Pink Slips and Glass Slippers

by J. P. Hansen

  He stopped, and twisted his head over his shoulder in a pained expression, “You’re what?”

  “I said, ‘I’m coming.’ Parker’s in danger, I’m not stopping until he’s safe.”

  Without the police, he needed assistance. He said, “You want to help? Fine, I accept. For starters, I could use a description of the vehicle she was driving.”

  Brooke glanced at Marsha, who shrugged her shoulders, saying, “I was inside reading a story when she left.”

  “I’ll call Rache’s grandma. She was right there.”

  Chase frowned, “What are you going to say?”

  “I’ll start by asking how Rache is doing with the transition and thank her for her continued support. Then I’ll ask her if she saw what kind of car Parker’s mom left in.”

  Chase agreed, “Yeah, good, good discretion.”

  Discretion? Brooke smirked, “I’ll call them right now from here. Give me your cell number.”

  Chase held the phone above his head and said, “Only if you lift the call block.”

  “Yes, don’t worry…”

  Marsha creased her eyebrows, but remained silent.

  Chase headed toward his car, saying, “Call me when you’re done.”

  Driving away, Chase called Oksana and broke the news to her. He could barely understand her—the more upset she became, the worse her English sounded. He finally calmed her enough to reason with her. Chase said, “Grab the binoculars—in the kitchen drawer—and sit where you can see the entrances. If they show up, write down the license number, color and type of car. Don’t confront them—just hide.”

  “Should I call the police?”

  “No! Do not call the police. Call me right away.”

  Chase dialed Max’s number—voicemail again. Sheesh, I wonder where he’s been? Chase’s head spun. He pulled over and retrieved a legal pad from his briefcase. With eyes closed, he visualized who, what, where, and why—why did she take him? What was she doing? Where? Then, it came…

  Chase sped over to Chuck E. Cheese—the same place he took Parker. He skirted a red light and nearly crashed into a U-Haul. His heart pounded and his hands slipped on the steering wheel. Not taking any chances, he screeched to a halt at the entrance and jumped out. Ripping open the glass door, he scanned the restaurant like a Secret Service agent—no Parker.

  “Sir, you can’t park there—”

  “Huh?” Chase glared at the pimply-faced teenager with the name tag “Gus, Assistant Mgr.” Chase continued, “I know, listen, this is an emergency. I’m looking for my son.”

  “Missing child? Do you want me to call the cops?”

  “No, I already did,” Chase rubbed his nose, then asked, “Has a little boy with dark hair and a blue shirt come in here with his mommy?”

  The kid smirked, “All the time. Look around, that’s our market.”

  Chase sighed, then flashed a picture of Parker to Gus, “Here’s my card, please call if they come in here.”

  Back in the car, he closed his eyes and another spot came to mind. He drove to the playground near the house—no Parker. Then, another playground—no Parker. He dialed Max again—voicemail.

  Chase typed “hotels” in his smart phone’s GPS and frowned. There’s no way I can hit 130 hotels. He narrowed the list by locale. I wonder if she brought what’s-his-name along? Rusty, was it? What was his last name? I bet they put the room in his name since I cancelled all her credit cards.

  “C’mon Max, answer.” Voicemail—dammit. Chase scanned the hotel list again and one name stood out—Embassy Suites: two bedrooms, in case Heather brought her druggie boyfriend. He still couldn’t remember Rusty’s last name. He dialed Max again—voicemail. “Where the hell are you?”

  While showing the Embassy Suites manager Parker’s picture, Chase’s stomach roiled—Rusty would probably check in while Heather stayed in the car with Parker. Other than height and that he was a loser, Chase couldn’t provide much of a description. He didn’t even know Rusty’s real first name. He went back to the car.

  “Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl” rang out. He wiped his eyes and squinted at the caller ID—I know that number.

  Chase answered, “I hope you had better luck than me.”

  “How about Rache’s grandma?”

  “I don’t have her cell and neither parent is answering. I’ve left three messages.”

  Chase drew a deep breath, then recapped his efforts in one lengthy sentence—suppressing his frustration.

