by Dara Girard
Nancy rushed up to her. “Is it true? You’re quitting?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you going? Does the state have another position open? I’d love to leave here, too.”
“I’m sorry, Nancy. There’s not another job that I know of. I have an opportunity for something else.”
Nancy impulsively hugged her. “Oh, I’ll miss you.”
Anna Marie awkwardly accepted the hug, not believing her. “You take care of yourself.”
Nancy sniffed. “I will.”
Anna Marie put her things, which were few, in a small cardboard box, then left. She nearly skipped when she reached the parking lot. The bright spring sun warmed her face and she didn’t feel the chill of the breeze that scattered two wayward plastic cups under parked cars. She was free! Free of the Cobra. Free of Bruno. She was starting a whole new life.
But she soon began to doubt the promise of a new life when the lawyer rescheduled twice. Anna Marie stood in her cramped motel room and paced. She’d given the lawyer her new phone number and cell phone. Why hadn’t he called?
I’ll find you. Desmond’s words came to her without warning. It had been almost a week. Would he try to find her? Anna Marie pushed the thoughts from her mind. He’d probably forgotten about her by now. Besides, he couldn’t find her. He didn’t know who she was. She sat on the bed and stared at the dull orange carpet.
What if it had all been a mistake? Had she left her job and dumped her boyfriend for no reason? She should have waited to get the money first. What if it never came? Would she have to go back begging? She knew Bruno would take her but she could never face Sandy again. Perhaps she should start job-searching.
Friday turned into Saturday then Sunday, then it was Monday again. Anna Marie lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling as April rain fell outside the window. She didn’t mind the rain. It had been raining the day she ended up in a worse-looking motel over sixteen years ago. She’d wondered if she’d made a big mistake then, too. Sometimes she still wondered….
Anna Marie sat up and looked at her suitcase. She hadn’t bothered to unpack because she hadn’t planned to stay here, but she knew she had to make a decision. Stay another week or do something. She looked around the motel room and realized the depth of her mistake. She’d been hasty, arrogant. That night with Desmond had blurred her judgment. Bruno cared about her, plain old Anna Marie, when no one else took notice. Bruno wasn’t that awful and she’d hurt him. She hated hurting people and now she was alone. But she knew she didn’t have to be. She checked out of the motel.
A half hour later she stood in front of her old apartment and raised her hand, ready to knock. This was the right thing to do, she tried to convince herself. Bruno had asked her to marry him so that meant he loved her. Nobody else loved her. She’d find another job and she would encourage him to do the same.
Anna Marie moved her hand to the brass door knocker then stopped. She could hear the TV and men’s voices. She imagined Bruno sitting on the couch and how messy the living room would be once his friends left. She let her hand fall to her side. She couldn’t go back. Even though her mind said nobody has ever loved you and no one will. She couldn’t go back to that life.
“Did you knock?” a voice said from behind her.
Anna Marie turned, surprised to see the pizza delivery guy and glanced down at the order—calzones. “Um…no. Excuse me.” She bent down, picked up her suitcase and left.
Anna Marie drove aimlessly, trying not to focus on her disappointment. She’d had hopes dashed before. Hopes of being adopted. Hopes of having a family of her own. But she didn’t care about those things now. She just wanted the freedom that the promise of money could give her. She wanted—no, needed—that to be real. On the right-hand side of the road, Anna Marie saw the local post office. She started to drive past then decided to check her mailbox and made a sharp U-turn. She’d had one for a few years and, just like her night job, Bruno knew nothing about it.
Once she retrieved the items inside, Anna Marie headed over to the wastebasket. She quickly flipped through the stack of bills and junk mail then stopped when she saw an invitation. Who would send her an invitation? She’d never received an invitation in her life. Not to birthday parties, or weddings or baby showers. She opened it and read:
You have been personally selected to join The Black Stockings Society, an elite, members-only club that will change your life and help you find the man of your dreams. Guaranteed.
Anna Marie shook her head and was about to toss it when she noticed something. No other invitations were inside the basket. Usually, people went through their mail right there in the post office and threw away the junk mail, but she didn’t see any others like hers. Could it be for real?
The Black Stockings Society? Who were they? Who had sent the invitation? Why hadn’t they signed their name? It had to be a trick. Anna Marie waited and watched other people get their mail but no one else had an invitation like hers. She leaned against the counter and looked at it more closely. It was a handwritten note, on expensive parchment paper, lined with finely woven lace in a gold-lined envelope. Perhaps they knew about her inheritance. Maybe they were somehow connected with that. She read on.
Dumped?
No.
Bored?
Yes.
Tired of Being Single?
No.
Ready to live dangerously?
Always.
Then this is the club for you. Guaranteed Results! Submit your application today.
Anna Marie pulled out a pen and smoothed the enclosed questionnaire. She briefly scanned it then folded it up again. The questions were silly.
Would you prefer a motorcycle ride or a trip on a boat? Leather or lace?
