Such a Pretty Face

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  “Brenda, I have a meeting that I need to prepare for, so, do you need something?”

  Brenda had either turned down the music or walked away from it, because the line grew so quiet that I wondered if we had been disconnected. “We really haven’t had a chance to talk, Mia, and it’s been almost four weeks since I—”

  “Since you left? Walked out?” I Þ lled in helpfully.

  “Mia, let’s not be childish about this.”

  “I’m being childish because I’m telling the truth?”

  “I thought maybe you had gotten over being mad. I had hoped we could discuss things like adults.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I felt and looked, I’m sure, worn out. I had taken a long shower to help ease what I knew would be some sore muscles come tomorrow and I had yet to put my makeup back on. My hair was damp and my back felt like I had neglected to dry it completely when I put on my blouse. My pantyhose were still balled in my bag and my feet were moist and cramped inside my heels without them. I wanted to go home and I couldn’t, not without explaining to Goody and not without blowing off quite a few phone calls.

  “What in the world do you and I have to talk about? You left me, remember?”

  “I didn’t leave—”

  “Brenda,” I interrupted, and then I felt all the anger ebb from me

  • 91 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  as the realization of what I was going to say hit me like a ton of bricks.

  “I loved you. Our relationship may not have been perfect, but if we had problems you should have told me. Instead, you ran off to Fiji.”

  “Mia, I couldn’t turn down this opportunity.”

  “Yes, you could have. You could have done a lot of things. You could have asked me to come for a little bit. You could have asked my opinion. But that’s not what this is really about anyway. Fiji was just an excuse to do something that had obviously been on your mind for a while. You took the coward’s way out of the relationship.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You should have talked to me.” I realized then that tears were coming down my cheeks. “You should have told me the truth. You should have told me you didn’t like the person I had become.”

  “That’s not true.”

  I ignored her vehement denials because I needed to get the words out. “You should have told me that it was over.”

  “Is it over?”

  Now Brenda’s voice sounded soft, almost pleading. For what, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t realize that this conversation would happen until just now. Or maybe I had; maybe that was one of the reasons I had been avoiding her phone call.

  “It’s been over for a while for you, hasn’t it?” I asked.

  “I never wanted it to be. I still remember how much fun we used to have when we hung out with Saundra and Nora.”

  I glanced at the photo on my bookshelf. How long had it been since I had talked to them? Well over a year. Brenda had been right, we had lost contact with most of our friends. I had become so engrossed in my work that there had been no time to really do anything together, let alone have a social life.

  “Can’t we, I don’t know, discuss things when I get back?” Brenda asked.

  Now she wanted to have a discussion? I felt the ache in my neck, the throb in my shoulders, and a worrying dull throb in my shins; but in my heart, I felt nothing. “I don’t know that we have anything else to talk about.”

  “Maybe you could come down for a few days next week. We can talk about this in the evenings.” I heard something in her voice, but it wasn’t the desperation of a spurned lover, it was fear. I had forgotten how much Brenda hated to be alone.

  • 92 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  “I can’t. We’re about to move into the new ofÞ ce space and I’ve picked up several new clients.”

  “Can I call you tonight?”

  “I don’t know what time I’ll get home, Brenda. But you can try the house. I need to get back to work and you probably should too.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you later. I hope you’re around tonight.” Her voice had dropped to low, sultry tones that, in the past, would have had me pinned to the couch, waiting for the phone to ring.

  I still felt nothing. Perhaps I was just stunned or weary or something, but I responded with, “I can’t say for sure, but I’ll talk to you soon.” I hung up the phone before she could say anything else.

  I was grateful that Goody was gone from his desk, because if he had questioned me about the exact origins of my tears, I wouldn’t have been able to give him a good answer. I pulled my compact out of my purse and began to reapply my makeup. What had just happened?

  What was wrong with me? When did the woman I spent four years of my life with turn into a stranger? I closed my eyes to try to calm myself; my whole world felt like it was on a Tilt-A-Whirl and I just wanted off.

  v

  “That bastard got her Þ red!”

  I looked up sharply. “What bastard? Who are you talking about?”

  Goody marched into my ofÞ ce, his face ß ushed with anger and his Þ sts gripped together in a tight little ball. “Jackson.”

  “Jackson is trying to get Robin Þ red?” Tension eased from my shoulders. I’d never understood why Jackson had hired Robin in the Þ rst place—the two seemed as mismatched as night and day—but I had never heard of any problems between them. I couldn’t help but think that dislike of me was the one thing that they had in common.

  “No. Ryan.”

  My face went slack. “Ryan? How can Jackson get Ryan Þ red?

  She doesn’t work for him. She doesn’t even work for Goldsmith.” I remembered the altercation in the hall. Oh, God no. Jackson couldn’t be that fucking petty. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I just overheard her arguing with her boss Steve, and then she just stormed out. She took all of her tools.”

