How does a woman who has completely crashed her life get a new one?
The phone rang by my elbow. I screeched in surprise and the pen took flight. My hands trembled as I checked the caller ID. Maria.
“I love talking to you, I do, but you don’t have to call me every hour. Don’t you have work to do? A life to live?”
“Hello to you too,” Maria said. “I’m worried, chica. You keep saying you’re fine but…that was some car crash.”
“I know.”
“Judy in Accounting called a zillion times. Why don’t you pick up?”
My nerves had been too raw and jangled over the past three days to speak to anyone other than Maria. Checking emails was enough to douse me in cold sweat. Forget about going to the mailbox. Lord help me if I ended up a shut-in like my cousin Cate, who chopped down her mailbox and tossed out the garbage cans. She even boarded up the chimney to keep Santa out. One of my greatest fears was becoming cousin Cate, or any of my crazy relatives.
I wasn’t there yet. Still, only Dr. Stapleton knew about my battle with anxiety disorder. How would it look? Erin Carter was supposed to be A-class partnership material, not a flipped-out basket case.
“I’ll call her. Soon.” Maybe.
“So? What are you doing with your spare time? Banging a cabana boy?”
I snorted. “Oh yeah, right after the gardener. I think you have me confused with a desperate housewife.”
“You’ve got to get out of your condo before you become one of those old ladies who collects cats.”
Great. I needed that image running through my head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Get ready, I’m taking you to lunch.”
I glanced at my watch. “Don’t tell me Jerry lifted his hard-and-fast no-lunch-before-noon rule.”
“About that, I dumped Jerry.”
I jerked up straight. “No, you didn’t.”
“DH&L was boring as hell without Miss Stockbroker Supreme. Besides, the bullshit-flinging contests were getting tiresome.”
“You heard something about the…accident?” A rock fell into my stomach.
She was silent for a moment. “There’s an investigation, but it’s only half-cheeked. Everyone knows what really happened.”
“Investigation?” I squeaked.
“To find out why the accelerator stuck on you. Thank God those concrete posts were there, huh? A few feet to the left and you would have parked inside the lobby.”
“What if they determine it wasn’t an accelerator problem but…” I swallowed. “…a driver malfunction?” Jail? The sanitarium for the insane and dangerous?
“Come on, Erin, that’s crazy. You were a little upset. We all heard you quit, or was it fired?” She waited, but I didn’t volunteer an answer. “No one on this planet would buy that you crashed the car on purpose.”
“I keep replaying the moment. It’s all so messed up in my head. Oh Maria, what if someone had walked out of the lobby the moment when—?”
There was a sound on her end like a book slapping a table. “Stop it. No one got hurt, except an ugly American car and three concrete posts. It’s over and done. I’ll be there in twenty to take you to Chico’s. Sounds like you could use lunch and a couple of margaritas.” She hung up before I could protest.
I took a stuttering breath. Was it over?
dc
Maria and I sat on tall stools sipping our drinks and eating nachos while the Mexican music crescendoed into a bad polka nightmare. Getting out and doing normal things with a friend was what I needed. The thirty-pound weight on my chest had grown lighter. I could almost breathe.
Maria studied my beat-up face, concern telegraphing in her eyes. “That airbag really messed you up.”
I shot her a dirty look. “You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty.”
“Sorry. Look at those stitches in your lip. Didn’t they have string that wasn’t so blue?”
My heart performed a Riverdance beat. “Can we not talk about this?”
“Fine. Are you going to tell me what happened in that conference room, or do I have to sweat it out of the mail boy?”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. All the women at the firm lusted after the guy in the mailroom. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Too bad you don’t work there anymore.”
“I’ve got his number.” She smiled at my shock. “He’s been over and has one of those tushes you just want to sink your teeth into, but that’s beside the point. We’re talking about you here.”
“We are?” I fanned myself with the wine-and-beer menu. “I lost my train of thought.”
