I get what he’s saying, and yeah, I blame myself because if not for one drunken night and me whining to him about my dreams I would not be here trying to avoid a conversation I was having with myself just hours ago.
“It’s better than going for it, failing and feeling like hell for leaving my family in the lurch, Finn. Luci and Callie have families to care for. They count on me to pick up the slack, especially when we have to do weekend events and stuff. If I’m not there, who will do it?”
“Their staff! That’s what Jack hired those chefs for and Callie told me the wait staff are more than willing to work extra shifts. You don’t have to be there at all and you sure as heck do not have to sit around doing a job you don’t want.”
“I agree.”
My head whips around and I snarl at Finn when Percy and Marks walk in, their smiles broad as the moms rush over to fill plates with the leftovers.
“Percy.”
“What the hell is Finn talking about, Indie, and don’t give me your usual snarl and cold shoulder because you know I won’t take that crap. I may be pregnant and waddling, but I can run like the wind, just ask Marks.”
The man in question winces and rubs his balls, nodding at me with a pained expression.
“She’s moody lately, Indie. Don’t make me go home with a raging volcano.”
“Fine. I maybe want to start my own business, but it’s not like it’ll even work,” I mutter.
“What business?”
“I want to do a matchmaking service, alright?” I blush, looking anywhere but at them as the silence stretches.
When I do chance a peek up at Percy she’s smiling so hard her back molars wave hello.
“That’s great! Remember when you conned Mr. Lancey, Gruffy’s neighbor, into being Mrs. Tunney’s dance partner?”
I do. Those two old people were just perfect for each other and I knew it. Mr. L had been widowed for five years already and was so lonely it made me gag, and poor Mrs. T was still tripping over her divorce when that rat bastard husband of hers left her for a yoga instructor.
I just made sure they saw each other. They got married three months later after winning the rec center’s dance competition, and as far as I know they share seven kids and thirteen grandchildren.
I was fourteen that summer and I will always see that as my first and biggest success. I can’t tell you how weird it is for me to know that I’m like a freaking love doctor, attitude notwithstanding, but it makes me happy to see love bloom.
One social worker told me that I revel in that shit because I’ve never had it but for my adopted, patchwork family and I think she was right.
“I remember but that was one time,” I hedge.
“Oh puh-lease! I totally know that you played me, Callie, Luci, and even Dot with your mumbo jumbo when we were trying to screw up our relationships. It took a while but I finally saw how you worked us all. And I know that’s why you put Callie’s walk of shame video on YouTube.”
Busted.
“What a crock. I put Dot’s on YouTube, as well. I get money from that shit.”
“You’re a lying ass.”
No really, I do get paid for every view of those videos.
Plus, it’s still funny as hell when people stop them in the grocery store and ask them about it.
“And you’re an ass.”
“Come on, Indie! This is so exciting. Just think, by this time next month you could be hooking up lonely singles with a need for the love guru.”
“Don’t break your brain cell trying to be smart, Percy. And next month? Hell, girl, that’s a little fast, wouldn’t you say?”
I get a breakfast roll to the head for that as she starts eating, her moan of delight embarrassing. The woman sounds like she’s humping her food lately. Ew.
“Nope.”
Marks steps in when that’s all Percy says, and I roll my eyes at his serious tone.
“I know what it feels like when you spend years of your life doing what you think you have to while your dreams stagnate. It’s a cold, bitter place to live, Indie, and no, while I later learned that I didn’t want those dreams because they were what I wanted, rather because that’s what Percy and I both thought we wanted, it still amounts to me ignoring them to pursue what my father and his family wanted for me. Do what you love, you have to because we only live once.”
Well shit. How the heck can I argue with that Dr. Phil moment? The man is right. Darn it.
“Fiiiiine, I’ll definitely think about it.”
“Nuh-uh, you won’t think anymore, you will do. By the way, I just recorded that entire conversation and sent it to Callie, so you’re not backing out now. Congratulations, Indie. You just got fired.”
Cripes.
There goes my safety net.
Percy bites into her eggs and I gag when she moans like a porn star, her face a mask of bliss.
“You see this, right?” I ask Marks, who grins and looks at Percy like she’s his everything.
“You should see her with fudge.”
Chapter Six
“During one of my treks through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew. We were compelled to live on food and water for several days.” –Cuthbert J. Twillie
Indie
I officially hate all of my friends, those people I used to call my family but now have relegated to the bottom of the pile beneath demons and people who drink iced coffee (like it’s even a legitimate form of caffeine. Really, everyone knows it doesn’t work unless it’s hot, bitter and strong enough to strip asphalt in the winter).
I was forced to tell Jack my wants and needs from A to Z while he wrote down a business and marketing plan that makes my eyes do cartwheels with just a glance.
Then I got a lecture about letting the cat out of the bag and just walking away and leaving them to deal with a fuming Jones. Meh, that was okay though, because after Jack stopped complaining we all had a good laugh and then he showed me pictures of Jones at the salon having his hair dyed to its original color.
