by Dorlana Vann
“Fine,” Neal said, knowing his cousin Rocky owed him a couple of favors and could always use the cash.
“One more thing.”
“What the hell? What else do you want? My fucking blood?”
“Nope . . . your food. Like I said, I appreciate a fine meal. And while I’m here, I would like one meal a day.”
“Shit!” Neal stood up. Not that he didn’t like cooking for people, he was just trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fit everything in. He did have to eat, and he cooked for himself and Zadora a couple of times a week, but seven times? But she did say she would be leaving in a couple of weeks so maybe it was doable.
He walked over to the desk by the window and stared outside at the street, not wanting to make a rash decision before he thought it through. He had a couple of buddies from his roofing time that took side jobs. They could work on their own. He could delegate a lot of it. If there was enough dough. What choice did he have, really? This lady had him by the balls. Before he made the final deal, he wanted to make sure everything sounded okay to Zadora.
When he turned to ask, Brenda said, “Ouch,” and held onto her head. “Did you just pull my hair?”
“Sorry,” Zadora said. “I didn’t know it was attached.”
Clearly appalled, Brenda looked at Neal, like they were the popular allies against the weird girl in class.
Neal shrugged it off and said, “Zadora, are you cool with all this?”
She pressed her lips together, nodded, then said, “As long as you are.”
“Fine, Ms. Fisher, or should I say, Ms. Satan? You have yourself a deal.”
Chapter 7
Brenda crossed the hall feeling quite proud of herself. She had Neal and Zadora over a barrel, and she didn’t feel bad about taking advantage of the situation. Why should she? It was what Neal wanted. It was his idea, even. He wanted to be able to stay rent-free. Done. He didn’t want her to sell. Done. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Zadora’s face after she read the list of “must be completed” and realized that her apartment was going to be redecorated around her. Zadora deserved it, playing all innocent and then trying to put one over on her. Did she really think she’d get by unscathed?
Dressed and ready to head out to her Tai Chi Chuan class, Brenda took a moment to sit on the couch with her laptop to email her new assistant, Nathan, with the agreement details.
She knew a written contract was overkill. She didn’t think she had to have anything in writing with these two people. But it was what she did. And she also wanted to protect herself. So she’d add a little extra as a bonus protection plan.
The scarecrow thing had been a last-minute inclusion, but it seemed fitting since it had been the original deal Neal had tried to use. She would try it out. It couldn’t hurt. She hadn’t been out in a while, but it seemed like every time she had, an overconfident, arrogant man had approached her first. He would linger, not taking her subtle hints, so she’d be forced to be rude. In the end, the man would leave in huff, cursing about how much of a stone-cold bitch she was, so the type of man she wanted to talk to stayed far away.
She knew she had to get out there because she did want someone in her life. Here she stood, thirty years old, dumped by Larry, who she realized very soon after he split was also her only confidant. Now she had no one. Her only family, her dad, had died years before, her childhood friends had scattered, married, and had kids, and now her work ‘friends’ shunned her.
She tried not to think about it or admit it to herself, but she had agreed to the whole flip-the-house thing for more reasons than just because it was a financially smart deal.
Zadora wasn’t the type of woman Brenda usually hung out with, but at least she didn’t seem like a man-stealer, and Neal, well . . . she couldn’t get him out of her mind. He had woken something up in her. She actually had the desire to be with him, even though she would not let that happen. Not with a man like him. But being around him was like smelling chocolate cake cooking: she knew she shouldn’t have it, but she couldn’t resist imagining taking a bite, licking the frosting off her lips . . .
So she didn’t want to throw them out, not really. Today was the most alive she had felt in a long time. It felt nice, not feeling so alone. Even though she’d been tough on Neal and Zadora, she was sure in the long run they’d appreciate her for it. Respect her even. They’d one-upped her, and she’d one-upped them back. She had put everything back on an even playing field.
Yes, being around Neal had made her feel like maybe she was ready for companionship. Who knew, maybe by going out tomorrow, she would meet someone compatible. She was doing the right thing here.
After she’d clicked ‘send’ on the email to her assistant, she leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. She immediately drifted off to an earlier time in her life when she and her dad had stayed with some people she didn’t know. She’d walked home from elementary school, lost and scared. All the houses had looked the same. The street names had blurred and the cars whizzed by. Her dad had been too busy to make sure she knew the way home. He was always so busy. “I’m doing this for us, BB.” That’s what he’d called her, Brenda Beauty. Hadn’t she asked him to stop calling her that because it sounded too much like baby?
“So we can have a better life.” Her dad’s voice was soft yet serious. She wasn’t lost anymore. Her dad held her hands. His eyes were understanding and a little tired but he was healthy. Not dead. It had been a mistake. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I had to leave you. I’m sorry it was tough. Don’t be tough on yourself now. Trust yourself. Believe in yourself and trust others. I worked hard so you don’t have to.”
Brenda’s eyes popped open, and she wiped away a tear that had already reached her chin. She hadn’t had a dream about her father in such a long time. It was bittersweet.
