Dirty Secrets

by Drummond, Lonaire

  “I don’t need you. I could find thirty more executive assistants just like you,” Mindy said.

  “You go right ahead. P.S. No one likes you,” Adele fired one last insult at her former boss before storming out of her office.

  Chapter 4

  Adele slammed Mindy’s door, opened it, gave her the finger and slammed it again for good measure. The gravity of the situation hit her with the speed and accuracy of a fastball thrown by Roger Clemens. Her legs shook like jello, and she was sure Snoop Dog could write lyrics to the beat of her pulsating heart. Under the sedation of joblessness, Adele walked by Robynne, who had her knee primed for attack against an unsuspecting copier.

  “Tell the Dark One this copier is on its last legs,” Robynne said.

  “Uh huh,” Adele’s fragmented steps resembled those of a bride walking down the aisle.

  “Adele, it’s called walking. What’s wrong with you?” Robynne said.

  She snapped her fingers several times, a gesture which only served to further irritate Adele.

  “Fuck,” Adele responded.

  She looked over her shoulder to find Mindy perched in the doorway of her office.

  “What? Who? Did you finally get some last night? Who’s the hot piece of tail? Robynne asked.

  “I just quit,” Adele said.

  Like a shot to the arm, the words hurt at first, but now she felt relief coursing throughout her body.

  “Congratulations. It’s about time,” Robynne said.

  “You can leave with her,” Mindy said with her hands draped across her massive breasts.

  “You know I can curse you out in two languages, right? Spanish or Korean, you pick.” Robynne said, proudly showing off the wares of her unique heritage.

  “Shut up Robynne, with just one a nod of her head, she’ll grant your wish and you’ll be out of a job,” Adele said.

  “You watch too much TV. She’s bluffing. Besides, who would help her count to ten?” Robynne said.

  “Adele you have five minutes before I call security. Get your shit and get out!” Mindy said.

  “Call them, maybe they can beat the ungrateful she-devil out of you,” Adele said.

  “You will regret this.” Mindy slammed the door and the frame wobbled.

  “I’m so proud of you. You’re my hero. You finally put on your big girl panties,” Robynne pulled Adele into a bone-shattering hug.

  “Why, I just quit my job. I’m jobless. I’m unemployed. You’re squeezing me to death,” Adele said, trying to break free.

  “I’m not worried, and it’s called a hug. Did I pop your precious space bubble?” Robynne’s laughter filled the room.

  “Is it because I’m a penny pinching miser? Okay, you can let me go now,” Adele said.

  “I will see you at home…maybe. CT wants me to stay at his place,” Robynne said.

  “Are you two gonna make love faces tonight? Ewww. Nasty,” Adele said.

  “It’s a strong possibility. He crossed the three month finish line. The first prize is this booty.” Robynne smacked her ass for emphasis.

  Adele grabbed a small box from the supply closet with the intention of storing her mouse pad, some well worn stress balls, photos of her parents and an impressive candy stash: a paltry accumulation of items summed up the five years she spent toiling at Corentini. She picked up her box, took one last look around and headed for the door.

  Chapter 5

  Adele paced back and forth across the hard wood floors of her apartment. After catching a cab home, she made and then neglected a tuna sandwich after a few bites. It’s festering remnants sat on the dining room table. Construction next door made it impossible to sleep, but a stubborn Adele tried nevertheless. She studied the crevices of the ceiling for fifteen minutes, but sleeplessness pull her out of bed.

  She couldn’t grasp the concept of being home at two in the afternoon on a Monday. She powered up her laptop and then stared at the balance of her savings account until her eyes crossed. A combination of thriftiness and a healthy inheritance from her father’s estate left her with a good amount of savings in the bank.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her Italian dictionary peeking out from under Robynne’s Condè Nast Traveller magazines. She threw it across the room where it landed on a white leather sofa.

