I should. I don’t want to leave Gretchen in a lurch, and put strain on the other waitresses. “I hate to leave without notice, but I’ll see if they’re willing to work with me.” It’s a privately owned diner ripping off a national chain. Surely they’ll cut me some slack, let me only give one week’s notice.
Dr. Miller stands and holds her hand out. I take it and she shakes. I try not to smile. She shakes my hand like a man, like we’re two very successful women making a big business deal. I like it. It’s respectful. “I’ll have the office manager get your employment packet set up. She’ll give you a call to let you know when to pick it up. Let her know when you’ll be able to start so we can go ahead and get you on the schedule. Monday through Thursday you’ll be here from eight-thirty to five. Friday is eight-thirty to noon, and the first Saturday of every month we’re here from ten to three.”
“Thank you so much Dr. Miller, for giving me a chance.” Oh God, I’m gushing with gratitude. But she doesn’t seem to mind.
“You’re welcome, Luna. I…” She looks down at her desk and back at me, then says gently, “I don’t like to see other women scratching and clawing their way out of a hole. I like to help when I can. I hope this works out. I really do.”
“Me too.” My voice cracks and I have to turn away before she sees the tears in my eyes. Now this is help I can take: not a handout, but a chance.
I go by the diner to see Gretchen, even though my shift doesn’t start for another four hours. On my way there, I dial Gabe with the nifty, probably very expensive bluetooth built into the Tesla. He answers on the third ring.
“O’Malley,” he snaps.
“Hi,” I greet him.
“Luna,” he says, sounding a little surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”
“Well, I have good news.”
He muffles the phone and says, “I have to take this. Excuse me.” There’s the sound of other voices in the background and movement. Well shit. I didn’t even think about the fact that he’d be at work.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s all right, I’m glad you called. Now what’s your good news, sweetheart?”
I love that endearments roll off his tongue so naturally, that they’re not forced. It sounds sincere that way. “I got a new job!” I screech, bouncing up and down.
“Luna, that’s fantastic. Where?” He sounds genuinely pleased and my stupid, stupid heart does a little pitter-patter dance.
“As a receptionist at a doctor’s office. I have to put in notice at the diner, and they’re willing to wait if it has to be two weeks.” I hesitate less than a second and add, “This means the girls and I can move out of Dad’s and get an apartment of our own.”
His tone warm, he says, “I’m very happy for you, baby. Want to celebrate?”
“Hell yes, I want to celebrate!” I laugh, still giddy with excitement. “But I have to work tonight and tomorrow.”
“Sunday night, then?”
“I’ll get back to you. I have to make sure Dad’s okay with keeping the girls.” I’m approaching the city limits of Corybelle, and the yellow sign for the diner comes into view.
“Let me know and I’ll make reservations.” His voice becomes a little muffled and he says, “No, acquisitions shouldn’t have to deal with the timber permits, that’s development.” More talking in the background, then, “If you can’t get it approved, give Marjorie Dawson at the EPA a call. She’ll get the ball rolling.” Another pause, then, “Luna, I’m sorry. I need to go. Let me know about Sunday.”
“I will. Bye, Gabe.”
“Congratulations, Luna,” he says then hangs up.
I pull into the diner as the bluetooth disconnects. I haven’t figured out how to hang up yet, so I just have to wait for it to do it on its own.
I shut the car off and climb out before it occurs to me that I called Gabe before I called Dad. That’s significant, and I don’t think I want to examine it too closely yet.
Gretchen’s in her office, frowning at the computer and tapping her fingers on the desk. She looks up when I knock on the open door.
“Luna!” She looks down at her watch. “You’re early. I don’t really have room for you until your shift, honey.”
