Impact (Iron Orchids Book 3)

by Danielle Norman

  “Come with me. When I lay down at night, my mind just spins. Some people think of things they didn’t get done, I think of things to do.” Stella wiggled her eyebrows as she took a seat at Vivian’s desk in the back office. “What’s this mom’s name?”

  “Manday.”

  I watched as Stella opened up the web browser and logged on to Facebook. “Okay, tell me everything you can about her.”

  I talked and Stella typed.

  “Is this her?”

  All of us were crowded into the office not wanting to miss a thing. I maneuvered around them so I could look over Stella’s shoulder at the profile picture. “Yep. That’s her.” Her photo looked just as fake as she acted.

  “Nice tits,” Stella commented. “I bet she paid a pretty penny for those.”

  “What are we doing?” I was totally lost and hadn’t even thought of Facebook in years. Stella didn’t answer as she typed away and scrolled through Manday’s images and profile posts.

  “You know, you all should really set this shit to private. There are people who can exploit this information,” Stella warned.

  “You mean people like you?” Ariel asked, and we laughed.

  “Okay, now we need ideas. She seems superficial. She’s posted at least fifty selfies in the last week, and half are of her in a bikini. She only comments back to the guys that like her posts.” Stella wove her fingers together and cracked her knuckles before going back to the keyboard. “I need ideas for ads, but I’ll start with: Does one boob look smaller than the other? Did your plastic surgeon do a botch job? Now, I’m going to link it to a bicycle air pump on Amazon as a recommended item for sale. Then we set the demographics for the ad. We need to be super specific about the region, age, interest, everything we can possibly think of to try to get this ad to show up on her feed.”

  We threw out ideas, mom, school name, and type of vehicle, then made a list of the groups that she belonged to on Facebook and added those as interests for our key target audience. When we were finished, Facebook said that our ad had poor reach, but we thought it had perfect reach—just far enough to reach out and bitch smack Manday.

  “Boom, done. Okay, next?”

  “I got one.” Sophie let out a laugh. “Are you on the reverse Oprah diet? Do you gain back more than you lose? Then see if there’s one of those Hawaiian dresses, a mumu that you can connect it to.”

  I stood there, stunned as the women tossed out ideas.

  “Do something about wrinkles and link it to a stuffed Shar-Pei,” Piper suggested. “Or keep doing Monistat 7 ads for a yeast infection.”

  “Or how about her Porsche is overcompensating for the fact that she lacks a personality?” Leo asked.

  “I got it.” Ariel was practically jumping with excitement. “Do something about hair loss or her friends talking about her behind her back. You know, something that she can’t be sure about but the ad can make her paranoid.”

  I dropped my face into my hands. I wasn’t sure whether I was happy to have them as friends because they would be on my side or because I was afraid to have them against me.

  When Stella felt like we had a good number of ads set, we headed back out to the main area and danced. Every few minutes, her phone would chime with an alert, and she’d let us know that an ad had been approved and was live.

  These women discussed anything and everything with each other.

  Guy problems? They solved them together.

  Bitch issues? They fought her together.

  Life troubles? They conquered them together.

  I’d never seen such fierce loyalty in my life. Sure, I’d seen it on television, but that was Hollywood where children also were divided by a talking hat into four houses and then learned how to wield a wand. To say that I was overwhelmed and a bit in awe was an understatement.

  After dancing to “I’m Sexy and I Know It,” we found more fun sitting at the table and talking while watching Stella’s Facebook ad manager app to see every time our ad made an impression and appeared or there was a link click.

  “Katy, can you join us again next week?”

  I turned to see who had asked the question. “What? Where?” I was confused.

  “Next week, can you join us? We are going out for Ariel’s bachelorette party, and I’m in charge.” Stella slapped her hands on the table.

  “I thought that bachelorette parties were the weekend before the wedding?” Once again, I was relying on television for my knowledge.

  “Yeah, this was the closest date available, so we had to take it. Lucky bitch will end up with two parties when all is said and done.” Stella poked Ariel.

