by Laura Levine
By now she’d stuck so many pins in Voodoo Tommy, stuffing was beginning to pop out from the holes.
I spent the next hour grinding out Tommy’s stupid love poem—an ode so gooey, I’m surprised the paper didn’t stick to the printer when I printed it out.
But Tommy gave me a grudging “not bad” when I showed it to him in the library, where I found him leafing through a Bentley brochure.
“Thanks,” I said, quickly scooting away before he could make another pass at me.
What with Daisy and Tommy off in Malibu, Kate and I ate lunch at our desks—scrumptious mushroom and gruyere cheese omelets. With just the tiniest sliver of flourless chocolate cake for dessert.
After plucking the last flourless crumbs from my plate, I checked my emails and groaned at the latest news from Tampa Vistas.
Poor Mom. Not only did she have to put up with Daddy’s haircut from hell, now she had to sit by and watch another skirmish in Daddy’s ongoing rivalry with his archenemy, Lydia Pinkus. So awkward for Mom, since Lydia is one of her BFFs.
But I couldn’t fret about Mom, not with Clarissa Weatherly stomping her dainty feet in the wings.
By now, my plucky heroine had packed her bags and was headed off to find passion and profits in the turquoise mines. I pounded away on her saga until four PM, when it was time for tea.
Kate was out running errands for Tommy, so I was alone when I made my way down the back hallway. I was just about to step into the foyer when I heard voices. Peeking around the corner, I saw Esme staring at Tommy, slack-jawed.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” she was saying.
“Nope, dead serious,” Tommy replied, clad in a crisp linen shirt and trousers, no doubt laboriously ironed by Solange. “I’m slashing Daisy’s donation to your charity.”
“But you can’t!” Esme cried. “The Bel Air Animal Welfare League would be lost without Daisy’s funding.”
“Not my problem,” Tommy drawled. “Now that I’m managing Daisy’s finances, I’ve got other plans for how to spend her money.”
“On yourself, no doubt.”
“You know what they say,” he smirked. “Charity begins at home.”
“This is outrageous!” Esme fumed. “I can’t believe Daisy would withdraw her support from such a worthy cause.”
“You’d better believe it. She’s already signed off on it. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s gaga over me. She’ll do anything I want. I’m in charge here now.”
“That’s what you think, buddy,” Esme snarled, eyes blazing. “I’m going to tell Daisy exactly what a lowlife you are and how you’re just using her for her money.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tommy said with a chilling smile. “Like I said, the old girl is crazy about me. I can promise you that if it’s a contest between me and you, you’re going down in flames.”
And just like that, Esme caved.
She knew Tommy was right; there was no way she was going to win this battle.
Shoulders slumped in defeat, she headed into the living room.
Tommy strolled in after her with all the confidence of a man who knew he had Daisy Kincaid wrapped around his little finger.
* * *
After waiting a few judicious minutes, I made my way to the living room, where Tommy was lounging next to Daisy on one of the sofas, admiring his reflection in the blade of his Swiss Army Knife.
Clayton and Esme sat across from them, Esme still in shock over the financial blow her charity had just been dealt.
Abandoning his tennis whites, Clayton had shown up for this momentous occasion in a suit and tie, a bright red carnation in his lapel.
“Come in, Jaine!” Daisy said, catching sight of me. As always, she was decked out in turquoise, her Insta-Lift face beaming. “Help yourself to something to eat.”
She pointed to a fine china plate laden with Ding Dongs.
“I thought we’d try something different today. Instead of petit fours, Tommy suggested we have Ding Dongs. Isn’t that fun?”
I’ll say this much about the guy. He may have been an appalling excuse for a human being, but I liked his taste in junk food. And yet I could not possibly allow myself to eat one of those chocolate calorie fests—not after the flourless chocolate cake I’d had for lunch.
I was still shuddering at the thought of Dickie having a smaller waist than me. I absolutely, positively had to cut down on my calories.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I said, reaching for one.
What can I say? I’m impossible.