  The apartment’s black and white motif reminded Adele of a waiting room. Robynne’s muses, two cats named Ebony and Ivory, purred on a red coffee table. The well-done Picasso copies—courtesy of Adele—bought from a sidewalk artist in The Village, added a badly needed color infusion in their anemic apartment. Adele clicked on the close button of her bank’s website only to be inundated with pop-up advertisements from various companies.

  “Come experience the island paradise of St. Lucia,” an ad blasted from her speakers. The steady beat of steel drums brought the Caribbean into her living room. A grinning couple broke through crystalline, blue water. They ran in slow motion leaving footprints in the whitest sand Adele had ever seen. She tried to close out the pop-up, but to her dismay, it froze on her laptop. Staring at the beautiful island images suspended on her computer screen, Adele remembered all of the vacation time she did not take over the last few years.

  “Yes Mindy, I’m about to check in for my flight,” Adele said.

  “Your presentation isn’t working. The board members are freaking out. There are Italian words flying around the room. They do not look happy,” Mindy said.

  “What are they saying?” Adele heard the distress in her voice.

  “How the hell should I know? I don’t speak Italian. I pay you to speak it for me, but you’re not here,” Mindy’s nasally whine gave Adele an instant headache.

  “Did you turn on the projector? Did you power up the computer? Is the screen on and lowered?” Adele asked.

  “I did it all. It still won’t work,” Mindy said.

  “Call IT,” Adele said.

  “I don’t trust them. I want you to do it,” Mindy said.

  “Just breathe. Forget the visual presentation. Just use the notes I gave you. You did look at the notes, right?” Adele asked.

  “I did look at them. I can’t do this. I need you,” Mindy said.

  “Can I see your ticket and ID, Ma’am,” the ticket agent asked.

  “Who do I talk to about a refund?” Adele sighed.

  Adele groaned with the memory of Mindy’s incompetence. A $385 penalty and a cancelled Caribbean cruise hadn’t resulted in a thank you from the Dark One. Out of curiosity, she clicked the intrusive pop-up ad, resulting in a bevy of reasonably priced last minute vacation deals flooding her screen. She looked out her window and back onto her screen.

  “I’m going to St. Lucia,” Adele yelled.

  A raspy command bellowed from above, “Unless you’re gonna take me with you, shut the fuck up.”

  Chapter 6

  One overzealous TSA agent, a seat with a view of the bathroom, an unruly child and his oblivious parents, a flight delay and about nine hours later, Adele landed in St. Lucia.

  With her luggage in hand and a dazzling smile, Adele met her driver, Yanice, who greeted her with a hot pink rose. Adele figured this must have been what it was like to be a celebrity without the fame, money to burn, and gratuitous crotch shots featured in TMZ.

  “Is this your first time in St. Lucia,” Yanice, island casual in a light green polo shirt with the color turned up, asked as his eyes focused on Adele in the rear-view mirror.

  “Would you like some gum?” Yanice sorted through the five-and-dime store concealed in his cream-colored cargo shorts.

  “It’s my first time being anywhere besides New York,” Adele said a little embarrassed.

  “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere. It’s up to you, New York…..New York,” Yanice belted out the song at the top of his lungs. His accent coated voice made the unofficial anthem of New York sound more like a reggae song than a jazz one.

  “Have you ever been there?” she asked.

&nb
sp; “No, but I have time. I’m not in a rush. I will go when I’m ready to see it,” Yanice said.

  He had a wait and see sensibility, the kind that would get you run over in the middle of Times Square. The people of St. Lucia swam with the tide, not against it as New Yorkers did. An unfinished task at the end of the workday was not a cause for panic; there was always tomorrow.

  “I want to be like you when I grew up,” Adele said.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You’re happy. Everyone here is happy. People don’t stream roll their way through their lives here. I think I even saw someone actually stop to smell some roses. A smile is just a smile here. There are no hidden meanings, agendas or knives turning slowly in your back. What’s the secret?” Adele asked.

  “I think it’s the coconut water and the tropical island breezes. They cool you down from the inside out,” he said.

