Pink Slipper

by Gina Robinson

  "So," I said. "We were going to talk about my insurance claim. You’ve read it?"

  He brushed my concerns aside again. "There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of it."

  Suddenly he was Mr. Fix-it? Like I could trust that.

  "Don’t worry! Willie, I’ve been accused of committing arson. And I’m innocent, I swear! We have to clear my good name and find out the real cause."

  I had a sudden flashback to the personality test I’d taken with Jean. I was sounding suspiciously idealistic, but fair is fair!

  I lowered my voice and tried to speak calmly. "Listen, Willie. I didn’t leave a pot of oil on the stove. Someone or something caused my fire and we don’t know who or what. Doesn’t that bother you?"

  "Not really."

  I opened my mouth to protest again and Willie shushed me. "I’ll take care of the report, babe. Leave it to me."

  Sean could call any woman babe and it would make her melt. When Willie said it, I got hackles.

  I opened my mouth to respond when who should suddenly appear at our table dressed in a big white apron? Tony Felice. Big Tony. Football captain class of . . . class of me and Willie. Object of many teenage fantasies.

  He came right up to Willie and slapped him on the back. "Trey, my man! So good to see you. Hope you’re enjoying my hospitality." He leaned in and whispered. "Thanks so much for clearing up my kitchen fire claim so quickly. Saved my ass." Big grin. "And Adestra, too."

  To me. "This man’s an insurance genius." Nod. "Do what he says. He’ll take care of you."

  Yeah, well, this seemed like a setup to me. Willie showing off and trying to impress me with his power and influence.

  "Hey, did you notice them setting up for a wedding down there when you came in?" Tony nodded toward the atrium outside the restaurant’s glass walls. "Vic Rubino. Finally making an honest woman out of Kate Clark." Booming laugh. "You should stop by, wish them luck. They’ll need it, eh?" More laughter. Then sudden seriousness. "No really. We’re catering. They’re serving Italian cream cake. Stop by. Check it out. My cousin did the cake. No one touches Gia in the baking, decorating department. Over a hundred gum-paste flowers on that cake. Gia made every one."

  Vic Rubino! One of the college prep guys from my class. Only my lab partner, study partner for eight million classes in high school. He’d be sure to rib me about Willie, even on his wedding day. I wasn’t going near that wedding.

  I was plotting my escape when Tony made an announcement. "Everybody. I’d like to congratulate my friend Willie Samson and his date Leesa Winsome. They were high school friends that are on their way to being adult sweethearts."

  Clapping. Lots of sighs and "isn’t that sweets." A big gag reflex in the back of my throat.

  Tony leaned in. "What do you want for dessert? It’s on me."

  I couldn’t stomach another mouthful of anything. I was too busy wondering if Vic had any Mafia connections in his family. Any that might be at his wedding and could do a job for me on the spot.

  Willie looked at me. "What would you like?"

  To go home.

  "I’m fine thanks. Totally stuffed. Couldn’t eat another bite."

  Then Tony insisted on giving us a tour of his kitchen where I ran into a girl I’d known at WI who’d left to go to culinary school. Smart girl.

  What was this? My quiet, anonymous evening had quickly turned into This is Your Life, Leesa Winsome. I expected to run into Dr. Anderson next, the obstetrician who’d delivered me. A quick exit, maybe a sudden illness. How fast could a case of food poisoning come on? That’d fix Tony.

  Finally, with Willie’s hand nestled in the small of my back, and me trying to shake it loose, we left the restaurant.

  You’d think it’d be easy to sneak past a wedding reception, right? Just plead a headache, look the other way, and march past. We’d almost reached the door. One more small step to freedom and—

  Vic’s best man, Carl Benedetti flung the exit door open as he came back from his best man duties of vandalizing, er, decorating the getaway vehicle. What gave him away? Oh, maybe it was the guilty expression, the lipstick on his sleeve, and the can of whipped cream sticking out of his pocket. He spotted me immediately.

  "Leesa! What are you doing here?" He grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. Then he pushed back from me and gave me the once-over, wearing a big grin and giving me the thumbs up. "Looking good. So great to see you! Come on in and meet the crowd. I didn’t know you and Vic still kept in touch?"