Tommy grabbed one, too—instantly getting a glob of cream filling on his linen shirt—a stain certain to drive Solange bonkers.
Esme and Clayton didn’t touch the Ding Dongs, however, eyeing them as if they were chocolate-covered vermin.
“Thank you so much, my dear friends,” Daisy said, “for stopping by today. As you know, Jaine and I have been working on my romance, Fifty Shades of Turquoise, and I’ve asked you here to read you the first chapter.”
“It’s our pleasure, Daisy!” Clayton said, shooting her a worshipful smile.
Daisy cleared her throat and began reading Chapter One of our tale of love in the turquoise mines, her face flushed with pleasure at every breathless beat of Clarissa Weatherly’s adventures.
The minute Daisy finished, Clayton jumped up, applauding: “Bravo! Bravo!”
Tommy, with a wink at me, chimed in: “Great job!”
Only Esme refrained from joining the chorus of praise, staring off into space, distracted. Clearly she hadn’t heard a word of our purple-prosed saga.
“And what did you think, Esme?” Daisy asked, eager for approval.
“It was divine, darling,” Esme replied, rousing herself from her stupor and managing a weak smile.
“Bound to be a best seller!” Clayton enthused.
“You’re too kind,” Daisy said, blushing.
I’ll say he was. The closest that book was going to get to the best seller list would be if it were lying on top of The New York Times Book Review.
“And now,” Clayton said, “if you don’t mind, I’ve got something romantic I’d like to recite.”
Daisy blinked in surprise.
“Why, of course, Clayton. Go right ahead.”
And with that, he got down on one knee in front of Daisy.
“Daisy, my dear. From the very first day I saw you at my mailbox, I’ve adored you. Will you do me the very great honor of becoming my bride?”
Taking a ring box from his pocket, he opened it to reveal a mega-carat diamond engagement ring.
No wonder he was spiffed up in his suit and carnation. He’d come to propose.
Daisy flushed, taken aback.
“I’m so very sorry, Clayton. I can’t marry you. I was just about to break the happy news. Tommy’s asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes.”
Clamping a possessive arm around Daisy’s shoulder, Tommy lobbed Clayton a look of sheer triumph.
Clayton and Esme just sat there, aghast.
I myself was so gobsmacked, I could hardly finish my second Ding Dong.
Chapter 13
And that was only Act One of the day’s drama. We were all sitting there after the wedding announcement—Daisy beaming, Tommy smirking, the rest of us looking like mourners at a wake—when the silence was shattered by a loud banging at the front door.
Solange hurried off to get it, and seconds later a statuesque brunette with battleship boobs and legs that wouldn’t quit came charging into the room. Standing with her hands on her hips, breathing fire, she reminded me of a low-rent Wonder Woman.
“You no good SOB!” she cried, spotting Tommy. “Running out on me without even a text!”
For the first time since he sauntered into La Belle Vie, Tommy seemed rattled.
“I’ve been trying to track you down for ages,” Wonder Woman said through gritted teeth. “I finally found out where you were when I opened my Uber account and saw you used it to get a ride over here!”
>
Eyes blazing, she charged at him, straddling him as he sat on the sofa, her hands closing tight around his neck.
We all watched as Tommy struggled to pry himself free from her grip—Daisy, horrified; the rest of us loving every minute of it. I’m certain that, had we been polled, the general consensus in the room would have been, “Go, Wonder Woman!”
Alas, Tommy managed to break free.
“What’s this all about, Tommy?” Daisy asked. “How do you know this young woman?”
“I’ll tell you how he knows me!” Wonder Woman piped up. “He’s my cheating, dirtbag of a boyfriend, and he owes me ten grand in back rent.”
Oh, happy day! It looked like our collective prayers had been answered. Tommy had a jilted ex-girlfriend, whom he apparently abandoned without a smidgeon of remorse. Surely Daisy would see him for the bum that he was.
Daisy turned to Tommy, her brow wrinkled in consternation.
“Is this true?”