  “You should bottle it and sell it. You would make a killing,” she said.

  “There’s the reason right there. You foreign people are always looking for an angle and a way to make money.”

  “You don’t want to make money?” Adele asked.

  “I make money in order to live. I don’t live to make money.”

  “You’re a cab driver, a traveling convenience store and a philosopher.”

  “There is one way you can be happy.”

  “Impart your wisdom on me,” she said.

  “Calm your nerves, relax your shoulders and enjoy your life. It’s not rocket science,” Yanice said.

  “Sounds easy,” Adele said.

  “If you want it to be,” he said.

  They spent the remainder of the cab ride in silence. Adele marveled at the rainbow colored buildings accentuated with wide-mouthed porches, featuring colors not in the same family or even distant cousins. They ambled by a yellow house with a green trim and a blue house with orange trim. Vegetation blanketed the island in a cocoon of lush green, and the sun only seemed to shine brighter as the day grew older.

  “Look miss,” Yanice said.

  “Call me Adele. What are you looking at?”

  Yanice was a local celebrity who could not drive a few feet without smiling, waving or nodding his head in greeting to someone on the street.

  “Our national bird wants to say hello. Look to your right. He’s sitting on the tree branch over there,” he said.

  “I don’t see……it’s a parrot,” she said, squealing.

  The parrot favored a bomb pop, Adele’s favorite ice cream treat. Its forehead was a bright cobalt blue and splotches of green and red covered the rest of its tiny body.

  “You rarely see them outside of the forest this time of the day. See one within the first few hours of your arrival and legend has it, you will fall in love,” Yanice said.

  Although it was a balmy eighty-five degrees outside, Yanice’s mahogany skin glistened with beads of perspiration.

  “Whatever you say, Yanice,” Adele said.

  Yanice added tour guide to his repertoire, entertaining Adele with local folklore with special attention taken to explore points of interest pertinent to a traveler’s heart.

  “Welcome to your hotel Adele,” Yanice announced.

  Adele, already in beauty overload, picked up her jaw which was scraping against the car’s floor mats. The sight of the Piton Mountains stopped her heart. She rubbed her eyes and pinched herself, just in case her mind was playing tricks on her.

  Quaint little white and brown cottages lined the property like a set of precocious kids hiding a secret. Adele smelled the decadence steaming in the air like a warm cup of chocolate on a winter night. She said goodbye to Yanice and headed for the reception area, eager to start relaxing.

  Chapter 7

  The front desk reminded Adele of a medieval castle with modern and luxurious embellishments. Carved stone may have married the chocolate brown wood floors, but its mistress—contemporary modern style with a European twist—was the showstopper culminating in a style three-way. To Adele, true love was the fountain cascading luscious chocolate down a waterfall into the lobby. A statuesque black woman with a gladiator like command of the front desk summoned her forward. Her pixie haircut showcased her almond eyes and high cheek bones.

  “My name is Celeste. Can I help you miss?” she said.

  “I have a reservation. It’s for Adele Jaspers.”

  “I’m not finding any reservations for an Adele Jaspers in our registry. When did you book it?” Celeste asked.

  “Yesterday,” Adele said.

  “How very spontaneous of you,” Celeste said.

  “It’s the most spontaneous thing I’ve done in my entire life. I’m a planner by nature. Yesterday, I saw a cliff and instead of shrinking away in fear, I jumped. It looks as if I’m about to crack my head on the rocks below,” Adele said.

  “No worries, Miss. Give me a second,” she said before disappearing into an office.

  The Trip Nazi in her gloated about the lack of research that went into planning the trip. As her leg’s shook uncontrollably, she hoped she wouldn’t be sleeping in the rain forest tonight.

  “Miss Jaspers, we found your reservation. Since it was so last minute, the booking went into another database. You’re in cottage number three. I’ve included a complimentary ticket to our chocolate tasting event on Friday night. I hope this takes the sting out of having to wait while I located your reservation.” Celeste handed Adele her keys.

