“Carrie, what’s wrong?”
“I’m having a really bad day. Would it be possible for Trent to get back into his penthouse? He rather flipped out at the condition of our office. He wants to work from his home until we can get professionals to fix up the fifth floor.”
“Can’t he work from his other house? I understand the place has about a billion rooms. Surely one of them would work as an office.”
“You’re no doubt right.” She then shared her wretched morning with him. Too exhausted to go on she sat on a stoop and buried her head between her knees. “I’m so tired of having horrible days. I used to be a happy person. Do you believe in curses? Because I think someone’s cursed me—besides Trent, who damns me every thirty seconds.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere between the office and the penthouse.”
“Could you be more precise?”
She looked behind her at the door. “Cole’s Liquors. If I had any money, I’d buy out their inventory. Oh. They’d have to open first. Doesn’t matter, my credit cards are maxed.”
A man in a business suit threw some change at her feet as he walked by.
“People are giving me money, which should tell you how horrible I look. No wonder Trent treated me like a case of herpes.”
“I’m sending someone over. Just stay there.”
“Okay.” She put away her cell phone and stacked the four quarters when some more hopped about the concrete. “Thank you,” she yelled out. She always appreciated a response when she gave homeless people money.
She’d earned four dollars and eighteen cents for being truly pathetic when a scary looking black guy in his twenties kneeled down before her and laid a firm hand on her knee.
“Sugar, you can do better than this. I’ll get you cleaned up and show you how to make good money.”
“No, thank you.” She focused on her quarters, praying for him to go away.
“You think you’ll survive making dimes and nickels. You can’t even buy a cup of coffee with this shit.” He snatched up her stack of quarters and threw them across the sidewalk. “I could lift you up and carry you off with one hand. Or you can come willingly. Choice is yours. You want a good boss or a bad one?”
Her heart quadrupled its beat, her throat constricted, and her body literally trembled in fear. God, she truly was cursed.
Whatever I did, God, I’m sorry and if you’ll only tell me how I pissed you off, I will never do it again.
“What’s it gonna be, bitch? Good boss or bad?” He gripped her hand, evidently determined to take her with him. As he stood, Carrie pulled in her legs then kicked out, smashing both feet into his crotch.
The guy collapsed on the sidewalk with a grunt of pain, his grip on her wrist loosening enough for her to escape. She sped down the sidewalk, dodging people, certain Bad Boss would snatch her up any moment and carry her off into a living hell, which would make her current misery look like a good day in comparison.
She’d reached the lobby of Trent’s penthouse when someone snared her arm. Terror filled her and she screamed for help.
“Get out of my lobby or I’m calling the cops,” the guy barked.
She stared at the angry guy wearing a thick blue shirt, a cheap badge, and the words SECURITY written over the pocket. She breathed in. Not the Bad Boss pimp, just an irate, underpaid guard.
God, if he didn’t look so pissed off, she might’ve hugged him. Finding her voice, she explained, “I work for Trent Lancaster. Call him. He’ll vouch for me.”
The guy snorted and rolled his eyes. “Step outside and I’ll check.”
Worse idea ever! “No way! A pimp just tried to carry me off to his harem.”
His face blossomed a bright red. “You have to leave my lobby right now.”
If Bad Boss walked by and spotted her, this idiot would probably help him take her from the lobby. Desperate, Carrie ducked beneath the security desk, safe from pimp eyes.
“Get out from there! If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police,” the guard warned.
“Allow me to call them for you.” Carrie pulled out her phone and dialed her favorite cop. “Detective Pascal.”
The guard attempted to grab her arm. She squealed and moved deeper beneath the counter.
“Carrie, what’s wrong?” Pascal demanded.
“Some scary guy just tried to make me one of his girls. I kicked him in the balls and ran to the lobby of Trent’s penthouse, only the security guard wants to toss me back outside.”
“I've someone on the way. Put the guard on the phone.”
She handed her phone to the man glaring down at her. “Detective Pascal would like to speak to you.”
He took her phone and snapped it close. “Enough of your bullshit. Get out from under my desk, or I’ll pick you up and throw you out.”
Seeing nothing sturdy to cling to, Carrie wrapped her arms around the thick tangle of colorful wiring beneath his desk.
Acting on him promise, the guard grabbed her legs and pulled hard. For a moment, she feared the wires she clutched didn’t attach to anything because the guard dragged her several feet before meeting resistance.
“Stop it. You’re going to rip out the whole security system.”
“Not if you just leave me here while you verify I work for Trent Lancaster.”
He slammed his palm down on the desk and glared at her. “I know his entire staff. All of which use the servant’s entrance.”
She really didn’t like this guy. “I’m a work employee. I’m his EA.”
With a shake of his head, he sneered. “Nice try. He doesn’t have an EA. I just heard him and a woman talking about getting him one.”
His words sapped all the strength from her arms. She didn’t even resist as he dragged her across the lobby floor.
Then he stopped.
“Thank God. Officer, I'd like to press charges against this vagrant.”
Carrie didn’t ever bother looking at the policeman. Trent had fired her again? “While you’re at it, charge me for inciting a riot and feeding unsuspecting people improved Europa.” She had no shot of paying her bills now. At least in jail the state had to feed and clothe her.