When she noticed the time, she growled. She had wanted to work off some frustration but had missed her class. It had been one hell of a day, and all she wanted now was that bath.
A few minutes later, she knocked on Zadora’s door. After Brenda explained she was in need of a bath, Zadora showed her where everything was located.
Brenda locked the bedroom door and the bathroom door, checking them three times before removing any clothes. She took a breath as she turned on the water, taking a step back to make sure a repeat of earlier didn’t happen. After sliding into the hot water, she sank back with a hum. Giving into the silky, cozy water, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to think about her dream. She missed her dad terribly and tried not to think about him. He had been so many things to her: father, mother, role model, and friend. Sure, he’d been hard on her, but it was as if he’d seen the future and knew she’d need to be tough, independent.
She could tell her dad anything, and sometimes he would respond jokingly with, “I’ve created a monster.” But then he would talk to her calmly and help her see reason, which most of the time, he succeeded in. She had needed her dad the most after Larry had shut her out of his life completely. It had been a double disaster because she’d had no one to talk to about it, and no one to talk her out of her plan to pull Larry and Haley apart, which had backfired . . . to say the least. She hadn’t talked to anyone about any of it until she’d unloaded on Zadora. Brenda could see now that it had been stupid of her to do that. Psychic or not, she had just started babbling without giving Zadora a chance to speak. Still, it was no excuse for them to try and manipulate her . . . but the soak and thinking about what her dad might have advised her, helped her feel more mellow.
Brenda stepped out of the tub and put on her robe and wrapped a beige towel around her head. She was on her way out of the bedroom when something sparkled from the closet.
No, she must be seeing things. Sparkly and Zadora didn’t go together. Brenda strolled over to the closet. “Shut up,” she said, thumbing throug
h the clothes and stopping at a chic black gown with a high side slit. It had a dramatic peek-a-boo keyhole from the neck all the way down to the waist. This dress was not off the rack, definitely designer, and was immaculately made. A dozen more pieces stood out against the other clothes that were obviously Zadora’s, like she shared the closet with an heiress.
A few minutes later, Brenda found Zadora reading on the couch. “I know your secret.”
Zadora’s head popped up, her eyes fluttered, and her mouth gaped opened.
“Or do I?” Brenda said, walking toward the couch. “What do you think I know?”
“I don’t know.” Zadora averted her eyes away from Brenda.
A little too late. Brenda had already noticed her flushed cheeks.
Brenda said, “I was going to say that I happened to see those gorgeous gowns in your closet. So what’s your deal? Do you turn into a fashionista at midnight and go out on the town?”
“No, I’ve never even tried them on.”
“Never tried them on!” Brenda shook her head. “Why the hell not? Wait. Why do you even have them? I’m totally confused.”
“My friend Maximilian made them for me.”
“Who?”
“This used to be his apartment. He’s the designer who won that reality show, Catwalk Wars.”
“Oh, right, right, right. He mentioned that several times in his email when he told me about you taking over his rent. I had no idea he had such talent. How can I reach him?”
“He moved to Dallas after the show,” Zadora said.
“Excellent. You’ll have to give me his number. So why haven’t you tried them on?”
“I don’t have anywhere to wear them.”
Brenda stared at Zadora for a second. True, she didn’t seem like the “night on the town” or cocktail party type. She supposed the explanation made sense even though something still didn’t add up. “Such a shame all those clothes are wasting away in your closet. Maybe one day we can change that.”
Chapter 8
“Cheeseburger, no onions, extra mayo,” Neal said, setting the food on the counter. He didn’t mind his job. He got to cook. Nevertheless, he knew if he worked here and didn’t know he’d be going to culinary school soon, it would be unbearable. Brenda had almost made that happen this morning. He owed his soul to that woman. He wished he could have said, “Screw you,” but instead it was, “I’m screwed.” At least his future was still intact.
A second later, Elizabeth, the waitress, picked up the food but lingered at the counter. “How you doing, Neal?”
“Good,” he lied.
“What are you doing later?”
Neal had wondered how long it would take her to come around. He could’ve asked her out, but that would’ve been too easy. They’d been eyeing and smiling at each other since he’d started working there. She was young, a little rough around the edges, just his type. The type who wouldn’t expect forever. Only for the night.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all . . . unless something comes up.”
They stared at each other for a second, Elizabeth biting the opposite side of her pierced lip.
She gave a shy shrug and said, “Would you like to come back to my house for a drink after work?”
“Yeah, I would.”
They smiled at one another, and he watched her walk away with the plate of food. A night of sex. This was just what he needed after the day he’d had. He placed the next order, chicken tenders, into the fryer basket and then dipped them into the hot oil.
Neal’s phone beeped. He wiped his hands on his apron and pulled it out of his back pocket. The text from his cousin, Rocky, read, ‘Sorry, man, something’s come up. Can’t be the chick’s scarecrow.’