  “After what I just saw in there”—I pointed back to the office—“I don’t think that is such a great idea. Plus, I’m out tonight.” I picked up my soda and took a sip.

  “But this is special. It’ll just be us, no one else. We are doing pole dancing lessons.”

  I spewed. “What? No. There’s no way in hell I’m swinging on some pole. Nope. Not happening.” I grabbed a napkin and started cleaning up my mess of cranberry juice and ginger ale.

  “Think about it. There won’t be any guys, just us, and it’s at a private place.” Stella was working hard on selling me on the idea, but there was no way in any of the levels of hell I would get on a pole.

  Chapter 15

  Damon

  Will you stop?” Carter snapped his question at me.

  “What?”

  “Between looking at your watch and bouncing your fucking knee, you’re driving me crazy. Good God, man.”

  “I just want to know they’re safe. I’m not sure why they haven’t called yet.” I looked at my watch . . . again. A whole five minutes had passed.

  The sound of a garage door opening had me jumping to my feet as Sophie, Ariel, and Katy walked in.

  “Where’s Bee?” Katy’s eyes tracked back and forth between Carter and me.

  “She’s sound asleep in Harlow’s room, the two of them painted our nails and then played Barbie until they passed out.” Carter pointed to the table where we had the bag of cotton balls and polish remover still sitting out.

  “No, we didn’t,” little voices shouted from upstairs.

  “Shhh,” we all hissed in return.

  The sound of a small stampede came thundering down the stairs.

  “So, were you three playing opossum?” Katy asked as she swung Bee up into her arms.

  “No. We fell asleep for a little bit, but I heard you come in, so I woke them up.” Bee pointed to Harlow and Gianna.

  “What’d you do a thing like that for? Now I’m stuck with them.” Carter messed up Bee’s hair, and she gave him a wide, toothy smile.

  “You ready to go, Bee bug?”

  “Yep. Let me grab my stuff.” She darted back upstairs and returned in less than a minute, shoes in one hand and backpack in the other.

  “Let’s get your shoes on, I’m not carrying you.” Katy grabbed one and started unlacing it.

  “How about if Bee hops onto my back and Mom carries the backpack?” My suggestion met Bee’s approval since she was already trying to pull me down so she could climb up. But the truth was, I wasn’t ready for the night to end. I wanted to spend some time with Katy.

  “Mom, did you know that Damon is building Harlow and Gianna and Avril a playhouse?” Bee said as we walked across the lawns. “Like a real house just smaller. It looks a lot like their real house. It’s going to be yellow outside, but it’s going to be five different colors of pink on the inside. Harlow showed me these pieces of paper that had the paint on them.”

  I let out a laugh and sort of hated bursting her bubble. “We’ll probably only do one or two colors of pink. Five is a lot, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. But I don’t like pink. I like blue better.”

  “Me too.”

  “Mom, did you know—”

  “What’s with constantly saying ‘mom’?”

  “I don’t know. But did you know that Harlow has never seen R
uPaul’s Drag Race?”

  “I like drag racing.”

  “You do?” Bee’s eyes were wide as if I’d said the best thing.

  “Yeah, I do.” Katy laughed at me. “What?” I gave her a weird look. “Have you ever been to a drag race? They have a track out in Bithlo, which is about an hour from here. We could go sometime.”

  Katy let out a burst of laughter.

  “What?”

  “Umm, not the same thing. First, Bee, I’m sure most kids haven’t seen RuPaul’s Drag Race because their parents are better than I am and don’t permit their children to watch that show. Second, Damon, Bee is talking about a drag queen show not car show.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you sure that you still want to go?”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  As we neared the door, I bent to let Bee slide off my back as Katy slid the key into the lock and opened the door.

  “Go on upstairs and get into bed.” Katy leaned over and gave her a kiss.

  I was used to my nieces hugging me, but when Bee threw her arms around me, I loved it. “Night, bug.”

