Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love)

by Liza O'Connor

  He leaned in even closer, so his chest pressed against her arm. Her face warmed. Between her near death experience and his cologne, her professional demeanor struggled.

  You can do this. He’s your boss and that’s all. She breathed in deep, in an attempt to steady her nerves. Unfortunately, she’d fail to account for the effects of a lungful of Trent’s wonderful scent. God, he smelled good. She focused on the reviews, needing to distract herself from his cologne. She smiled as she read the comments for Tall and Tiny. It sounded so good. She wished she had the time and money to see it.

  Given Trent began reading before her, he should have finished and made his decision by now. She steeled herself and looked up at him. His gaze focused on her instead of the screen.

  “Do you want to hold my iPad?” Carrie knew he hated when people treated him like a child.

  A faint smile touched his lips. “No, let’s do the last one.”

  “Tall and Tiny?”

  He shrugged.

  She tilted her head. “If you don’t even know the name of the show, why do you want to see it?”

  He smiled as if he’d just done something very clever. “Because you do. I could see it in your face.”

  Why would what she liked matter? Then a possible explanation came to her. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  He gently tugged on a strand of her hair. “Hey, we just went through war together. We both need a laugh.”

  His unexpected generosity shocked her. She felt like the egoistical sun had finally noticed inconsequential Pluto still working hard to race around it.

  “Um, okay. Tall and Tiny it is. Do you want me to charge the tickets to my card?”

  Say no. Please say no.

  Her credit card limit was maxed from Taiwan.

  With amazingly fast reflexes, he snatched her iPad. She tried to point where he needed to tap the screen, but he slapped her hand away. “Let me do it.”

  She sighed and leaned back. He’d probably buy tickets for the women’s roller derby playing at Madison Square Garden, but she’d put on a happy face and try to enjoy it.

  “Done, now how do I…Never mind, I found it. Where would you like to eat?”

  She glanced at her clothes. “Someplace dark, where they welcome casually dressed wrinkled tourists.”

  He eyed her. “You expect me to eat with tourists just because you’re disheveled?”

  She grimaced. Who in this century used the word ‘disheveled’? He no doubt picked it up from his grandmother, who knew everything about proper dressing. “No. You should drop me off at the nearest hotdog stand and I’ll wait on the street while you eat.”

  He jabbed screen with his powerful fingers.

  “My iPad is not one of your slacker employees. You don’t have to smash it to make it work.”

  He smiled and softened his touch, but kept tapping.

  What on earth is he doing?

  It shouldn’t take this long to order tickets and make a reservation. She leaned over to see the screen, but he shifted the iPad away from her view.

  “Sam, take us to 108 72nd street,” he ordered.

  What’s at 108 72nd street?

  She reached out for her iPad, intending to discover what existed at that address, but Trent laughed and set the device on the other side of him.

  His crystal blue eyes captured hers. “Trust me.”

  She opened her mouth to say ‘are you nuts?’ but then closed it. As crazy as it sounded, she did trust him.

  ***

  When the limo pulled up to one of those outrageously expensive dress boutiques that catered to the ultra-rich, Carrie shook her head back and forth like a broken bobble head doll.

  No way would they allow her into this store. All she could foresee in the near future was humiliation to the first degree.

  When she made no effort to get out, Trent unlatched her seat belt and reached across her to open the door. “Did Sam break your arms driving like a crazy man?”

  “Can we go to Macy’s instead?” Her day had been bad enough. She really didn’t need to top it off with a heaping pile of humiliation…in front of her boss, no less.

  “No. We’re going here. I’ve already picked out your dress. All you have to do is go inside and change clothes. And stop shaking your head.” He tried to push her out of the car, but she braced her arms against the frame of the door, refusing to leave.

  She expected him to break into a tirade about why she couldn’t follow his simplest instructions. Instead, he just sighed.

  “Why are you afraid of a dress store?”

