Pretty Woman

by Fern Michaels

  Resigned, Luna Mae checked the man’s ID card before she let him into the house. Then she ran upstairs to Rosie’s room. She stuck her head in the bathroom and explained what had happened. “You have to go to the store, baby. I’ll leave the grocery list and your menus on the counter. I’m going to stay right behind that guy every step of the way.”

  “Okay, Luna Mae.”

  On his way to work at Maloy Realty, Kent Bliss passed Rosalie on the road. He pretended not to see her. He felt as awful as he looked. Jason Maloy and the others in the office would undoubtedly think he’d been out catting around all night now that he was a free agent. How they’d laugh if they knew.

  He parked the Mustang, making sure the canvas hood was secure before he stomped his way into the office. With the rain coming down as it was, he knew it would be another day of cold calling, with few if any results. He also knew he had to erase his scowl and his fears and as Maloy said, put a smile on his face.

  The receptionist of the day, whose name was Sylvia, winked at him. “Another hard night, Kent?”

  “Ha ha,” Kent grunted as he walked into his office. A small gold gift-wrapped package sat in the middle of his desk. He undid the gold ribbon and opened the box. He smiled. He loved receiving presents. He carefully removed the tissue to see a solid gold key chain with a gold Porsche charm. The card read, I miss you. It was signed, Allison.

  The box indicated the key chain came from Tiffany’s. His slick brain raced. He could hit Swanson’s pawnshop on his lunch hour. If he was lucky, he could get around seventy bucks for the chain. Enough to pick up his dry cleaning, fill his gas tank, buy some cigarettes for emergencies, and a few fast-food lunches or dinners. If he met up with Allison What’s-her-name, he’d simply say he’d lost the key chain.

  This was what he had been reduced to.

  Kent removed his jacket and hung it on a hanger before he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. He sat back down and pulled the phone list he’d worked on previously closer to the phone. He needed reading glasses, but there was no way in hell he was going to perch that banner of middle age on his nose. Squinting worked just fine. He had a magnifying glass in his drawer that helped him read small print.

  Before he picked up the phone, he found himself wondering who or what he hated more, cold calling or his wife.

  His wife.

  Jason Maloy entered the office, shaking the excess rain from his oversize umbrella. “You’re actually early today, Kent. That’s what I like to see. Nose to the grindstone and all that.” Kent wanted to tell him to shut up, to leave him alone, but he kept quiet. He needed this pissy-assed job until he could make other arrangements. He nodded, picked up the phone, his signal that Maloy should move on and let him do his job.

  He’d been so sure he could convince Rosalie to take him back. Where did she suddenly get that backbone she’d showed in the early hours of the morning? From winning the Wonderball lottery, that’s where. If it weren’t for that, she would have taken him back in the blink of an eye.

  All he had to do was prove she’d won and was sitting tight until they got divorced. Well, he could fight that, saying he loved her and didn’t want a divorce. He needed a really good lawyer. One of those barracudas who went for the jugular. Hiring a lawyer like that would require a sizable retainer, something he didn’t have at the moment. He knew people who had bought divorce kits and represented themselves. But they were mostly people who really didn’t have any assets and just wanted out of a marriage the cheapest and quickest way possible.

  Sometimes lawyers took on high-profile cases for a contingency fee. A $302-million win should qualify as a high-profile case.

  The pencil Kent was holding snapped in two. His devious mind kicked into overdrive. The nonwinning tickets were the key to everything. He was sure of it. He’d had them in his hand, and Rosalie had snatched them away at the last second. Those tickets were the proof that she’d won. Somehow she’d tossed in a ringer. Why else would she have snatched them away from him? And, of course, the kid, Bobby, who remembered selling Rosie the tickets, could help him.

  The big question was, how was he going to get hold of those tickets, assuming Rosalie hadn’t thrown them away?

  Kent racked his brain then. Were any of his possessions left behind? Could he lie and say certain things weren’t in the trash bags? Did he have stuff in the attic? Of course, he had all kinds of stuff in the attic. Old tennis rackets, old golf clubs, boxes of books he’d never read, stuff from his youth, old suitcases. Pictures.

  Damn. He was feeling better by the moment. Maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel after all.

