by Gina Kincade
Why couldn't she have had this conversation with him before she left? Oh, that's right. Mr. Moneybags just whisked her away in his fancy ass jet and propose with undoubtedly the biggest diamond in the world, something so clunky and hideously in the price tag of more than what he earns in a year.
"Things are good here. You've got nothing to worry about." He chews on the inside of his mouth to stop himself from yelling.
"Well, thank you. I really do appreciate everything you've done for me," Red's sweet voice digs a hole in his already broken heart.
He gazes up to Daisy, who has been leering at him. "I better get going. Got a client." Before he can hear Red say good-bye, he hands the phone back to Daisy, and exits Red's office, located in the back of the studio.
It's almost midnight and the studio continues to be busy, with buzzing sounds of tattoo implements, and chatter between artists and clients. Hunter wonders what Red plans to do to the studio once she marries the billionaire. He'd like to continue working in it. If possible, he wants to buy the business from Red. Surely, Moneybags would convince her that she's not have to bother with work. She'll be a woman of leisure, a trophy wife. But she'll be bored as hell.
His eyes flicker to the front of the studio where his next client awaited. With a deep breath to control his angst, he calls his client up and asks him to follow into one of the private rooms. At least his work will make him forget about Red, or any woman who intends to enter his mind.
"COME ON IN." THE MAN is friendly enough. Handsome, tall, and well dressed. "You're Blanche Lee?"
"Yes." She stands by the doorway.
The man scratches his head before picking up a pile of folders off a chair across a desk. "I guess you can sit here. Sorry, I thought these would be cleared by now." He looks at her again, and then stretches his hand, shaking his head as though he thinks he has forgotten his manners. "I'm Jason H. Peters."
"Pleasure to meet you. What does the H stand for?" Blanche tilts her head to one side, finds it odd a grown man goes by his first initial.
Jason Peters' smile broadens. "It's Horace. It used to be my first name. I had it legally switched. I couldn't quite get rid of it as it was my great grandfather's name. Yeah, my parents were cruel to me." His laughter fills the room and it relaxes Blanche, but only a little. "You can imagine the name-calling in grade school."
She has never been on an interview before. Her mother handled most of the talking and negotiations, then later on, by Perry. All her life, she has felt like puppet, opening and closing her mouth only when she was told. This is her chance to shine, to take over her life. Be responsible for it, for once.
"It's a very elegant name," she tells him, smiling.
Jason, who is about to sit, quirks his eyebrow and his lips at her. "I'm going to let my parents know. Now two people think that way."
"Two? Who's the other one?" Blanche finds him easy to talk to.
"My wife." Her eyes draw to the platinum band on his ring finger. "Yeah, I know it's a bit odd for a divorce lawyer to be happily married these days. And I like to defy everything." When he mentions his wife's name, his eyes twinkle, and Blanche finds him endearing. Another bonus point for a possible future boss.
"That's great to hear." Blanche brushes her skirt with her fingers. The navy blue power suit, paired with nude sling backs and white silk blouse were borrowed from Trisha. The color of the blazer compliments her fair complexion. She has blow-dried her hair into a puffy bob. She looks the part. She looks like a secretary.
He reaches behind on his desk and picks up a piece of paper. Her résumé. Her weak, single-page résumé. "There wasn't much on here. My wife reviewed them for me. Yours seemed to have garnered her attention somehow." He peruses it like he's never seen it before, and then he turns it over and is shocked to see that the other page is blank.
"I just moved here."
"Us too." Jason doesn't look up from the page. She knows that no matter how much he stares at it, any other work experiences will not appear. "Where from?"
"Chicago," is her automatic response. She's supposed to say what she and Trisha have practiced. "Boston."
Jason lifts his eyes off the page. "Which one?"
Blanche swallows a gob of spit that has gathered in her mouth, and winces. "I was originally from Chicago, but before moving here, I lived in Boston for a while." She cannot give him the chance to think about her words. "That's where I taught piano, in Boston." Although she didn't only teach piano, she played it for years, breathed it and lived it.