This couldn’t be real. It didn’t make sense. She left the post office, got in her car and started. But the envelope seemed to call to her from the passenger seat. What harm could it do? Answer a few questions, pay the small fee. It could be fun. She turned off her car, pulled out a pen and began completing the application.
Would you prefer a motorcycle ride or a trip on a boat?
Motorcycle.
Leather or lace?
Both.
What would your ideal man be like?
Anna Marie nearly crumpled up the questionnaire. Ideal? There was no such thing as “ideal,” especially when it came to men. She tapped her chin as an image came to mind. And yet there was one man who could fit that mold. She thought of the last night she’d danced at The Palace of Sin and hastily scribbled down: Attractive, sexy, rebel and adores me.
She looked at the words then crossed the last ones out. What man like that would adore her? It was impossible. She crossed the rest of the words out, too. Then reread the words “help you find the man of your dreams. Guaranteed.” Well, if they were going to be that bold, she’d give them a challenge. Anna Marie took a deep breath, then wrote:
I want a man like Desmond Rockwell. Better yet I want Desmond Rockwell. Just for a night I want him to adore me and pamper me and lo—
She stopped and crossed out the last word. She didn’t need him to love her. She’d done without love long enough and didn’t feel she was missing anything.
Anna Marie looked over her response, satisfied. Let them try and do that. She read the “sworn oath” at the bottom of the page:
As a member of The Black Stockings Society, I swear I will not reveal club secrets, I will accept nothing but the best and I will no longer settle for less.
“‘I will no longer settle for less,’” Anna Marie read out loud, surprised by how powerful the simple statement felt. She looked at her response about Desmond and hoped they’d be able to read it clearly. As for keeping her membership a secret, she didn’t have to worry about telling anyone because she had no one to tell and she was good at keeping secrets. Before sealing the envelope, she paid the nominal membership fee by providing her credit card information, then posted it.
But the moment she put the applicati
on in the mail slot, she regretted sending it. She knew what she had asked for was impossible. And now her money, although not much, was gone to a society she’d never heard of and would probably never hear from again. Anna Marie went back to the motel and registered for another room.
Two days later, a medium-sized package arrived for her at the post office. She gave the clerk a yellow slip to retrieve it then rushed to her car and opened it—she stared at the contents with amusement. She held up a pair of black fishnet stockings and grinned. She knew what she could do with them. She set them down, then pulled out three more pairs of stockings and her interest increased. They were excellent quality, expensive and daring, just what she liked. But where would she wear them and with what? Malika would have no problem, but Anna Marie wasn’t the type. She quickly placed them back in the box and then looked at the membership card enclosed:
Anna Marie Deena Williams, Member, The Black Stockings Society
And read the instructions:
Welcome to The Black Stockings Society. Your first assignment is to take your membership card to St. Claire’s Salon, where you will ask for their Maxi Special. Set aside plenty of time for your first appointment.
Directions with a map and phone numbers were included.
Once you have visited this location, you will select one of your stockings and wear them to your meeting with the lawyer.
How did they know she had a lawyer? Did she still have one? Why did it matter what she wore? Perhaps they wanted her to look more sophisticated. She could do that. But why a secret society? Anna Marie shook her head. Who cared? She was ready to spice up her life. Anna Marie pushed her fear and suspicion aside. She would make this work.
The next day, after a visit to the library, Anna Marie returned to her motel room and was shocked to find shredded paper all over the carpet. She immediately ran out of the room and went down the hall to the manager’s office. “I think there’s a rat or raccoon or something in my room,” she said, trying to catch her breath.
The manager, Arnold Wright, a greasy-looking fellow with a unibrow, barely looked up at her. “Nonsense. We run a top-notch establishment here and I’ve never had any complaints about rodents. Especially about rats or raccoons!”
“Well, I’m not going to stay in that room until you check it out thoroughly,” she said, trying not to sound hysterical, but she hated rodents.
He slowly rose to his feet. “Okay, let’s see.”
She followed close behind Mr. Wright. When they reached her room, Anna Marie stood at the doorway. She didn’t want to risk having some “thing” run over her shoe. The manager looked at the scene, confused.
“Maybe someone broke in.”
“Why would someone break in and shred my newspaper?” At that moment, they heard something moving under her bed. Anna Marie jumped on a nearby chair, while Mr. Wright grabbed a small trash bin, ready to crush any critter that emerged. They both stayed perfectly still. Then slowly the creature emerged.
“Oh, it’s just a turtle,” Mr. Wright said, returning the trash bin.
Anna Marie got down off the chair and walked over to examine it closer. “How did it get in here? Who does it belong to?”
“I don’t know, but I do know this—our rules say no pets allowed.” He turned to leave.
“So what should I do with it?”
“Whatever.”
“What do you mean, whatever?”
“Well, I don’t want it. I know, you can cook it for turtle soup. I hear it tastes good.” He chuckled.
“I’m not going to eat it.”
“Then throw it in the trash or dump it outside. But you can’t keep it here. No pets allowed.” He nodded then left.
Anna Marie bent down and picked up the turtle. She could tell from its dark skin, yellowish markings and tall, dome-shaped shell that it was a box turtle.
