The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series

by Patrice Wilton

  “Thanks, Fran.” I heard the band strumming up and craned my neck. It sounded familiar. It sounded like…no, it couldn’t be. J.J. and his band were in Colorado, last I heard. Someone had come back from Aspen and said they were playing in one of the mountain lodges. He wouldn’t come back into town. The last gig had been at the Hollywood Bowl and he’d been arrested for throwing chicken necks at the audience. I called Candy over. “Is that Painted Pony?”

  “Why, yes. It is. You’ve heard of them?”

  “Heard of them? I’ve slept with them. Well, him, anyway.”

  “Oh boy. I better hear this story.”

  I entertained the girls with vivid tales of my misspent youth, and since I’m more the Chanel sheath and pearl type, this surprised the heck out of them.

  It would make a great story if it wasn’t my life. I decided to refresh my lipstick while Candy got my drink. Being a Friday night, there was standing room only, and I had to fight my way to the ladies’ room. I’d made it to the outer edge when I came face to face with Jamie Jackson.

  Meeting your ex-lover is one thing, but the first man to break your heart is not just any dickweed. He’s the number one jerk-face of all time.

  “Whoa, there, baby doll.” I tried to duck past him, but he stepped in my path. “Don’t I know you?”

  I lifted my chin. “No, you don’t.” I took a step to my left, and he moved to the right, blocking my exit.

  “I sure do.” He looked at me closely, and finally I met his eyes. “Well, if it isn’t little Susie Q. How’re you doing,doll?”

  I bristled. “I’m doing just great. What are you doing here?”

  “Got ourselves a gig. The band and me.”

  “Yeah?” I bit my lip and mumbled, “So how long are you staying?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. We’re not on any time table, but the money’s good, so we might stick around for a bit.”

  “I’m sure a band like yours is always in hot demand.” It was paining me to be civil, but not for a minute did I want him to think I cared one way or the other.

  “So, what’s up? Have you seen Rudy? He’s the only one left of the group. Rick and Jared both got married, and their wives talked them into getting steady jobs.” He snickered, “Can you imagine them two? With a wife, a mortgage, and a couple of kids?”

  “Well, we all have to grow up sometime, Jamie.” I smiled. “Even you.”

  “That’s what you think. I’m Peter Pan.” With a grin, he added, “Here comes Wendy.” The backup singer walked up, and she looked even younger and dumber than the one he’d been banging seven years ago. “Meet Lori.”

  Lori stopped chewing her gum long enough to say, “Hey.”

  Not wasting my breath on her, I turned back to Jamie. “So, as I was saying. How long are you staying?”

  He smirked. “Good lyrics, Sue. I just might have to use them in a song. It would be a little pop, a little country.” He twanged on his strings, and sang, “I was saying, how long are you staying…”

  “Sounds better than most of your other music,” I sniped.

  He doubled over, pretending to howl. “Good one, babe, but let me tell you, Lori’s got a great set of pipes. She could wail it out for you.” He winked, and smacked his backup singer on her pink spandex shorts. “Couldn’t you, honey?”

  “Whatever.” She spit her gum out on the floor. “Come on. Let’s get this act going.”

  The drummer was already diddling. When he saw Lori he hit the bass drum and there was an explosion of sound. She jumped on the stage, and let out a holler. “Are you ready?” A loud cheer and a lot of whistling from the crowd answered her question. “Let’s have some fun tonight.” Lori had the microphone up to her mouth like she was going to eat it.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. Some things in life never change.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following morning I checked out my face in the mirror. My paralysis was nearly gone, and I looked quite normal.

  Unfortunately, I could hardly walk. I’d overdone it with my three-mile run and another hour on my elliptical machine at home. Since I had difficulty swallowing pills, I crushed a muscle relaxant in a glass of orange juice, downed it and then went in to dress.

  Being the first person a client sees as they enter the law firm, I attempt to give them a glimpse of what to expect—understated, expensive, the very best their money could afford. The tasteful elegance of the dark paneled reception area also included me.