  “What should we do?” Brooke’s voice cracked.

  “I don’t know what else to do other than go to each hotel…”

  Brooke dabbed her eyes, then said, “Maybe we should call the police—”

  “No! The police are out of the question.”

  Brooke said, “Then let’s hit every hotel we can. One of us can search the parking lot while the other talks to the front desk.”

  Chase sighed, “Good idea. That would really help. I’m not thinking straight.”

  They decided to meet at the next Courtyard on the list. Plugging in the address, Chase drove off before the GPS lady spoke her wisdom. A flash on his dashboard caught his eye—shit, that’s all I need.

  He pulled to the curb and typed in “Fuel,” hoping he had enough fuel to make it. His range button deflated his hope. Chase pictured himself pushing his BMW to the Mobil. Chase pictured himself pushing his BMW to Mobil and steadied his foot to twenty five. The station was just over a mile away. He focused like a jaguar stalking its prey—and prayed.

  With the Mobil sign in sight, Chase surveyed the starless sky, and said, “Thank you.” Coasting into an open spot, he guessed he made it on fumes.

  A car pulled up to the opposite pump. “Chase? Is that you?”

  “Huh?” Chase turned toward the familiar voice and squinted.

  “Remember me?”

  “Yeah…” Chase stalled for time—good with faces, lousy with names—she looked familiar. He said, “From the club…”

  She said, “I go at least a year without seeing you guys, and, here, in the same day, I see you and Heather.” She snuck a look at Brooke at the passenger seat and sneered.

  Chase chortled nervously, then asked, “How’ve you been?”

  “Busy carting kids around. You know the drill. Parker’s grown so much,” she smiled, and scanning up and down, said, “He looks just like you.”

  Chase’s head buzzed, “Where did you run into Heather?”

  “I think I saw her at Target.”

  Chase paused. She finally said, “I’m jealous—my husband doesn’t take us anywhere fun—have a nice trip.”

  “Come again?”

  “Vacation. I mean have a nice vacation.” Chase’s eyes widened; she said, “Parker told Joshua you guys were going to Disney. He’s so excited…hey, weren’t you supposed to leave—”

  “Oh, thanks for reminding me. I’m late. Good to see you.”

  ***

  “Why isn’t daddy flying us to see Mickey, Mommy?”

  Heather glared at Rusty, whose smirk distanced her from the answer. She inhaled, then said, “Oh honey, I hope he’s going to be able to meet us there. He has a lot of work. He told me he’d try.” Parker sighed. Heather continued, “We’ll have so much fun. I hope you’re tall enough for all the big boy rides.”

  Parker’s eyes widened, “Like Frankie’s Fun House?”

  “Where’s that?”

  “My birthday party. Daddy went on all the rides with me.”

  “Oh. The place I’m taking you to is called the ‘magic kingdom.’”

  Parker looked confused, “Is it bigger than Frankie’s?”

  Heather said, “It’s much bigger than Frankie’s. And they have Mickey Mouse. You’re going to love Disney.” Rusty lit a joint and by the time Heather shot him a glare, he had already taken a hit. He handed it to Heather, who inhaled a quick hit, then passed it back.

  “You shouldn’t smoke. Smoking is bad,” Parker proclaimed, eyes widened.

 
Rusty laughed, then sucked a long drag and coughed as he handed it back to Heather. She waved him off but he held it in front of her for a few seconds. She grabbed it and took a fast hit, then said, “No more, unless you wanna drive.” Rusty tucked his chin into his chest and shook his head in short sideways bursts.

  Heather squinted in the rearview at the wide-eyed Parker, then said, “Mommy’s trying to quit smoking. Don’t you ever start, you hear me?”

  Parker shook his head in an exaggerated motion, then said, “Will you go on all the rides with me if daddy’s not there?”

  “Absolutely.” Heather glanced at Rusty, who ducked out on his cue to speak.

  “Are we almost there?”

  Rusty snickered, Heather frowned, “No, honey, it’s kind of a long drive.”

  Parker sighed, “I wish we could fly with Daddy…can you play Baby Beluga?”

  “I don’t think we have that one.”