Neal looked at the time. “Shit.” Rocky was supposed to meet Brenda in half an hour. If he didn’t show, Brenda might call the whole thing off.
“Hey,” he said to the head cook, Billy. “I’ve got an emergency. I gotta go.”
Billy frowned. “This is rush hour; you can’t go.”
Neal took off his apron, hating that he had to make this choice. “One time. I promise. Tomorrow I’ll work a double. I’ll take the midnight shift.” He didn’t set the apron down until Billy shook his head in defeat and exhaled.
“You’re putting us in a bind. It’s Saturday night, asshole! There are plenty of people lined up for this job, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re the man.” Neal took off toward the door but remembered Elizabeth. “Shit.” This sucked. He found her and explained that a family emergency had come up. Just as he’d expected, she gave a nonchalant, “Okay,” and went back to work, which made him feel even worse. And just like that, thanks to Brenda, his no-strings-attached night disappeared.
Neal Parker had never been a scarecrow before. He’d heard all about it from Rocky. It was actually a ploy to bed women who refused him because of his reputation. So he guessed asking him to be a scarecrow for a girl, sight unseen, was a lot to ask of his cousin. Especially since he’d used the password “cuz-code” when he’d talk to him. He hadn’t said those words in over ten years. It meant hands-off. He’d told himself that the reason he’d said it was because he didn’t want anything screwing up the agreement. Of course Rocky had had a lot of questions and comments: “Cuz-code? Why do you want me to go out with a girl to find a dude if you like her? If you like her, why not be the scarecrow yourself? It’s never failed me. You know this isn’t a real thing, right? There is no way I’d ever let a doll leave with another dude.”
“It could work for real,” Neal said to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of Nora’s Wine Bar. He wiped his hands on his shirt and stepped out of his truck.
Neal spotted Brenda at the bar. He tried to ignore the way his heart immediately sped up. Brenda sat on a tall stool with her back to the bar, her legs shapely under her knee-high skirt that was slit high up the side. At first glance, her dress seemed conservative, but it was unbuttoned down to the middle of her chest. She knew how to dress, hinting at just enough to make a man want to see more. If Neal hadn’t already known her, he would’ve been immediately drawn to her. Whether he would have introduced himself or not was another question. He might have thought her out of his league, in the money division.
She laughed at what one of the two men, who stood on either side of her, said. The one on her right took the opportunity to eye the slight bounce of her breasts, which sent a surprising surge of heat to Neal’s face.
“Brenda,” he said as he approached. “Sorry I’m late.”
Brenda looked at him, confusion in her eyes and then relief. “Will you excuse me, please?” she said to the men. She stood up, the men helping her like she was a dancer. They stayed, sipping their drinks, watching her turn to Neal. But then Neal moved his head slightly to the right, eyeing them, letting them know their gawks were no longer allowed. They mumbled something to each other and then left.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Brenda asked.
“Rocky couldn’t make it.”
“Well, I’m not paying you.”
Ungrateful . . . “The hell you’re not! I had to leave work right in the middle of my shift. Look, I didn’t—”
“Fine.” She huffed and then rolled her eyes at him in disgust. “Well, that explains why you’re wearing what you’re wearing. You’d better not screw this up.”
Neal shrugged. “Whatever.” He turned to the bartender. “The lady will have another of whatever she’s drinking, and I’ll take an IPA.”
When the bartender set the drinks in front of them he said, “Fourteen dollars.”
Neal told Brenda. “Pay the man.”
A look of pure hatred crossed her face as she reached into her little purse and pulled out a twenty. Neal had to turn his head so she wouldn’t
see his smile. He doubted she’d ever paid for a drink in her life. When he’d composed himself, he leaned back with his elbows on the bar and stared out into the crowd. Not his type of place, but he liked the atmosphere. It was kind of rustic and manly with brown leather chairs and square bare tables.
“So how’s it going?” he asked after a moment.
“Are you supposed to be talking to me?”
He wasn’t sure. He wondered what he’d do if he approached a woman in a bar who he had thought was alone, then out popped a guy from nowhere claiming to be her date. He supposed he would apologize and walk away. If a woman was clearly on a date, he wouldn’t approach her at all. But if she really got him going, he might attempt eye contact from afar, and this often gained a discreet number when the girl went to the ladies’ room.
He turned and faced the mirror behind the bar and drank his beer down. He signaled to the bartender for another one. “Start a tab, would ya?”
After he’d taken a couple of drinks of his beer, he watched through the mirror as a guy approached the bar, heading straight to Brenda. He appeared to be the sort of guy she’d probably go for. He was tall, good-looking, broad shoulders, and no beer gut. Neal didn’t turn around, but he sure wanted to.
“Can I buy you a drink?” the guy asked.
“I have one,” she said.
“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room.”
“It’s not a very big place,” she replied.
“Okay,” he said. “My name is George.”
“That’s nice.”
After a few minutes of silence the guy asked, “Can I sit down?”
“It’s a free country.”
“So what do you do?”
“I’m an attorney.”