  I’ll never see her again. I was shocked at how distressed I was that

  • 93 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  Ryan was about to walk—no, be pushed out of my life. “So she just left? Damn it, Goody, why didn’t you come get me!”

  “I tried,” he wailed, but I was already running down the hall.

  I skidded to a stop just outside Goldsmith’s doors, and my heart threatened to leap out of my throat like a suicidal goldÞ sh when I spotted her standing at the elevators. Her back was to me, her arms folded, a toolbox at her feet, and her head was down.

  I heard the distant pinging of the elevator as it approached our ß oor. “Ryan?”

  She turned away quickly. My heart stopped trying to escape from my throat and instead sank. She wouldn’t look at me. This was my fault. No, this was Jackson’s fault. In that moment I was closer to hating another person than I had ever been.

  “Ryan, please let me talk to you.”

  “You already know? Bad news travels fast in your ofÞ ce, huh?”

  She was still avoiding my eyes, and from the sound of her voice, she had been crying.

  “I’m so sorry. Please let me try to Þ x this.”

  The elevator slid open. Five or six people stared at me over her shoulder.

  Her face had paled, making the scar on her right cheek appear vivid and cruel. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears and probably rough rubbing. The two swatches of nearly white hair that always worked their way out of her rubber band were in her face, and my Þ ngers itched to push them gently back. She beat me to it.

  “I am not a thief,” she said with vehemence.

  I didn’t have to look to know that the bored faces inside the elevator had probably changed. This was different from the grind; this was drama, and they had front-row seats.

  “I know you’re not,” I said. “I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding? How could it be? Something is missing in his ofÞ ce, and I was in there when he claims it disappeared.”

  “Let me talk
to your boss. Explain to him what happened with Jackson; that you were only trying to stand up for me. He’ll understand.”

  The elevator door shut and I thought I heard laughter, which made me angry that someone would Þ nd Ryan’s pain amusing.

  “How can he, Mia? Any whisper of impropriety and my company has to react. Steve had no choice but to send me home. I can’t work

  • 94 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  here anymore. Even if that paperweight thing shows up. The damage is done.”

  “But Jackson lied.”

  “I know.” Ryan took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For believing me.”

  “Of course I believe you. You don’t strike me as a thief. And I know what an asshole Jackson is, especially when he feels he’s been slighted. I had no idea he would stoop to this level to get back at you. I mean, it makes no sense.”

  “Revenge never does.” Ryan’s voice sounded calm now and the anger had receded slightly. Goody’s words about revenge being the best way to get even came ß ooding back to me. I thought about Brenda then, and realized that I didn’t want revenge or anything else from her. I just wanted Ryan to stop looking so devastated.

  “Ryan? I never got a chance to thank you. You know, for telling him off for me. But I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, but you should be careful. Maybe have Goody take you home instead of catching the bus.”

  “He can’t threaten my job,” I said. “And I don’t think he’ll try anything physical. He’s an asshole but harmless.”

  “He isn’t harmless, Mia. I think that’s obvious now.” Her face softened. “People like that rarely mean to hurt anyone at Þ rst. They’re just angry and reacting to it. If you don’t tell them, if you don’t make sure that they understand that there are repercussions for not controlling themselves…just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  Her concern warmed me. “I promise. Please. Let me talk to your boss. Even if you can’t work here, maybe he’ll let you work at another building.”

  Ryan was shaking her head. “I can’t. I got so mad that I said some things I shouldn’t have. I doubt Steve will want to work with me again.”

  “But you’re his best worker.” My outrage surprised even me, and Ryan’s smile, though brittle, lightened the heaviness in my heart.

  “How do you know I’m his best worker?”

  “I can tell. He trusted you there alone, and you do most of the work yourself. I Þ gure you’d have to be his best worker.”

  Ryan sighed. “I used to be. Now I’m on leave until further notice.”

  • 95 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “Don’t you have a union or something?”

  “I don’t want to make Steve go through that. This isn’t his fault.

  I should probably start looking for odd jobs until I can Þ nd something permanent.” Ryan pressed the elevator button again.

  She was already pulling away from me, her thoughts turning inward, making me feel powerless and empty inside. “Ryan, I have a cousin who owns a construction business. Let me call him. I also have some work that needs to be done on my house.”

  I could tell she was about to object even before the words reached her lips

  “It’s not charity,” I said. “You’re going to do some work in my house and I’m going to pay you. I’d rather you be in my house than somebody I don’t trust. Wait right here.”

  Before she could refuse, I left her and hurried back into the ofÞ ce.

  I could tell by the ß urry of motion that the receptionist and Robin had been watching us through the smoked glass. There would be stories, but I couldn’t care less. Right then, all I cared about was keeping Ryan close; I would Þ gure out the whys and hows of it later.

