Stella in Stilettos

by Romes, Jan

  “Thanks.” Stella was completely angry, but it was crystal clear why it happened. She slurped her drink. “Maggie fell under his spell.”

  Trish gave her a pointed look. “You’re letting Maggie off the hook? She tried to put the screws to you.”

  Stella nodded sluggishly. “Lowered resistance makes people do crazy stuff.”

  Trish made a face.

  “No one can resist him, Trish.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek. “I couldn’t. He waltzed into the department and I fell into bed with him.”

  Trish wiped the tear from Stella’s face. “Hussy.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Stella countered. They both had enough alcohol to make that seem funny, and they laughed hysterically.

  When the moment sobered, Trish dug for more. “You started to say something about Belinda earlier, but the pizza came and you never finished.”

  A hiccupped-sob worked from Stella’s chest. “We’re not supposed to be talking about any of this. Let’s change the subject.”

  Trish laid a hand on her shoulder. “You wouldn’t have brought her name up if you didn’t want to discuss it. Trash talk, Stella. For once in your life, muster up some meanness. It’s cleansing. I do it all the time.”

  “Okay,” she slurred. “It seems I’m not the only one who slept with Alex.”

  “What?” Trish’s hazel eyes almost bulged out of her head. “Who told you that nonsense?”

  Stella snatched the whiskey bottle and diluted the diet cola. “Who do you think?”

  “There’s no way, Stella. She’s lying.”

  Stella closed her eyes.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Sort through the pile of dung and smell the truth.”

  Stella shrugged dispiritedly. She didn’t want to believe it either.

  “Alex has made some mistakes, Belinda isn’t one of them.”

  Stella scooted to the edge of the couch and shared what Belinda had said.

  Afterwards, Trish scoffed dramatically. “He’s a jackass, but he isn’t stupid.”

  “Just because she’s a witch, doesn’t mean she’s lying.” Stella tried to drown her sorrows by gulping her drink. She coughed from the burn.

  Trish poked a hole in Stella’s theory. “Alex isn’t paying her a bit of attention, so she’s getting revenge by using the oldest trick in the book.”

  “Which is?”

  “Duh. She planted the seed of doubt. I’d bet my 401k he didn’t sleep with her. The Alex I know only has eyes for you.”

  “The Alex you know? How do you know so much about him?”

  A fleeting look of guilt raced across Trish’s expression. “I know him from everything you’ve said about him. Stella, he’s into you.”

  She expected Trish to say those things because they were best friends. Right or wrong, through thick and thin, Trish was there for her, which meant she couldn’t see through the fog anymore than she could. “Belinda’s beautiful and has a body men would go to war over.”

  Trish stuck her finger in her throat. “You’re making me gag.”

  The conversation was interrupted by the phone ringing beside them. They both gave it an annoyed look.

  Trish checked the caller-ID. “Are you going to throw him a bone?”

  Stella shook her head. “Nope. I’d be happy to throw him something else, like a live grenade or a rabid armadillo.”

  Trish didn’t laugh. “He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Stella gave an alcohol-induced snort. “It was bound to happen. After all, he’s Mr. Wrong.”

  “Sheesh, I was kidding when I gave him that name. Alex is crazy about you, Stella.”

  She couldn’t wrap her head around any of it because the room started to move. “Oh no,” she gurgled and put her hand on the arm of the couch to keep it from spinning. The last thing she heard was Trish saying, “Uh oh.”

  The sliver of light leaking in from under the bedroom door hurt her eyes. Stella pulled the comforter over to head to block it out. Her head felt like someone had taken a claw hammer to it.

  Slowly she pulled the comforter back down and took a gradual look at the alarm clock. Six o’clock.

  Thank goodness she had time to get rid of her monster hangover. Stella snuggled under the covers. Her subconscious tapped her, gently at first. When she didn’t pay attention, it gave her a good thump. A.M. not P.M., dummy. Stella sat straight up.

