Beauty Queen (6 page)

She watched him walk down the porch steps to the dog, his head lowered, the spring gone from his step. Way to go, she said low into the phone.

Dont! I cant help that this stuff comes up on my weekend to have him. Look, I gotta go. Tell Gray Ill call him later this week. He hung up.

Liar, she muttered, and hung up, too. She sat there for a minute or two, watching Grayson halfheartedly try to get the soap off Big Dog and wondered, with her new, twenty-twenty hindsight glasses, if Bud had always been so dismissive of Grayson. Honestly, she couldnt remember anymore and frankly, the Lord knew she hadnt been around enoughshed left most of his raising to Lucy. At the time it hadnt seemed that way, but now ... well, now she wished hindsight wasnt so damn clear, because she rarely liked what she saw.

What was it the book Giving Up and Giving In: The Path to Spiritual Well-being said? Let the water rush under the bridge, but continue on across, or something like that, for the past is the past and the only direction worth looking is ahead.

What horseshit.

Grayson was still pretty down after his nap and even his favorite cartoon, SpongeBob SquarePants, wasnt

cheering him up. He was lying on his stomach on the thick looped rug with his head propped in his hands, staring morosely at the TV as SpongeBob made a stack of crabby patties. The dogs were lying curled on either side of him; the brown dog seemed very happy to have found a home, and a very congenial Bean didnt seem to mind sharing it assuming, of course, he even knew he was sharing it, which was debatable.

Rebecca was also in a pretty foul mood. Bud was always a downer, but add him to the fact that shed had no luck in getting even a nibble on a job and could see nothing but long, empty days stretching before her, and she was miserable.

Seated in her office among a neat stack of resumes and the Sunday want ads, she had a variety of self-help books to study, including two new ones, courtesy of Rachel (who was really into spirituality this month). Just last night, on the phone, she had excitedly reported that Uranus was in Rebeccas house and was rising!

What? Rebecca had asked, confused.

Uranus! The last time Uranus was in your house was like 1920-something. Do you know what this means?

No, I

It means that doors will open for you that you never dreamed would open! You are going to be able to draw from energy stores you didnt even know you had! Things that seemed bleak just a few weeks ago are now wonderful new opportunities! Your karma is really going to take off, Rebecca!

Rachel, Rebecca said skeptically. Do you really believe that stuff?

Her sister gasped. Of course I believe it! Dont you?

It was hard to argue with such enthusiasm, and Rebecca didnt even try. But she made a mental note to have a serious talk with Rach at some future date about all this new-age guru crap she kept sending her way. Not that she hadnt jumped on the self-help bandwagon in a big way, but karma and Uranus? It damn sure didnt feel like

Uranus had suddenly moved in and taken up residence in her house, and there werent any doors opening for her that she could see. More like they were slamming shut.

With a weary sigh, Rebecca picked up her journal (a practice recommended in virtually all of her books and seminars, including Moiras, so what the hey), into which she faithfully entered three positive things about her life each day. Before she attacked the new round of resume distribution, she entered:

Positive Affirmations of My Life:

1. Shoes for all occasions.
   

2. Dogs
   

3.

It was the third thing that had her stumped, and as she peeked back over earlier entries hoping for a little help, the phone rang. She propped her bare feet on the desk and picked up the phone. Hello?

Ah ... Rebecca?

Yes? she responded, using her extremely polite, extremely ingrained, beauty pageant voice.

Hey, Tom Masters here.

Her feet came crashing down to the wood floor, her pulse suddenly pounding. Tom Masters was an old friend of Buds, a state politician or something why would he be calling her? Hi, Tom! How are you?

Doing great! And you? Before Rebecca could answer, he added contritely, Hey, sorry to hear about the split. You and Bud were one of mine and Glendas favorite couples.

Oh... thanks. Seeing as how they saw Tom and his wife about once every other year, and hadnt actually seen them in more than two years that she could remember, Rebecca thought that a little gratuitous.

So I heard you were living down here now. Thats great!

It is?