“You were just about to spill about the partner meeting.”
It was no secret. Three months ago, one of our founding fathers had fallen prey to a sex kitten half his age. When he left the firm to sail around the world with his bouncing baby bride, a partner seat opened up. Every stockbroker within the fabric-covered cubicles of DH&L dreamed of adding their initial to the ten-foot sign out front. The battle to the top had been bloody. Coworkers lied, cheated and stabbed each other to be the last man standing. I would have killed for the promotion, and, Lord help me, almost did.
“You must have kicked some major male hiney during your presentation.” Maria prodded for the blow-by-blow.
But I worried the truth would blow our friendship to kingdom come. I gulped a large sip of slushy margarita. “Oww. Ice cream headache.”
“Who gulps margaritas?” She leaned in. “No one knew you left officially until yesterday. Of course the big boys did, but they are being suspiciously quiet.”
Would Maria understand? I thought about my cousin, Betty. Did any of her friends understand when she drove her no-good, three-timing husband’s pickup off the Santa Monica Pier? No, people usually don’t get crazy.
“Okay, so you don’t want to talk about it.” She motioned to the empty seats around our table. “Don’t cute guys eat lunch anymore?”
“Beats me. Purple-and-bloodshot eyes are all the rage.” I did the game-show-model-finger-pointing to my shiners and split lip.
“Your eyes are golden-amber.” She swirled melted cheese around on her chip. “When you haven’t been intimately involved with an airbag.”
“Ah well, but you have the exotic look with the black hair and blue eyes.” The easy banter and normal conversation with Maria was good. Normal.
She spread her perfectly manicured hands wide. “We Spaniards all look like this. But you, Erin, are a sunny California sunset. Come to my country, you will be exotic.”
“Me? Hmmm. I like the sound of that.”
“So, it’s settled. When do we leave?”
I stared at her a long moment. “Are you serious?”
“Serious as an IRS auditor with a hangover.”
“Just pick up and go?”
“You’ve got some place to be? Face it, Erin. This is the best time to go.”
I settled back in the stool. She was right. Spain sounded like the perfect place to get a life.
“You speak Spanish, don’t you?” Maria asked.
“Three years of high school Spanish, plus two summers in Cuernavaca, Mexico. I get by.”
“Castilian is a different dialect, but you’ll pick it up. Oh, and you’ll love Castile. Great museums, ancient castles, handsome Spaniards.”
“Castles.” I swallowed hard. “Nothing haunted, right?”
“Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”
“My mom scared the heebie-jeebies out of me. Can you imagine telling a ten-year-old kid a dead guy haunted the attic? Every night I went to bed expecting his cold dead hands around my neck.” I shivered at the memory. “Mom decided we’d perform a séance to help the spirit move on. Séance.” I snorted. “Like I knew what that was. Basically, I read out of this dusty leather-bound book while she did crazy mumbo-jumbo stuff with candles. Still freaks me out just thinking about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can stay with me in Salamanca for the summer. You’ll be perfectly safe. Unle
ss…” She wagged her candy-apple-red-polished fingernail at me. “…your honey has other plans.”
I half-choked on my margarita. “Excuse me?”
“Your main squeeze?” Her grin was downright devious. “I’m on to you, Erin. I know you have a boy toy of your own.”
I died a thousand deaths. “You knew?”
“Suspected.” She clicked her tongue. “Since you’ve worked so hard to cover your tracks, he’s either horribly disfigured, or what? He’s married?”
“Neither.” I took a stuttering breath. “He’s Jack.”
“Do I know Jack?”
“You should. He signed your paycheck for five years.”
“No!” She slammed her palms down on the table. “Our CFO?”
I scrubbed my face with my hands. “It started out simply. A glance. Easy flirtation. Nothing really, all in fun.”
“You’re dating the Big Cheese—”
“The Big Guy,” I corrected.