  She stumbled out of bed and followed the light to where she found Trish wrapped in an afghan, drinking a cup of coffee.

  Trish gave her the once-over. “You look like hell.”

  Stella would’ve frowned if her forehead would’ve cooperated. “I feel like it too.”

  Trish shook a finger. “I tried to warn you.”

  Stella tried to smile but it triggered throbbing. She wanted to remind Trish she hadn’t been a slouch either, but it required oomph and at the moment she didn’t have any. “You made coffee,” she said with as much happiness as she could drum up.

  “Maybe you should down a bottle of water first. It’ll hydrate you.”

  Her stomach knotted. “I need something stronger than water to cut this.”

  “No doubt.” Trish stood up and folded the afghan. “I was going to wake you in a few minutes because it’s snowing like crazy, which means we better put it in gear.”

  Stella shuffled to the window and pulled back the curtains. There was a good two inches on ground and it was still coming down. “I’m not going in today.”

  “Right,” Trish clucked. “You never stay home.”

  “I’m serious.” Stella traipsed to the kitchen, filled the largest coffee-cup she could find and moseyed back to the living room. “I was awful, wasn’t I?”

  The smirk on Trish’s face confirmed it.

  “Thanks for taking care of me.”

  Trish gave her a genuine smile. “I’m glad I could help. Besides, I still owe you. I poured my heart out to you more times than I care to think about; at all hours of the night, and you never once complained.”

  Stella smiled in spite of her monumental headache.

  “Remember all those times I made you be the designated-driver so I could drink myself silly?” Trish wrinkled her forehead. “On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t resurrect any of that. Too painful.”

  “It was never a problem, Trish.”

  “I was such a drama-queen.” Trish snorted with self-deprecation. “Still am.”

  “You weren’t as bad as you think.”

  Trish was thoughtful for a minute. “What I’m really trying to say is you’ve been such a good friend to me, Stella, and you’re such a good person. It tears me up to see you heartbroken.”

  The dam holding back the tears sprang a leak.

  Chapter Twenty

  Alex hurried to Stella’s cubicle with the naïve notion that even if her car wasn’t in the parking garage, she was at work. His heart sank when he discovered the neatly-kept, three-walled compartment was minus its beautiful tenant.

  Not seeing her made this thoughts go crazy. He had to talk to her. To find out how she was feeling. He’d called her at least a dozen times last night to try to talk things out, but she wouldn’t pick up. Given the circumstances, he probably wouldn’t have either.

  How was he supposed to apologize if she wouldn’t give him a chance? He’d contemplated storming her apartment and forcing her to listen, but people got hauled off in cuffs for that kind of behavior.

  Looking around the office, he noticed only a handful of people milled about. Normally the place was a frenzy of activity at five minutes till eight. Then it dawned on him. Icy roads. Driving into work had been a slick-challenge, or should’ve been. He’d been too preoccupied with thoughts of Stella to be worried about treacherous roadways.

  Grim scenarios fired through his brain. What if Stella slid off the road? What if someone else lost control and plowed into her? What if they had to use the jaws-of-life to cut her out of the car?

  A
nxiety took control of him. He tried to walk it off just like he did last night – all night long.

  He paced up and down the aisles.

  Corrine’s head bobbed past the cubicles in the front of the room which meant she was on her way to the cafeteria for her morning ritual of coffee and a doughnut. He ran up the aisle to cut her off. “Corrine.”

  “Yessss?”

  He plied her with a friendly smile. “Stella’s not here.”

  Corrine let out a bothersome exhale. “You’re right, Ace. She’s not.”

  “Where is she?”

  Corrine’s light scowl turned into a heavy frown. “What am I, a human-satellite? I don’t track everyone’s whereabouts.”

  Alex couldn’t believe she’d said that with a straight face. The woman knew everything, which meant she knew where Stella was. Probably even knew what she was wearing. He was set to match her frown, but thought better of it. “You think I’m slime. I get it. I also know you and Stella are close, so I’m sure she’s told you all about us.”

