CHAPTER TWELVE
Amy
I felt like shit when I hit the escape key on my computer. Poor Brock didn’t know what hit him, but there was no way I was going to tell him that I was dead broke, that the last five years of my savings, the savings I had to replace after spending every cent of my college fund on dad’s living arrangements had disappeared along with a note from Penelope. She said she felt awful and that she didn’t want to do it but had no choice. That she’d had the offer of a lifetime and she couldn’t pass it up. I almost felt sorry for her until I read the part about her leaving with someone who could stand on his own two feet and didn’t have a spoiled brat of a stepdaughter living in her house. How had I not seen this coming? Why hadn’t I opened that first letter from the bank? Why had I given her my credit card? I was such an idiot. After all my boasting to Brock about what a smart woman I was, how could I ever show my face to him again? I wouldn’t tell him. That’s how.
It wasn’t his problem anyway, and I didn’t want a handout. I was sure he’d give me the money without blinking an eye. In fact, he’d insist on it. Hell, he’d probably hire a private detective too. Find Penelope and the guy she left with, and beat the crap out of him. It was exactly what any man in love would do. My heart skipped a beat. Was he in love with me? Was I in love with him? I pushed that thought away. I had more important things to think about. Like how was I going to pay that second mortgage. She’d probably drained that fund as well.
My blood ran hot, flipping between anger, panic, and grief. As an only child, my parents had done what all good parents do, they thought of my future, saving a good sized nest egg for the day I attended college. I knew how lucky I was. It paid for my tuition for four years, but graduate school had to be put on hold when dad had his stroke.
I needed to think how best to tackle all of this. I’d call the authorities in the morning, but who knows when and if they could recover any of my money. Even if they found Penelope what were the chances she hadn’t spent every cent? What were the chances she was still in the country? I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one.
I thought of Brock. His courage and his strength. The way he shouldered the world upon his shoulders. He’d told me about the charities he’d set up in his parent’s names and that he didn’t need to work but he’d wanted to all the same. He’d heeded the calling of a firefighter and he’d never looked back. I admired that about him. Knowing without a doubt what he was meant to do. And doing it.
Could I really keep all this from him? Was that even a healthy thing in a relationship? I wanted things to progress to something more between us. I wanted to share my life, my everything with Brock but I wanted him to respect me too. Not think I was the little girl who needed a sugar daddy.
I waited until six until picking up the phone to call the only person I could talk to and maybe give me some good solid advice.
Jane picked up on the tenth ring.
“Somebody better be dying or I’m going to shove that phone up your ass.”
“Hi. It’s just me. No one’s dying and I’m sorry. I waited as long as I could. Can I come over?”
“Geeze, Amy why the hell are you up so early?”
“Long story. How much time do you have?”
Her sigh punctuated the air. “I’ll unlock the back door but only…” I heard her yawn. “Only because I love you. This better be good.”
Jane and I had been friends since kindergarten. For now, she lived right across the street, in the same house she grew up in. She made a decent living at the Thirsty Turtle working her way up from hostess, waitress, manager, and then ultimately buying the place when it went up for auction after they found the owners were growing weed in the basement. I was so proud of her. I waitressed there myself until dad got sick. Jane actually owned a condo across town, but when her father ran off with his secretary a year ago, her mother had been devastated, so Jane moved back in.
After she let me in, I went right for the tissue box. Then, sitting on the edge of her bed I sniffled and whined like a little kid. After spilling every sordid detail of Penelope’s treachery to my best friend, I asked her if she thought I should tell Brock about it.
“I would,” she said candidly. “I mean why wouldn’t you?” She was sitting in front of a mirror in a long rumpled t-shirt turning her face this way and that. “Do you think my eyes are too close together? Someone told me my eyes were too close together.”
“You’re eyes are fine. He’ll just give me a handout, Jane. That’s what men do. They fix things.”
She swiveled around and gave me a hard stare. “And that’s a bad thing?”
I shrugged. “He’s always…saving people. He’s a fireman. Well I don’t want to be one of the things he needs to save. Know what I mean?”
“You’re kidding right?”
“No.”
She gave me a strangled look. “Let me get this straight. Your boyfriend has money. You need money. He’d be glad to give you the money you need… and that ruffles your precious ass? I don’t get it. What’s the fucking problem?”
“I’m an independent woman.”
Jane giggled and I sort of wanted to slap her for making fun of me. “Independent of any wealth, Ame. Listen, you haven’t told him, have you? Maybe he’ll just help you find your own solution. Did you ever think about that?”
“Of course I thought about that,” I snapped.
“So, what’s the real issue here, Ame?”
I folded my arms over my chest and looked out her bedroom window. There was a knock on the door.
