Pretty Little Thing

by Tabatha Kiss

  Getting out of here early wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, truth be told.

  Tonight, I have a sub to seduce.

  My desk phone rings. I reach to answer it, quickly clearing my throat. “Accounting,” I say.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  I lean back. “What can I do for you, Ms. Payne? Ali just stepped out…”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been waiting for her to go pee or something for like three hours.”

  “Okay…” I chuckle.

  Nora sighs. “Look, I hate to do this, but I have to cancel tonight,” she says.

  I twirl my pen in my fingers. “Something come up?” I ask.

  “No, not exactly. More like I made plans with you and almost stood up one of my closest friends by accident. She has a book signing tonight. Been planning it for weeks and I promised I’d be there. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” My gut twists with disappointment. “Book signing? That sounds fun.”

  “Yeah. They usually are.”

  “Is she a big deal, or…?”

  Nora chuckles. “Actually, kind of. She’s Melanie Rose.”

  I stop twirling my pen. “Melanie Rose?”

  “Have you heard of her?”

  I sit forward. “Yeah, I’ve heard of her.”

  “She’s the one who recommended Red Brick to me, actually.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “So, I… guess we’ll meet up tomorrow?” she asks.

  Ali passes behind me and slides into her desk chair.

  I shift to a more casual tone. “That works for me, ma’am.”

  Nora chuckles. “She’s back, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “When she asks, just tell her it’s me asking for the payroll reports.”

  I nod. “Right away, ma’am.”

  I hang up and Ali’s head instantly pops up over the wall.

  “Was that boss lady?” she asks.

  I turn up my hands. “She wants those payroll reports,” I say with a chuckle.

  Her eyes roll. “If you’re early, you’re on-time. If you’re on-time, you’re late. Am I right, temp?”

  “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  She falls out of sight again. I listen to the soft tapping of her keyboard behind the wall as I look straight ahead, my guts twisting in disappointment.

  The quicker I finish this job, the better.

  This time next week, I could be anywhere. I could do anything I want. That’s the freedom money buys you. That’s the freedom people with money take for granted. No work and all play. This time next week, that could be me. Finally.

  I just have to get that client list.

  To do that, I have to gain Nora’s trust.

  To gain Nora’s trust, I have to earn it. I have to get her to let me in but I have to stay focused. She’s not just any new sub, that’s for sure.

  No matter how much I might want her to be.

  I had her in front of me. Naked, wet, and willing. She begged me for it, just how I like it. If our time hadn’t have run out, I would have ruined her. There’s no doubt about that. I told her I could control my urges but I’m not sure how true that will be once I get a real taste of her.

  But even in the world’s best-case scenario… I don’t have a chance in hell with Nora Payne.

  She’s a certain type of woman and she expects a certain type of man and I’m not it. She’ll figure it out eventually.

  My only hope is that I’m long gone by the time she does.

  Sixteen

  Nora

  No amount of success lasts forever.

  You can be on top of the world at one second and be knocked to the ground the next. Things happen. Trends shift. If you don’t adapt and change with the world, the world will leave you behind. It’s a principal in all business but it’s sad to see it happen with your own eyes, knowing that you can’t do anything about it.

  Melanie Rose is bright-eyed and smiling right now. Her fans are here. Her adoring readers have rushed out here on a cold, Friday night just for the chance to see her. Melanie lives for nights like this but the lines on her face are a bit stiffer than previous signings at bookstores.

  I’ve seen crowds shut down streets in her name before.

  Tonight, however…

  We might not be here for very long.

  Trix and I sit on either side of her in indigo t-shirts and gray pencil skirts — our coordinated cheerleading outfits to match the book cover’s color scheme. Melanie threw on her little, black dress, as usual. And strappy shoes. That’s another way I know she’s feeling this night on the inside somewhere.

  She only wears the strappy shoes when she feels like dirt.

  “Oh, my god!” A woman rushes our table. “I’m so excited! I’m your biggest fan!”