  Corrine studied him for a few long seconds. “Go on,” she insisted blandly, the gleam in her gray eyes contradicted her tone. It said this was new and interesting information.

  Now what? He couldn’t make stuff up because she’d make him pay when she found out the truth. He cleared his throat and was set to say he and Stella were seeing each other, although nothing could be farther from the truth. “I’m in … I like Stella.” Damn. He almost said love. Where the hell did that come from? Desperation made his voice crack. “I hurt her and I need to fix it. Can you please tell me where she is?”

  “Nope,” Corrine stated matter-of-factly. She crossed her arms and leaned toward him as though waiting for more juicy tidbits.

  Alex shuttered his eyes. “Really?”

  “Really,” Corrine spouted. “I have no idea where she is.”

  Frustrating woman. Corrine was being loyal to Stella and he couldn’t fault her for that. “Okay,” he said sullenly.

  Corrine let him walk halfway back to his cubicle before she tossed him a bread crumb. “I don’t know where she is exactly. She called in to say she’s taking vacation the rest of the year.”

  “What?” The news wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but at least he could stop worrying that she might be hurt – at least in the physical sense.

  Corrine snapped at him with her eyes. “You’re a smart guy. You’ll figure it out.”

  Despite her sarcasm, Alex hurried back and gathered her in a hug. “Thanks, Corrine.”

  Corrine mixed up her expression – part glare, part grin. “I had to make you work for it.”

  Alex shook his head. “Women.”

  The office door opened and Corrine’s grin faded. “Brace yourself, Ace.”

  Maggie barreled at them with her coat thrown across her arm, briefcase in one hand and a travel mug in the other.

  “Good morning, Alex,” she chirped, ignoring Corrine.

  “Morning, Maggie.” He took her briefcase.

  Corrine coughed purposely.

  “Good morning, Corrine.” Maggie sounded like it was an enormous bother to greet one more person.

  Alex rolled his eyes which brought the grin back to Corrine’s face. Then he followed Maggie into her office.

  “We need to talk,” he told her straight away.

  Maggie vexed him with a grating tone and tossed everything except her coffee in the chair across from her desk. “I don’t have time this morning. I need to get things cleaned up before I leave for the Christmas holiday.”

  Alex stowed the briefcase in the corner. “Make time,” he said with conviction.

  Maggie spilled some of her coffee and rushed to sop it up, not before sending him a black look. “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”

  He was determined to make her listen. His relationship with Stella depended on it. “With all due respect, I’m trying to get you to do the right thing.”

  Maggie gave him a puzzled, yet vile look. “By bullying me?” She added a string of four-letter words to the question.

  Did she really think she could intimidate him with cuss words? Hell most of those words were part of his vocabulary. “I think you need to call Stella and give her that promotion. She’s worked hard for it.”

  Maggie plopped down in her chair. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I told Jett…and Marc…that I didn’t want the damned promotion. I told you too. So what did you do? You told the whole world that I’m the new assistant VP. Why did you do that?”

  Maggie looked mad enough to spit nails. “Why do you think everything is about you? For your information, it’s not. The world does not revolve around Alex Clay.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Maggie.”

  “Am I going to have to draw you a picture? I’m trying to move up, you blockhead. I don’t want to spend the rest of my career in the advertising department and I want qualified people in place when I make my move. Comprende?”

  Sooooo, Maggie did have her own agenda. He’d known it but hoped he was wrong. The f-word fired repeatedly through his thoughts. Maggie didn’t give a shit about Stella or anyone else. “Whether you’ll admit it or not, Stella is a key player in this department. She’s like a walking-owner’s manual. There isn’t anything she can’t fix or figure out.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “She’d make one hell of an assistant VP. Actually, she could run this place without you.” The comment made Maggie flinch. Bingo! That was it. Maggie was worried that Stella would outshine her. News flash, Maggie, Stella already has.

  * * * *

  Stella walked from the bedroom, to the family room, to the kitchen and back. She’d wanted time to think. All it amounted to was a miserable solitude.