  I riß ed through my desk drawer until I found my extra set of house keys. Goody looked as if he were about to speak as I ran past, but I stopped him with a quick, “Be right back.”

  As I approached the double lobby doors, the idea that Ryan might be gone when I stepped out into the hall made me hesitate, but I could feel the stares at my back so I pushed on.

  She was still standing in the hall, and she didn’t return my smile.

  “Here.” I pushed the keys into Ryan’s hesitant hands. “There’s wallpaper that needs to be torn down, several rooms need to be repainted, I’d like built-in shelving in the closets in the master bedroom, and the ß oor needs to be replaced in one corner. The water pressure is awful throughout the house and the toilet leaks and”—I took a deep breath—

  “the back door sticks.”

  She did smile at me then, and I thought I heard some amusement in her voice when she asked, “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I live at—”

  “I’ve been there. Remember?”

  I blushed. Of course I do. How could I ever forget?

  “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

  “I’m positive. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  “I’ve just been accused of stealing and you give me the keys to

  • 96 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  your house? For all you know, it could be true. You don’t know me from Adam.”

  I barely stopped myself from saying, But I feel like I know you.

  Instead I said, “Maybe not, but I know Jackson, and I don’t trust him as far as I can toss him. Come on, Ryan. We’ve discussed this and you thanked me for believing you. End of story.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I can head over to your house right now.”

  “Okay, I should leave here in about an hour.”

  “No problem. I’ll only need half an hour or so to take a look and leave you a quote. Do you have other keys or should I—”

  “Those are my spares. You can leave them inside the house.”

  “All right.” The moment grew long and inexplicably awkward.

  The elevator pinged and slid open. Ryan stepped inside. “Don’t call your cousin. I can get other work myself.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll put my cell-phone number on the quote.”

  “Okay,” I said with a little more energy. “Thanks.”

  For an instant I saw the look that I had longed to see again—raw, unhidden lust. The kiss at the front door hadn’t been a dream.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as the door closed, severing our eye contact.

  • 97 •

  • 98 •

  SUCH A PRETTY FACE

  CHAPTER NINE

  Wow, Mia, who knew you could run so fast?”

  Normally, I would have kept walking, holding my anger inside; today I stopped. I could see Robin’s eyes widen. “Your boss is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. You two were meant for each other.”

  The anger that had simmered under the surface now threatened to boil over. I was stomping toward Jackson’s ofÞ ce before I even realized that I was going to confront him.

  Robin chased after me. “Mia, don’t make things worse. She was stealing.”

  I reared around so quickly that Robin ran into me. “You know as well as I do she didn’t steal from that bastard.”

  “He said she did.”

  “He also said you looked like a tramp not a month before he asked you to become his assistant.” Robin looked so hurt that it brought me up short. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you, you idiot?”

  At least three heads poked out of their ofÞ ces. Within minutes all twenty-Þ ve assistants and at least half the brokers would know that Robin was sleeping with Jackson.

  “That’s crazy. I’m not sleeping with him.” Robin was shaking her head, but her eyes gave her away.

  “I hope you’re being careful, because Jackson would rather let you drown than get his hands wet. And another thing. You want to know why Henry and I didn’t ask you to be our assistant after Eleanor retired? It was because of what you were doing up there at the front

 
; • 99 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  desk. I bet you couldn’t wait to tell the receptionist that Jackson had Ryan Þ red.”

  “That’s not true. I was relieving her for a bathroom break.”

  I had reached Jackson’s closed door now. I could see him on the phone, with his back to the door, looking out the window.

  “Liar,” I said and pushed into his ofÞ ce.

  Jackson turned around with a scowl on his face. The minute he saw me, that nasty little vein began to writhe like a maggot. “Dave, can you hold on a moment? I have something irritating in my eye.”

  He had only just Þ nished what I’m sure was meant to be a jab at me, but I had already snatched the phone from his hand and dropped it in its cradle.

  “That was an important call,” he said mildly.

  “Really? Setting up a tee time?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Cut the bullshit, Jackson. Why’d you accuse Ryan of stealing that thing you called a paperweight?”

  “How do you know she didn’t steal it?” His mouth turned up in what I guessed was supposed to be a smile.

  “Because the pen in your hand probably cost more than what you accused her of taking.”

  “I’ll have you know my mentor gave me that paperweight.”

  “Before or after you stole his book while he was on vacation?”

  Jackson smiled, his eyes telling me what his lips didn’t. “You were mad at me. Why’d you go after her?”

  “If someone does something to me, I can’t let it go unpunished.”

  “You got her Þ red because you wanted to get back at me?”

  The poor excuse for a smile disappeared. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “I think it has everything to do with me. She was defending me and you didn’t like it.”

  He shrugged. “She learned a lesson today, then. She should really be careful of the company she keeps.”

  “Funny, I just told your bed buddy the same thing. One day, Jackson, someone’s going to come along and wipe that smug look off your face.”