I wave and enter, sitting down in front of the desk. “I know, and I’m not here to pick up extra hours.” I take a deep breath and tell her, “I need to put in notice. I’m sorry, but I found another job that is dayshift, and it pays more, and…”
Gretchen claps and laughs, then jumps up and runs around the desk to give me a hug. “Oh honey, you go ahead and go when you need to.” My face is squished against her soft chest and it’s a little awkward, but I bask in her affection for just a moment. She pulls away and sits on the desk in front of me, taking my hand. “I’ll be sorry to lose you, but honey, you’ve got a family to take care of and I’m proud of you. So you don’t worry about me, and don’t you fret about giving notice for another minute. If you want to stay for another week or two, it’s fine. But I’m not going to give you a bad reference for leaving when it’s the best thing for you and your kids.”
God dammit, everyone’s being so nice today, and I’m so hormonal that they’re all making me cry. “Thank you, Gretchen. Maybe a week?” I swallow back the tears and she brushes my cheek with her thumb.
“If that’s what you want, honey.”
I leave her office a teary mess, trying to keep the snot and choking sobs under control. But a dam has broken, somewhere in my mind, and I can’t stop it. I climb in the Tesla, and start it, turning on the air conditioning to keep from melting. Then I just…let go.
I haven’t let myself let go for years. I’ve penned it all up: my depression over a shitty marriage, relief over my divorce, despair over my dependence on my father, insecurity over my relationship with Gabe, worry about my girls, that jackass Corey, and a million other things that I’ve put away without dealing with. If emotional problems were shoes, I’ve been stuffing them in shoeboxes and packing my closet full for years, shoving box after box in until finally…someone popped open that closet door today and they’re all tumbling out.
I don’t have a tissue, but there are some napkins in the glove compartment because with kids…well, one can never have too many paper products. I open it to pull the stack of tissues out, and a little black box tumbles into the floor. I blow my nose into one of the scratchy fast food napkins and lean over to pick up the box.
It’s a jeweler’s box, and I don’t have to wonder who put it there. It was obviously Gabe, but I don’t know when. I pop the lid open and what’s inside makes me cry harder. A double strand choker of black pearls rests on the white satin inside, and a little note is tucked beneath them. I pull it out and try to read around the surplus of tears.
As rare and beautiful as a moon goddess
These had to cost a fortune, and old Luna would have thrown a fit and given them back. But I’m new Luna, and today is a new day. I’m crying out old Luna, with her pride and avoidance of issues. I want the damn necklace, so I’m going to god damn keep it. And if anyone wants to think Gabe’s my sugar daddy, then fuck them.
I sob harder, letting it all pour out. Part of me wants to call Gabe, because I’m pretty sure he’d drop whatever he’s doing to come hold me. But I won’t ask that of him. Dad would come too, but he’d have to bring the girls and I don’t want them to see me like this. I’m still peeved at Sierra, so that leaves exactly no one.
And maybe that’s appropriate. I’ve leaned on everyone for so long. First Corey, then Dad and my friends, now it’s tempting to lean on Gabe. But I have to learn to lean on myself before I’m really going to be free. So I don’t call anyone. I just sob in my car, blowing my nose until it’s red and scratchy, and all the napkins are soggy. It’s disgusting, but it’s so fucking freeing that eventually the sobs start to morph into a melancholic kind of laughter.
A tap on my window scares the shit out of me, and I look up to see a woman watching me, conce
rned. I roll the window down to assure her I’m all right.
“Is everything all right?” She has a pretty accent, has to be a transplant to Southern Alabama, and I smile at it. She’s very tall, and probably in her sixties. Motherly or grandmotherly type, then.
“I’m good,” I snivel. “Just getting it all out, you know?”
She nods and gives me a hesitant smile. “Good or bad?”
“I’m sorry?” I tilt my head, a little confused.
“Well, when I have moments like this, it’s started either by something good or something bad.” She props a hand on my door, beautifully manicured nails resting where my window disappears into the door.
I look at her pretty nails and say, “Good. It was really good.” I want pretty nails and I want my toenails done. I want a head to toe wax, and I want my hair styled. I want a new dress and shoes. And I don’t have any money to spare, since every dime needs to go toward a new apartment.