  When I tottered in, in my highest pair of Salvatore Ferragamo shoes, my on-sale Escada suit, and single strand of pearls, I saw a couple of young interns check me out. I smiled, and blew them each a kiss. Dropping my handbag, Prada, of course, next to my desk, I took the lid off my double latte Starbucks mocha and took a big, satisfying sip.

  I had bought a fresh poppyseed muffin to go with the coffee, but I’d get to it later. Helen, from the secretarial pool, came in next. We both said good morning, and then she gave me a dismissive look and said, “I thought you’d quit, or gotten fired.”

  “No. I took some sick time, but as you can see, I’m back.”

  “Good thing you’re back, because the men were making fools of themselves over the temp they hired.”

  “Is that right?” I feigned a smile. “Well, at least I’m not a distraction.” Helen has this funny little mustache, and I wished a loved one or a friend would suggest a way to get rid of it, because it was hard to look at her face without staring at the dark line of hair. I always try to avoid her mouth area entirely.

  “I heard some griping about the amount of sick days you take.” She smiled with a touch of malice. “Better watch your back.”

  Hal Matheson entered the building. He’s one of the senior founding partners and has the whole George Hamilton look going. Perpetually tanned, fit, suave, dressed impeccably, oozing charm out of every pore.

  The one thing about Hal is—you just can’t trust him. I host beauty parties every so often at my home, and my father, or one of the other doctors in his practice, comes to my apartment and gives Botox or a similar treatment to those eager and willing to pay. We always have a drink or two, and generally have a nice time.

  One night after my little house party, Hal came on to me. The others had already left and he’d lingered behind. He tried to kiss my neck and back me into the bedroom, and being a student of martial arts I reacted without thinking. I stomped on his foot, and used my elbow to nail him right in the brow where he’d had an injection. It must have hurt because he howled and ran out the door, cursing and calling me all kinds of unrepeatable names.

  Needless to say, I’ve avoided being alone with him ever since. He walked up to me and smiled. Dazzled temporarily by the flash of his white teeth, I blinked before smiling back. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said.

  “Good morning, Mr. Matheson,” I politically-correctly answered back.

  “How was your vacation?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t a vacation. I took sick leave.”

  “Oh.” He glanced at my arms and face. “You’ve been gone just over a week. You will require a medical certificate, of course. Nice tan, though.” He glanced at the outline of my breasts and over my flat stomach. “So, let me guess. A cruise, or you’ve been lying nude somewhere on a beach, perfecting that all over tan. Which is it?”

  I folded my arms in front of me and stepped back. “A nasty virus, sir. I hope never to come down with it again.”

  “Well, we’re glad to have you back, although I must say that temp was some looker.” He wiggled his brows like Groucho Marx. “Knockers out to here.” He put his hands out in front of him, and I was incredibly glad not to be her. “Couldn’t be real,” he went on. “They are even bigger than yours.” He ran a hand through his immaculate hair. “Anyway, more to the point. If you want to keep your job around here, you’re going to have to work a little harder.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. I put in overtime whenever it’s required.”

  “You’re a bright g
irl.” He leered. “Figure it out.”

  My chin lifted and I spoke in a cool, calm manner. “Mr. Matheson, if you mean what I think you do, this is totally improper. I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt, but please do not insinuate anything of a sexual nature.”

  “Susie, Susie, Susie. I wouldn’t insinuate anything. You know me better than that. I’m just saying—if you wish to continue working here, you need to try harder.”

  “Try harder.” I gulped. “Like how?”

  He smiled. “The temp went over and above.”

  I swallowed hard. “You mean…”

  “I mean you need to play nice.”

  “Mr. Matheson, this is a workplace. I don’t play at all. And I take offense to whatever you’re suggesting. “

  He tugged at his Armani tie. “I’m a senior partner, darling,” his voice rose along with the hairs on the back of my neck, “and I can damn well suggest anything I want.”

  “No, you can’t.” I glared at him. “No…you…can’t! You have to be like everybody else in the workforce. You can’t just go breaking the rules. It isn’t right, and it gives a very bad example to everyone else.”