  I opened my mouth to answer, but he cut me short with a nod toward Willie. "You brought a date. Excellent."

  Carl dragged me in by the arm, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "What are you doing with Willie? I thought you spent high school trying to ditch him. Desperate are we?"

  I rolled my eyes.

  Aloud Carl said, "You have to wish Vic luck. Believe me, he needs it."

  When I spotted the bride and groom, I saw why. Kate was preggo to the point of bursting.

  Against my wishes, we ended up in the reception line. Vic saw me. Pulled me into a hug as I apologized for crashing. "Tony sent us."

  Vic announced to the entire vicinity, "Hey, look who’s here. The smartest girl in the class."

  Great. Nerd status revealed again to the few who might not remember it or know me.

  "The girl who single-handedly helped me pass physics."

  Lots of faces turned my way. I recognized over half of them. This was a freaking class reunion and since I scrupulously avoided the ten-year, I was hating this! Suddenly I was not a mature, confident woman. I was a nerdy, brainy girl shoved right back into my high school social status.

  Then Vic leaned into me and whispered, "What’s up with you and Willie? I thought you couldn’t stand that dweeb? You hard up or what?"

  I sighed. Like best man, like groom.

  "The answer would be ‘what.’ But that’s a long story. Let it drop, okay?" I pointed toward Kate and arched a brow.

  Vic laughed. "Yeah, that’s what finally brought us to the altar!"

  And none too soon from the look of things.

  * * *

  After suffering through too many dances with Willie. Drinking too much champagne. And eating three pieces of Italian cream cake, hey, they were small ones, anything to avoid those nasty questions, "What do you do now?" and "Where do you work?" I convinced Willie to take me home before I died of embarrassment, only I said, "Died of a bad headache."

  The moment I said it I had a flashback to the street musician guy. I had to think up a new line.

  In contrast to me, Willie positively glowed. And in opposition to my wishes, he didn’t drive me to my place, but to his. Being buzzed for the second night in a row, added to the fact that Willie lived in his childhood home just three blocks from mine, I didn’t notice until it was too late.

  Willie pulled the car to a stop. "My parents have their own condo now. I live alone." Willie gave me a meaningful look.

  Hadn’t I said that I had a headache? That had been inadvertent good planning on my part. I shot him a perturbed, "I’m not that kind of a girl" look. I said, very tactfully, "This is our first date. We don’t want to rush—"

  Then he pounced on me. Planted his face on mine. Pawed my breasts. And stuck his tongue down my throat! Who knew Willie could be so aggressive?

  I fought him off, or tried to. Bile rose in my throat. Finally, I bit his tongue.

  "Yeow! Dammit!" Long string of expletives from Willie.

  "I said this is the first date."

  "You drew blood."

  "Did not!" Hoped not. Willie’s blood in my mouth—I’d rather not go there!

  "What’s up with you?"

  "What’s up with me? This is our first," read, last, "date. I read in Cosmo that only thirty-three percent of women find it acceptable to kiss on the first date. And I’m part of the remaining sixty-seven percent." I slid out of the car.

  "Hey, wait, Leesa!" he said, getting out and slamming the door. "I’ll drive you hom
e."

  I hugged my purse to my side. "Thanks. But I’ll walk."

  Chapter 16

  Job-free days: 58

  August Unemployment Log

  Jobless days left: 3! My job offer from Howard is three days away!

  Applications to date: As it’s my last week to have to make my three stupid applications, I decided to have some fun. Applied for high-level, executive positions just for the heck of it. Hey, I’d like to make half a mil a year, plus bennies! A girl’s gotta dream. I mean if they can beat Howard’s offer, I’m game!

  Thoughts for the day:

  Coulomb’s Law: The fundamental law of electrostatics stating that the force between two charged particles is directly proportional to the product of their charges and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.

  Just boning up on the engineering. You know, so I’m ready for the big offer. Want to look on top of things. Technically with it. But as I did, I was struck how Coulomb’s Law describes Ryne and me. I’d say we were charged particles. Particularly in that dream I had last night. Very happy, satisfied sigh.