  God, he had to think her a fruitcake. “I’m not afraid of dress stores. However, I have personally seen women better dressed than I am escorted from a boutique because they ‘polluted the ambiance.’”

  The corner of his mouth tugged, no doubt wishing to burst into laughter at her absurd excuse. “I promise you, they will not throw you out of the store today.”

  He probably thought he could bully them into giving her respect, but he hadn’t met the ladies who worked at these shops. She needed another excuse not to enter.

  “I can’t afford their clothes. Now can we please go to Macy’s?”

  “No. The dress I’ve bought resides here.”

  Carrie turned and faced him. “Trent, I don’t want you to buy my clothes!”

  He smiled as if he thought her protest silly. “I don’t mind. I buy women things all the time, far more expensive than a dress.”

  “But I mind. My boss shouldn’t buy me clothes.”

  With a heavy sigh, he shrugged. “Okay, you can pay for it.”

  God! Why couldn’t she get through to him? “That’s my point. I probably can’t afford a hair comb in this shop.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, avoid those. One of them costs almost as much as my car.”

  Finally, he understood. While Trent had a distorted sense of value, at least he understood a hair comb shouldn’t cost more than his car.

  She clasped her hands together in a beggar’s plea. “Can we please go to Macy’s?”

  Trent would have argued further, because he really wanted to buy something nice for Carrie, but when she turned fire red, he realized his desire to have his way was making her utterly miserable. “To Macy’s, Sam. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, because I haven’t a clue.”

  Carrie laughed at his declaration.

  Trent’s heart sang at the sound. Carrie was happy again, and his world had never seemed quite so right as it did now. Maybe he could have it all. Maybe his relationships with other women hadn’t lasted because they weren’t anything like Carrie.

  After Carrie acquired a suitable dress and shoes at Macy’s, they returned to the limo.

  The sales people had impressed Trent, especially the young man who sold Carrie a lovely pair of shoes. “So if I offered the shoe salesman a job at Lancaster with a sixty thousand base salary and a graduating 3-10% commission, would that hit our margins much?”

  “Honestly?”

  He never liked responses beginning with ‘honestly,’ but he nodded anyway.

  “It’s a hundred times better than our current pay schedule for the sales people, and Todd would probably make both Lancaster and himself wealthy with that offer. However, such a scheme would legally bind you to allow the salesperson to keep the customers they cultivate and Hal would not stand for that. Thus, you’ll end up with a lawsuit for failing to comply with the contract you wrote, or have the man in charge of 80% of your business leave the company and take all his contacts with him.”

  He slammed back against the seat and crossed his arms in frustration. “I really liked the kid.”

  “Me too, and I think he’s exactly what we need. I think you could get him, too. So let’s focus on a different problem. How do we ensure our customers stay with us if Hal walks?”

  He smiled. Judging by the lilt in her voice, she already had a solution, probably had it since her first month when she di
scovered Hal confiscated all the lucrative contracts from his underlings. However, Trent wanted to prove he could think on his feet, so he threw out an idea first.

  “You should visit our customers. They’d love you on sight.”

  She shook her head. “Hal would object. However, if we visit customers for ideas how on to improve our products, he'll probably insist it isn’t necessary, but since it’s such a reasonable action, I don’t think he’ll threaten to quit over it.”

  “Sounds perfect. Let’s start tomorrow morning.”

  “Hold on. You need to tell Hal you plan to visit the customers. When he offers to set up the meeting, tell him I’ll handle the logistics, then butter him up…” She frowned. “Do you know what that means?”

  He chuckled and leaned close to her. “Yes, and what’s more I even know how to do it.”

  Her gaze went to her lap as she sucked in her bottom lip.

  Did she feel the attraction between them? Or did she only worry he'd treat the customers the way he treated his deadbeat employees?

  Sam pulled the limo to the side of the street. “This is as close as I can get. If you beep me ten minutes before the show is over, I’ll try to park closer to the doors when picking you up.”

