"Noooooooooo…" I groan. "It's not… How could he not… Oh my God, no wonder he was looking at me funny." Heading back to the couch, I drop heavily onto the cushions and lean over, burying my face in my hands as I curl into a protective ball. "He must think I'm a total head case. No wonder he kept asking if I was seeing someone else."
"Well, you can't expect him to not be curious if you show up for a date with visible love bites from someone else, so spill! Who were you with last night, and why have you been hiding him from me?"
Emma's eyebrows waggle at me, and although I know she's trying to make me laugh, I'm not ready to let go of my deep embarrassment yet.
"It's not a love bite! Daisy startled me, and I burned my neck with the curling iron this morning." I throw my head back to hit the soft cushions behind me before turning to where Emma is trying to stifle her laughter. "It's not funny, damnit, I'm completely humiliated. I kept wondering why he was staring at my necklace. I thought he was intrigued by my rune."
At this, Emma's laughter escapes in waves.
"Oh, he was intrigued all right. Probably wondering less about your rune and more about who 'ruined' you last night." Tears begin to leak from her eyes. "Only you, Josie. Although, now that I know it's a burn, it seems obvious, but…" Raising her shoulders in a shrug she continues to laugh at my expense.
"Well, fuck a duck! That's it, I'll never be able to face him again."
Shit, I can't believe I just humiliated myself in front of the first eligible man I've met in ages. Suddenly, Shana's speculative look flashes in my mind, and I groan again before my brain stutters to a complete stop. Mark obviously noticed, too.
Hiding my eyes with my hands, I sink further back into the sofa. "Why are you here? Just go away and let me curl up in my humiliation alone."
My knees pull up in a semblance of a fetal position as I plant my face firmly into the corner of the sofa, as if I can burrow into the crevice and hide away from the world.
"Oh, stop being so melodramatic! Seriously, he probably thought it was hot as hell. Guys like nothing better than knowing that someone else wants their toys. That's why the reverse harem thing works. All the guys are turned on by knowing they get a piece of something someone else wants equally as bad."
"That's fucked up and you know it, Emma." My voice is muffled as the words are sucked into the sofa cushions, until I feel Emma's hands trying to pull me upright.
"Come on, it's not that bad. Besides, I'm dying to know about the food. Is it as good as they say? And tell me about Mark Isaacs. Is he nice? Did you get to do more than shake his hand? Is he as gorgeous in person as he is in photos?"
Sniffing back my despair, I bob my head.
"He's really nice. He and Heath are friends, so he stopped to talk for a bit. He seemed amused that I actually wanted to eat his food. He joked with Heath about 'a woman who actually eats.' I have no clue what that means. When given the opportunity to eat gourmet food from a respected chef, why would you pass it up?"
"Well, you know the type. They get in front of a gorgeous guy and refuse to allow food to pass their lips. Or they pretend they only eat salads when you know damn well they're having an intimate orgy with no less than three flavors of Ben & Jerry's at night." The thoughtful look Emma gives me makes me squirm uncomfortably. "It's good that you enjoyed the food. Maybe you should set your sights on Isaacs instead, he'd be a spectacular catch."
"Oh, that would be really nice. Gee, Heath, thanks for the invite, it was great meeting Mark through you. We'll send you an invitation to the wedding." I laugh outright at the thought.
"Well, maybe not to the wedding, but you could invite him to the orgy."
"Trust me, Mark Isaacs has no interest in me other than being happy that I enjoy his food. Besides, I really enjoyed meeting Heath, he seems like a decent guy. You know I like them tall, and the baseball hats? His hair isn't thinning after all."
"Well that's a relief." Emma high fives me until I burst her bubble.
"He's a total cueball."
"Get out! Like he shaves it, or it doesn't exist?" I've got her now. If there's one thing we share, it's our love of a sexy bald head.
"Total Jean Luc Picard." I grin in satisfaction. "Probably thinning, so he took the leap to avoid the dreaded combover. In what universe do men think that makes sense?"
