For Money or Love

by Heather Blackmore

  Jess blew on the wet nail. “Interesting way to talk to your supervisor.”

  “Supervisor? Supervisor? With blunt safety scissors and a jar of paste you’d be a glorified kindergartner. Anyone with half a brain would know your time would be far better spent paying a vendor to do it faster and at a fraction of the cost. But do you care about that? No. You care about what I’m wearing. I mean, it’s like you’re purposely parading around here like a Barbie doll because that’s exactly what’s expected of you. Must be nice to be the founder’s daughter and have everything handed to you on a silver—”

  That was when TJ saw it, the tiniest hint of truth that passed over Jess’s expression, bringing her tirade abruptly to a halt. Suddenly she knew without a doubt that it wasn’t always nice to be Derrick Spaulding’s daughter. She wondered, too, if she’d hit on something else—the smallest shade of defiance that played across Jess’s face as quickly as a sixty-fourth note in music.

  TJ shoved her hands into her pockets and focused on the floor. “I…I’m sorry. I have no right. I spoke out of turn. This isn’t working for either of us. You don’t deserve to have anyone speak to you that way, and I don’t deserve to be relegated to menial tasks. I came here to learn. I’ll leave the laptop on the desk.” As she turned to exit, she stopped at the sound of Jess’s voice.

  “Take this before you go.” Jess opened a desk drawer, removed an envelope, and held it out toward TJ.

  “What is it?”

  “Letter of recommendation.”

  “But I haven’t done anything to merit one.”

  “That’s not what this says.”

  TJ folded her arms and shook her head. “You don’t even see anything wrong with it,” she said rhetorically. She stared at the thin rectangular paper, the contents of which offered a jump-start to her fledgling career. Only an idiot wouldn’t accept it. “Thank you. But I haven’t earned it.” She left without further hesitation.

  Chapter Four

  “Knock knock,” Jess said as she tapped on the door frame to her father’s study.

  Derrick Spaulding raised his eyes from his monitor and smiled. “Sweetheart, come in.” He walked around his desk and embraced her.

  “You wanted to see me?” Jess asked.

  Jess’s father rarely requested her presence in his home office, as their business paths seldom crossed, and he didn’t like to insinuate such affairs into family time. He gave her free rein of the marketing spend without holding her accountable for its successes or failures. She wished he did. To her, it was a testament to his lack of regard for her contributions to the firm. Brooke and Gary—who wasn’t even a Spaulding—mattered; Jess didn’t.

  Aside from wishing he showed more interest in her work, the only complaint Jess had about her father was he worked too much, which included frequent visits to the New York office and meetings with prospects throughout the country. When he wasn’t traveling and Lilith was off attending this or that social function, Jess would stop by the main house to have dinner with him. The one-on-one time was precious, and she wished they shared more of it. It was ironic that once she’d moved into the guesthouse, she saw less of him than she did when she lived miles away. But tonight Derrick hadn’t asked to share a meal, and instead of being excited by the prospect of talking about work for a change, Jess found herself wondering if she was in trouble.

  “I thought I’d check in and see how things are going with the intern.” He returned to his chair, closed the laptop, and gave her his undivided attention. Derrick was one of those people who had the gift of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world. He was a good listener and asked questions. Unlike many tycoons, he didn’t feel the need to talk about himself. His actions spoke for themselves; he didn’t need a blow horn.

  Damn Gary. Jess appreciated that her stepbrother didn’t prevaricate, but the flip side was he was Swiss cheese with information whenever Derrick wanted to know something. Derrick had made his wife happy by bestowing upon her son a lofty title, but in practice it left Derrick with complete control over the firm.

  “Not great, actually. She insisted on access to the client asset records, and when Gary put the kibosh on that, she wanted detailed marketing information instead.”

  “Which you didn’t provide?”

  Jess barely avoided wincing at his disapproving tone. “No, sir.”

  “Sweetheart, have a seat.”

  This wasn’t off to a great start.

  “I thought you were behind this program.”

  “You know I am, Daddy.”