  A smile stretched across his face when he thought about the $302-million jackpot.

  6

  Rosie zipped through the supermarket at top speed. By the time she reached the checkout counter there wasn’t one item in her grocery cart that appealed to her. Still, she was going to have to acquire a taste for unappealing food.Will I ever be able to eat mashed potatoes and gravy again? “Not in this lifetime,” she muttered to herself. She paid for her groceries, loaded them in the back of the van, and started off. She had one more stop, the fish store, where she was to buy salmon. Though she had always preferred beef or pork to fish, from here on in it was going to be a staple in her life, so she might as well get used to the idea.

  When she stepped out of the van ten minutes later, the rain was coming down in hard-driving sheets. The moment she opened her umbrella, a strong gust of wind turned it inside out, and another gust ripped it out of her hands.

  Rosie ran to the fish store and was immediately handed a wad of paper towels by one of the clerks. She gratefully mopped at her face and hair as she placed her order. Since she was the only one in the shop, she was back out in the rain in less than eight minutes. Since she was already soaked to the skin, she walked around to the passenger side of the car to toss in the fish bag. She was about to close the door when she sensed movement by her feet. She looked down and saw a dog cowering under the car. She dropped to her knees, unmindful of the rain. She coaxed the scrawny dog out and stroked its face, not caring if he snapped at her or not. “Oh, you poor thing. Come on, I won’t hurt you.” Reacting to Rosie’s tone, the dog bellied out but didn’t get up. “Are you hurt?”

  Luna Mae had said they needed a dog. This was a dog. A dog that needed her. Unsure if it was hurt, she was careful when she picked him up and lowered him to the passenger seat, brushing the fish bag onto the floor. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she crooned over and over as she climbed in the car for the drive home.

  The moment she hit her long driveway, Rosie leaned on the horn. Luna Mae, her face filled with worry, rushed out into the rain. “What?” she screamed, as Rosie hopped out and ran to the passenger side of the car. She opened the door and pointed.

  “He was under my car at the fish store. I don’t know if he’s hurt or not. I just scooped him up, and he let me, Luna Mae. He wasn’t the least bit afraid of me. Do you think he’s sick? Should we call a vet? What should we do?”

  “Let’s get him in the house and decide. He’s shivering. He looks half-starved to me. Careful, baby.”

  Luna Mae was a whirling dervish once they were inside the house. She ran to the laundry room for towels. The dog allowed himself to be wrapped snugly, and only relaxed when Rosie cradled him in her lap. She continued to croon to him as she gently rubbed the towel he was wrapped in. “Do we have anything for him to eat? I know we don’t have any dog food, but can you fix him something till we can get some? How about hamburger?”

  “I can do that. Maybe mixed with a little cheese. Poor thing. Oh, look, he’s sleeping. He must feel safe. He’sbig, Rosie. Looks like a shepherd-Lab mix to me.”

  “Who cares what he is. He needs us. Cook already, Luna Mae.”

  The housekeeper risked a glance at her employer out of the corner of her eye. Rosie’s fierce hold on the dog told her that at last she had someone to love, someone who would love her in return. Right now it didn’
t matter if that someone had four legs.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Luna Mae said smartly. “I’ll microwave some chicken and rice and add some broth. The hamburger meat is frozen. Between the two of us I think we can get this dog on the mend. He’s not crying or whimpering, so I think he’s just tired, hungry, and scared. Tomorrow, you can take him to a vet. I don’t think he needs to be traumatized any more today.”

  “I think you’re right. Do you think you could call Vickie for me? I don’t want to move and wake him up. He’s big, but he isn’t heavy. I think you’re right about him being starved, too. He was probably looking for food in the Dumpster. Tell Vickie she has to carry on today without me. This is more important. She’ll understand.”

  “All right, boss. We both need to get out of these wet clothes. The worst kind of cold to catch is a summer cold. Just let me get the dog’s food going, then I’ll call Vickie for you.”

  Ten minutes later, the dog’s food was finished and cooled. Both women were still in their wet clothes dithering about waking the dog up. In the end, the decision to wake or not wake the dog was taken out of their hands by an earsplitting whistle coming from the keypad on the alarm system. The dog woke and started to shake as he looked around fearfully. Rosie held him close, murmuring words of comfort.

