Cocktail Hour (13 page)

"Absolutely. More than okay. You know, I'm really proud of you for taking a chance and starting this business of yours."

Lucie swallowed. It was so good to hear words of praise from her father, but she hadn't taken a chance. She'd been pushed. By her last and worst boss, Molly Knowles, Queen of Inhuman Resources at TMB - good hard push and a promise that she could never go back to the corporate world and be an admin again. At least, not in the tri-state area. Molly would make sure of it. And she'd said it with the calm confidence of someone who was slippery enough to keep it all looking rosy while she did it, who knew the mud she'd sling would never end up back on her because she knew exactly when to throw it and when to duck.

Finally, Lucie managed, "Oh, thanks Dad."

"Here's the thing. Flo and I have been talking. We want to invest in your soon-to-be empire. We believe in you, and we know you'll go far. And a little seed money is probably exactly what you need to get off the ground. That secretarial work couldn't have paid enough for you to have been able to save a lot. So, what do you say? Are we on?"

Empire? She didn't want an empire. She wanted a little successful business, something fun and manageable. And Erin! How would she hide what was going on now? At the same time, it had been so long since her father last spoke to her like this, so full of enthusiasm and rock-solid belief in her. Elation battling with a sinking fear, she gasped, "We're on. But-"

"No buts! You can do this. Come see me at my office tomorrow and we'll talk."

"Okay, Dad. Thank you."

After they made their plans and hung up, Lucie leaned back against the cool marble wall, oblivious to the women that entered and exited the bathroom, holding her phone against her chest and staring into space.

Mojito

Bianca kept Lucie’s card in her hand, absently stroking its smooth face while pretending to be interested in what the beautiful blond Adonis currently leering down at her was saying. Something about knowing her. As if. He wanted her so badly he would clearly make anything up. She knew she had never met him and her memory was always right.

In fact, it was so accurate and detailed that it was frightening to people when she recounted events that they had experienced as well. Their minds, like most people’s, were like sieves, moments sliding through the holes of memory and disappearing.  Confronted with events that they had lost, the individual would invariably jerk back physically and their eyes would dart around before widening with surprise as the memory resurfaced from some deep and rarely accessed region of their brain. It was a consistently comical performance that might have been enjoyable except they always turned on Bianca afterward, asking too many questions and acting put-out, as if it was her fault they’d forgotten. She hoped that Lucie’s memory was also full of holes.

But no, she had seen the struggle, the awkwardness, and while Lucie’s physical self was disjointed and wonky because of her damaged hip, her persona was strong and clear and never wavering. No, Lucie remembered. And the damning judgment was still there in her eyes like a dagger. Would she unsheathe it? And, if so, how? Bianca felt the danger of the situation as if there was a physical blade, a rising tension tightening her whole being as she steeled herself for battle. Too much could be lost - her spotless reputation and the fabulous life, a delicately balanced house of cards it was to be admitted, she had built upon it - for her to fail here. She had to be victorious.

It’s funny, she’d actually been looking forward to this evening: not just for her chance to get at Grant’s wife, but also for a nice roll in the guaranteed male attention she’d receive at the bar, some time practicing her female-bonding skills, as well as finally meeting Chelsea’s work friend. She’d heard the name Lucie and thought it was Lucy, as in Ricardo and I Love. She imagined exactly such a silly little friend, stumbling around TMB with Chelsea. Anyone who was still working as an administrative assistant at their age was a massive loser as far as Bianca was concerned, and so this girl had to be a ditz, a dummy, a laughable fool. But Lucie Scott was none of those things, so why was she still an admin?

Well, not anymore, now she had her own catering business and what happy happy news that was! Oh, yes, in her hand was the answer to the Lucie problem in the form of a business card. She knew it. She just had to figure out what that answer was…there had to be a way…

The Adonis interrupted her reverie. “But, no. It wasn’t in Manhattan, was it? It was around here, I think?”

Oh, no, it wasn’t. It wasn’t anywhere. Okay, here it went: the whole quizzing business that went with the “I know you” line. Fine, let him try. This could be fun – a game of cat and mouse with a handsome boy. And nice little diversion while her subconscious worked away on a solution to Lucie and her non-sieve memory. “Me? Oh, I’m a pharmaceutical rep. For Mennon Pharmaceuticals.”

"Really? I've heard they have a lot of perks," he said, leaning down and smiling at her.

"Yes," she said, purposely making it hard for him.

"So? Have you gotten any of them? I've heard you get all-expense paid vacations to the islands, Rome, Spain. Sounds incredible."

She shrugged. "Yes. Very."

Seeing she wasn't biting, he changed tactics. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure."

"Great. What do you want? Champagne?"

"No. A mojito would be nice, though."

"Coming right up, beautiful. Oh, are you going to tell me your name?"

"Maybe."

"Ooo, I'm going to get it out of you. Be right back. And I do know you. From somewhere."

She just raised her eyebrows at him and then watched him grin at her and then turn to make his way toward the bar that was three-deep in bodies now, arms stretching and waving for the bartender's attention.