She slit her eyes at me. “His anatomy aside, why didn’t I know about this?” She plunked back in her barstool. “The partnership. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Shame warmed my cheeks. I played with the multicolored fringe on the placemat. “I didn’t tell anyone. I was afraid it would look like I was messing with the Big Guy to obtain a leg up.” I cleared my throat. “So to speak.”
A chip loaded with melted cheese, beans and a sliding jalapeño remained frozen in air halfway to her mouth.
“I had to have the partner’s seat. Don’t you see, Maria? It was my one chance to prove…” I wasn’t losing my mind. “…myself.”
A strange look had replaced the shock on her face. It resembled admiration. “You’ve got cajones, woman.” The chip finally made it to her mouth where it was crunched between her teeth. “What a story.”
“It gets worse.” I poked my umbrella into my glass, fracturing the stick. “I believed he was really into me. Insane, right?” I held up my hand. “Don’t answer that.”
“He’s pretty darn cute. Who wouldn’t want to believe it?”
“Because he’s Jack. Hot sex for favors. We both knew the game going in.” I made small circles on my forehead with my fingertips.
“Tell me.”
“The meeting started out great. I proved I was the best candidate a hundred ways by multimedia presentation and glossy color handouts. When I was finished, he said, ‘Let’s go celebrate your victory, partner.’ Maria, I did it. I’d won.”
“Of course you did. You have the best client list and track record of anyone. Aw, chica, did you really think you had to sleep with the boss to prove yourself?”
“I didn’t think it would hurt.” I blew threw my lips. “Just shows how wrong a girl can be. But at that moment, back in the conference room, I was euphoric. My letter C was going to be added to the ten-foot sign out front. I had it all, except…what I really need. What I’ve never had.”
She leaned forward, all ears.
“A real life. This person I’ve become is messed up. I’ve lost myself. Do you understand?” I was looking at Maria when I said this, but remembering the look of horror on Jack’s face.
“Sure, I get it. You’ve been killing yourself for the firm. You need to let up. Live a little.”
I nodded. She did understand, part of it at least. “Making partner is important to me. Was. But I also want a semi-normal life with kids, family.” A whole night’s sleep. “I suggested we take things up a notch.” I winced, reliving the daymare. “I might have used the L-word.”
Her mouth hung open for a long minute. She knew Jack—the word love wasn’t in his vocabulary. Finally, she snapped her mouth shut and managed, “What’d he say?”
“He laughed…hard.” I covered my face with my hands. “When he realized I wasn’t joking he said there wasn’t much point in continuing the partnership interviews. Suddenly, I was far too emotional to be a company leader.”
“Head of shit.”
“Yeah, what you said.” I didn’t bother correcting her phrase, choosing instead to drain the final drip of slush from my bulbous, cactus-stemmed glass.
“Erin, what are you going to do?”
“It’s already done.” I threw up my hands. “I quit. Him and the company. Oh, and then I crashed their car into the building.”
“Madre de Dios!” She lifted my empty glass. “Waiter, we need another over here.”
Chapter Two
University Hospital of Salamanca, Spain
Hearing his name paged over the intercom system while making rounds, Santiago picked up the nearest wall phone. “Bueno, Doctor Botello.”
“Do you live at that hospital?”
“Maria! Are you all right? Is everything—?”
“Fine. Everything’s great. I’m coming home.”
Santiago didn’t say anything for a long moment. Shifting the receiver to his other hand, he leaned into the cold wall and lowered his voice. “No. Too dangerous.”
“I’m tired of running from my own shadow.”
“We all are. You know what’s at stake.”
“I want to come home. I miss life in Spain. I miss you.”
Her voice sounded so thin and fragile that the childhood memories he was usually able to keep at bay came roaring back. Sorrow settled across the thousands of miles between them. “We’ve gone over this. I need you to stay in Los Angeles.”