So now here I am, at home. Again. Going through Jack’s instructions with a fine-toothed comb while my coffee brews on this Thursday morning at three o’clock.
Three days I’ve had and I have started getting myself in order. I now have a Web site, all thanks to Jack’s tech guru spending all of Tuesday with me—the man is a god on that computer of his—and I’ve also paid for and started running ads in all the newspapers.
In fact, I got a call yesterday and my first hit from a guy in Spokane who’s willing to fly down here for any hookups. So, we are officially up and running and I have my first client.
Fingers crossed this works.
***
It’s Thursday again and I am regretting my actions like a mother lover. I’ve created a monster. I have so many clients right now that just sorting through e-mails and reading people’s profiles takes me all freaking day and sometimes into the early hours of the evening.
So far I’ve sent two couples on dates and personally matched one guy from Dallas with a woman who is into the whole stranger bride thing. Apparently some people don’t need to like each other or be attracted to each other as long as their goals and lifestyles match. Who knew?
Right now I’m in the process of matching ladies to a twenty-six-year-old firefighter who lives in my building and is looking for a committed relationship.
I knew Baxter, so matching him isn’t proving as time consuming as some of the others. It’s so bad I rejected ten requests and have shelved a few others, telling my clients that I have a waiting list, and if they don’t like it they can go somewhere else.
That got me to calm down a little, and at present I’m on two cases only, taking my time so as to do a good job.
The only part of this job that’s not so great is reading some of these people’s stories and realizing that there are so many lonely people out there, too afraid to make the first move and reliant on someone like me.
I bet you’re asking yourself why I’m doing we
ll so soon after I starting this thing. Well, it appears that people don’t like the dating sites because they’re hesitant to put themselves out there without an intermediary to cushion their landing, so to speak.
I usually tag along for the meet and greet, ensure they’re comfortable and happy with each other, and then I vamoose.
So far I am really liking this, and I’ve made some money too.
Yay! I won’t starve.
My phone rings and I answer without looking at the caller ID.
“Whatup?”
“You still owe me an apology.”
My heart goes thump as that deep, husky drawl reaches my ears and I feel myself smile despite what I felt before. It’s weird but since I focused myself on Matched, I haven’t even bothered with Jones.
I’m not happy with him at all yet, especially after he yelled at me via voice mail, but I’m dealing with what I still feel for him and leaving the anger behind. Most of it, at least.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” I snort, leaning back to sip at my coffee with a sigh.
“Why not? You could have killed me and you messed up my hair.”
“Your sisters sent me a gift basket and your dad laughed so hard your mother had to get his inhaler. Besides, you owe me one too and I have yet to receive that apology, Jones.”
The silence drags on for so long I think he’s hung up, and then I hear a soft sigh.
“You messed with my date, Indie.”
“And you hurt my feelings. Anyway, what the heck are you doing up at this ungodly hour Jones?” I mumble, changing the subject since he seems less than inclined to offer that apology.
“Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d torment you instead. I expected a sleepy snarl, not cheerful annoyance, though.”
Yeah, that’s me.
“I’m working.”
“Yeah? Jack told me you started a service to match all the uglies of the world.”
“Asshole.”
“Kidding.” He laughs, interrupting my verbal melt session. “I like it. Never thought you’d be into something like that, but I like the whole love concept.”
“What? You looked at me and just assumed I’m a loud-mouthed, tattooed idiot with no feelings, Jones? Shame on you. You of all people should know that you should never judge a book by its cover. I may not be all soft and cuddly, but I like seeing people have their happily ever afters.”
Too bad I’m one of the poor, disillusioned stepsisters who is sitting around watching the Cinderellas steal the show.
“You’re right there. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Well you…are an ass…so…”
“Haha, funny, Indie, real funny.”
“One of your harem cancel on you since you’re talking to the leper of the group lately, Jones?” I ask when nothing else pops to mind to keep the conversation going.
I don’t mind silences but the man makes me itchy when he’s not talking.
“Nah, I wasn’t into anything strenuous tonight, so I thought I’d just crash. Turns out I got bored halfway through a good sleep, and who better to piss off in the early morning hours than the fool who sabotaged my hair. By the way, where the fuck were you hiding?”
“Bathroom door. Nice aim by the way. And kudos for washing your paws after. I almost gave you a dollar for not being a nasty pig.”
“That’s not creepy at all. Like what you saw, Indie?”
“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t see anything, and from what I remember of the limo all you really got is ball. Small, but at least they can be seen with the human eye.”
“Ha! I think I need to remind you just how untrue that statement is.”
“No thanks, bro, I don’t do chicks anymore.” I laugh, hanging up before he can reply.
Oh yeah, my Thursday is definitely off to a good start, I think as I get back to work, reading Slow Joe’s file and scanning through the female hopefuls.
Seems that saying is true.
Thank God I quit drinking last week or I would never believe I just had a full conversation with the too-cool-for-school Woody Jones.
Three hours later, just as the sun is starting to stream into the window of my home office, I’m confident about this new match and thrilled by what’s to come with this new couple.
