone?" He raised one eyebrow in polite surprise.

  "Oh, well. I'm here with my friend, Jane. We're, uhm, starting a new business and thought this would be a good opportunity to find clients."

  He stepped closer. "I thought as much." He smiled down at her, his voice deepening. "Have you found any yet for this evening?"

  Sarah puzzled over the way he phrased the question, but answered. "Uh, no. We just arrived."

  His gaze slowly roamed up and down her body. "Excellent. So glad you're still available. I find myself without a companion for the evening."

  "A companion? For what exactly?" Sarah frowned at him.

  He took another step closer and glanced around carefully as he spoke. "For…companionship."

  Sarah guffawed, the sound drawing the attention of a handful of people who frowned in her direction before turning away again.

  The man stepped back, his shoulders stiffening. "You're not a, uh, professional?"

  Sarah stared at him. Was he serious?

  She glanced to the side to make sure no one could hear them. "Did you honestly think I was a hooker? What the fuck man."

  "Well…" He sniffed delicately. "I couldn't see any other reason for you to be here. You clearly aren't the type to normally attend such an event."

  Sarah took a deep breath, ready to spew a little trailer park justice on his ass, but Tyler Corrigan walked up just as boldly as you please before she could. He extended his hand to the man. "Thaddeus Brooks. How are you?"

  "Tyler Corrigan. Good to see you. And where's the fetching Fiona Jones this evening?"

  Sarah turned away from both of them in disgust. Let Tyler and Thad chat like old buddies, she was getting the hell out of there.

  She made a beeline for the open bar. "Whiskey, neat, two fingers, please."

  The bartender nodded approvingly and poured her a glass. She downed it and set it back on the table. The fire of the whiskey burned all the way down her throat and into her belly. "Another, please."

  Tyler came and leaned against the counter next to her, but she ignored him. She downed the second shot and was about to tell the bartender to make her a third, when Tyler placed a hand over the glass, a hundred dollar bill held between his fingers as he caught the bartender's gaze.

  "That's enough, I think."

  When the man took the bill, Tyler added, "Keep the change."

  Sarah glared at him, but she wasn't going to engage. Not here. Not now.

  She turned and walked away, but Tyler wasn't giving up that easily. He followed as she made her way towards Jane. "You look amazing, by the way."

  "Thanks."

  "So how do you know Thaddeus Brooks?"

  She laughed. "I don't. He thought I was a whore that he could pay to entertain him tonight."

  Tyler tripped. He raced to catch up to her. "Are you serious?"

  She nodded.

  "Sarah, I am so sorry. I don't know what he was thinking."

  She whirled on him, her voice low so no one else would hear her. "He was thinking what everyone else in this room knows. That I don't belong here. That I'm not one of you. Good thing you have Fiona Jones now. I'm sure she fits in perfectly."

  She turned away again and Tyler grabbed her elbow, firmly enough to steer her towards the patio, but not so hard that she couldn't break away if she wanted to. "Outside. Now," he hissed in her ear.

  They were silent as they pushed their way through the crowd and out onto the abandoned patio—a small space with white metal chairs and tables clustered in the center with an amazing view out over the city.

  "What do you want, Tyler? Why can't you just leave me alone?" she demanded as soon as they were outside.

  "I missed you. I wanted to say hi to you. To see how you are."

  She pulled the wrap tight around her shoulders. "I'm fine, thank you for asking."

  She started to push past him towards the door, but he stepped in her way. "Wait. Sarah…"

  The way his voice dropped lower and the clean, crisp smell of his cologne reminded her of all those glorious times they'd spent together. The feel of his body against hers, his lips on her flesh, the way he'd driven her to new heights of passion she'd never known before…

  "What? What do you want from me?" She almost shouted the words. She glared at him. "Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?"

  He shook his head. "I've missed you."

  "So what? I've missed you, too, but that doesn't change anything. You still travel too much for me to ever be with you."

  He stared at her like a hurt puppy dog and she suddenly felt the urge to hold him close and never let go, to comfort away all his hurt and pain. But she couldn't. They were over. For good.

  She glared at him instead. "I need to get back inside."

  She wanted to push past him but didn't dare touch him, afraid what that small touch might spark between them.

  "I've missed you, Sarah. I've missed you so much." He reached for her but she backed away, almost tripping over a white metal chair.

  "Don't."

  "Sarah…"

  She shook her head. "You have Fiona now. She's a better match for you."

  He laughed—a short, sharp bark of sound. "Fiona?" He shook his head. "Business only, Sarah. I've told you. She's not the type of woman I want. You are."

  "W
ell, then I guess you should start trolling the new hires, because you and I are done."

  He blinked at her, clearly offended by the comment.

  "Sarah. What can I do to repair things between us?"

  She pulled her wrap closer as a cool breeze blew her hair about her face. "You can't." She knew she owed it to Jane and her sister and her mother and Hannah to use this moment to ask him to bid on their scarf, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't ask for his help.

  Because he'd do it. And then what?

  Could she still hold herself apart from him, turn him aside, knowing how she'd asked for his help and he'd given it so freely, so willingly?

  No.

  Someone opened a door at the far end of the patio and Sarah turned towards them.

  Before Tyler could say anything more, Sarah walked away. She managed to keep her head high and walk slowly until she was through the door but then she shoved through the crowd as fast as she could and hid in the bathroom.

  She was shaking, but she refused to cry. Not tonight, not with Fiona Jones somewhere out there watching and gloating like an ugly white spider.

  It was over. It had been over forever. They'd been doomed to fail before they ever even started.

  She could see that. Why couldn't he?

  * * *

  Jane found her and dragged her back out to the party a half hour or so later.

  "Did you manage to make even one contact?" Jane asked as she pushed Sarah back into the midst of the crowd.

  "As a matter of fact…Turns out the sitting area of a fancy bathroom is a great place to talk about fashion. I gave out ten cards while I was in there."

  Jane glanced at her sideways. "Really?"

  "Really."

  "Oh good."

  "And you?"

  Jane licked her lips before answering and darted a nervous glance at Sarah.

  "What, Jane?"

  She shrugged. "I was doing well. I was."

  "But…"

  "Then I ran into Mr. Corrigan."

  "Tyler?"

  Jane raised an eyebrow at her. "Only you get to call him Tyler. He's still Mr. Corrigan to me."