  Melanie grins at her. “Aww, thank you so much.”

  “Can you make it out to Jeanie?”

  The woman sets her book down — but it’s not the new release stacked up on tables all over the bookstore. It’s one of her first bestsellers. The one Melanie can’t ever seem to outrun no matter how hard she tries.

  “Oh, sure,” Melanie says, keeping her face.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever find a better book boyfriend than Nathaniel Scott,” the woman swoons. “Will there be a sequel?”

  Melanie scribbles her name with a short dedication for Jeanie on the title page. “I have no plans for one, no. But I have a new release—”

  “It’s the most anticipated book in my book club!” she shouts. “They told me to tell you that. They said, you tell that Mel Rose to stop dicking around and write the damn book.” She cackles loudly.

  “Maybe someday.” Melanie holds up the book. “Thanks for coming. I appreciate it.”

  Jeanie snatches it out of Melanie’s hand and admires the fresh, new dedication inside. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you!”

  She skips off with her book clenched to her chest, passing by stacks upon stacks of Melanie’s new book.

  Melanie exhales hard as soon as she’s out of earshot but she keeps her smile going for the next person in line.

  That’s another truth in the business world. Sometimes, you can have an idea so great, create something that resonates so much with so many people, that it will be all they’ll remember you for. It doesn’t matter what you do. You’ll never replicate that success again.

  I look at Trix and she nods, thinking the same thing. Tender loving care for Melanie, coming right up.

  Soon, and quickly, the line dies down. People pass by the table, passively glance over, and keep walking to the coffee shop across the store. Someone will trickle by here and there but they just so happened to be here at the right time while they were shopping. Their lucky night. I didn’t even know this was scheduled…

  Melanie flicks her strappy heel, gently kicking the support bar beneath her folding chair.

  A man stops in front of the table holding a large bouquet of red roses wrapped tightly with a pink ribbon.

  “Delivery for Ms. Rose,” he says.

  Melanie’s face lights up. “Oh, another one!” She reaches for them and the man hands them off to her. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  He nods and walks off.

  “Another one?” I ask.

  She buries her nose in the bright red petals and inhales. “Yeah, I get these every so often,” she says. “I haven’t told you?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Is there a card?” Trix asks.

  Melanie turns them over in her hands. “Here,” she says, sliding the small, white envelope from the ribbon. “But it won’t have a name. It never does.”

  I peel the envelope open and yank the card out. “You look adorable tonight. Love, your SA,” I read. “SA?”

  “Secret admirer,” she translates as she smells them again.

  Trix leans in to catch a whiff. “How many bouquets have you gotten?”

  “Six,” Melanie answers. “One a month f
or the last half year.” She fingers the ribbon. “Always a dozen with a one-inch ribbon. A different color each time. The last one was purple. Green before that.”

  I turn the card over, searching for evidence. “And you have no idea who’s sending them?”

  “Nope. None. But whoever it is knows my schedule, where I like to have lunch, my home address…”

  “Melanie.” I stare at her. “Don’t you think you should report this? This person is stalking you.”

  “They couldn’t do anything without a name or a face.” She sets them down on the table beside her. “And even with that, you can’t get a restraining order unless you can prove harmful intent and so far, all I’ve received is a bunch of roses now and then. Perfectly harmless. Chicago cops would probably just tell me to take it as a compliment anyway.”

  Trix glances around with wide eyes. “They could be here right now...”

  “Most likely.”

  I nudge her arm. “Maybe it’s Robbie.”

  “Pfft. Please.” She rolls her eyes. “That man couldn’t find my clitoris without a spotlight, there’s no way he’s tracking me around like this. No, this guy is smart and cunning. An obsessed fan, perhaps.”

  Trix chuckles. “That didn’t end so well in Misery, Mel.”