"Ah! Yes, I see that. Can you provide references? I have a feeling that's what Marianne liked about your CV."
"I'm afraid the families I've taught had moved from Boston as well and I wasn't able to get their information."
"Hmmm." She knows that hum means 'how convenient' that her only employers cannot be reached.
She needs to act, fast. "I'm a quick learner. And I know people say that all the time, but I really am. My roommate has been teaching me every computer program you may need me to use, and I've added that on the bottom of the page. I'm proficient in English, German, Spanish, Mandarin, a bit of French, Italian, and Japanese. I'm organized, punctual, extremely reliable, and I am make really good coffee." Jason has been staring at her the entire time. He's about to speak, when she adds, "or tea. I can make tea. Not that it’s hard."
With his lips pressed in a thin line, Jason regards her. She doesn't falter from his gaze. She's practiced with both Troy and Trisha for the past three days in preparation for this interview. The tick of the clock on the wall becomes louder, as neither of them is saying anything. Blanche is also careful with her breathing, taking the lifelong-learned ways of relaxing her breaths.
"My wife is sometimes wrong," he begins and her chest just about crushes inwards. "But she is also often right. If the people I worked with before didn't give me a chance, I wouldn't have this firm right now. I'm going to give you a try."
Did she hear him right? "Really? I mean, it will be an honor!"
"Trial for now though. Three months max, then we can take it from there." He writes on a piece of paper he grabs from the desk, and hands it to Blanche. "Here's what I'm offering. After the third month, if things work out, I'll give you an increase and benefits. We don't have exact hours. When I need you, you have to come in. I'll provide you with a work phone..." He takes another glance at her. "You know, we can sort that out later."
Jason stands up and rounds the desk. He hands Blanche a file. "Read through these tonight. Contracts, rules, laws etc." He also passes her a couple of thick books. "You don't have to memorize these but try and become familiar. I have a few clients at the moment, but once we're organized, they will come knocking. I'm that good."
Blanche stares at what she has to read. Piece of cake, a couple of law books and a thick file folder. No big. "Thank you so much. I won't let you down." She teeters on her feet, balancing the books in her hands.
"I'm looking forward to working with you, Ms. Lee."
"Blanche, please call me Blanche."
"Done. You can call me Jay, but if we have clients, call me Mr. Peters. Come in tomorrow at eight."
Blanche nods. She tries to stretch out her hand for a handshake but she's afraid the books will topple. "Eight a.m. got it."
When she reaches Trisha's apartment, she shakes off her arms, numb from carrying the books all the way home, then she dials Trisha's work number to tell her friend the good news. They agree to celebrate with champagne at home since they both will be working bright and early the next day. After she rings off, she wishes there is someone else she can call and tell the good news. What would Perry say to her being someone's assistant? She sneers at the thought. Then she thinks of Hunter. Too bad she hasn't asked his number. He would have been proud. Maybe.
Chapter Six
After leaving the quaint little restaurant, Trisha and Blanche decide to take a walk around the area. It's Bee's first time in Chelsea during the day. Much like the rest of the city, she has
n't figured out which part represents a certain demographic. They've picked up a few soy candles from a kitschy shop after brunch. Bee is determined to enjoy her first weekend off in three weeks.
Working for Jason H. Peters has been a challenge at first. But Blanche's determination won and in a matter of days, she's organized the office the most efficient way and has figured out how to do the rest of the work effectively. To say she has impressed Jay is an understatement. For certain, he would want to keep her longer than three months, if not as a permanent employee. Still, she keeps in mind that she's under probation and makes sure that her work is done close to perfection.
"We should get a tattoo," Trisha suggests once spotting the bright red lettering on a shop window.
Blanche quirks an eyebrow. "Serious?"
"Yeah!" Trisha's eyes brighten. "I've always wanted one. Don't you?"