"Hmmmm… Well, that's something. Still, I wouldn't pass on Mark Isaacs too quickly. That could be quite the threesome."
"He is hot," I say ironically, "but you know I'm not into threesomes. I can't bear anything less than a full quartet."
Emma's laughter peals at my quip. "That's my girl! You'll eat those words yet. Or if you're lucky, they will. Maybe your story needs some court intrigue. Give it a little Marie Antoinette, let them all eat your cake, kind of flavor."
Ducking, Emma dodges the pillow flying toward her head before standing abruptly.
"Ok, I just stopped by to see if you had been working too hard and needed a break. Clearly, you need to turn today's events into some storyline. Get those juices flowing, so to speak. Call me later if you need a break."
Sinking back into the sofa, I begin to groan, then sit abruptly upright. She's right. A new character is forming in my mind, and Lady Sydney is about to get another suitor. The fact that he looks like Mark Isaacs is purely a coincidence.
Chapter 7
Pussy Got Run Over by a Reindeer
Fact. There's not enough caffeine in the world for some days. It's cliché, but that doesn't mean it's not true.
Thinking about the last three days, I'm worried about how hard Nate and I have been working the team, ripping up displays, moving displays, building displays.
Bribing everyone with pizza and smoothies was worth every penny to get some extra manpower off the clock, but the sheer bulk of hard labor Nate and I have managed to accomplish has me reaching over my shoulder to massage yet another knot in my back.
Despite all that, we still managed to focus on selling and handling the daily customers. Corporate gets all in a twist if they see a decline in our numbers, and we can't afford to lose our ranking. I need the year end bonus that comes with helming an 'A' store.
Thank God we don't have any culinary events scheduled this week, that would have been the tipping point to break me. I'm sure my team would have been amused to find me kicking and screaming like a toddler on the stockroom floor, but I doubt it would do much for my image.
Idly, I wonder what it would take to lure Mark Isaacs here for a special event, although it's probably a stretch. I've barely spoken to Heath, other than a quick text or two, since our brunch on Sunday, because I've been stuck in this Christmas chaos. I just need to hang in until tomorrow. Then I can get back to my usual routine until it's time to settle into Christmas for real. After Halloween, we'll begin the frantic holiday ramp up and things will get steadily worse until after New Year's Day. I hate to think about how much my writing will suffer as I move to irregular shifts once the mall expands its holiday hours.
It's critical I spend the next two months writing without distractions. If I can't finish my book by the end of November, it's unlikely to happen before the new year. It's bad timing that I met Heath now, when I'm going to have so little time available to pursue a relationship.
Reaching for my cell, I check my messages again. Nothing. If I'm being honest with myself, it's a bit of a relief that he hasn't been pursuing me aggressively, even though I enjoyed our brunch together. Biting my lip, I realize maybe it's just as well. It's much easier to put that thought away to examine later…or never.
What else am I missing? Scanning the floor, I'm satisfied with the presentation. I can't believe that I'm going to be forced to stare at Hello Pussy Christmas decor for the next three months, but there's no accounting for taste. The biggest challenge we've had with the set up is keeping the customers from buying too much of the merchandise before the walkthrough. If the corporate group weren't walking through tomorrow, the displays would be stripped before they ever v
iewed the setup. I guess that's a good indication of the sales to come. I'm cheered by the thought that perhaps we'll sell out early and I won't have to look at it for too long.
Nate's idea of adding some drama to the setup has me shaking my head a bit, but we're in this together and I trust his instincts. He entertains much more than I do—ok, I never entertain—so I have to believe that he has a better feel for these things. The Christmas tree is adorable, although I can't imagine someone buying that many excess kitchen tools just to decorate, no matter how many times he calls me cheap.
Delegating the creation of the holiday playlist to Marco might have been a mistake. His side hustle producing a local indie band gives him the resources, not that I had much choice, since the online music services don't have Christmas music available yet. Hopefully, he heeded my very specific requests for more traditional holiday music, although I don't mind hearing the old standards sung by more modern artists. There's only so much Nat, Perry, and Bing that I can stand in a day.
