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Something So Right

Prologue

Giddy like a kid in a candy store, I skip up the front steps of the house. I haven’t seen him since he skated off the ice this morning and left me squirming in the locker room. Who knew dirty talk could be downright titillating? This girl right here, that’s who.

I should just walk in like I normally do, but the door is locked, so I ring the doorbell, glancing around at the other houses. It’s so peaceful this time of day. Families getting ready to either go to the big football game or making dinner. The sound of footsteps draws my attention back to the door, with the goofiest smile I’ve ever had.

“Hey—” The words die in my throat as I see a blond girl with legs all the way up to her throat wearing the same T-shirt he had on today. This can’t be happening. Heart pounding to an erratic rhythm, all the blood must have rushed to my head because I’m suddenly hot.

“Can I help you?” Barbie asks, all perky and shit.

“Ummm,” I stumble, trying to find my words because all I can think about is getting out of there before I embarrass myself or better yet get arrested for attempted murder. I mean, he was just with me almost naked!

“I was looking for Coop. Is he here?” The words finally dislodge from my throat.

She twirls her hair in her hand. Of course she does. She’s a fucking Barbie. “Yeah, he just stepped in the shower. Who are you?”

“Oh, um, I’m Parker, his rehab coach.”

“Oh, I heard so much about you. I’m Monica, the fiancée,” she says, flashing her five-carat ring.

How did I not notice that rock while she was twirling her fucking hair?

“Nice to meet you. I was just dropping by to let him know the hours have changed for practice tomorrow and that Tom will be there to assist him,” I say flatly, proud of myself for not saying what’s really on my mind.

“Okay, do you want to come in and wait for him? He should be out any second.”

Is she out of her fucking mind? I’m totally going to be superficial and say she’s a fucking airhead.

“No.” I smile. “I’m headed out of town, so if you can just let him know.”

“Oh, I’ll totally tell him.”

Ugh, is that bile coming up my throat?

“Thanks.” Without another word, I dash down the steps and whip my cell phone out. How, how in the ever loving fuck is this happening again? How is this possible? How many fucking people did I piss off on that Karma bus?

Meg answers on the first ring.

“Road trip.” My voice cracks, and I don’t know how, but she knows. She just knows I need her.

“I’m packing. I’ll be ready in five.”

A sob makes it out just as I press end and throw my phone across the car. I hope it smashes into pieces like my heart is right now.

Tempt The Boss

I’m singing along to Maroon Five’s “Don’t Wanna Know” when a call comes in. Penelope’s name flashes on the screen. Penelope is my friend from college, the only friend who I kept in touch with. She runs an HR firm that specializes in placing temps. She is the reason I have this job right now.

“Hello,” I say while I wait for her voice to fill the car.

“Hey, there, just checking in. You ready?” she asks me. I hear her rustling papers in the background, so I know she is already at her desk.

“Yup, I’m on my way there now. I’m so nervous, I may puke, though. But I’ll be on time.” I chuckle at the thought of me barfing all over my new boss. I brake for the traffic that is slowing to a crawl in front of me when I feel my van jerk forward slightly. My head flies forward and then snaps back. Looking in my mirror, I see that someone just hit me.

“Oh my god. Someone just ran into me. Fuck me, P. I have to call you back,” I say, unlocking my seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

I put my Tory Birch sunglasses on top of my head, walking to the back to see the damage. I don’t even have time to get there before I hear a raspy voice ask, “What the hell is wrong with you? You just stopped!” I put a hand over my eyes to block the sun and see him. And boy, do I see him. My heart skips a beat when he whips his aviator sunglasses off his face.

He’s about six feet tall, maybe taller, with dark hair that’s short on the sides and a bit longer at the top, which almost looks like it was combed back by his hands. His eyes are a mossy green with shimmery gold flecks in them that I can see thanks to the sun hitting them just right. A freshly-shaven face that shows off the strong angles of his jaw and hints at where I’m sure a five-o’clock-shadow of delicious stubble will emerge in a few hours.

He’s wearing a suit minus the jacket. His dark blue pants are a perfect fit, molding to him like they were made especially for him, and from the looks of them, they probably were. His crisp, white dress shirt is open at the collar and covers his broad chest and thick biceps. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and show off a big, masculine silver Rolex watch.

He throws his hand up as he angrily asks, “Is something wrong with you? Are you drunk?”

I take a step back, putting my hand to my stomach. “Are you talking to me?” I look around wondering if there is someone else he could be talking to. “You hit me. You. Hit. Me.” I storm to the back of the car to assess the damage. I see that my bumper is a bit scratched, but his Porsche is going to need some body work.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t flipping believe this! Now I’m going to be late because you were probably too busy on your phone texting to pay attention to the road.” I walk to my car, opening the door and leaning across the seat to grab my purse. Cars pass us slowly, everyone taking a look to see what’s going on.