  She was well aware of how he’d swooped in with a multi-million-dollar donation to his alma mater for the purpose of creating a graduate program for disadvantaged, smart, and ambitious students like he once was.

  Jess thought highly of the program, though she had mixed feelings about the fact that it carried her father’s name. It was akin to tithing in church—if you gave in order to be seen doing it, the gift was cheapened. Anonymous giving was about doing something good without regard to getting credit for it. But just because the Spaulding name was on something didn’t mean it wasn’t important.

  The MBA program was a perfect case in point. When Jess assessed it objectively, Derrick Spaulding’s name was associated with class and fortitude. Businesses partnered with the university because of the Spaulding brand. In turn, the program’s students received unparalleled access to some of the best companies in the world. Moreover, with its focus on creating the next generation of nonprofit leaders, the program was providing a valuable service.

  “Why did she quit?” Derrick asked conversationally.

  Ugh, Gary. “She didn’t find the position challenging.” It was confusing, being asked to provide occupational stimulation when no one thought she did any actual work. Was Derrick aware she did more than she let on?

  “Did you challenge her?”

  “Not to her satisfaction, apparently.”

  “So she has backbone and determination?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you let her go.”

  That it wasn’t a question hit hard. She nodded. What could she say? TJ’s grit and tenacity had meant nothing since they were giving her a recommendation at the outset of her tenure without requiring any proof of her capabilities, solely for the purpose of improving the program’s hiring statistics.

  “She sounds like the kind of student this program was designed for. I’d like to see her succeed here.”

  Tail firmly tucked between her legs, Jess assented. “I’ll see to it, Daddy.”

  “I’m sure you will, honey.”

  Jess stood to leave.

  “Be honest. It was the body hair that put you over the edge,” Derrick said.

  Jess turned back around, relief flooding her senses. Her father’s humor was inching out from under the covers, and she was thrilled to see it. “I don’t know. She’s tough to take for a lot of reasons. I’d have sent her to my stylist, but how do you groom Sasquatch?”

  Derrick mulled this over. “Garden shears?”

  “Good idea, though it’ll probably require something with more power. Hedge trimmer?”

  “I’ll send the gardener.”

  “Send two. It’s a big job.” Jess waved and headed for the door.

  “Jessica?”

  Once again Jess turned.

  “You up for dinner tomorrow? We’ll have the run of the place.” This was Derrick-speak for Lilith being gone.

  “I’d love to.”

  *

  TJ was tiring of the silent treatment she’d been subjected to as soon as Kara found out she was working a shift at Zelda’s. The slamming of the cupboards, the leaving of the milk carton on the counter, the attempt to take the cereal bowl back to her bedroom had made it reach its boiling point. Before Kara was through her bedroom doorway, TJ called out in warning, “You know better than to eat in your room.”

  Kara wasn’t usually one for slamming doors, but TJ braced for the sound, not knowing what
had gotten Kara so keyed up. Thankfully Kara returned to the kitchen wearing her earbuds and sat at the table. TJ wondered why, if Kara was so intent on tuning her out, she was impairing her own ability to enjoy the music with the noise she was making smacking the metal spoon against the side of the porcelain bowl. And was it really important to dunk every single cornflake into the milk? What was wrong with a little crunch?

  TJ finished buttoning the black vest required of all Zelda’s waitstaff and sat across from Kara, who scrolled through the music on her phone with one hand and fought renegade non-drowning cereal flakes with the other. When some milk went astray and spotted Kara’s chin, TJ stopped her from using the back of her hand to wipe it and handed her a napkin. This act enabled brief eye contact, such as it was, during which TJ signaled for her to remove her earphones. Kara used the napkin before pausing her music. TJ repeated the signal, and Kara pulled the listening devices from her ears with an expression that said it was the largest inconvenience of her life to date.

  “Wanna tell me what’s up?” TJ asked.

  Kara shrugged and took a bite of cereal.

  “Any particular reason you left the milk out?”

  “Might have seconds,” Kara mumbled.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Then don’t talk to me when I’m eating.”