  “Says who?” He took a step closer and I could smell the expensive Bvlgari cologne he was wearing, and his fresh minty breath. “You?”

  “Is there anyone else in the room?” His head whipped around, and I smiled smugly.

  He really was a very stupid man. “Susie Jensen, you are out of order,” he snarled.

  “Is this a courtroom?”

  He turned on his heel and marched off. Smiling, I sat at my desk, swiveled in my chair, and thought about how clever I’d been. Then reality set in. I’d just insulted, offended, and completely pissed off the man who signed my paychecks, and who clearly preferred seeing someone else sitting behind this desk.

  Not so clever after all. Fran barreled in next, looking her usual self—frazzled, unkempt, as if she’d just stepped out of a wind tunnel. Her recently dyed blonde hair was a rat’s nest, the forest green suit rumpled and outdated, and if you glanced further you’d see solid looking legs, thick ankles and no-nonsense shoes. She had arrived in all her glory.

  She stopped, straightened her jacket, patted down her hair, and marched forward.

  I smiled. It was like watching Mary Poppins, as she flew through the door with a certain sparkle and dash, eager to make everything all right. “Good morning, Ms. Sherman,” I said with a grin.

  She grinned back. “Good morning, Susie. You look lovely this morning. It’s nice to have you back.”

  “Thanks. It’s great to be here, but I better warn you. I had a run-in with Mr. Matheson.”

  “Oh, dear.” She put her hand on her hip. “What happened?”

  I quickly told her. “Of course, I had no right to speak to a partner like that.”

  “Susie, hold on a minute. What he said to you was wrong and I’m just trying to figure out a way we can do some damage control.”

  “I’ll apologize if you like. I don’t mind. I shouldn’t have mouthed off.”

  “Not yet. I’ll speak to him about the incident and see what he has to say. Hold tight.”

  Well, I was no butterfly on the wall, but it was reported to me that Mr. Matheson did not see himself at fault. As a matter of fact, he wanted to see me gone. By lunchtime I’d finished the muffin, and still feeling achy, I decided to take another muscle relaxant. I scrunched it up in a cup of soup, and it didn’t taste too bad. A meeting was called around four o’clock.

  I was summoned into the partner’s inner sanctuary, and Fran met me at the door. She whispered, “I don’t know what crawled up his ass but be careful. He’s denying everything, and it might come down to your word against his.”

  “Why has he called me in here?”

  “I have no idea, but the other partners are here as well. You won’t have to face him alone. Just stay calm and answer any questions as honestly as you can. That’s all.”

  The door closed behind me.

  “Sit down, Susie. This will only take a few minutes.”

  I sat, and folded my hands in my lap. Hal cleared his throat, but before he could speak, one of the other partners spoke up. “These are serious allegations, and you must be very sure that what you say is accurate.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t make anything up.” Hal exchanged amused glances with the other men.

  This did not bode well for me. “Someone saw you putting something in your soup at lunch,” he said. “As you know, when we have a reason to suspect anyone is using an illegal substance, it is our duty to check.” He looked around the room and nodded to his cohorts. “I think we should have Miss Jensen tested.”

  I could blame it on the pills, I could blame it on my PMS, but the truth is when I get cornered I always fight back, and sometimes I just don’t know when to shut the hell up. “Drugs, my ass. You have nothing against me. If I have to, I’ll prove that you’ve been making suggestive comments to me and others in the firm. Don’t think I won’t.” Before I knew it, I was gently but firmly ushered out of the room, taken in to a special room for people like me, and drug tested. Within the hour, security guards arrived at my station and waited for me to pack, then escorted me to the door.

  CHAPTER SIX

  There was no way in hell I’d tell my family I’d lost my job with the law firm. No way. They would have to tie me up to the hubcap of a Hummer and drag me down the Florida Turnpike, or dangle me head first in an alligator-infested swamp, or pour honey all over my body and leave me for a week in the Everglades.

  That’s how much I hate telling Mom and Dad that I’m the number one loser in the family. As if they didn’t know.