  “Just do the best you can, Sam.” Trent smiled at his driver’s stunned expression. Sam had no doubt expected a tirade over his promise to ‘try to park closer’ instead of promising to be directly in front of the theatre. However, Carrie had made a good observation earlier today. His home staff performed tolerably well, not perfectly, but a far cry better than the slackers at work did. Practicing his new managerial style on his home staff made sense. Then he’d be ready for his new improved workers once they come onboard.

  Suddenly, a voice, sounding a great deal like his father’s, spoke in his head.

  When has anything worked out for you? If there’s a way to screw it up, you’ll find it!

  Trent breathed in and out. He wanted to ignore the voice, but couldn’t. Things never went right for him.

  To prove the point, the shoe guy’s warning not to sit in the front rows at the Tall and Tiny show suddenly came back to him. Trent had thought snagging front row center seats a sign his luck had changed. But no, all it meant was Carrie would join him in purgatory.

  Chapter 4

  A young usher led Trent and Carrie to their front row center seats. Trent had tried to get their seating changed the moment they arrived at the theatre, but the show had sold out. Carrie sat down, smiling with pure happiness, clearly expecting to have a wonderful evening. He refused to have her disappointed.

  Gripping the usher’s elbow, Trent passed him a folded hundred. “Tell these comedians not to throw anything on my lady.”

  The boy stared at the bill for several seconds before his eyes rounded. “Is this real?”

  “Yes. Now did you hear what I want?”

  He nodded happily. “Nothing on the lady. I’ll let them know right now.” The fellow walked to a very small man in the third seat from the end, and knelt down to talk.

  Why won’t anyone do what I ask?

  “Kid, stop gabbing and get to your job!”

  The boy and the man stared at him in shock then the boy ran off. Trent shook his head in disgust at the hundred he’d just thrown away.

  The tiny man continued to glare at him.

  “You sitting down in our lifetime?” a voice behind him asked. A spackling of applause followed the question.

  Carrie grabbed his hand and pulled him to his seat then apologized to the people behind them.

  “Don’t apologize for me!”

  “No one else is going to,” she muttered and crossed her arms, staring straight ahead.

  Damn it all! He wanted this evening to go perfectly.

  Fortunately, he knew how to melt away the chip on her shoulders. He rose, faced the people behind him and squinted due to a bright light shining down from the upper balcony. “I apologize for standing before the show started.” He would have left it at that had they not had the audacity to look directly at him and laugh. Annoyed, he added, “It never occurred to me you might want to admire the curtain.” Their amusement only increased. In fact, the whole damn place seemed to be laughing at him.

  What is wrong with these people?

  Carrie tugged on his arm. At least he’d succeeded in getting her to stop ignoring him. Returning to his seat, Trent discovered the diminutive man from further down the row now stood in front of him in profile, staring at the curtain, his hand pressed to his heart, while pure rapture shown from his face.

  Trent lost his patience. “Sir, can you take your seat? If I can’t stand, neither can you.”

  His comment seemed to echo through the auditorium and everyone laughed.

  The little man faced him and tried to pull Trent from his seat.

  God, had the whole world gone mad? “Would you stop that and sit down.”

  Carrie leaned in and whispered, “He’s tiny.”

  “I can see that, which means when I toss him, he’ll end up on the stage.”

  The audience howled.

  Trent glared at the people to his left and then spoke to Carrie. “Why is everyone laughing? The show hasn’t even started!”

  Carrie covered her face and shook her head.

  The little fellow jumped toward Trent. The spotlight suddenly illuminated them, as the man duck, weaved, and shadowboxed in the light while the audience applauded.

  Trent groaned as understanding dawned. Carrie hadn’t stated the obvious, but warned him that Tiny, half of the comedian duo, had decided to make him part of the act.