“So you liked my newspaper, huh?”
In one of her foster homes, a kind foster brother had been fascinated with turtles and taught Anna Marie how to identify the breed and take care of them. The shredded paper was further evidence that her new roommate was a box turtle. They loved to dig and needed lots of dirt, potting soil, shredded newspaper or scraps of carpet to satisfy them.
She didn’t care about the motel rules. He, or she, would not be in a stew tonight or any other night. Someone had abandoned him, but she wouldn’t.
After securing her newfound friend in a cardboard box, Anna Marie grabbed her coat and headed for the nearest pet store. Luckily she wasn’t a beginner and within an hour she had purchased all the necessary items needed to create a home for her little friend. She also stocked up on food. Box turtles ate a wide variety of food such as slugs, worms, crickets, apples, tomatoes, cantaloupe and leafy green vegetables. She knew box turtles loved snails, but she wasn’t going to dig up any.
Back home, Anna Marie emptied her shopping bag, fed the turtle, whom she named Nika, then called the lawyer and he told her that he’d be out of town for the next couple days, but that he would definitely talk to her when he returned. Anna Marie didn’t want to wait, but didn’t know what other option she had. She grabbed a writing pad and wrote down the date he’d return and agreed to call him back then.
After that she called and made her salon appointment. She’d never gone to a salon before and looked forward to the experience.
Anna Marie sat in the luxurious lounge of the St. Claire’s Salon eager to get started. She was surprised by how quickly they’d been able to fit her in. The salon was located in an exclusive clothing store on the rooftop level, which provided a breathtaking view while a pianist played classical tunes surrounded by lush plants. Anna Marie sighed with pleasure, ready to enjoy an all-day treatment when her phone rang. She frowned when she saw the number and stepped outside into the corridor to answer it.
“Yes?”
“Thank God, you answered,” Nancy said in a tearful voice.
“What?”
“The Cobra is in one of her rages and there’s nothing we can do to calm her. You’re the only one.”
“But I’ve left that job, remember?” Anna Marie could hear Nancy beginning to cry and softened her voice. “What’s the problem?”
“I sent our internal audit report to the wrong department.”
Anna Marie sighed in relief. “Nancy, that’s not the end of the world. Just call the department head and ask them to return it to you,” she said, used to Nancy panicking.
“But that’s not the only problem….”
Anna Marie felt a sense of doom. “Then what is?”
“I sent it before it was ‘sanitized’!”
“You mean, you…?”
“Yes. Oh God, if the Cobra finds out, I’m dead.”
“Where did you send it?”
“I sent it online. I didn’t mean for it to go to…”
“You sent it online? Nancy, I told you to always have it either hand-delivered or sent by courier.” Anna Marie took a deep breath. “Nancy. Which department did you send it to?”
“Mildred Watson’s.”
“What!” Of all the divisions that should not see their report prior to it being overhauled was the office of procurement. And Mildred Watson, who was chief executive officer for procurement, had an intense dislike for the Cobra and would be delighted to have something to catch her on. The “sanitization,” which was a prerequisite for any of their department’s audit reports, meant that they—specifically, Anna Marie, when she was employed with them—skillfully “adjusted” or “added” line items to provide a full accounting for all of the Cobra’s expenditures.
Although they were a small office, Sandy traveled a lot. Whether it was to a local, state or national training workshop or conference, they had been told to use phrases such as per diem, training materials and out-of-pocket miscellaneous items to ensure that all expenses were recorded as business, not personal.
While the Cobra’s absence from the office was always cause for celebration, none of them ever chal
lenged her instructions. They did as they were told. Besides, why should they put their jobs in jeopardy when no one from the Management and Accounting Office noticed? Anna Marie had learned quickly not to question where or how monies were spent. She just matched up expenditures with existing grant-funded accounts, making sure both figures equaled each other, got a signature and submitted it.
However, Mrs. Watson was a stickler for procedure and strict when it came to each department’s budget. She would spot the inconsistencies. And, if she did, it would definitely result in the Cobra, and everyone else in their division, losing their jobs and possibly facing legal action. Anna Marie knew she had to think fast.
“If they discover what we’ve been doing, they could eliminate our section,” Nancy continued desperately. “We have to look efficient and viable. I need you. Please help us.”
Anna Marie glanced at her watch. “But I’m at an appointment.”
“Can’t you reschedule?” Nancy said with increasing anxiety.
She looked through the glass doors with longing. She was only a few steps from paradise. “Yes, but—”
“Please, Anna Marie, I’m counting on you. We could all lose our jobs because of this. I need this job and Dave is looking for a reason to have complete custody of the kids.”
Anna Marie sighed. She recalled the numerous times Nancy would complain about her short-tempered ex-husband. Dave was emotionally abusive and her heart ached to think what the kids would endure if their circumstances changed. “I’ll be right there.” She reluctantly turned off her cell phone and returned it to her handbag. She went back inside and walked up to the receptionist, a bright-faced young woman with intricately braided hair. “I need to reschedule.”