I should be happy that we get to control the playlist for now. I'm always shocked by how dry the corporate playlists are when we get them. I understand trying to create one sound, and that different markets have different needs, but last year's playlist had half the staff ready to wear earplugs within the first two weeks.
I'm not certain why Nate is so enamored with the idea of having the staff dress up in Christmas themed outfits, but glancing at Dan in his bright red wool sweater, I'm happy that this one is on Nate. I wouldn't have agreed to wear them today in the heat, but Nate insisted on a run-through.
They should all know better by now. That will teach everyone to think twice before giving Nate any encouragement. First, you're embracing the idea of elf hats, then he's going to push until he has you in tights and a tunic. They'll be quaking in their shoes by Thanksgiving just imagining all of the crazy Christmas theme days Nate will have thought up by then.
Smugly, I pat myself on the back. There was no way I was putting wool anywhere near my body this month.
"It will be great, Josie, you'll see. A few red sweaters, some elf hats, and the smell of hot chocolate and fresh cookies will make all the difference." Nate steps up next to me to survey the floor with a critical eye before nodding. "What could go wrong?"
"Everyone knows the drill right?" I ask.
"Focus on the customers, stay away from the suits, keep a smile on their face, and if asked, tell them how much they love working here." Nate drawls the words out in a singsong, making me laugh. "Oh, and mention how wonderful I am to work for and how I deserve a raise." Nate gives me the side eye, keeping a straight face. "You, not so much."
"Ok, ok, I'll stop obsessing. You did a great job decorating the Christmas tree. You should rethink applying for one of the regional visual positions. The other stores could really benefit from your touch."
"And miss seeing your lovely face everyday?" Nate's hip bumps mine, and I smile. "What would I be without my PIC?"
Partner In Crime. It's nice having an undemanding work husband. When I started this job eight years ago, I had a surly assistant manager with no people skills, who couldn't balance a cash drawer, let alone a staffing schedule. The day Nate showed up was the day I almost threw in the towel. That's the one good thing Patsy ever did for me—hiring Nate. He truly is my partner in crime, and together, we've made this store a top performer in the region. Frowning slightly, I turn to him.
"Maybe we should start putting forward a little less effort. I don't mind you being a superstar, but a lower profile might convince them to 'honor' another store with the next holiday preset."
Nate's laugh is proof he knows I'm lying. The two of us together are overachievers. What I lack in finesse, he more than makes up for in style. Too bad I can't get some style points from him to help my writing along.
"Stick with me, Josiecat! We'll leave them begging for more before we push them firmly back out the door. Besides, I have dinner plans tomorrow, and Josh is already pissed at how much time I've been spending here lately."
"And I really need to get my head back into my writing."
"Did you say someone is finally getting some head in your writing? Then by all means, let's get this show over with and move on to the good stuff." Ignoring my baleful look, he pushes me toward the door. "I'll see you in the morning. Wear something red to match my bowtie."
Arching backward to stretch the aching muscles in my shoulders and spine, I grab my purse before giving him a small salute in honor of Nate's latest fantasy, which apparently includes men in uniform.
"Carry on, Drill Seargeant." Just one more day until we can finally relax. "Nate, if we pull this one off without a hitch, I'll buy you the anniversary edition of An Officer and A Gentleman on Blu-ray," I promise.
Who says a good man can't be bribed?
* * *
Plop! Plop!
I'm distracted by the sound of something dripping, which draws my attention away from my computer. A large pyramid of tea cups rises from an ornate table, stacked like a tower of champagne glasses. But instead of champagne, the toasty color of tea cascades from the top to overflow each level as the smell of jasmine perfumes the air.
It's a breathtaking sight…until I realize that the final layer of cups rests on my manuscript, now soaked and stained in tea, the ink on the pages bleeding into indecipherable blurs as I rush forward in horror.