  TJ preferred to say, “I’ll talk to you when I want to talk to you, and you’ll use your manners like you’ve been taught.” Instead she said, “I’ve got to leave soon. Would you set that aside for a minute so we can chat?”

  Kara continued chewing a bite that, based on her facial expression following TJ’s suggestion of a conversation, might as well have been a triad of sauerkraut, olives, and raw eggs. After swallowing, she folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze on TJ.

  “You’re mad at me,” TJ said.

  Kara shrugged again.

  If only TJ had a dime for every shrug! Kara’s shrugs had become such a part of her, TJ wondered if they were part of some sort of physiological event associated with being a teen, the way menstruation began at puberty. If only she could invent some sort of maxi-pad protection for it. “You’ve seemed peeved ever since I quit my internship.”

  “Whatever.”

  On second thought, maybe the shrugs weren’t so bad in comparison to the lip. “I spoke to Ridge. He’s trying to get me into another company. The Zelda’s thing is just for some extra cash in the meantime.”

  “It’s your life.”

  “I’m not any happier with how things went at Magnate than you are. It wasn’t a good fit.”

  “Are we done?”

  “As soon as you tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I’m a hostage?”

  “Hostage, no. Hostile, yes. But if you really don’t want to talk, I won’t force you.”

  Kara pulled her bowl close, donned her earbuds, and scrolled through her tunes.

  TJ grabbed her jacket and keys. She stood behind Kara and pressed her hand over Kara’s, pausing the music. She gave her shoulders a quick squeeze and kissed her temple. “Love you. I’ll be back around midnight. Be good.”

  As TJ took the stairs, she recalled her relationship with her parents. Her father Jack had been her best playmate, always ready with an open ear and warm smile. And when she was growing up, her mother Evelyn was as good a mother as anyone could hope for. It was only in her alcoholic years that TJ’s heart had hardened toward her, eroding what had been a strong bond and transforming it into a lingering bitterness. Yet when she was Kara’s age, both were better parents to TJ than she could ever be to Kara. TJ’s failings were the impetus behind her desire to either create a nonprofit that helped bereaved children and their caregivers or support an existing one. TJ could certainly have used the help. Kara rarely seemed to want to be in the same room with her these days, let alone share her thoughts and feelings. Did Kara have that kind of relationship with their mother before Evelyn became hell-bent on killing herself?

  With the eleven-year age difference between them, TJ didn’t have much insight into the kind of relationship Kara and Evelyn had had. If Evelyn were alive, would she have as much trouble communicating with Kara as TJ did?

  For the thousandth time, TJ wondered whether their mother’s death was the positive thing she’d once hoped it would be. It had been excruciating enough watching Evelyn slowly deteriorate into a person TJ barely recognized. But watching what her deliberate march toward suicide did to the light that once shone so brightly in Kara’s eyes had been unbearable. Evelyn’s metamorphosis from a spirited and joyful radiance into the somber shell of the woman she’d become after Jack’s disappearance had been nearly as painful to TJ as having lost her father. But at least she’d been an adult when Evelyn began her descent into alcoholic oblivion. How much harder had it been on Kara, who was only eight when Jack never returned home and Evelyn abandoned them emotionally?

  On the familiar bus ride to Zelda’s, TJ hardly noticed the journey. The ever-present anger with her mother had flared, simmering beneath the surface. Whenever TJ and Kara failed to communicate, which seemed to be occurring more and more frequently, TJ’s ire toward Evelyn spiked. TJ could never be the mother Kara so desperately needed, and TJ could never forgive herself for having wanted Evelyn’s slide toward acute respiratory failure from alcohol to come sooner.

  Angry tears slid down her cheeks as surely as Evelyn’s journey into the abyss. What kind of daughter wished for her mother to die?

  Chapter Five

  Having had every intention of dropping by TJ’s on her own, Jess quickly changed plans after driving through the neighborhood. Perhaps it was the warm evening that brought out the residents. The steps leading up to the front door of TJ’s building were flanked by men of various ages and races decked out in what appeared to be the local uniform: white T-shirt and jeans. Shorts and tank tops would have been the better option in this heat, but Jess wasn’t there to offer fashion advice. Every head followed her sports car as if it were a satchel of gold coins, and her foot never touched the brake. She was jumping to conclusions about their designs on her automobile, but she proceeded to make a hasty exit.