Looking at the clock on the dash, I see that I have to be at my new job in twenty minutes. Grabbing my license, registration, and insurance ID card, I slam the door and walk over to see him leaning on the side of my car, watching me.

“I’m going to be late. Is there any way we can just exchange numbers and get all the information after?” I ask, looking through the papers.

I hear him huff. “You probably don’t have insurance, which is why you want to call me later so you can get some while I drive around with a missing a light.” He walks over to his car, leans down, and grabs his phone from the driver’s seat.

I look at him. “So, you weren’t on the phone? Riiighhhhttt,” I say glaring at him.

“I don’t have all day. Some of us have actual work to do. What do you want from me?” His tone is snarky.

“Actually, I don’t want anything from you. My car has a scratch, yours is the one that is damaged. Besides, it wasn’t even my fault. Maybe we should call the police to make a report so we can get it on the record that you were driving while texting.” I lean my head to the side. “I’m not a police officer or anything, but I think that’s against the law.”

He snarls at me, “Just give me your number.” I tell him my number, and when he asks my name, I gladly tell him. “The woman whose car you hit because you were texting while driving.” He looks at me and his eyebrows pinch together. “Is that name already taken?” I ask him, waiting for his answer. When I realize he isn’t going to reply, I ask him, “Now, what’s yours?” He shoots off his number, and I store it in my phone.

I turn around to walk away. “Aren’t you going to ask me my name?” He puts his hands on his hips, his biceps bulging and his chest looking impossibly broader.

“Nope, no need. I just put you under ‘Asshat who texts while driving and hit my car.’” I smile at him. “Have a fabulous day,” I grumble, turning around and getting back in the car.

Fuck. I see that I now have ten minutes to get there. I dial Penelope right after I buckle and take off watching the asshole get into his car. “I think I might still make it,” I tell her even before she says hello.

“It’s okay. I called and told them there was an accident on the way, and they said not to worry, that Austin was going to be late, too. So, you’re still good to go.  How’s the damage?” she asks.

“Minivan: 1 – Porsche: 0.” I laugh and tell her I’ll check back in with her at lunch.

When I finally make it to the office building, I check my face and apply lip gloss one more time before walking inside. I look at my phone and notice that I’m only seven minutes late. Not bad all things considered. I walk in and tell the security guard I am there for Barbara at Mackenzie Jacob Associates. When he calls up, he gets the all clear to send me up.

I make my way up to the forty-sixth floor and walk to the receptionist, who is smiling from ear-to-ear. “Hi. I’m here to see Barbara. My name is Lauren. I’m the temp,” I explain as she gets up and comes around to shake my hand, introducing herself as Carmen. She then takes me back to meet Barbara.

Barbara is short with white hair, and her glasses are perched on her nose. “Hey, there, Lauren. I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things from Penelope.” She reaches out to shake my hand and motions for me to sit down.

“Thank you so much, and I’m so sorry I’m late. I was in a little fender bender, and I tried to finish as fast as I could,” I tell her, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk.

“No worries. I heard Austin was going to be about ten minutes late, but he got here right before you did. Now, if you will fill out these papers here, I will get your elevator pass ready for you,” she says while she goes to her cabinet in the corner.

Because this is just a temp job, I don’t have to do much. Just an emergency contact form. “Now, I should warn you that this is the tenth temp we have hired for this position… this month,” she finishes quickly.

I look at her, confused. “But it’s only the seventeenth of November.” My heart starts racing. What if he throws me out? What if he laughs at me since I haven’t worked in ten years?

“Mr. Mackenzie is, um, well… special to work for,” she murmures while looking down at the papers in front of her and not even trying not make eye contact with me.

“Special? What does that mean?” I ask, my eyebrows pinching together.

“Let’s just say that my money is on you.” She gets up. “Shall we?” She points to the door. I nod at her, trying to get some saliva going in my mouth. It’s dry, and my palms are sweating. I think my armpits are actually starting to sweat, too. Oh boy. I can’t do this. I should turn around and run away.

But before I can make my move, we reach a door that is closed. The big brown door is solid, and the windows that look out into the office have their shades drawn. I hear Barbara knock on the door before we enter.

I don’t see much in front of her. I just look around the office at the view of the city, since there are wall-to-wall windows affording it an amazing view. I don’t have a chance to look much further, because all I hear is a raspy voice asking, “Are you fucking stalking me? Did you follow me here?” I whip my head around to look at him.

Just my luck. It’s the asshat from this morning, the one who hit me. Except now, the asshat is sitting behind the desk, the desk that apparently belongs to my new temporary boss.

Hell And Back

Prologue

Walking into the bare room, I look around. A small dresser with three drawers sits up against the plain white wall.