“I’m up,” Jane called.
“Oh good,” her mother said. “Do you want pancakes, waffles or eggs for breakfast?” She opened the door a crack just enough to be heard. I loved Mrs. Jenkins. She was sweet and motherly plus was smart enough to know that Jane would only stay with her as long as she gave her some privacy. Mrs. Jenkins probably thought she had a man in her bed.
“I’m not hungry, mom.” With a hand to the side of her face, she whispered, “she asks me this every damn day. I keep telling her I only have coffee in the morning.”
“Jane sweetie, coffee is not a breakfast.”
“Mom…”
“All right. All right. I’ll put on the coffee then.”
I laughed as Jane made a funny face and then rolled her eyes at the door.
“When are you moving back to your condo?”
“Oh god. Not soon enough. I’m hoping some guy sweeps mom off her feet and she throws me out.”
I laughed. “That would be nice.”
“Wouldn’t it? It’s kind of working out for me right now though.”
“How’s that?”
“There’s this guy who’s been driving me crazy. He can’t take no for an answer.”
“A stalker?”
“Nah, just a lovesick teenage boy, although I’ve really no idea how old he is. Keeps sending me flowers and chocolate. Too sweet for his own good. I’m just not interested , you know.”
“Well I love having you right across the street again. It’s just like when we were kids.”
Jane gave me a stern look. “You need to move out too, Ame.”
“Yeah, right. Where am I going to go? I have no money and no job.”
“You can come back to work for me.” She opened a drawer and took out a bra. She put it on then started pawing through the hangers in her closet.
“No.”
“What else are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you at least think about it?”
“No offence and I’m so proud of you and all that. Really I am, Jane, but you know how much I hate working there.”
“I know.” Her face brightened. “But you still have your… No. You don’t, do you?”
“Nope.. Every last scent I made it’s fucking gone. I can hardly believe it. It’s like a fucking detective novel.”
I didn’t let on to Jane, and never would, that I not only disliked working for her, but I despised it. I only tolerated the job, because I knew those tips I pulled in were necessary to fund my education. I worked so damn hard too. Five long years and nearly every weekend. When Jane bought the Thirsty Turtle, she cleaned up the place, but she still couldn’t keep out the riff-raff and I had a suspicion she didn’t try. How could she deny routine customers who tipped like fucking millionaires? How could I? The thought nearly made me cry.
“I think you should tell him,” Jane said at last. She pulled on a white button up blouse and began working on her hair.
“You do?”
“Absolutely. You like this guy right?”
“I think like doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel for Brock.”
She turned around and looked at me, brows arched in a ‘what the fuck’ expression which quickly turned into the biggest widest smile I’d ever seen plastered on Jane’s round face. “Seriously? Already?”
I couldn’t help grinning back at her. “I mean it’s too soon to tell, right? But I could totally get used to seeing that handsome face every morning beside me. You know he has a crew-cut, right? We thought he was bald but he’s not. He actually keeps it that short.”
“Seriously? You hate guys in crew-cuts.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I know.”
“Oh girl, you must be in love.”
I lifted one shoulder trying not to smile too much. Was sex the reason for these feelings? Or because I gave Brock my virginity? In actuality, I saved myself just for him. I’d never told Jane that. I’d never told anyone actually. It wasn’t something one boasted about these days. Besides, if Jane knew Brock was the first, she’d tell me to try out the field, live a little, go on more dates before I made my decision. That made sense. For most women. Not for me. Damn, I was sunk! I could so see myself married to him someday. Did that make me a hopeless lovesick fool? Maybe.
Dad always said I was more mature than anyone else he knew. His grown up lady in a little girl’s body. All my life I’d known exactly what I wanted. I wanted to teach school all over the world but not just teach, really influence people with a broad spectrum of knowledge. I wanted to get married someday although I wasn’t sure about children. And I wanted Brock. All one hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle of him. The man who cared so much about his past he tattooed his grandfather’s face on his body. The man who set up charities for survivors of fires. The man who was sometimes short tempered with his men. I wanted to wake up to that cocky grin. I wanted to make him laugh. I wanted to be there if he cried. I wanted all of him.
Suddenly it hit me. “Jane, you’re a doll.” I pulled her by the shirt and kissed her on the head.
“I am?” she asked, stunned.
“Yup. I’m going to tell him about the money. I still don’t know if I will let him help me or not, but we’ll figure it out together.”
“That’s my girl,” Jane said shrugging into a suit jacket. “And remember you always have the Thirsty Turtle to fall back on.”
“Yeah, well that’s never going to happen, Jane.”
“Just keep it in the back of your mind. Like an escape clause.”
“Okay. I gotta go. He’s probably awake by now.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for the advice.”