Bianca sighed and turned back to Sharon. "Sorry about that. I left you all by yourself."

Sharon shook her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. "No, I enjoyed myself. That was quite a show. I don't think you're rid of him yet."

Bianca laughed a little. She liked Sharon. She was a pleasant change from the usual bimbos Chelsea dragged out with her to prowl the bars of the area. "No. You're right. I don't think so either."

"Will the men be paying their respects all night?"

"Maybe."

"Definitely. Oh, here comes Chelsea. Only she could make me come to a place like this."

“Well, look at it as charity. You’re helping Lucie with her waitressing questions, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be. That was a long time ago,” Sharon said, shaking her head.

Chelsea finally reached them. “Got it! Now we just need your friend, Bianca, and we can sit. Hey, where’s Lucie?”

An idea sparked in Bianca’s mind and then flamed. “The bathroom, poor thing.”

Sharon looked at her with surprise. “I thought she was taking a call?”

Bianca shrugged slightly. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s sad.”

“What are you talking about?” Chelsea said.

Bianca looked at Chelsea. Her mouth was slightly open. Like a fish getting ready to bite a worm dangling from a hook. As usual. She believed everything Bianca said. If only everyone was so gullible, how much easier Bianca's life would be. She lowered her head and both women leaned in slightly. “I was so surprised, Chelsea. I didn’t realize that your friend was the same Lucie I used to know, from way back when I was still an admin. Remember Pinnacle?”

“Yes! That was such a cushy job.”

“Lucie worked there, too. And, well, she had a little problem. Actually, it was a big problem.”

“What?” Chelsea and Sharon asked in unison.

“Compulsive liar. Terrible. It was embarrassing the stuff she would make up; such obvious lies and she was always being caught in them. Does she still do it?”

“Really? Wow,” Chelsea said, straightening and looking off while thinking. She turned back to them. “She was fired from TMB. I wonder…”

“Oh, come on!” Sharon said, making a loud tsking sound and shaking her head dismissively. “Molly is a nightmare. She fires everyone who works for her.
No one’s
good enough. Hence the Inhumanity of her Resources.”

“Well…” Chelsea said, tilting her head back and forth.

Bianca said, “Listen. It may be a thing of the past. It’s just so hard to trust someone once you know.” She threw up her hands in a blameless gesture. “Anyway, it’s probably over. Please don’t mention it to her. I wouldn’t want to embarrass her.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Chelsea said, her mouth still slightly gaping. But you could see her thinking.

Sharon looked less convinced, an eyebrow cocked, but it was Chelsea that mattered. Bianca smiled inwardly, her exterior face sympathetic, and said, “Good. Let’s just drop it.”

“Let’s,” Sharon said, narrowly observing her.

Bianca noticed. Uh-oh. Maybe the bimbos were better after all. Change the subject. Make it about Sharon, put her on the defensive. But in a playful aren't-we-having-fun way. “So, Sharon. You’re not going to tell us what happened before we got here, huh?”

Sharon’s eyes widened and she glanced down the bar quickly. “Oh, no. Not a fun subject.”

“I have a feeling there’s a man involved,” Bianca sang, smiling.

“Stop, please,” Sharon said.

“What? What!” Chelsea said and stamped her foot. “Sharon! I tell you everything!”

“Yeah, come on, Sharon. Spill,” Bianca said, gloating over the fact that Sharon’s calculating look was gone and replaced with a sweet girlish embarrassment that was turning her pink in the face.

Sharon glanced again down the bar and Bianca stretched her neck to follow her gaze. A tall lean dark-haired man was sitting at the other end of the bar looking at Sharon. He mouthed, “Please?”

“Ooo, is that him?” Bianca said.

Sharon slumped a little and turned back to them. “Yes.”

“A boyfriend?” Chelsea squealed.

“No. Not a chance,” Sharon said, her forehead wrinkling.

“Someone special. Someone asking ‘please’. Please what? What could it be?” Bianca prodded, enjoying herself immensely. So this was Sharon’s weakness. Good to know. Very good.

Sharon shook her head impatiently. "No, not special. More like annoying. My obnoxious-jerk neighbor."

"Really? Is he in love with you? What's with the long-distance begging he's doing down there?" Bianca said, amusement making her voice ring like a tinkling bell.

"No, he's not in love with me!" Sharon practically shouted and then startled, looking surprised at herself. She continued in a normal tone, "He's begging me to forgive him for being a jerk. Which I won't."

"What did he do? What did he do!" Chelsea said, eyes bugging out and leaning over to peek down the bar at the guy.

"He has these parties," Sharon said. "Late night, every night. Weekday nights until four in the morning. Oh, and he has a trampoline. So all night long, these drunken idiots are bouncing around and screaming while I'm trying to get some sleep."

"Oh wow," Bianca said. "That is bad. So you ended up talking about it - here?"

"Yeah, he tried to buy me a drink."

"Oh!" Chelsea said. "He likes you!"

"No. He was being polite," Sharon said in a warning voice.