Sure! Didnt Bud tell you Im running for the office of lieutenant governor this fall?

Oh, for Chrissakes! This was about a campaign contribution? Bud and I arent exactly chums, Tom.

Oh ... right, he said as if that were somehow news. Well, Ive been a state senator for a couple of terms now, and Im making a bid for lieutenant governor. When Glenda and I heard you were down here in Austin, she said, Hey, Rebecca would be a great addition to your team!

Interesting her relationship with Glenda consisted of complimenting each others shoes. What team is that?

My team! My campaign team!

Whoa ... Rebecca sat up. An addition to your campaign team? she repeated dumbly.

You bet. Ive got some of the brightest folks around to help me get elected. But I just thought if you had some extra time, maybe you could volunteer. Heres the deal, Rebecca. You have a lot of important friends in this state. You know their likes, their dislikes, and I need people like you to help get the word out about my candidacy and help me develop new strategies that speak to all Texans. I need bright, clever people who can help me form an agenda that is relevant to all the many different constituents of Texas.

Rebecca was standing now forget that she hadnt a clue what Tom did as a state senatorthis was too good to be true! Was it possible that an opportunity like this could just fall into her lap from nowhere? After weeks and weeks of searching for a job, for any stinking job? It sounded perfect! Wow, maybe Rachel was right maybe her karma was kicking in! This was something she could do, something where maybe she could learn stuff about computers, and maybe even meet some people who could give her... dare she think it? A job!

You want me to help you? she asked, just to make sure she wasnt misconstruing things and to double-check that Uranus really was in her house.

I sure do! Tom said enthusiastically. Youd be a perfect asset I mean, youve always been so clever and perceptive.

Had she really? Gee, she hadnt even known it!

Yep, Id be thrilled if you could see your way to spending a few hours a week with me. Thats all. Just a few hours where I can pick your brain.

Why ... I dont even know what to say, Tom, she said, feeling herself blush with his praise. Ive never done anything like this before.

Oh, sure you have! Its not any different than throwing one of those big parties youre famous for! Listen, why dont you drop by our campaign staff meeting tomorrow afternoon? My folks are getting together to talk about next steps.

Tom, Im so flattered! she gushed, already pulling her hair out of the scrunchie. I mean, Id love to give you a hand.

Then you can make it?

Ah ... let me look at my schedule, she said, and held the phone away from her ear as she did a silent little Snoopy happy dance, then stopped, caught her breath, and said in her best, Ive-got-a-life-too voice, I think I can rearrange a couple of things. What time did you say?

Around four, my office at the capitol. And thanks, Rebecca. Your presence will definitely make this the A-team.

Oh no, thank you, Tom. Ill see you tomorrow.

She clicked off the phone, threw her arms wide and grinned up at the ceiling. Excellent! she exclaimed, and abruptly pivoted on her heel, her mind already racing ahead to the perfect outfit. As she marched from her office, she joined SpongeBob SquarePants in chanting, Im ready, Im rea-dy, Im rea-dy!

Having no idea what campaign types wore, Rebecca chose a demure white Chanel suit trimmed in black after watching a Lifetime TV movie where a female lawyer wore very austere business suits. She thought she looked neither conservative nor liberal, but middle of the road. Fair. Objective. And then she remembered that she wasnt running for office, Tom Masters was, and spruced it up with her favorite black pearl jewelry, and decided that she was perfectly attired for a Campaign Strategy Meeting.

How cool! How Uranus!

She found Toms office at the state capitol easy enough, but there wasnt anyone there, just a little hand-lettered sign that said: Back at 4:00. Rebecca tried the door; it was open, so she stepped inside. She quietly took in the ornate marble and oak decor, and as she was admiring a painting of Ft. Worth, she heard a faint rustle of noise from the back offices, and decided to walk back and announce herself, lest she startle anyone with her presence.

Moving down a corridor crowded with stacks of paper and state budgets, she peeked in each office until she

finally came upon the source of the noise at which point, her heart just stopped. Cold. No beat, no pulse, nothing but instant and potentially permanent paralysis.