  “Hey, if this ends with me getting to lay around in bed all day while some devoted schmuck brings me food in exchange for smutty love stories, I wouldn’t mind. Sign me up. No more bills. No more taxes. If he’s moderately attractive and has a stable wi-fi connection...” She holds up her hands in surrender. “No cliffhangers. No cheating. Guaranteed happily ever after.”

  “What if it’s a woman?” I ask.

  She smirks. “You know, you’d think that would change my mind but I’ve done far stranger things for free food.” She looks forward and her head instantly falls. “No,” she groans. “No. No. No. No—”

  I look up at the man approaching the table. Brown hair, cleft chin. Leather jacket and jeans.

  Robbie. Speak of the devil.

  “Hello, ladies,” he says as he approaches. “You’re all looking very nice tonight.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Melanie spits.

  He holds up her new book, gray and indigo cover and all. “I came to get my copy signed.” He sets it down in front of her. “I am your biggest fan, after all.”

  “Yeah, I doubt that.” She eyes the room. “Please tell me this place has a security team…”

  “Or, you could just sign the book,” he suggests, nudging it a little closer. “Wouldn’t want to make a scene over nothing, Mel.” He nods at the bouquet. “What’s with the roses?”

  “They’re from a secret admirer,” Trix says with suspicious eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Rob?”

  “Flowers aren’t my style,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Strange,” Melanie says. “I didn’t realize drawing a penis on the bathroom mirror telling me to come and get it, baby was considered a style.”

  He winks. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  Melanie snaps the book open and scribbles on the title page. “For Robbie,” she says aloud. “Thanks for all your support. Your pal, Mel Rose.” She slams it and holds it out to him. “There. You can go now.”

  Robbie takes it and flicks it open. “Hey, Robbie,” he reads, grinning wide. “Eat a dick and die. Mel Rose. Aww, that’s cute. You drew a frowny face and everything.”

  Melanie feigns a smile. “Bye-bye!”

  “Not so fast.” He holds up his phone. “I paid for a selfie, too.”

  Her smile drops.

  Robbie bends back over the table and holds up his phone. “Say cheese, Mel,” he says, lining up the photo.

  “I hate you,” she says as the flash blinds her.

  “Perfect.” Robbie inspects it. “Now, that’s a Christmas card.”

  “Go. Away.”

  “Relax. I’m on my way out.” Robbie looks to me and Trix again and bows his head. “Ladies.”

  “Bye, Robbie!” I say with a wave.

  “Love you, Robbie!” Trix adds.

  “We miss you.”

  We both blow kisses at him and he returns a wink before disappearing into the nonexistent crowd.

  Melanie groans. “I need new friends.”

  Trix pats Melanie’s back.

  I turn in my chair. “I’m heading to the ladies’,” I say. “Be right back.”

  I stand up and head toward the restrooms in the far corner. I check over my shoulder, making sure Trix and Melanie aren’t looking before hopping between the bookshelves and rushing toward the exit to catch up with Robbie.

  I step outside, quickly looking from left to right in search of that familiar leather jacket. I spot him down the block just seconds away from hailing a cab.

  “Hey, Rob. Wait up!”

  He hears me and stops, instantly throwing his hands up as I catch up to him. “Hey, I was nice,” he says, defending himself.

  “I know.” I cross my arms to shield the cold. “You were. I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “It’s her big night,” he says with a shrug. “And from what you’ve undoubtedly already deduced, it’s not as big as she wanted it to be. I can read a room, ya know.”

  “Not about that.”

  He pauses, studying me for a second before cracking a smile. “You went back to Judy’s,” he figures out.

  “I did.”

  “Did you try the cross?” he asks.

  “I…” I hesitate. “Yeah, I did. A little. Sort of.”

  Robbie nods with respect. “Well done, Nora Payne,” he says. “You did what I couldn’t do.”

  “Couldn’t?” I ask.

  “I guess I’m what your people would call a prude.”

  “You?” I lean closer. “Prude?”