  She finished off the last of the coffee, booted up the computer and clicked into her email account: two doctor-jokes from Misty, a recipe for crock pot pizza from her mom, nothing from the man known only as Mr. Right. “I guess he wasn’t meant to be either.”

  It didn’t bother her that things had fallen off with him although she wouldn’t mind knowing why. She couldn’t fix what she wasn’t aware of.

  Stella revisited some of their conversations and determined things fell off when she withheld her name. That had to be it. She should’ve told him. After all, in a few days they’d be saying hello face to face and it would feel weird calling each other by their nicknames. She compiled a lengthy apology for not telling him sooner and signed it, Stella. She stared at the message and drummed her fingers on the edge of the keyboard until she hit the delete key.

  She click the email account closed and opened the catamaran excursion website to study the boat particulars. Restlessly she went back into her email.

  In the short time she was out of her email account, she’d received a message from Barton James Enterprises. Hmm. The name sounded familiar. She quickly opened it.

  ‘Dear Miss Matson, We received your application and resume, and would like to grant you an interview. Please call our office as soon as possible to set it up. Sincerely, Barton James’.

  Stella couldn’t believe it. Someone actually noticed her resume. Nervous adrenaline made her spring out of the chair. She started to pace again; this time with less misery. In fact, she couldn’t stop smiling. She had a job opportunity. A chance at a fresh start.

  She hurried back to retrieve the phone number at the bottom of the message. After scribbling it on napkin, she resumed pacing – the phone in one hand, the napkin in the other.

  She took a deep breath and dialed, expecting to get a secretary. A powerful voice said, “Barton James.”

  The call went directly to the President and CEO? Her knees buckled slightly. He most likely had given his secretary time off for the holidays, that’s the only thing that made sense. Stella cleared her throat modestly. “Mr. James, this is Stella Matson. I’m calling in regards to your email about an interview.”

  There was a soft chuckle on the other end. “You’re very quick, Stella. I just sent it.”<
br />
  “Too eager?” she asked.

  “No. No.” He chuckled again. “In fact, I have time this afternoon if you’re free. How does three o’clock sound?”

  Stella clapped her hand over her mouth in shock. She had a real interview. Not one just for show like she had with Maggie.

  She glanced at the clock. In three hours she would try to dazzle Barton James. Suddenly she was energized and ready to get down to business. She compiled an email to Mr. Right. ‘My friend and I will be sipping margaritas on the sun deck. I’ll be wearing a baby-blue tank top and white Capri pants.’ So she wouldn’t think this one to death, she sent it off – without a signature.

  The sound of a snowplow scraping the street made her stroll to the window. Thirty-six hours from now, all the frozen precipitation and chaos would be behind her. She’d be on a jet-powered vessel heading to the playground of pirates, authors and anyone looking for a good time. She’d be soaking up the sun, meeting a lot of strange-named people and hopefully anticipating her first day with a new company.

  Stella dashed to the bedroom and pulled a suitcase from the closet. After it was stuffed with everything from shorts to underwear, she pulled the silver stilettos from the shoe bag she forgot to give to Misty. She slid them in amongst her underwear.

  She was bubbling with joy. The time away was going to be a positive thing, even if it killed her. She was going to bask in the sunshine and drink margaritas. Although the thought of more alcohol made her stomach twinge. She would have to pace the margaritas especially on a vessel that rocked back and forth.

  She vowed not to freak out if Mr. Right turned out to be another Mr. Wrong. He probably wouldn’t show up anyway, so she didn’t need to fret.

  * * * *

  Aged-blue eyes studied her from across the desk. “Tell me again why you left your last job.”

  Stella shifted with uncertainty. She’d already explained with clear, concise verbiage how she and Maggie didn’t see eye to eye and how she fell in love with a co-worker. It hadn’t been easy, but she put it all out there. The only way to get a new start was to hide nothing.

  Why did he want her to tell him again? Did her story sound so contrived it couldn’t possibly be true?