  On my way home I stopped at Publix, bought a carton of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, some Georgia peaches, a pint of strawberries, and a couple of ripe bananas. Picking up a newspaper, I figured on reading the want ads while gorging on a sundae for dinner.

  A pound or two wouldn’t matter now. I wasn’t going to be the first thing a client saw when they entered the law firm. They’d be looking at some new babe that Hal had the hots for, and I’d just kissed my paralegal career goodbye.

  Merrybell kept me company at the kitchen table and shared the feast. Once we’d finished, I put her bowl and my dish in the sink to rinse, and happened to glance down and noticed ’Bell’s fat butt right on the ad I’d circled.

  I took that as a positive sign. Had the Grand Creator of cats and women pointed me in the right direction?

  I gave her rear end a gentle shove, and sat down to study the ad. Gorilla Grams were looking for an assistant manager. Wasn’t that owned and run by Kara, my old pal, and Brett’s sister?

  Our friendship came to an abrupt end, but we had been inseparable before that. It would be fun to see her again, and get the scoop on Brett, not that I was interested or anything. As an old friend it would be the most natural thing in the world to ask about him. She’d think it odd if I didn’t. I could slide in the fact that I was currently unemployed and perhaps she’d offer me the job. Why not? It would tide me over until I could find something more suitable.

  * * *

  I met with Kara and we skipped the interview and just caught up on old times. She looked amazing, and I swear if we had passed on the street I would never have recognized her. Gone were the thick glasses and the pudgy frame. She was now slender, and very chic.

  Kara was planning on a trip to Europe the following month and wanted to train someone to take over her business during her absence. She explained how her company operated—it was a three-part deal.

  The customer receives a theme-written poem first, balloons delivered the day of the party, and a gorilla-gram as the main event. It would be my job to oversee the operation and build clientele.

  Finally she stopped talking, and I had a chance to ask about Brett. She gave me an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you’re still carrying a torch for my brother? Come on, Susie, it’s been what? About fifteen years?”

  “No,
of course not. I was just making conversation, that was all.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, right.” She winked at me. “He’s got a special birthday coming up. His thirty-fifth. Maybe we could send him a little surprise package. You.”

  * * *

  Saturday arrived, and I couldn’t get out of the family dinner at Leanne’s. I hadn’t told them yet that I’d lost my job, and had decided to take temp work so that I could escape to Italy and study art.

  Call me chicken. My parents, particularly my dad, always made me feel ridiculous, and then I would rethink my decisions and back down, but I wasn’t going to this time.

  I was twenty-seven-years old. Time to act like an adult. I didn’t need to please him or anyone else. I had to please me. I squared my shoulders, put on a brave, carefree smile, and arrived at Leanne’s in the late afternoon.

  Mom and Dad were already there, and so was Robert Harris, the doctor she wanted me to meet. He was quite nice and appealing, if you were into gentlemen and doctors. He was of average height, and his hair was a little thin on top, but he had a great smile, twinkling brown eyes, a dimple in his left cheek, and a sense of humor.

  Under different circumstances I might think he was quite attractive and want to see him again, but he had two negatives that outweighed the positives.

  My parents liked him, and he looked up women’s skirts all day.

  Eeyuck!

  The six of us were having pre-dinner cocktails and enjoying a nice conversation until they asked me about work. I had planned on not saying a word, but the fact that Mom and Dad were gushing over this doctor guy like he was the answer to their prayers changed my mind.

  “I need to tell you all something. I’ve never been a paralegal. I worked as a receptionist for the law firm, and now I’ve quit.” I looked around at their shocked faces. “As of tomorrow, I’ll be working for Gorilla Gram, Inc.” Sometimes I wonder if Helga is right when she says that I deliberately try to push my dad’s buttons. If so, I certainly succeeded.

  “What do you mean, you’re working for Gorilla Gram? What the hell have you done now?” Dad hollered as only he can. As though hollering was really beneath him, but the person responsible had forced him to this whole new level. His eyes kind of popped out and his nostrils twitched, I noticed with interest.