“Just get her out of my lobby!” the guard insisted.
Strong arms gently lifted her up and helped her from the lobby. The police car waited outside and her bad boss nightmare stood behind it, laughing at her arrest. “Should’ve gone with me, bitch.”
“Yo! One more word, and I’ll take you in as well,” a familiar voice warned. Carrie finally took an interest in the person arresting her. “Officer Jenson?”
Jenson remained too intent on staring down Bad Boss to hear her. She stuffed Carrie into the backseat without ever taking her eyes off the guy. After closing the door, she headed around the car after him. Like a true coward, he ran off, disappearing into the crowd. She returned and opened the back door. “Sorry about putting you in the back. Habit. You can sit in the front with me.”
Seated in the front, Carrie felt a great deal better, but still, this had to rank as her worst day yet.
Officer Jenson slid into the driver’s side, turned off the blue flashing lights, and pulled into traffic. “Was the guy I chased off the one who approached you?”
“Yeah.”
“Glad I got here in time. His girls end up in the morgue on a weekly basis. How’d you get away?”
Normally, such a close scrape with death would’ve sent her heart into a panic, but being fired by Trent had consumed all her normal emotions. “Oh, you know, the tried and true: kick ‘em in the balls and run like the wind.”
“Good for you.”
They drove over the bridge and out of the city.
“Where are we going?” Carrie asked.
“To my apartment. You can stay there until Joey retrieves your stuff and drives you home. He won’t have the chance until sometime later this afternoon.”
A spark of life bloomed within her. Home. Finall
y, I can go home.
Shame it wouldn’t belong to her for more than another month.
****
Carrie entered Jensen’s twelve-by-twelve-foot living room. On one side, a massive recliner squatted. A small digital TV hung on the wall it faced. A single barstool sat before the laminated counter, separating the kitchenette from the living room. In the corner, where others might put a small breakfast table, sat an assortment of hand weights and a mountain bike hanging on two bars jutting from the wall. Heavy green curtains blocked all light from the windows.
“Food and drinks in the fridge. Help yourself,” Jenson said. “You going to be okay?”
Carrie nodded.
With a final worried glance, Jenson left.
Exhausted, Carrie climbed onto the giant recliner. More than anything, she wanted to sleep, then wake up to discover this whole week had been nothing more than an out of control nightmare.
Chapter 29
Since Mars continued to fight insurgents at the hospital, the remainder of his servants used the excuse of police tape not to come to work.
Even Carrie! One second she followed like a street urchin planning to pick their pockets and the next she disappeared.
When the bell rang, he expected it was his missing EA. He stormed to the door and opened it. “It’s about time!”
A policeman glared at him.
“If this is about the tape, someone else ripped it off before I entered.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s still illegal to enter.” The cop pushed his way in.
Trent had no choice but to step back or be knocked over, but verbally, he held his ground. “You can’t barge into my house without my permission. I’m calling my lawyer.”
The guy took in the room, eyed Coco and then glared at Trent. “This is a crime scene. You and your girlfriend need to leave now.”
“She’s my HR manager and we’re working, or we might be if Carrie would show up.” His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t arrested my EA again have you?”
“If I wanted to arrest anyone, it'd be you for compromising a crime scene. But leave now and I’ll let the matter slide.”
Trent had no intention of leaving or letting the matter slide. Words flew like bullets: Trent threatening to get the man fired, the cop countering with a threat to arrest them both.
“Trent, stop being an ass. Let’s go!” Coco ordered and pulled him from the penthouse.
By the time they reached the bottom floor, Coco had made a call and located them temporary office space on Madison Avenue.
As they passed the guard, Trent stopped. “When my EA shows up—short thing, brown hair, which is oily at the moment, dressed in dirty sweats—tell her to go to 2012 Madison Avenue.”
Coco rolled her eyes. “Trent, the girl won’t get past the front guard. She looks like a vagrant off the street.”
He made a mental note to make sure that didn’t happen, then refocused on the guard. Sweat beads had blossomed on the fellow’s forehead and his skin turned a sickish green shade. Trent stepped back in case he was getting ready to spew his breakfast.
“You didn’t write it down,” Trent chided and thumped the man’s yellow pad. “Write it down. Only Carrie can remember things without pen and paper. Everybody else just screws it up.”
Trent’s focus shifted to the phone a few inches away from the pad. It looked like his.
“Your name isn’t by chance Digbot is it?”
“No, sir.”
Not believing him, Trent pulled out his new phone and dialed his number. He got nothing. Next, he tried Carrie’s number, and the phone on the table vibrated. “Ha! It’s Carrie’s.”
Guilt radiated off the guard as sweat rolled down the side of his face.
Trent stepped forward and asked in a near growl, “What did you do with my EA?”
The fellow's lips trembled when he opened his mouth to respond. “I…she…I…”
Coco interrupted his inarticulate explanation by laughing. “Let me guess. You thought her a homeless person and threw her out.”
The guard gulped. “I tried, but she wrapped herself in the wires under the desk. I worried she’d rip out the security system. When she claimed to be your EA, I called her a liar, since I’d just heard you and the lady say you intended to hire an EA.”