It’s just as I’ve sent off the e-mails to arrange a time and day for their first meet that there’s a knock at the door.
“Wha—”
“Delivery for a Miss Crow.”
I know who the package is from before I even open it and I’m laughing like a loon as I slam the door in the delivery guy’s face and start ripping off the wrapping.
You may want to retract your statements, Miss McGee. This should remind you.
The card goes sailing and I’m laughing so hard I feel myself snort a lugie when I look down to see a very lifelike, totally ridiculous dildo staring up at me, its balls so blue and big I can’t help but fall back and sigh.
I think Woody Jones just sent me a gift.
Too bad I already sent a hooker to his office with strict instructions to put on a good show for the witnesses.
Chapter Seven
“Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m a schizophrenic, and so am I.” –Oscar Levant
Woody
“The figure is three hundred million. Take it or leave it. With the packages we’d have to pay out and the cost of the bailout we already gave you, we’re not prepared to go any higher.”
“Now see here, Jones, Cofax is worth way more than a few measly million. We’re the leading producer of computer components in this country.”
I hate arguing with these rich assholes who think I got here because Daddy decided to give me money and shove a silver spoon down my throat and up my ass.
I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve achieved at my age, so sitting here having to accept the sneers and outright disrespect from men who not only ran their company into the ground but also took a few others down with them…let’s just say I‘m not too jazzed.
“Hey, bad boy.”
I look up from the conference table, where I’m in the midst of negotiating one of the biggest deals I’ve ever had on my plate, to see the horror movie version of Ginger Spice strutting my way, her hot pink dress sliding up so high with every step that I can see clearly she’s going commando.
I’m a guy, and trust me, if I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing, so can the other occupants in this room.
“Er, can I help you, miss?”
“Sure, baby,” she purrs, wobbling forward on heels that make her small body look like she’s balancing on stilts.
I want to laugh when she licks her blood-red lips, adjusts her sagging boobs, and fluffs her frizzy copper-red hair before slinking closer.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember me, sweet thing. My feelings are hurt.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” I wheeze, my eyes darting around the room at the others as she comes closer.
“Come on, Daddy, don’t you remember me? We were so good together the other night I didn’t even charge you for the extras.”
Extras? For Christ’s sake, I didn’t order firsts!
People are starting to grumble and mutter under their breaths, and I feel my cheeks heat to a dull red when Cindy, my PA’s goffer, starts tittering and throwing me knowing looks.
I’m struggling to understand just what the hell is happening here, but when it clicks and I turn to see Ginger bending over so low that George Avers must be getting quite a view, I feel my blood pressure rise.
“Ma’am, I don’t know who you are or what the hell you’re doing in my office, but I’d like you to leave right now.”
Even as my mind starts racing I have one thought and only one thought.
Indie.
“Come on, baby, let’s go to your office and get reacquainted.”
“Is this a joke? Did Indie put you up to this?”
Her eyes go round before she cackles and starts rubbing at my tie, a
nd I just know that little terror has messed with me. Again. I have two options here. I could get mad and go find her and wallop her little ass for daring to fuck with my life in this way.
Or I could see the funny side of this shit and retaliate.
But first…
“Look, honey, you’re pretty in your own way and worth a lot more than the deal you’ve settled for. If I were any other man I’d be more than happy to be blessed with a beautiful gem such as yourself, but I have someone else in my crosshairs and I’m afraid whatever you have on your mind just won’t do.”
By now people aren’t even pretending not to laugh as Ginger tries to grab my crotch and I dodge, grabbing her wrists in a gentle but firm hold. I don’t want to hurt her, and yeah, I love all women, but this is just above and way fucking beyond the call of duty.
“Jack! Jack, get your ass in here, man!” I bellow as she tries to drop to her knees.
Her dress is way too short and not at all enough fabric for the movement, and I close my eyes in dismay when the asshole who’s trying to rob me of a deal we made months ago leans over and whistles low.
“She’s a natural beauty, this one.”
Cue Ginger going all schoolgirl and giggling while she throws old Thorpe a provocative look. Jack runs in just before I have to start refereeing the sexual sparks between the two of them and promptly starts laughing at the scene before him as I scowl and let go of Ginger, dodging behind the opposite side of the table before she gets any more ideas.
“I’m gonna kill her,” I seethe, my mirth nowhere near enough to see the funny side of this yet.
“Aw come on, Wood, you gotta admit this was inventive.”
“Inventive? She sent a hooker to my offices!”
“Hey! I’m not a hooker. I freelance.” Ginger sniffs, making Jack choke on a breath.
My ass.
“Hey, sweetheart, tell Indie that Jack said good job, I appreciate her creative spirit.”
Of course no one else here understands what he’s saying, and since I can’t explain the whole Indie saga without looking like a royal jerk, all I can do as Jack escorts her out of the room is ignore the snickers and pointed looks and try very hard not to run out of here and go looking for the little hellion.
THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series Page 53