She has wanted it done for a while, but her mother often dismissed the idea, saying, "it's lowly and for whores". A memory flitters in her mind of one hot tattooed man. Hunter. She still blushes every time she thinks of him and their night together. Blanche takes her friend's hand and pushes at the door of Red Ink Studio.
What she has expected doesn't match what she sees. The interior of the tattoo parlor is welcoming, warmer and cozier, even with the high ceilings, and it is artfully decorated.
A short girl with wiry purple hair greets them, "Hello, ladies, do you have an appointment?"
"Oh shoot." Trisha glances at Bee. "No, but we only want small tattoos."
She does? Blanche doesn't know what kind of tattoo Trish wants, but she has a clear idea of what she'd like to get done on herself. And it’s small.
"Well, we don't take walk-ins really." The girl takes in their appearances. Trisha looks like she belongs with her skin-tight jeans, John Lennon tee and spiky booties. But Blanche is another story with her lemon yellow summer dress, ballet flats and a little pink flower pinned on top of her head. Her hair has grown a bit and she is determined to grow it back again, no matter how much Trisha wishes she could cut it again.
"Aw really? Please? We can wait a bit as soon as someone is done. We won't take a lot of time. Haven't you been spontaneous?" Trish pleads.
"Girl, I'm the Queen of Spontaneity," the receptionist declares. "I may have room for one. Only one, as long as it's a small tattoo." She regards the two women in front of her. "Who will it be?"
The two friends look at each other. Trisha grins and speaks first, "She can go!" And pushes Bee forward.
What? "But I thought you?" Blanche protests, feeling like she has been tricked.
"Perfect! I just need you to fill out this form as best as you can. I'm Daisy, by the way. Have a seat and once you're done, I'll bring you right in." Daisy thrusts a piece of paper on a board toward Bee. "You're in luck, for real, cause Peter is a one of the best and he usually has a year-long wait list. He's looking after an apprentice so it will be a good training tool."
"Is the apprentice going to tattoo me?"
"Naw, Pete will, unless if you're feeling brave today? Our apprentices go through rigorous training. They don't get to touch clients until after several months. And don't worry, Pete may be the biggest guy here but he's very skilled and gentle." Bee doesn't miss the innuendo in Daisy's last words.
Calmly, she sits beside Trisha on one of the white club chairs, and writes her answers on the form. She feels like she's at the doctor's clinic rather than a tattoo studio with the questions she has to answer. Maybe it's a way for them to dissuade people like her. But she has had enough time to think about getting a tattoo. Years, in fact. She is taking over her life, her decisions, her body. It's time.
Then she falters at one question. She pales as she counts off the days. How can she miss it? Without another word, she stands and runs out of the studio, leaving the form on the chair, and her friend to run after her.
HUNTER WALKS OUT WITH Drake, talking about the MMA match they watched last night. The two men stop in front of Daisy.
"New client?" He nods at the form in Daisy's hands. He doesn't remember what the appointment book looks like for the day, but he doesn't recall seeing any notes on new clients. The people waiting in reception are returning clients.
Daisy knits her eyebrows together, then sends the form into the shredder. "A walk-in. I think she freaked out."
"Walk-in? Wow, you were actually giving me a walk-in?"
Daisy waves a hand at Drake. "I thought it would be good to have him watch you something different for once. Like what the client actually asks for and not what you push them to have." He understands why Daisy feels like she needs to bring him down a notch, but he doesn't let her see that it grates on his nerves. "But like I said, she fled so what can you do?"
"It would have been a nice change for once, I suppose. Really too bad. I'm in a giving mood." He grinds his teeth as he says the words. It's easier to pretend that he's not hurting inside.
"HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" Trisha asks.
"Five minutes."
Trisha sighs. "No, Blanche, how long?"
Blanche blinks at her friend. "Oh. Three weeks or so?"
"It's only been three weeks. There could be a chance that it's...."
Blanche hangs her head. "No. I'm afraid not."
Trisha sighs again. "Try another one."
Blanche lifts her head, propping her elbow on top of her knees, and resting her head on her hands. "Trisha, do you know what's the definition of 'psycho'?"