By now Tommy had recovered his cool.
“Yes, Daisy,” he replied, smooth as silk, “it’s true that Arlene and I were involved, but it was a troubled relationship from the beginning. When I met you, I’d already decided to move out. It was only when I got to know you that I discovered true love.”
Oh, glug. If he spewed any more sap, he’d turn into a maple tree.
Wonder Woman’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.
“You’re in love with her?” she asked, pointing to Daisy. “But she’s old!”
A harsh assessment, but sadly true.
Poor Daisy looked stricken.
Tommy put a comforting arm around her shoulder, drawing her close to his side.
“Age is just a number, Arlene. And in my eyes, Daisy is Number One.”
He gazed down at Daisy, doing a great impersonation of a guy deeply in love.
And much to my dismay, Daisy seemed to melt at his touch.
“Oh, please!” Wonder Woman snorted. “I hope you’re not buying any of this, lady,” she said to Daisy. “Tommy’s full of crap, always has been.”
“Don’t tell me you actually believe him?” Clayton echoed.
“Yes, Clayton,” Daisy said firmly. “I do.”
I felt the Ding Dongs churning in my stomach as she shot Tommy her sweet smile.
“How much does he owe you?” she asked, turning to Wonder Woman.
“Ten thousand dollars. Plus $13.75 for the Uber ride.”
“I can pay you five thousand,” Tommy offered. “That’s how much I’ve saved since I started working for Daisy.”
“No, Tommy,” Daisy protested. “I don’t want you to wipe out your savings. Wait here,” she said to Wonder Woman. “I’ll go write you a check. Whom shall I make it out to?”
“Arlene Zimmer.”
And off Daisy went to write Arlene Zimmer a check.
Any hopes we’d entertained that Tommy would be booted out of La Belle Vie had been shattered to oblivion. It looked like Tommy had survived Wonder Woman’s coup and was back on the throne, the undisputed king of the castle.
Chapter 14
And so began Tommy’s reign of terror.
When I showed up for work the next morning, I found Kate huddled in the kitchen with Raymond and Solange, wallowing in misery.
Kate was eating ice cream straight from the carton while Raymond and Solange had opted for something stronger, swigging shots from a bottle of scotch.
“Daisy was just here,” Kate said, scooping up a mound of fudge ripple. “She’s cutting our salaries by twenty percent.”
So Esme wasn’t the only one who’d taken a financial hit now that Tommy was ruling the roost.
“Tommy sold Daisy some bill of goods about how she’s living beyond her means and has to cut back on expenses,” Solange said, taking a healthy slug of scotch.
“This from the guy who just ordered himself a Bentley.” Kate rolled her eyes in disgust. “I saw the payment when I was going through Daisy’s online bank account.”
Raymond bypassed his shot glass and swigged straight from the bottle.
“There’s no way I can work for that jerk,” he said. “We have to start looking for another job, Solange.”
“And risk losing the one hundred thousand Daisy’s leaving us in her will?”
“Dammit, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.”
I remembered Kate telling me that Daisy had left her employees money in her will, but I had no idea she’d been so generous.
It would be hard indeed to walk away from such a large inheritance.
“Looks like we’re trapped working for Tommy the Terrible,” Kate moaned. “Could things be any worse?”
As it turned out, they could.
* * *
That afternoon, I was banging away at Fifty Shades when Solange showed up and told me Daisy wanted to see me in the living room.
“She’s with her attorney,” Solange whispered, eyes wide with concern.
I found Daisy perched on the living room sofa, paperwork scattered in front of her on the coffee table.
Tommy, as usual, sat glued to her side.
Seated on her other side was a no-nonsense African American woman in an impeccably tailored suit.
“Jaine, dear,” Daisy said. “I’d like you to meet my attorney, Sandra Kass.”
The attorney nodded at me briskly.
“I’ve made a few changes to my will,” Daisy explained, “and I need you to be a witness.”
“You sure you’re okay with these changes?” the attorney asked, staring intently at Daisy.