  The technician entered the kitchen, a wide grin on his face. “Sorry about that, folks, but I had to test the system. You’re good to go now. Just sign my work order, and I’m out of your hair.” Luna Mae obliged him. A moment later he was gone.

  Rosie squirmed off her chair, no mean feat with the dog still in her lap. She sat down on the floor with the dog while Luna Mae set a bowl of chicken and rice in front of him, along with a bowl of water. The dog looked at the food for a moment before his wobbly legs gave out on him. Rosie reached for him. “Maybe he’s too weak to stand up to eat. I’ll feed him. You go get dressed, then you can feed him while I dress.”

  Rosie filled the palm of her hand with the rice-and-chicken mixture. The dog ate it daintily. From time to time, Rosie scooped water into her hand so he could lick at it. “Good boy. You’re getting it. Before you know it, you’re going to be just fine. We’ll get you checked out, give you a bath and some vitamins, and we’ll be best buddies.” She kept feeding him as she talked softly.

  “I know you probably have a name, but in a million years I’ll never guess what it is, so I’m going to have to give you one. I’m not even going to look for your owner because whoever they are, they would have found you by now if they were looking. You’re mine. You hear me, you’re mine.” The dog raised his head and looked at his new owner with total adoration. Rosie’s eyes filled.

  Rosie got up when Luna Mae appeared in the kitchen dressed in an electric blue jumpsuit with silver zippers on the sleeves and legs. “Your turn,” she said, sitting down on the floor. The dog immediately started to whimper when Rosie left the kitchen. “She’s coming back, boy. You are a boy, aren’t you? Like you’re really going to answer me.” Luna Mae laughed. Using her fingers, she took a pinch of food and held it out to the dog. He or she refused it and looked away.

  “Okay. You’re a one-woman dog I see. Big mistake, I’m the one who cooks the food. Come on, just a little.” The dog obediently opened his mouth. “You understand, don’t you. Yes, I think you do. Let me tell you a little secret, big guy, you are in good hands. There is no doubt in my mind that you are going to live like a king and rule this domicile.” Luna Mae continued to feed the dog until the bowl was empty.

  Rosie ran down the steps in her bare feet in time to see the dog struggling to his feet. He made his way to the back door. The two women looked at one another. “I think he has togo. It’s pouring rain. Let’s put some papers down and see what he does.”

  Rosie reached for the morning paper that was still on the kitchen table, folded it, and laid it down by the back door. The dog looked at them, at the paper, then lifted his leg. Both women clapped their hands. “Good boy,” they chorused.

  “He’s a boy all right,” Luna Mae chortled.

  “Now what?” Rosie asked, as the dog brushed up against her leg.

  “This is just a guess on my part, Rosie. I never had a dog, but I watch Animal Planet on TV. We’ll feed him again in a few hours. He needs to drink, though, or he’ll dehydrate. And he’s probably been on the loose for some time since he’s so skinny. He has to build up his strength. We can call a vet now if you want.”

  “Let’s see how he does over the next few hours. I don’t want him to get scared. I think I’ll go in the sunroom and read some of those books Jack left for me. He’s still wet, so let’s keep him wrapped up and warm. Bring a bowl of water for him, okay?”

  “Do you want me to serve you lunch in there, too?”

  Rosie glared at her housekeeper. “Don’t ever again refer to an apple, a cracker, and two stalks of celery as my lunch, Luna Mae. My idea of lunch is a ham-and-cheese sandwich with pickles and chips on the side and a piece of pie for dessert.”

  Luna Mae laughed until she couldn’t laugh anymore. “When you’re a size eight you can have that for lunch.”

  “I’ll never be a size eight, Luna Mae, so just shut up and bring the damn food. For your information, I’m not even hungry.”

  Luna Mae continued to laugh as Rosie walked to the sunroom.

  “You’ll learn to love her the way I do. Sometimes she’s a pain in the butt, but she means well. She’ll be taking care of both of us,” Rosie said to the dog as she tickled him behind his ears. The grateful dog almost purred when she wrapped him in a thick pink towel until only his snout was sticking out. Rosie curled into the wicker chair with the green-and-white-striped cushions.