Trent’s heart stopped. “What’d she do?”
“She went limp. I intended to drag her out onto the street, but a policeman arrived and arrested her instead.”
“Good,” Coco muttered.
Trent glared at her, then back at the guard. “You’re fired! Get out!”
The guard’s brow furrowed as he grew in height and posture. “Sir, you can’t fire me. I work for Trius Properties.”
“Oh, I’ll fire you even if I have to buy the company you work for to do it.” He shoved the guard, sending him back several feet. “You idiot! Do you have any idea the damage you’ve done? Carrie is the heart and soul of my company.”
The guard stepped further back, placing the desk between them. “I’m sorry, sir. She looked like a bag lady…child.”
“Trent, stop badgering the young man. He did his job. If Carrie doesn’t want people to mistake her for homeless riffraff, then she should take more effort with her grooming.”
He followed Coco outside and hailed a taxi. When it pulled up, he recognized the driver as the one from this morning. “I don’t like this cabbie. You have to threaten him with arrest to make him do his job.”
The driver turned around and stared out the open back door. Upon seeing Trent, he gunned the engine and pulled away. Coco barely had time to release the door handle before the car took off.
Trent pulled out his phone and called Sam. The call went directly to voicemail.
Why was everyone running out on him?
“Sam, come to work now. Everything has fallen apart and I need you.”
His thoughts went to Carrie, arrested again, possibly thinking he’d fired her. A sense of doom overwhelmed him and he pleaded to his driver, “Carrie’s been arrested. I need you, Sam. Come back to work.”
“God, Trent, he’s your employee. You don’t beg them to come to work. No wonder your staff riots. You provide no discipline or structure. Employees are like children. They require rules and expectations.”
Carrie’s phone rang, so he answered it. “Who’s calling?”
“Sam,” a grumpy voice replied. “Why are you still using her phone? She should’ve gotten you a new one by now.”
“She did, only she got herself arrested before she could put her phone numbers into my phone. Do you know how to make the numbers go in my phone?”
“No, she’s the only person in the whole world who knows how to port numbers…other than the people at the stores.”
“So if I go to Macy’s, the sales clerk will know how to fix my phone?”
Sam snorted. “Hold on, I’m in the city now. Are you at the penthouse or office?”
“Penthouse. The office is a shambles.”
“Really? How strange. You would expect people throwing file cabinets out the window to leave your offices neat and tidy.”
“I’m having a really bad day,” he warned his driver.
“Sounds like Carrie’s having a worse one. What’d she get arrested for now?”
“Trying to enter my penthouse.”
“It’s a crime scene. Police get bitchy about ignoring their do-not-enter tape.”
“Actually, I had Coco cut the tape. Carrie got nabbed in the lobby for her unfortunate choice of wardrobe. Which is your fault, since you refused to get clean clothes for her.”
“Have you gotten her out?”
“No, I just found out about it.”
Coco waved her hand in front of Trent’s face. “Will you just flag a taxi? My hair doesn’t like the wind.”
“My driver is almost here,” he snapped then returned to his conversation. “What were we talking about?”
Sam sighed with a distinct sound of disgust. “Nothing im
portant. Be there in three.”
Trent closed the phone then thought of a way to save Carrie and opened it back up. He searched for his lawyer’s name in her phone but couldn’t find it. If he hadn’t been such a jackass this morning when she asked for the man’s name, she would have David’s number listed and he could call and set him to finding and rescuing his EA. Again.
Damn the big-eared guard for telling Carrie they intended to hire a new EA. When Coco first suggested firing Carrie, Trent assured her he’d fire her first. Then she suggested he promote Carrie to Change Specialist, and she’d hire an EA whom she could work with. Trent thought that an excellent idea. Coco could chose a male EA so Carrie would have no reason to be jealous and he’d send Carrie to the West coast so she could enjoy her training and remain far away from the she devil’s talons. Then at least Carrie could have an enjoyable month.
His thoughts went to his beloved EA. She had to feel betrayed, especially given all the barbs Coco threw her way this morning. Poor kid had been off her game in those ghastly clothes.
He hadn’t blamed her when she lagged behind. He wanted to strangle Coco too. The bitch thought herself so superior to little Carrie, but on a good day, with Carrie dressed in a Macy’s suit, his EA could outclass Coco in her sleep. He just wished he’d told Carrie as much. Unfortunately, the sight of his ex-fiancée caused him to regress into the jerk he used to be.
The Predator-in-Prada-shoes remained the same manipulative bitch he’d almost married. He hoped her skills would help remove his current slacker employees and obtain new ones who wanted to work. Once he had better people, he could fire Coco and recall Carrie from training.
Honestly, he didn’t know how he’d survive another month without her, but he had to. She was too loving and kind to go up against the Prada Viper. He would have to man up and suffer through this. He had no option. He had to protect the woman he loved.
When Sam arrived with the limo, he followed Coco into the back seat. She triggered the privacy screen and then spoke before it had yet to rise all the way up. “We should think about getting you a decent driver, as well.”
Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) Page 29