But I do have a boyfriend that has money that he’s dying to spend, and asking for a spa day is a hell of a lot less than black pearls or a car.
“I’m glad.” I jump a little, startled that the woman’s still by my car. I got lost in my own thoughts and forgot she was there. She backs away and gives me a glowing smile. “Congratulations on your good news, and getting it all out.” She waves and heads for a car just a few down from mine. I wave at her absently.
My phone is in the side pocket of my purse and I yank it out and open my texts with Gabe. I type out the message probably twenty times before finally sending it.
I want to ask for something, and it’s okay if you tell me no. Can my celebration be a spa day?
Less than a minute passes before he responds.
Of course. Name the day and I’ll have everything arranged.
I’ll beg Jess to take my shift tomorrow, and ask Dad to keep the girls. Pretty soon no one will need to take my shifts, and I won’t need Dad to watch the girls every night while I work. I’m not going to feel guilty about asking one last time.
Tomorrow. I’ll skip work.
Dinner with me afterward?
Absolutely.
I blow my nose into the least soggy of all the tissues and pull out of the parking lot. I still have to tell Dad about my new job, and ask if he minds watching the girls one last Saturday for me.
Dad and the girls are washing his car when I pull in, though Carmen looks like she’s playing in the water more than she’s helping. Dad turns to me as I approach, his eyebrows arched in silent inquiry.
I spread my arms and grin. “I got it. Ninety-day trial, then a permanent position.”
Dad lets out a whoop, drops the hose and grabs me to spin me around and around. When I start to get dizzy, he puts me down and says between gasping breaths, “You’re a little heavier than you were twenty years ago.” Then he looks down at me and frowns. “Why have you been crying if you got the job?”
I shake my head and laugh. I doubt he’ll understand. “Good tears, Daddy. Really good tears.” Honestly, some good, and some bad, but Dad doesn’t need to know that. “I’d like to celebrate tomorrow…”
“Yes, yes. Go!” He exclaims, all smiles. “Have a date night, or a girls night, or just a night to yourself. Whatever you want. I’ve got this.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” My voice breaks, and he watches, panicked, as I break down again.
Fucking hormones.
Chapter 20
A large bouquet of peace roses is delivered to the house on Saturday. The card reads only, “Congratulations on your good news,” and I assume it’s from Dad, Gretchen, Sierra, or Gabe. But Dad claims to have no knowledge of it, and when I text Gabe a thank you for the flowers, he only texts back a question mark.
I have less than a minute to fret over it though, because a white Lincoln Navigator pulls into the drive and a man in a grey suit gets out and approaches the door.
When I open it, he nods once and asks, “Miss Harmon?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Eric Howard. Mr. O’Malley sent me to be your driver today.”
I hadn’t expected a driver, but I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not going to argue with it though. This is my celebration day, and it’s the only thing involving money I ever intend to ask Gabe for.
I kiss Dad and the kids goodbye, and follow Eric out to the big SUV. He opens the back passenger door for me, and I climb in. He doesn’t speak the entire ride, except to point out that I have radio and temperature controls in the back. I lean back and enjoy the ride to Belle’s, an all-inclusive spa on the east side of Mobile that I could never afford without Gabe.
They pluck, wax, lotion, buff, and soak me until from head to toe I’m soft and supple in a way I’ve never been before. Then they wrap me up in a soft robe and plop me down to have my hair cut and styled. No one even asks me what I want done. They just do whatever they want, and I let them. While my hair is sitting with some type of perm-smelling stuff, I’m led to a foot bath, where my feet are submerged in hot, bubbly water.
When my hair is clean and finished, I get a manicure and a pedicure, and my nails are all painted a soft shade of pink. It’s all so decadent and I love it. Every minute.
When I think it’s all over, that there’s nothing else they could possibly do, I’m led to a back room that’s filled wall-to-wall with formal dresses and shoes. I don’t even pretend to be confused. I’m not an idiot. I pick one, glad none of them have price tags. I’d probably shit. I find a pair of shoes after examining them all, and the lady that followed me in writes down my selection, takes measurements, and makes a call.