  “Night, Damon. Night, Mom.”

  “Want to come in?” I knew the invitation was given with hesitation, but I took it anyway and followed her into the living room. “What does your ink mean?” She nodded to my arm, and I lifted my sleeve so she could see all of it.

  “It’s molṑn labé, which means come and take them.”

  Her lips twisted in confusion, so I offered, “When Sparta was being conquered, Persia demanded that King Leonidas turn over his weapons, but he replied with molṑn labé. It’s just a reminder to fight for what you believe in. The Spartans were outnumbered by the thousands, but they made an impact on history.”

  “Mow-lawn la-vey. I like it.” She gave me a crooked smile as she took a seat on the couch and curled one leg under her. “Come and take it.” Her face turned beet red as her words hit her. “Oh shit. That sounded extremely . . . oh God . . .”

  “It’s okay. Want to watch something? You don’t have to be at work in the morning.”

  “Nah. I kind of just like the peace and quiet.”

  “Did you have fun with the girls?”

  “Yeah. They’re nice and scary.”

  “Scary how?” I reached forward and placed my hand on top of hers and was pleased when she didn’t pull away.

  “I wouldn’t ever want to be on their bad side.”

  “Ahh, Stella.”

  We were quiet for a few minutes, and the smell of her perfume hit me. Whatever the scent was, it seemed to fit her, and I leaned back against the couch, breathing it in. When I looked to her again, she was smiling.

  Since the first time I’d met her, every time I’d been near her and watched her lips move, I wanted to kiss them. Or rub my thumbs across her forehead and smooth out the crease that formed when she was deep in thought. I was stunned to realize that there were several little things that I had already memorized about this woman in such a short time. And that one little kiss we’d had yesterday wasn’t enough, I wasn’t sure if it would ever be enough.

  A stray strand of hair fell across her face, and I didn’t fight back the urge to tuck it behind her ear. I rested my thumb on the apple of her cheek as I lightly caressed her face. Without moving my thumb, I stretched my fingers that were cradling her head until I could feel her silky locks of hair. She was gazing deep into my eyes, and I was fucked. I’d fallen hard for Katy, my assistant.

  I thought for a moment about telling her everything, was it better for both of us to come clean or wait until she returned the feelings? Fuck, why wasn’t this shit easy? There needed to be some motherfucking handbook.

  You want a girl to admit that she likes you, turn to chapter seven.

  You want a girl to ask for help, turn to page twelve.

  As this point, I was willing to read instructions in Japanese and hire a translator just to get answers.

  The first question I’d look up in that manual would be how to admit you had known she was living in one of your model homes. Sure, Elliot from SpyGuys had said that what I was doing was standard video security. But my conscience knew the difference. Once I had seen her, the only security I used it for was my own. I wanted to know that they were safe.

  Chapter 16

  Katy

  Saturday morning proved me an idiot. Out of habit, I woke at the ass-crack of dawn, only to realize that I didn’t have to worry about escaping the model home before someone caught us. Grabbing my phone, I searched for how to make pancakes and decided that I’d try Bee’s favorite food for breakfast. It would be a nice surprise for when she woke.

  Jumping from the bed, I hastily got ready and went downstairs, returning to the recipe website I’d gotten the Alfredo recipe from.

  I’d been watching cooking shows for years but just never had the real opportunity to cook. I wanted to take every advantage of it that I could this next week or so while Damon’s brother was out of town.

  I mixed the batter and poured it onto the hot skillet, and the first batch looked like a pile of burnt shit. According to the Internet, it was supposed to, not look like shit, just not look good. By the second batch, I was getting the hang of it and poured, watched them bubble, flipped, and then stacked. Before too long, I had way too many. Turning off the stove, I stacked a few onto our plates and set them on the table.

  “Bee bug, wake up, I have your favorite,” I hollered upstairs. She was a light sleeper so I hoped she’d hear me. The thundering on the steps was enough for me to know that my message had been received.