  “How about Shake My Sillies Out? Daddy always sings it with me.”

  “Nope, let’s just talk—I haven’t seen you for so long…”

  “I’m hungry. Can we go to Chuck E. Cheese?”

  Heather fidgeted, then inspected the bag on the floor between Rusty’s baggy jeans, and said, “We’ll be stopping soon.”

  ***

  “Before I start this plane, we gotta clear the air first.”

  Brooke glanced away, saying, “Whatever.”

  “What is your problem?”

  “My problem? My problem? That’s a good one.” Brooke’s face filled with rage.

  “Seriously, what is your problem?” Chase stared at Brooke.

  Chase unbuckled his shoulder straps and noticed his neck tighten, and heart thump. “Why wouldn’t you talk to me?”

  Brooke glared into his furrowed eyes, then said, “I did.”

  “No, you didn’t. You called me names and hung up on me twice. I was just trying to—”

  “Wait, you expect me to listen to you harass me.”

  “Harass you? We had an amazing night together, then you—”

  “Let me offer you a concise executive recap. You fuck me, fire me, then joke about giving me my pink slip, then tell me you have a big package for me. Then, you won’t stop calling. How do you define harassment?”

  Chase’s eyes widened, “You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with you losing your job?”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “I’m serious as a heart attack.”

  “So, if I’m getting this straight, you’re saying that you, the CEO, had nothing to do with me getting fired right after we made love?”

  “Oh, my God, I can’t believe you’d actually think…” Chase’s eyes darted, “Is that why you blocked my calls?”

  “I blocked your calls because you were harassing me. You’re no different than Dix—”

  “Stop using that word! I did NOT harass you. I still can’t believe you called my boss.”

  Brooke shuddered, “I don’t even know who your boss is, I would never—”

  “So you’re denying you registered a complaint—”

  “Why would I do that? Now that you mention it, I should have—after you waved the pink slip in my face.”

  “I still sleep with it and since you’re acting this way, I may never return it to you.”

  Brooke’s eyes widened. “What did you just say?”

  “The sexy pink slip you left in our room. I’ve been trying to—”

  “Oh…my…God…”

  “You know it still has your fragrance…”

  Brooke’s jaw dropped as it registered.

  Chase said, “I can’t believe you never signed the new severance package…”

  Package? Brooke said, “Hold on!”

  Brooke said, “The only severance package I got was a lousy two weeks…”

  “Duh, that’s what I’m talking about. I almost got fired over the new, much bigger package we offered and I wrote you that letter...”

  Bigger package? Brooke laughed out loud.

  Chase frowned, then said, “I’m glad you think it’s funny that I almost lost my job.”

  “You’re either the world’s greatest con artist or…”

  “Con artist, geez thanks. Or what?” Chase crossed his arms across his puffed out chest.

  “So, when you called me the second time…when you said you had a big package for me…” Brooke giggled. “You were talking about—”

  Their eyes locked as it hit them and they burst into laughter.

  “Just so you know, Chase, I never received any note from you—or voicemail. And the only severance from Pharm-my-ass was two lousy weeks.”

  Chase eyed her with slight disbelief. She sounded genuine, as if she actually believed what she said. “C’mon, you’re saying you missed the big manila envelope with my hand-written note AND my voicemail?”

  Brooke hesitated, glanced to the left, then said, “Well, I probably tossed it if it had your little company logo on it and I honestly didn’t get that voicemail…”

  “Or, you erased it.”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not crazy. Answer me one question: how can you say you didn’t have me fired? The timing was a little suspect.” Brooke inhaled his fragrance—as if for the first time.

  “Henry Stoddard’s turned from friend to foe. I had lunch with him and he mentioned the company was looking to outsource your division. I fought with him and he led me to believe it wasn’t a done deal. Then, I played golf Friday afternoon—the day before you and I…Well, Henry decided to ignore what I said. He weaseled a quick meeting with Greenberg without me and they decided to undo everything I built. I took off Sunday and Monday to take Parker fishing and then the beach.”

  “Fishing? Did you go shark fishing?”

  “How did you know?”