  He turns up his hands. “Life’s complicated enough. I like to keep the bedroom simple. Melanie, on the other hand… she had her moments of panic. Won’t get into it now — but I’m happy for you! You look good.”

  “Thanks.” I smile. “I’m feeling pretty good about it.”

  “That’s all that matters.” He smirks. “So, what’d she say?”

  “Say about what?”

  His brow piques, hinting at something dirty.

  “Oh.” I exhale, remembering. “Yes. You were right. She thinks about you.”

  Robbie takes a smug breath, filling his lungs to the top. “Yeah, that’s the stuff worth living for,” he muses.

  I tap my foot to spur some extra warmth. “How did you know I’d cave and ask her?”

  He laughs. “Because any man who marries one of you marries all of you. I had to spend way too much time with you three. Now, I’m a perceptive young chap and I picked up on your personalities real quick so I can basically predict within a one-percent margin of error how you’ll react to most situations.”

  I blink. “That’s creepy.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” He nods. “But, on the bright side, when shit hit the fan with Melanie, I knew that she’d be okay because she had you guys to take care of her. I never got the chance to tell you before but I appreciate everything you did for her then.”

  I tilt my head. “That’s sweet.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” He smiles. “Take care of her tonight, will ya? She’ll need it.”

  “We will.”

  “See you around, Bubbles,” he adds, raising his bandaged hand to his forehead.

  “Bye, Robbie.”

  He performs a quick salute before he continues on down the sidewalk with his book by his side.

  Seventeen

  Nora

  Tender loving care in our world translates to two things: Calories and alcohol.

  Trix supplied the wine by snatching a few imported bottles from her grandmother’s pantry while I easily ordered a few pizzas to be delivered to Melanie’s apartment the moment we arrived after the signing.

  Melanie probably would have preferred to sulk alone but
she’ll get her chance to do that. Her eyes occasionally slip over to the stack of unsigned books left over from the signing. Trix and I do our best to distract her from that. That’s future Melanie’s problem.

  Tonight is tipsy pizza night and it doesn’t take long until the three of us are sprawled out in the living room with a few empty bottles and gnawed-on crusts.

  I close the refrigerator door with a fresh bottle in hand, pausing for a second to admire the bunch of ribbons she has hanging from a magnetic clip beside the ice dispenser. There are six ribbons there, the newest pink edition hanging in the front with purple, green, gold, red, and silver following behind.

  “Bitch, hurry up!” Trix shouts from the couch. “I’m drying out.”

  I walk back into the living room and set the bottle down on the coffee table in front of Trix, who promptly snatches it along with the corkscrew.

  Melanie has crawled from her spot on the floor to her work desk in the corner again. She sits in the chair and stares at her laptop with a sunken look on her face.

  I scold her. “Hey. No, no. No work.” I snap my fingers. “Come back here.”

  “I’m just checking to see if anyone is talking shit about me,” she says.

  “No.” I look at Trix. “You were supposed to be watching her.”

  Trix twists the corkscrew. “She gave me a dollar,” she says, popping the cork out.

  I lower to the floor, plopping down to rest my back on the couch. “Well, whatever. I give up. Be sad.” I shove the end of a pizza crust into my mouth, instantly regretting it. I’m already very full but I can’t seem to stop munching.

  Melanie groans and slinks back to the floor. “Fine,” she says as she settles on her cushion by the coffee table. “You’re right. You’re totally right. I should not dwell.”

  Trix’s phone vibrates against the end table. Again. She ignores it. Again.

  Melanie squints. “Okay, who the hell is texting you so much?”

  “Booty call bodyguard, huh?” I ask.

  Trix nods. “Unfortunately.”

  “Ohh,” Melanie muses. “Booty Call Bodyguard. That’s a good title.”

  I chuckle. “Still haven’t talked to him yet?”

  “I will.” Trix picks up her glass. “Tomorrow. Papa’s lawyers are coming to talk to me so I’ll probably run into him then.”