“She’s sure,” Tommy snapped.
“Yes, of course.” Daisy took Tommy’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’m absolutely sure.”
“Well, then. Let’s do it,” said the attorney.
She handed Daisy a pen, and Daisy signed the document with a flourish. Then the attorney, acting as a witness, added her own signature.
Finally it was my turn.
“Sign right here,” Sandra Kass, Esquire, said to me, “and fill in your address.”
With heavy heart, I signed the document, certain that Tommy had just become a very lucky beneficiary.
“That does it,” said the attorney when I’d finished. “You’re all set, Daisy.”
Tommy preened much like Prozac when she’s just snagged an especially juicy piece of pepperoni from my pizza.
“Jaine, dear,” Daisy said, handing me the will, “give this to Kate and have her file it away. And thank you so much for helping out.”
“No problem,” I said, making my exit.
Because Daisy’s will was a private document and absolutely none of my business, I promptly proceeded to read it the minute I cleared the foyer.
My eyes bugged out at the very first paragraph.
I’d expected Tommy to inherit a nice chunk of change. But according to that momentous first paragraph, Daisy was leaving all—I repeat all—her money to Tommy. With special instructions for Tommy to take care of Solange, Raymond, and Kate in the event of her death.
Yeah, right. The only person Tommy was going to take care of was himself.
The three ex-beneficiaries, and Voodoo Tommy, were waiting for me when I got back to the office.
They cringed when I showed them the will.
“That seals it,” Kate sighed. “We’re screwed.”
“Time to start looking for another job,” Solange agreed.
“If only this thing worked,” Raymond said, grabbing Voodoo Tommy from Kate’s desk and giving it a particularly vicious stab in the neck.
A gesture I would remember only too well in the days to come.
Chapter 15
The lovebirds wanted a simple wedding. Just a handful of guests, with a ceremony in the living room, followed by lunch out on the patio.
Tommy had invited no one, which was no surprise to me.
All his pals were probably doing time in San Quentin.
Daisy was on cloud nine in the days leading up to the big even
t, lost in the throes of her May–December romance.
Sadly, she was flying solo.
Raymond, Solange, and Kate were moping around like zombies on Valium.
Clayton, usually a fixture at lunch, was nowhere to be seen. And Esme, when she dropped by to visit, was a shell of her former socialite self.
The day before the wedding, I came to work and found Esme in the living room, worry lines etched in her brow, texting on her cell phone. There was a slightly frantic air about her, as if she were sending out SOS messages from a desert island.
Once again, I remembered how stricken she’d been when Tommy threatened to slash funds to her charity.
“Hello, Jaine,” she said, catching sight of me.
Why, I wondered, was she sitting there all alone?
“Hi, Esme,” I replied. “Does Daisy know you’re here?”
“Yes, she knows. I’m waiting for her to get dressed. Today’s our spa day, her last as a single gal.”
She aimed for a tone of gay insouciance but didn’t even come close. Before Tommy, she’d have been upstairs with Daisy, keeping her company as she got dressed, laughing and trading tidbits of gossip.
As I bid her good-bye and stepped into the foyer, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door to find a burly, middle-aged guy in slacks and a collared polo, muscles bulging from the sleeves of his shirt.
In his hands he carried a beautifully wrapped gift box.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’m Marco,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Clayton Manning’s valet. Mr. Manning is out of town visiting his son in Carmel, and he asked me to drop off this wedding gift.”
“How nice!” I said, taking the elaborately wrapped present.
I just hoped that whatever was inside wasn’t ticking.
“Would you mind if I used your restroom before I left?” he asked. “Mr. Manning’s having some plumbing work done, and they shut off the water.”
“Of course.”
After dropping Clayton’s wedding gift on a table in the foyer, I led him to the bathroom across the hall from our office.
“Thanks,” he said at the bathroom door. “I’ll let myself out.”
I nodded good-bye and headed into the office, where Kate was on the phone, going over last-minute instructions with the florist.