“I can’t be afraid any longer, Santiago. I won’t. I’m sorry you worry. You’re my big brother, that’s your job, but I’m a grown woman. Stronger than you think.”
“Maria, this…thing…is bigger than you. Bigger than both of us. Stay in California where you will be protected. Please.”
“Yeah, and what happens if the ‘thing’ gets me in California?”
His breath sucked in sharply. “Something happened. The darkness has come back?”
“No, God, relax. Just stating the obvious. California, Spain, what’s the difference? It’s over. Let it go, okay?”
“But—”
“Hey, I didn’t tell you. I’m bringing a friend with me.”
“To Spain? No, Maria. You can’t.”
“She’s great. You’re going to love her.”
“Maria, listen to me. It’s far too risky.”
“I know the two of you will get along. She’s very smart, funny. Well, usually. She’s going through some emotional problems right now.”
“Emotional problems.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “So you met this friend at—”
“Work. She’s a stockbroker at the firm. Was. Anyway, I like her, I want to help her get through this tough time, so I’m bringing her home with me for a few weeks.”
“Not a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea. She needs help, I need to help someone. It’s perfect. I’m tired of being the victim.”
He pressed his palm to the headache burrowing deep behind his forehead. “What are you going to tell your friend?”
“Nothing.”
“Maria.”
“She’s not strong right now. I don’t want to scare her with horror stories.”
“Tell her,” he said firmly. “She might decide not to come if she knows the truth.”
“I want her to come. It will be good for her. For us. Think of how much fun we can have, the places we’ll show her.”
He could only think about pending disaster. “At the very least, your friend should take precautions.”
“She is never going to know! She’s my best friend and I don’t want to spook her needlessly.”
“Holy Mother, I’m not saying scare the poor woman. Just…warn her.”
“Let me handle this.” Her voice screeched through the receiver. “Swear you won’t tell her.”
He closed his eyes. A clear memory of his little sister came to mind. She ran after him, desperately trying to keep in step. Wearing her favorite pink-flowered dress and matching ribbons tied around her bouncing pigtails, she was a tiny flash of color on a dark, dismal day. How
innocent she was. They both were. The vision squeezed his heart. She was only nine when their lives exploded.
He hadn’t wanted her running beside him then as he followed the coffin bearers into the cathedral. He’d been weak with grief and shame because he wasn’t old enough to carry his father to rest. Too young to bear a man’s body, but old enough to shoulder his responsibilities.
Though the bells had tolled so loudly that day he thought his broken heart might shatter in his chest, still he could hear his sister’s voice.
“Swear everything’s going to be all right.” She had tugged on the sleeve of his only suit jacket.
It wasn’t. Things would never be right for them again. But she was his little sister. His responsibility.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he had promised. It was an oath he couldn’t keep.
He blinked back the memories. “I swear I will not say anything to your friend unless something goes wrong.”
“What could go wrong? Jeez, you worry like an old granny. I’m going to call you Old Lady Garcia. Remember how she used to glare at us through her window, her nasty wrinkled face spying on us every time we passed her ugly old house?” She laughed like a child.
He rarely laughed anymore and certainly not about this. “Maria, I wish you would reconsider. Stay in LA where I can keep you safe.”
“Enough, Old Lady Garcia. A trip to Spain is what Erin needs right now. It’s the best thing for her. And me. Love you.”
He stood there a long moment with his forehead pressed to the cold wall, the receiver dead in his hand. Then he did something he hadn’t done in a long time.
He made the sign of the cross over his chest and prayed.
dc
In my Get a Life Journal I had written: 1) I am not crazy. I will trust everything will work out for the best and go to Spain.
Two weeks to the day of my meltdown, we were seated on the plane looking down on puffy clouds. I smiled at Maria. “It’s not the corner office, but I finally have my window seat, don’t I? At least for the duration of this flight.”
“Coffee?” A flight attendant passed by with her little crash cart of caffeine.
Catch Me in Castile Page 2