  Adele retrieved her fallen heart from the floor and tailed the bellhop wrangling her suitcases when her phone rang.

  “We’re headed to Bar Luna. You’re coming!” Robynne said.

  In her rush to pack for St. Lucia, Adele had failed to mention her impromptu vacation to anyone.

  “I can’t,” Adele said.

  “Listen up Debbie Downer, you’re going even if I have to bathe, dress, and carry you out of the apartment myself. Let lose for once in your life,” Robynne said.

  “I’m kind of busy right now.”

  “Why can’t you celebrate your freedom?” Robynee asked.

  “I’m in St. Lucia.”

  “What?”

  Robynne’s loud objection buzzed in Adele’s ear, followed by a thud. Either Robynne’s body had succumbed to the shock of Adele’s spontaneity or she had dropped her phone.

  “Are you ok?”

  “Hell no, I’m not okay. You went to St. Lucia without me,” Robynne said.

  “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

  “Where are you staying?” Robynne asked.

  “This place literally fell out of heaven. They make chocolate on the grounds.”

  “I can’t believe you. I begged you to go on a vacation with me. You abandoned me on a cruise ship of all places. I spent six days floating on a giant tin can with three thousand of my closest friends. I had to eat dinner all by myself. My waiter, Fareed, felt so bad for me, he spotted me a pity grope in the elevator. It was like high school without the boobs.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much I needed to get away until I arrived here.”

  “You needed to get away from me?” Robynne asked.

  “Of course not, this wasn’t premeditated, it kind of just happened.

  “Hello.”

  Adele looked at her phone in amazement. Robynne never raised her voice to her, even when she deserved it. She was in the midst of calling her back when a commotion stole her attention. A woman screamed in Italian at the front desk. It was hard for her to decipher what the woman said due to the speed at which the words flew from her mouth, until she uttered the word help, springing Adele into action.

  “Aiutami!”

  Celeste’s complexion appeared ashen as her embarrassment grew while the flustered woman walked in circles in search of something.

  “Che succedde?” Adele asked.

  The front desk clerk’s eyes darted back and forth in accordance with the verbal tennis match playing out in front of her. The woman wore her age like a badge of honor.
Her hair was hauntingly gray and pulled into a messy pony tail. Her azure eyes clouded over with confusion when she stared at Adele. A yellow dressing gown and matching robe hung loosely from her body. The robe’s ties skimmed on the floor when she walked.

  “Conoscete Phillipe? Sto cercando per Phillipe. È qui? The desperation in her voice, a mist spread across the room so thick, Adele could almost scoop it up and hold it in her hands, was palpable.

  “Is she a guest here?” Adele asked Celeste.

  “Yes, but I don’t remember her name,” Celeste said.

  “Dirò a Phillipe che si sta cercando per lui però ho bisogno di sapere il suo nome,” Her written Italian was light years better than her spoken Italian, although both needed work. Adele hoped the woman understood her.

  “Mio nome? L’ho dimenticato,” she said.

  “What did she say?” Celeste asked.

  “She said she’s looking for someone named Phillipe. She can’t remember her name,” Adele said.

  While Adele gave the clerk a rundown of their conversation, she noticed a quiet calmness wash over the woman.

  “Mi chiamo Felicità Argentero.” The dark cloud of confusion had evaporated around her completely.

  “Argentero! I found her. She’s in cottage number seven. Thank you so much. I didn’t know what language she was speaking. You wouldn’t believe all the exotic languages I’ve heard,” Celeste said.

  “I had to learn Italian for my job; otherwise, I would have been just as lost as you,” Adele said.

  She knew what it was like to be stressed out by your job. She felt for Celeste, she looked as if she might burst into tears at any given moment.

  “I will page someone to escort her back to her cottage.” Celeste said.

  “I can take her. It’s not a problem.” Adele helped Felicità close her robe before slowly walking towards the cottages.

  “Come si chiama.” Felicità clung to Adele like a child.

  “Mi chiamo Adele,” she said.