Then I’m led to another room that’s designed to look like it’s outdoors. Nature sounds surround me as they lay me down on a massage table, and I close my eyes and drift as they start the hot stone massage.
It’s fucking magical, the whole day. And I have Gabe to thank for it. Without him, I would have ended up at Judy’s for a new hairdo, and Bay Nails for my mani-pedi. While that’s all right, and I still think that’s treating myself, this is something more and he’s made it that way. I didn’t ask for all of this, but to be honest…I knew when I asked him that he’d go overboard.
By the time my massage is done, my clothes are here. I slide the dress on. It’s a sleeveless charmeuse with a criss-cross waist and beaded straps. There’s a little keyhole opening between my breasts, barely enough to have a peek. But the open back shows plenty of skin, and the sample looked fantastic. I’m glad I chose it. It really kind of looks like a night gown, is slinky and clingy and slightly glittery, in a shade of pink that matches my nails. That’s part of why I chose it. It’s delicate and feminine, but is saved from being excessively girly by the black beading on the straps. When I fasten my black pearls on, it’s stunning. The black peep-toe heels are similar to the ones I have at home, except they have a little pink bow above my toes, and overlapping ankle straps.
I’ve never felt more like fucking Cinderella in my life, and I love it. The team of six that’s been following me around all day claps when they see the final product and two of them sit me down to do my hair and make-up. God, this is nice.
But it would be irritating after a while.
By the time they’re done and usher me out the door, Gabe’s waiting, leaning against a white limousine in a tux, head down while he does something on his phone. Gabe in silky gym shorts is devastating, in a three piece suit is shattering, but Gabe in a tux is life-altering. I could just eat him up.
His head comes up when he hears me approach, and he inhales sharply. “Luna, you look…” He slowly examines me from head to toe, barely moving his head. “Fuck.” The word comes out as a groan and I’m so, so happy that I could scream. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he reaches for me, sliding his hand around to my back to rest on the bare skin there and tugging me into his arms. His lips brush my ear, and he says, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.”
I pull away and give him my best im
itation of a sensual smile. “Well you won’t have to wait long. Where are we going?”
He shifts his hips until I can feel his erection and says, “I’d planned to take you to a play and then dinner. But then you wore that dress…”
“I’d love to see a play,” I say.
“Of course you would.” He chuckles, pulling me even tighter against him. “Let’s go then.”
He opens the door and I slide in, struggling a little with the dress. I end up sitting down and putting both feet into the car at the same time. I think it looks pretty ladylike, though I wasn’t trying to. Gabe slides in behind me, and someone closes the door. The driver, I assume.
“Who sent you flowers?” he asks, his voice soft.
I glance over at him. I’d forgotten about the roses. Must have been Sierra if it wasn’t him. I just shrug. “Sierra, I guess. I thought they might have been from you.”
He frowns and looks away with a softly murmured, “No. Not me.”
The driver’s door closes, and Gabe pushes a button next to him to close the privacy window.
When the car starts forward, he pulls my feet onto his lap and pushes the dress to my knees. He traces the straps of the shoes, fingering the little bow with a smile. “Have I ever told you that I have kind of a thing for shoes?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Well, it’s not a fetish. It’s just that these sexy little shoes that are probably a pain in the ass to wear always make me hard.” He finishes the statement on a whisper, his voice lowered to that midnight sex rasp. He trails his finger along the edge of the shoes, past my ankle, and to my knee. It’s a sensual tickle, and sends a shiver rolling through me.
He doesn’t stop at my knee, though. He continues, up my thigh and to the lacy underwear that arrived with my dress. One finger brushes against me, then pushes the fabric aside and slides beneath the panties. “Holy, fuck, you waxed.” He shifts, pulling until I’m across his lap with the dress around my waist. “Let me see, baby.” His voice is hoarse, and he pulls the leg of the underwear to the side with a hiss.
Luna Exposed Page 24