Common sense told her that this was impossible it had to be some sort of setup, one of those hidden camera gags, because it was impossible for that man to be sitting in Toms office now except that it was him, seated at a computer, staring intently at the screen as he absently bounced a Nerf basketball against the wall.

Fortunately, he hadnt yet noticed her, thank you, God. Rebecca, recovered from her paralysis, was slowly and quietly backing out of that doorway but not without noticing the lock of sienna brown hair that had fallen across his forehead, slipped from a wavy crop streaked gold by the sun. He had carelessly tossed aside his suit coat and was wearing a crisp white shirt, a very hip tie flipped over one broad shoulder, and shoes polished to a high sheen. And, she noticed, as he lifted his arm to bounce the Nerf ball, he was also very trim. Funny, she hadnt remembered the pompous ass being quite so ... fine

Im sorry, I didnt hear you come in, he said, suddenly, twisting when her purse inadvertently hit the doorjamb.

Rebecca froze as he came to his feet, a charming smile on his face and in his expressive gray eyes. How had she missed such a square, clean-shaven chin? Or that smile, for Gods sake, a gorgeous white smile that ended with a perfect dimple on either end ... a smile that was rapidly fading as recognition and then just plain horror swept over him.

Actually, it wasnt horror but confusion, as Matts first thought was that she had to be some sort of weird stalker what else would bring her here? Nevertheless, if thats what she was, then she had to be the most drop-dead gorgeous stalker ever his memory of her was right on about that. She was, like he had remembered (several times), tall and thin, with silky long black hair, and silky long legs, and clear blue eyes that glimmered, demonlike, as she stared at him beneath two perfectly sculpted brows dipped in a dark vee.

Well hello, Looney Tunes, he said, folding his arms across his chest. Whats the matter, lose your quesadilla again?

Hardly, she said, likewise folding her arms beneath her bosom, squaring off.

So .. . youre just stalking me, then? he asked pleasantly.

Her demon blue eyes narrowed. You know, you are in serious need of an ego deflation, Mr. ah ... Im sorry, what was it again? Popinjay?

Ah yes, this was the Little Miss Perfect who had crept, uninvited, into his thoughts so many times over the last couple of weeks or so, and he grinned. Its Parrish, thanks. So if you arent looking for a quesadilla, and you arent stalking me, then why are you tracking me down?

You should really see someone, you know, because your imagination seems to border on the delusional quite often. Now really, why would I be tracking you down?

Why wouldnt you? Matt asked, just to see what shed say.

Here we go again, she said, sighing impatiently, the old, Im-a-stud-so-you- must -be-following-me routine. That really must get so tiresome for you.

Actually, her following him wouldnt be so bad, really, because she was beautiful, really beautiful, and Matt knew from beautiful. Can you blame me? he asked cheerfully, taking a step forward, wanting his suit coat. You have a habit of popping up around the capitol wherever I happen to be.

That earned him a soft laugh of disbelief. You really are delusional, she said pertly, and shifted her weight to one hip, which put her just inside the little cracker box office and directly in the way of his suit coat.

Thats just what I was thinking about you, he said. What is it that makes all the gorgeous ones so wacko?

With a dainty snort, she rolled her eyes. What is it that makes men like you so full of themselves?

Probably wackos like you chasing us around, he said with a grin, and took a step forward, so that they were

standing almost chest to chest. But if its all the same to you, Id rather just fast-forward past your little game and get down to whatever it is you are after.

She gave him a withering glance she had probably used a million times on a million guys in a million venues; a superior, dont-touch-me-look that, on lesser women, Matt could usually dismantle with just a smile. Only this woman was obviously a master at deflecting, so Matt just reached around her for his coat, his arm next to her head, his body only inches from hers. He couldnt help himself; he glanced down at her endlessly blue gaze, one that was challenging him, he could see it, and felt a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Lets just pretend you arent following me

Oh, lets.

So what are you doing here? he asked, quietly breathing in her perfume.

She cocked her head to one side, obviously enjoying the fact that he didnt know. What are you doing here?