  Grabbing the juice from the fridge, I spied movement at Damon’s. It looked like his garage was open. Snatching my phone up, I opened the binoculars app and zoomed in and watched. I couldn’t tell what he was working on, but he was building something. He had a machine pulled out and wood stacked. I watched for a minute before I found my courage and called him.

  I was shocked when he answered, part of me had lost my bravado and hoped he’d left his phone inside.

  “Hey, you’re up early.” His voice was sexy and slightly winded.

  “Yeah. I just made pancakes and was sitting down to eat when I saw you outside. I can’t tell what you’re doing, but if it’s something you can stop, you’re welcome to come over and have some, I made way too many.”

  “Let me wash up. I’ll be right over.”

  He disconnected, and I dropped my phone.

  “I’m running upstairs real quick, bug, go ahead and start.” I darted past my daughter and upstairs to throw my hair up into a ponytail. After a few swipes with the mascara wand on my lashes and a dab of lipstick, I was back downstairs. I unlocked the front door then returned to the kitchen to grab a third place setting. I had just set it down on the table when I saw him crossing the backyard, heading for the front.

  Damon was gorgeous. His olive skin glistened with a faint hint of sweat in the early morning sun. And his jeans, ohhh, he could fill out those jeans. I was still fantasizing about all the places his body was filled-out when he walked into the kitchen.

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  I smiled up at him.

  “Morning, bug.”

  “Hi, Damon.”

  “No.” I held up my hands in front of her mouth. “Don’t talk. We’re having pancakes not see-food.”

  She let out a giggle and swallowed. I watched as the two of them interacted with each other, and I was somehow forgotten. I had a tinge of heartache and a whole lot of jealousy. I wasn’t jealous of my daughter—that would be ridiculous. I was jealous that someone would get to call Damon her husband someday. The heartache, that was for Bee because she’d never know that father’s love that she saw every time Carter looked at Harlow or Gianna.

  “Mom, are you coming to sit?”

  “Yep. I’m coming.” Shaking away my dreary thoughts. “So, what all did you do with Harlow and Gianna last night?”

  “Harlow said that she’d
come to my talent show. She asked her daddy, and he said it was okay. We practiced and everything.”

  “You practiced what?”

  “My song that I’m going to sing. Duh.” Bee smacked her forehead as if I was slow for not understanding everything she was talking about. “We went on Amazon, and they have a costume. We can order it. Harlow has Prime, so it’ll be here fast, and it doesn’t cost anything. You just click a button, and it gets sent to you automatically.”

  “What? Bee. Slow down.”

  “Were you and Harlow ordering off Amazon last night?” Damon interrupted. “She’s already been in trouble once for ordering. I thought they turned off one-click shopping.”

  “We didn’t buy it. But she showed me how you go in and check the box and it turns one-click shopping back on. She has a whole list of things she wants to get.”

  “Yeah, don’t listen to Harlow. I have a feeling she won’t have access to a computer any longer. I need to call Soph and warn her before they have another huge shipment. Last time, she ordered ten cases of Pop-Tarts and three of every Barbie that she could find. The one thing no one can accuse that girl of is being stingy. She made sure that she got one of each item for Gianna and Avril as well.”

  “Holy crap. What did they do? Bee, don’t you dare click on that website, do you hear me? That stuff isn’t free.”

  “Since Sophie has a habit of spending, the credit card company didn’t think twice about the charge. For the next week, the UPS trucks pulled in and out of their driveway twice a day with huge boxes. Harlow was thrilled that her stuff had arrived, Carter was livid, and Sophie was torn between wanting to teach Harlow a lesson and thinking it was hysterical. In the end, they returned most of it. It was over two-thousand dollars.”

  “Why are you laughing?” I couldn’t believe that Damon was sitting there laughing about Harlow spending that much money.

  “Probably because she isn’t my kid and it wasn’t my money. She’s going to be a handful.” He shook his head. “Bee, your mom’s right. Don’t listen to Harlow. But tell me about your talent show and what you’re going to sing.”