Sobs rack my body as I sweep row after row of teacups from their perch to smash in a cacophony of noise that does nothing to stop the flood.
My manuscript lays sodden and ruined while a wail builds in my chest, just waiting for me to catch my breath long enough to unleash it…
* * *
Beep…beep…beep…
The trail of tears wetting my pillow are almost my undoing. I choke back a sob as my grief dies down to a raw ache, and I stop myself from running to my computer to check my word count.
It's as if my subconscious is taunting me, threatening to destroy what progress I've made if I don't get back to being more disciplined with my writing, knowing that every word can just slip away into nothingness if I don't finish what I've started.
What the hell am I doing? I acknowledge honestly that the stalling is partly work load, but even more weighted toward pure insecurity. You can't be judged on something you never complete. At least not by others. God knows I judge myself and find myself lacking every day, even though I know I can do this.
There's nothing like the bright sun of a new day to expose your cowardice. I'm better than that. And Lady Sydney's latest suitor has inspired me. Maybe Emma was right—maybe my books do need a teensy bit more steam to make them pop.
Glancing at the clock, I realize that first I need to focus on getting through today's dog and pony show, then I can tackle the question of Lady Sydney's libido. The sense of relief at having come to some sort of plan propels me out of bed and into the shower. It's so muggy today, you would never know it's late September.
Opting for a red, v-neck wrap dress, I feel properly festive for the walk-through and head out the door with a sense of purpose. My inner cheerleader has already started her pep talk.
Let's kick some ass today, Josie, and get Lady Sydney laid tonight!
* * *
"What the hell is she wearing?" I'm speechless as I stare at Kenzie dressed in red satin booty shorts, green fishnet stockings, and a green bustier. Her red curls are pulled into a topknot, while brown antlers sprout from a gold headband which holds back her bangs.
The sound of choked laughter from where Nate is bent in half, holding his stomach as he gasps for air makes me want to kick him.
"Where is my phone? For the love of God, someone snap a picture!" he chokes out until I smack him on the back.
"Stop that!" I hiss. "Don't encourage her. Where did she get that outfit, Elves Gone Wild? We need to hide her. She can't be seen like that by Patsy and the suits!"
"What do you want me to do, hide her in the stockroom?" Nate chuckles again. "When she to
ld me she had a cosplay outfit for a reindeer, I didn't realize she was channeling Vixen."
"Send her home! Send her down the mall. I don't care where she goes as long as she's gone before—Patsy, hi! You're early."
The corners of my mouth ache with the maniacal smile I know is stretched across my face. Looking beyond her, I don't see anyone else yet. I might still have time to kill—or rather dispose of—Kenzie.
Trying desperately to keep Patsy's focus on me as she leans in for a hug, I wave wildly at Nate toward Kenzie, watching him grab her by the arm and drag her from the store into the mall.
"Where are the others?" I ask breathlessly, sighing in relief as I watch Kenzie argue briefly with Nate before turning and walking down the mall away from the store, shoppers stopping and staring in her wake.
"They'll be along shortly. Josie, the store looks fantastic! Aren't those Hello Pussy Christmas items the most adorable things you've ever seen?"
"They're something alright," I agree as the sound of Perry Como begins to float through the store singing “White Christmas.”
"Would you like some hot chocolate?" Dan magically appears with two mugs overflowing with marshmallow and whipped cream, his elf hat sitting jauntily across his brow.
I know he must be sweating in his red sweater, but he looks relaxed, as if this is an everyday occurrence to be wearing wool in seventy degree weather, bless his loyal heart.
Patsy seems enchanted by the extra touches as her entourage enters the store, their sharp gazes taking in the decor, the elf hats on my team, and the Christmas music. Like a flock of birds, they all head to the Hello Pussy Christmas display to ooh and ahh, while Dan doles out hot chocolate and candy canes like some junkie elf tempting kids with the promise of too much sugar.
Corsets and Quartets Page 6