  A day off to do nothing but sit. With her new best friend. What could be better?

  The clock on the reception room wall said it was 2:45. Kent had been cold calling, asking whoever answered the phone if they were thinking about selling their house. He’d been at it for over five hours with two maybes, one definite yes, and all the rest definite no’s.

  It was still pouring rain outside. Should he stay here in the office or go back to the Days Inn and his orange-and-brown efficiency? He still had a week to go on his gym membership. He could go there, pretend to work out, and shoot the breeze with the guys who lived to flex their muscles. If he remembered correctly, there was a scrawny young lawyer who worked out around this time every day. Maybe he could get some free advice. Yeah, yeah, that’s what he would do. Anything was better than sitting here counting his pennies, moaning and groaning about his circumstances, and phoning people who hung up on him the minute he stated the reason for his call.

  Kent turned off his computer, shoved his list of prospective house sellers into the middle drawer of his desk, and took off. He didn’t wave good-bye or look back to see if Jason Maloy was watching him through the window. Just then, he didn’t give two shits what Jason Maloy thought or did.

  The owner of the nationwide Olympus Fitness Centers cast a critical eye over his domain. The Savannah gym was the flagship of the chain. Savannah was where his father and uncle built and ran the operation before Jack took over. The OFs, or Old Fogies as they called themselves, still came in from time to time to check on things. They were due today, and Jack Silver wanted everything just perfect. As far as he could see, everything was A-1. The OFs shouldn’t have a complaint as best he could tell.

  The locker rooms and showers glistened. The small kitchen in the back not only gleamed, but it smelled clean. The equipment was the latest, the workout rooms tidy and neat. There was nothing he could do about the body smells. At night, when everyone else was sleeping, the gym was cleaned and disinfected from one end to the other.

  The payroll numbered twenty-five, all longtime, loyal employees who were interested in a healthy, fit life.

  Jack smiled to himself, knowing the OFs were due any second, always timing their arrival for the start of the afternoon aerobics class.

  The gym was full today with local businessmen and housewives
. It must have something to do with the rain he decided. People didn’t feel like working or staying home. The steady beat of falling rain had a tendency to make one sleepy. That was his own assessment, and he didn’t know if it was true or not.

  Jack walked around the desk and out onto the main floor. He liked this part of the day, when he could walk among the members to check their progress. He knew every member, could recite their vitals, remember the dates they’d enrolled and the progress they’d made. Like Albert Beeker. Big Al, as he thought of him, had come in seventy pounds overweight. He’d looked like a donut without the hole in the middle. That had been eight months ago.

  “How’s it going, Al?” Jack said, coming up behind the weight bench.

  “It’s going good, Jack. Hell, man, I can tie my shoelaces without fainting. Best thing I ever did was come here. I went square dancing with my wife on Saturday night. That was a workout in itself.”

  “I’m proud of you, Al.” Sincerity rang in the owner’s voice as he moved on until he stopped at the StairMaster and a guy named Mike McIntyre.

  “You’re lookin’ pitiful from where I’m standing, McIntyre. What are you going to do when I put those ten-pound weights around your ankles and make you go full throttle? My grandmother has more speed than you do. C’mon, you can do it. Move, man, move!” McIntyre increased his tempo to the trainer’s delight. “I’m watching you, remember that. I want to make sure you get your money’s worth.”

  Overall, Jack decided, everyone was progressing nicely. He could leave on the weekend to check out four of his other gyms. In two days, including the flight time, he could hit North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, and Florida. The following week he’d head up the East Coast. With no family other than his father and uncle, he was the Olympus’s roving ambassador slash owner.

  Jack looked at his watch. His father was running late. Must be the rain. He glanced up to see a member walking out of the locker room. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the man’s tailored shorts, the pricey sneakers, the clean, ironed tee shirt. He smirked at the designer sweatbands the man wore on his wrists and around his forehead. Since the man didn’t sweat, he’d never been able to figure out why he wore them. He was fit and trim, though. And he was tanned. Like the OFs, the man always managed to show up right before the aerobics class started. He also made a practice of walking around so the women could see him. He usually left after the aerobics class, more often than not with one of the women.