A couple of shorts, shirts, and some socks fill the drawers, but most are empty. The small toddler bed lies in the middle of the room.

Two nails hold up a dusty sheet in the window to block out the light. It used to be navy, but the years of wear have turned it to baby blue.

I look down at my three-year-old daughter curled up into a small ball. Almost like she is guarding or protecting herself from whatever evil is lurking around us. She’s seen enough blackness in her three years to last a lifetime.

She cried enough tears and heard enough sobs to fill twenty years’ worth of scary movies.

When the doctor placed her on my chest I vowed to love and protect her, but I’ve failed her. I’ve failed myself. But no more. From that fateful day I vowed to right all the wrongs I did to her.

I’ve escaped the horror we’ve endured. The bruises are starting to fade. The black and blues have now turned into a greenish yellow.

The scars will fade, too, but the terror, the memories…nothing will erase them.

I wake my girl up and grab her from her bed. “Momma, we habe to leabe again?”

“No, baby, I just want to show you the stars outside.” I tuck her into my chest and make my way to the porch.

No one knows about this one-story house my grandmother left me. Which is why we are safe. For now.

The yard is overcome with weeds. Something I plan to rectify tomorrow. We’ve been here for the last seven days, staying inside. Trying not to bring attention to us. I’ve done my best not to be too jumpy, but every time I hear a car door slam shut, I hold my breath, hoping no one is coming up the steps that lead to the front door.

We haven’t even opened the windows. It is almost like we’re shuttering ourselves inside this temporary safe haven as if we don’t even exist.

Opening up the screen door, the rusty springs make a loud squeaking noise in the dead of the night. Trying not to make it slam shut, I hold the handle till it shuts softly.

The sounds outside are quiet. Serene. No car sounds, no horns honking, no rushing, just crickets. I settle into the swing I know my grandfather hung to make sure my grandmother had somewhere she could sit and watch the stars.

For thirty-seven years, they did it all together until death came and took my grandfather in his sleep. Ten years later, he came and rescued her from the pain of ALS. Her knitting, cooking, cleaning, gardening, baking all came to a halt the minute her hands shook so badly she couldn’t hold not even a fork to feed herself.

Settling myself into the swing, I fold one foot under me, pushing off with the other one.

“So many stars, Momma.” My brown-eyed girl looks up, pointing to what looks like a million twinkling lights in the sky.

The darkness of the sky makes them sparkle like diamonds. Some are small, some are blinking. All are beautiful. It’s peaceful. It’s everything I remember it to be.

It’s hope, hope for change. Hope for the future. Hope for the end of the nightmare I have been living the last four years. “Look, baby, a shooting star. Make a wish.”

She closes her eyes, and I see her lips move, but no sound comes out of her mouth. I lean down kissing her forehead, making my own wish.

I do this for the next thirty minutes, maybe more, pushing myself on that swing with one foot. Once I know she is asleep in my arms, I get back up to go inside.

The whole time I never realized that the neighbor across the street has been sitting in his living room with the lights off just staring out the window at two broken girls sitting across the street.

Pieces Of Heaven

Prologue

Mick

I’m sitting here on a stool in this old, run-down, dead bar called Molly’s. The smell of stale cigarettes lingers on the walls, having soaked in over the years, way before they were banned.

I swirl the brown liquid in my glass, thinking about how I got here, how much I could fuck up, even my own life.

The stool next to me moves, scraping across the floor, but I don’t take my eyes off the glass.

I don’t have to turn around to see who is sitting next to me. I know Fred, the bartender, called him. It’s what he always does when he thinks I’ve gone over the edge.

I think this is my worst bender yet, and trust me, I’ve had a lot of fucking benders. How could I not?

I’ve been here for the past five days, each day coming in at around noon, not leaving till past midnight. A couple of times I even passed out on his dirty, old couch in the office, waking in a puddle of drool with cat hair on my tongue.

Just another phase, they thought. Just another bad time. If only they fucking knew.

“So,” I hear Jackson talk. “How long is it going to last this time?” This is not our first rodeo. Jackson is the only one who has been there for me over the years.

I shrug my shoulders, not even sure of the answer myself.

“Is it Marissa? Is it Lori?” Just the mention of their names is like a stab to the heart. The pain is so unbearable I grab the glass and drink the amber liquid, hoping the burn will overpower the pain.

“Gone,” is all I say, all I can muster up.

“Gone where? Bella just spoke with her,” Jackson says.

“Sandie’s pregnant.” The thought alone makes the liquid I just swallowed down begin to climb back up.

The shocked look on Jackson’s face mimics mine when she told me.

“Had heaven in my hands and I let it go. Fucked it up. Now I’m living in hell.”

With that, I close my eyes, remembering the day I actually touched heaven.