  * * *

  Roger, Bud, Candy, and Hank had decided to go rock climbing Saturday morning near Snoqualmie Falls. Rog and Bud were evidently experts. Candy and Hank were new to the sport and ready for adventure. I love the falls, but since I have a teeny fear of heights, which is really a fear of falling, I passed and decided to spend the day sleeping in and lounging around instead.

  I tripped downstairs when the doorbell rang about noon. Dad was just closing the door with his shoulder as I arrived at the foot of the stairs. "Finally, the lolligagger gets up." He was holding a huge gift basket. "For you."

  "You shouldn’t have," I said, taking it from him.

  "Don’t worry. I didn’t."

  I opened the card.

  Many thanks for saving my life and fixing my equipment. Regards, Ryne.

  I gave an involuntary sigh. Ryne had plenty of other equipment I wouldn’t mind tweaking.

  Dad shook his head, bemused. "Apology gift from Willie?"

  I shook my head, vehemently. "Hardly. You heard about that already?"

  "I went golfing with Junior this morning." Junior was Willie’s dad and Dad’s longtime friend. Pregnant pause. Finally, "Suppose you tell me your side of the story—what did you do on that date of yours last night to upset Willie?"

  "Why is everything my fault?" I asked.

  He didn’t answer. "So?"

  "He wanted to go further on our first date than I did, which means really anywhere. He jumped me and I threw him off and walked home."

  I swear Dad sighed in relief. "That’s my girl. Defend the virtue." Dad was smiling. "I was beginning to really worry, what with you actually going on a date with Willie after all these years. I figured you were either depressed or cracking up. Sounds like all’s right with the world again."

  I gave Dad a returning smile. "Sort of anyway."

  "You do realize, however, that Willie’s one ticked, humiliated boy?"

  "So what else is new?" I asked.

  "It’s a little late to be warning you, but maybe you should have waited to spurn him until after you got your money." He gave me raised eyebrows.

  "That’s what the dinner was about in the first place—trying to sweet talk him into speeding things up," I said. "As usual, nothing works with Willie."

  Dad nodded to the basket. "So who’s that from?"

  "A friend," I said and carried it upstairs to enjoy in private. Did this mean I had no reason to panic over that "bad advice" statement?

  * * *

  Hank called me that evening to tell me Candy had taken a spill on the hill. "She was trying to rappel down the wall and she slipped. She free fell almost twenty feet before Roger, who was her belayer, arrested her fall. Then, as she was hanging there, a gust of wind caught her and pounded her against the rock face.

  "Ohmygosh!"

  "Banged her up a bit before Roger could get her down and give her first aid. Good thing he’s almost a nurse.

  "Don’t worry about her. We rushed her to the nearest hospital. She’s fine and resting comfortably here at the condo now. Sprained wrist. Twelve stitches in her knee. Now she’s got the knee of Frankenstein. Finally, I have one body part that looks better than hers!"

  She paused for breath. "But the kneecap’s fine. Which the doctor said was lucky considering the bang it took. It’s got a real deep bruise, which is going to look hideous and hurt like hell as it heals. I told her it’s capris for her for the rest of the season. I’m going to have to go out and do some shopping for her."

  I imagined Hank shaking her head.

  "Our poor little skinned-knee pea," I said, sympathizing. "When you go out be sure and get her some of that scar-reducing cream." According to my sister it worked miracles. Julie had a gallon size jar of scar-reducing cream in her bathroom. She used it on everything from paper cuts to zits.

  "And some antibiotic ointment. That’s supposed to help the healing and reduce scarring, too. At least it does in the commercials."

  "Good idea. I’ll add those to the list." She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "I would have called earlier, but Roger finally left just minutes ago. I think Candy’s developing a form of hero worship on him. She keeps claiming that Roger saved her life by all his excellent belaying, and then, of course, his medical attention. It’s really disgusting, let me tell you. Roger’s old enough to be her dad."

  "Yeah, but he’s a great guy." I loved Roger, although, not in that way. "Some girls need a good father figure." Like me. I could use a good father, period.