  Brooke’s pulse froze and her head spun. “Oh my God. You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “No, we went shark—”

  “Not that…You must think I’m coo coo.”

  “That would be an understatement. Look, I know you think our magical night together was a mistake but…”

  “Shhhhhh,” Brooke placed her finger on Chase’s lips. He raised one brow and still looked good to Brooke. She said, “I…I’m such an idiot!”

  ***

  The dye took longer than she had hoped—no thanks to Rusty’s “medicine chest”—but Parker’s new hairdo would work. And, he looked so different in the new clothes.

  Rusty said, “Now, you’re stylin just like me.”

  Parker sloshed across the nasty carpet to the dimly lit motel room mirror and laughed. “I look funny. Can I be this for Halloween?”

  Heather smiled, “Sure, honey, anything you want.”

  “I’m hungry. Can we go to Chuck E. Cheese now?”

  Rusty snorted, saying, “Little guy’s got the munchies—me too.”

  Heather rubbed his spiked hair, and said, “Sorry, there aren’t any nearby, sweetie.”

  Rusty said, “Eat those chips I bought ya, kid. Or else, give ‘em to me—I’ll eat ‘em. Friggin spoiled—”

  “Rusty, shut up. He doesn’t have to eat those if he doesn’t want to.”

  Parker’s eyes widened—he’d never heard big people talk like this.

  “Isn’t it time the little guy went to bed, so me and momma can party?” Rusty slapped Heather’s backside.

  Heather glared at Rusty, then faced Parker, “Honey, you should get to bed.”

  Parker eyed the twin beds, “Where’s my PJs?”

  “Just sleep in your clothes tonight. We’ll get you some tomorrow. Now, just go to bed, okay, mommy’s tired.” Rusty lurched in behind her and gripped her like a backpack. She giggled, Parker frowned.

  Parker said, “Don’t I have to brush my teeth first?”

  “No, remind me tomorrow to get you a tooth brush. Now, please just go to bed.”

  Parker trudged over to the bed like a condemned prisoner enroute to the gallows. He pulled the be
dspread back, then crawled in slowly. He said, “Are we going to say my special prayers?”

  “Huh?”

  “Daddy always says my special prayers and stays with me until I fall asleep.”

  Rusty sneered, then said, “There is no God kid—”

  “Shut up Rusty—you’re stoned—and you’re scaring the poor kid,” Heather rubbed her eyes, then squinted at Parker, “Why don’t you say your prayers tonight, okay, I’ve got a real bad headache.” Rusty snickered, then wheezed.

  Parker’s lip trembled, “Can I call daddy?”

  “Your daddy’s working and doesn’t want us to bother him. Now, go to bed.”

  Parker pulled the covers tightly under his chin, and forced his eyes shut. Heather and Rusty flipped off the light, then went outside, carrying their bag.

  ***

  Though the Q & A war paused into a cease fire, battles remained. Brooke still had major questions—like the wife issue. And, who was the young chick he waltzed into the hotel with? Though he seemed sincere, she was skeptical, unable to double-check his answers. After all, his best friend was called “dawg.” I wish I could hook him to a lie detector.

  Chase still doubted Brooke’s denial of blowing the whistle to Henry. He remembered All the President’s Men, and snickered. He had taken extra care to tell no one—including Dixon. That left only one person. But, she seemed definitive. I wish I could hook her to a lie detector.

  They ascended into a sky darkened by night’s unseen clouds. With a storm forecast, Chase wondered if they’d make it to Orlando. They lost valuable time and fuel arguing, but it beat crashing due to their fight erupting in the air.

  “So, what is the plan?” Brooke decided to shelve her most pressing questions.

  “I know they’re heading to Disney, and I’m hoping by car. If my information is correct, they’ll have Minnesota plates.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Chase paused, then said, “I hired a private investigator to follow my wife.”

  “Wife? You told me you weren’t married.” So much for the shelving.

  Chase fidgeted, “I, uh, I’m getting a divorce.”

  “That’s what they all say…”

  “My situation is complicated.”

  “They all are…Why’d you wear a wedding band?”