  When she called the limo service, she requested Tim, whose neck was as thick as a hedge and whose body was the size of a refrigerator. At the curb in front of TJ’s building, she instructed Tim to stay put and keep the engine idling.

  Ignoring the whistles and various versions of “hey baby” tossed her way, and praying the dog responsible for the deep barking was leashed, she ascended the steps of Bleak House. Not that she’d ever read the Dickens novel, but the title popped into her head as she pushed open the building’s broken front door. The stale, heavy air assaulted her senses first, as strong as a physical being pressing its weight against her chest. Surely she’d misread TJ’s address? No, this was South Cedar all right, close to the long-deserted drive-in, exactly as TJ had mentioned her first day. Much of the stucco along the walls had cracked and peeled, stairs were warped and missing chunks, and minimal light came from bare bulbs. No one should live in this squalor. She ran up five flights of stairs to TJ’s apartment and knocked on the door. Although she was sweating in the stairwell’s stifling heat, she wished she’d worn a wrap so she could erect a barrier, however spurious, between herself and this place.

  After her third set of loud raps, Jess had started back down the steps when a gravelly voice stopped her descent. “Who ya lookin’ for?” Jess turned to see an elderly Caucasian woman wearing a stained housedress and ratty grayish slippers that might once have been pink. Hard to tell.

  “TJ Blake.”

  “Ain’t here. Try Zelda’s.”

  “Is that a neighbor?”

  “No, honey. Restaurant on Twenty-third. She waits tables there.”

  “Oh, right. Of course. Thank you.”

  “Tell the boys downstairs yer lookin’ for TJ, and they’ll leave ya alone. Tell ’em Stella says.”

  “I will. Thanks, Stella.”

&nbs
p; “Take care now.” The woman shuffled behind her door and closed it.

  When Jess opened the front door and bolted toward the awaiting limousine, several men blocked her path.

  “What’s your hurry, baby?” one asked. An uncollared rottweiler shifted at his side, staring intently at her.

  Jess tried not to show how much she was shaking. Drops of sweat beaded on her forehead and above her upper lip.

  Tree-trunk Tim opened his door and walked around the vehicle toward Jess. Men previously seated along the steps stood. She raised a hand to bring Tim to a halt. “Just got my wires crossed, gentlemen. I thought I was supposed to meet my friend TJ here, but Stella said she’s waiting for me at Zelda’s. May I tell her who’s looking out for her? I’m sure she’d appreciate you’ve got her back.”

  “We always lookin’ out for TJ. Tell her Uncle Pauly says to bring back some buffalo wings for Bruiser.”

  Apparently having heard his name, the rottweiler commenced his barking.

  “I’ll do that. Bye, all.” Tim took a couple steps toward her to open her door, but Jess shook her head and pointed to the driver’s seat. They entered simultaneously, and the car was moving before Jess could buckle up. Still shaking, she fumbled with the seat belt several times before clicking in.

  Unaccustomed to such situations, Jess blinked back tears. Moments passed before she could recall what had led her to this side of town. TJ. Why did her father insist she set aside her pride in order to reconcile with the obdurate woman? What kind of graduate program touted students who would act so disrespectfully? Why was she risking her life to speak to a woman who’d told her off?

  She took steadying breaths before she smiled at her exaggeration. Okay, she hadn’t exactly been threatened, let alone stood at death’s door.

  As they wound through the streets of Maddiston, Jess began to notice things—rather, their absence. Rarely did she focus on her surroundings, but she was suddenly as sensitive to them as if they emanated light and her eyes had been dilated. No trees. No grass. No parks. No playgrounds. Broken windows peppered the walls of the buildings they passed. Barbed wire topped the gates that surrounded many of the abandoned lots. Why would TJ and her sister live here? Why would anyone live here if they had the opportunity to leave?