"What's that got to do anything with you being pregnant?" Trisha flicks her hand in the air.
"I peed on ten different tests! The results are not going to change with ten more. And I never miss my period. Ever."
"But you said you're on the pill."
Blanche pouts. She has been, but stopped after her life turned upside down. "Yeah. I guess after what's happened I started to forget, but it's only been less than a month since I stopped. I've only been with one guy. And we used condoms! Your condom!"
"Oh. About that...Troy saw them the other night...and we discovered that they're expired. I didn't realize those things expire. Or that it does stuff."
Trisha extends her arms to hug Blanche, whose shoulders start to tremble.
"What am I going to do?"
"Are you going to keep it? Because you know it's only three weeks."
Blanche wipes away the tears that continue to fall on her cheeks. "Trish, I know my mother hasn't taught me much, but she herself kept me and raised me even though she knew she'll have a harder life. That means something to me."
Trisha's voice is quiet when she answers. "Okay, Blanche. You're right. It’s your choice. But think about adoption maybe. Kids are expensive. I know because I'm dating one."
Blanche halts her sob at what she hears, and then laughs with her friend. Not long after, she starts crying again.
Once she's able to eat something that doesn't threaten her stomach from spewing, Blanche borrows Trisha's computer to do searches on adoption.
"What about that guy?" Trisha pipes up from the couch.
"What guy?" Blanche doesn't look away from the monitor.
Trisha moves to sit beside Blanche atop an ottoman. "The guy you slept with. He's been the only one, right?"
Hunter.
Blanche has been thinking of him since she figured out that she missed her period. "Yeah. Just him." She hasn't felt right sleeping with anybody else, or has never had another chance. She has never been a one-night stand kind of girl. Most of the time, she has been too tired to go partying with Trisha and Troy. The pregnancy symptoms fall into place.
"Are you going to tell him?"
"I dunno. I don't even know his last name or his address. I don't know anything about him." She chews on her bottom lip. It's been in her mind since suspecting that she might be pregnant.
"Other than he's got a big dick and superman sperm."
"Trish," Bee groans.
"Sorry. Couldn't help it. Are you sure the condom didn't break?"
B
ee shrugs. "He took it off, I'm guessing in the bathroom. It didn't occur to me to check, and he didn't say anything about it."
"Did you see him put it on?"
"Yeah. I put it on him, all three times. It was dark that first time but I'm pretty sure he had it on properly. I would feel if he didn't."
"Yeah of course.... maybe he's so big that he tore through it like your panties and my shirt."
"Oh god, Trisha. Stop! I shouldn't have told you anything."
Trish clamps her mouth shut. "What about the other times?"
"I used what he had in his bathroom the second time and fished out another one from my purse the third. Gah! This is so messed up!" Blanche rubs her eyes with her hands, wondering how she could have made such a huge mistake.
"Well, think of the positive. Now you get to have boobs, big boobs. Guys like that."
"Yeah, and soon enough I'll run out of regular clothes to wear because of my expanding belly. Guys are into big bellies too right?"
"Sorry. Just trying to cheer you up."
Bee knows Trisha is trying hard to be a good friend. She knows that Trish will support her no matter what her decision is. "I know. I'm gonna get ready to go to work. I'll see you later?"
"It's Sunday."
"I know. I want to go in and prep for tomorrow. We have a lot of clients coming in and I have to do a lot of reading. I didn't get to print them all out before I left on Friday. Plus it will help me think." She goes to stand and fixes the belt on her currently flat stomach. She pats her belly and sighs. "I love this belt."
"We'll go shopping when it's time. They have cute stuff now for preggers."
Blanche walks over to her friend and wraps her in a hug. "Thanks, Trish. I would go crazy without you."
"I know."
She leaves Trish seated on the couch, having cereal for lunch, despite Blanche telling her that she should eat something healthier. Trisha tells her it's her "free Sunday.". She allows herself one free day to do just about anything she wants. Blanche figures if she can handle someone like Trisha, how bad could a child be?