  Hank sighed. "Yeah, you’re right. Candy’s dad is probably to blame in all this. He’s a real shit. If he’d been half a dad, she wouldn’t be so needy."

  "Well, I think this is all good news about Candy." But enough about Candy, I was dying for Hank’s opinion about my gift basket. I mean, what did it mean? I’d been mulling it over all alone for hours now! Simple thank you, or "hey, let’s start something"?

  I gave Hank the rundown and posed the questions, as casually as I could.

  "So describe it."

  "Huge. Wrapped in cellophane and tied with a pink bow."

  Yes! He’d gotten the color right!

  "Expensive woven basket. And it’s filled with coffee stuff. Chocolate covered coffee beans. Two pounds of Starbucks blend. A small coffee grinder. A little handheld electric milk frother. Chocolate syrup. Three kinds of flavorings. A small box of truffles. A scone mix. A Starbucks gift card. A cookbook—Cooking with Coffee. And two insulated, thermal Starbucks mugs. One blue and one pink!" I paused. "Did I tell you that we met in Starbucks?"

  "Wow! Sounds custom made. That’s a good sign. Okay, here’s the big test—approximate retail value?"

  "Let me see. The gift card is for fifty. Plus two mugs at about fifteen each. Twenty or so for the grinder. The same, at least for the frother—"

  "Easily over a hundred," Hank interrupted. "And two mugs, did you say?"

  "Yup."

  "You’re in girl! This man’s interested. It sounds like coffee for two." Pause. "Change that. This is definitely breakfast in bed!"

  Sometimes I loved Hank!

  Then she said, "Candy’ll want to hear this. Let me just get her opinion."

  A moment later, Candy squealed into the phone, "Definite interest! Go for it!"

  Chapter 17

  Job-free days: 60

  August Unemployment Log

  Jobless days left: 0 Zero. Zip. Zilcho. Nada. Nil. Today is it! The day SAPS posts it numbers and Howard calls and gives me my excellent offer.

  Goals:

  1. Find a mostly perfect man and marry him. Hot on the trail of this one! Ryne is interested.

  2. Get my insurance money and spend appropriately. Silence from Willie.

  3. Restore bungalow. Gus is hard at work. Progress has continued despite my inability to pay. I stop by every few days when I feed Fluffy and look things over.

  4
. Secure the perfect job. Today, today, today!

  5. Spend an hour each day exercising. Does walking around a winery count?

  6. Eat at least two ounces of chocolate per day. I indulged in a few of the chocolates Ryne sent in that basket. He intended me to eat them or he wouldn’t have sent them. Obviously, he does not think I’m too fat.

  * * *

  First order of business—check the SAPS website for the numbers. This sounded like an easy task. After all, I had complete confidence in Howard’s inside information. I really did. But that didn’t stop my heart from pounding and my palms from sweating as I logged on to the SAPS site.

  SAPS Announces Second Quarter Earnings. The headline popped up on the main page, blinking and just asking to be clicked on.

  Deep breath, Leesa. I clicked. I prayed. I read. And then I hopped out of my chair and did the dance of joy!

  SAPS announces second quarter profits above analysts’ expectations. SAPS stock upgraded . . .

  "Oh, happy day!" I sang aloud, dancing along.

  Dad pounded on my door. "What’s going on in there? Something wrong?"

  The guy couldn’t tell joy from distress? Dad really was an emotional abyss, a complete insensitive guy. I opened my door and pointed to my laptop on the desk. "SAPS’s numbers are out and better than expected. So now, any minute, Howard will be calling me with my offer. And then, I’ll get to move out and be out of your hair."

  Dad gave me the deadpan look. Not an ounce of humor or joy in it. Probably he wasn’t happy because he’d failed in his nefarious plot to bring me back into WAR. Once I had Howard’s fabulous job, there’d be no way to lure, con, or coerce me back into working for the family business.

  "If he keeps his promise and wasn’t just putting you off."

  Why was everyone such a skeptic?

  "Make sure you take the trash out before you go off to your meeting today." He snorted the word "meeting" to show his opinion of JCG.