  Could this night get worse? He wanted to storm out and demand his money back, but the little guy had Carrie laughing, despite her best efforts. Unless he wished to ruin their not-a-date date, he just needed to go with the flow. As he watched the fellow dance about, he had to admit Tiny had charm.

  He smiled and held both palms out as if in surrender. Tiny froze in motion then lifted his arms up in the classic boxer victory stance. In his tiny suit, the result looked ridiculous.

  Then the little man rose into the air, his feet swinging wildly.

  Trent expected cables lifted Tiny, but he saw nothing to explain how the guy floated upward. When the audience applauded, he joined. Carrie had called them comic magicians, and now he understood why.

  A crack of thunder jarred his senses and made him jump. When he recovered, the tallest man he’d ever seen stood before him. The thin, ghoulish fellow looked to be twenty-feet tall. He stared down at Trent. Applause roared from the audience.

  Trent would’ve clapped too but the guy wouldn’t stop glaring at him. The spotlight highlighted the ghoul’s pale gaunt face, sunken eyes, and stringy black hair. His arm stretched down to Trent and pulled him up by his necktie.

  Trent didn’t resist. Better to go willingly, given the guy’s strength ensured mandatory participation.

  Another thunderclap and everything turned black. The audience burst out in applause, but Trent couldn’t see a thing.

  “Don’t move and we won’t throw anything on your lady,” a soft voice whispered in his ear.

  Now, he understood. His time as the pigeon had not yet ended. At least he’d saved Carrie. He stood passively as hands lightly flitted over his body and face.

  “Would you like me to return this mortal?” a low, well-modulated voice asked the audience from overhead.

  A group nearby yelled “No, keep him.”

  Then Carrie objected, “Hold on. I want him back.” A moment later, her voice became louder. “Seriously, can you return him please.”

  “Plead your case before the great Seer of All, and make it shallow. I’m tired of the profound.”

  “Well, we are supposed to go out to dinner—someplace really nice.”

  “That’s certainly shallow, but I sense many young men in the audience who would gladly take his place.”

  Various guys yelled offers.

  “No! I don’t know what restaurant h
as our reservation, so I need Trent back or I won’t get my nice dinner.”

  “Now you’re sufficiently shallow, but it’s not tugging my heart. Do you love this fellow?”

  “Uh…”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Has he money?”

  Trent cringed. Their first date had just begun. And she didn’t even know she was on a date. This ass would frighten her away with his impertinent questions. Damn it! If this guy’s questions caused Carrie to feel like a gold-digger, she’d build a wall of professionalism he’d never break through.

  “He’s my boss.”

  The audience ooed as if sensing an impropriety.

  “Get me out of here,” Trent whispered. “He’s screwing everything up.”

  “Be patient,” a voice whispered.

  “Does he have a wife?” the ghoul asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. Nor a husband,” she added as the audience chuckled.

  “Is he a good boss?”

  Trent groaned. He’d always liked Carrie penchant for telling the truth, not just when it suited her, but all the time. Until now. Maybe they could sneak out at intermission.

  “I’m working on it.”

  Trent released his breath. She answered as best as he could hope for.

  The audience liked it too, and started chanting ‘bring ‘m back.’

  A second later, thunder cracked and he flew upward and hung mid-air before the audience as they laughed and applauded.

  He understood the applause, but why the laughter?

  Looking down, he realized someone had dressed him in a giant ballooning clown outfit. Thank God, I don’t have a clown nose. He touched his face and discovered he had one of those too. Great! How had they’d put a bulb on my nose without me noticing? His cheek felt oily and so thick he could barely feel his hand touching them. When he studied his fingers, white oily makeup covered them.

  Crap. He’d never get this off in time to make dinner. Anger surged through him until he saw Carrie smiling at him with something akin to adoration.

  Might as well go with the flow. He smiled and waved at the crowd, then grinned at Carrie.

  Tiny, seated in Trent’s chair, covered Carrie’s hand with kisses. Oddly, it didn’t annoy Trent, probably because her adoring smile remained on him.