Craving Perfect (22 page)

Charlie’s head tilted, confused, but he approached my driver’s door anyway.

“Here.” I held out all the money from my wallet, four twenty-dollar bills. “I know this seems kinda weird, but I really wish you’d take this.”

But Charlie didn’t reach for the money. His hands remained jammed in the front pockets of his worn green jacket.

My arm stretched as long as it would go, the bills clutched in my hand.

“Grace, you don’t belong here.” His voice was deep and ragged. “You need to go
home
. Now.”

My jaw dropped.

“You need to go home.” His voice turned urgent. It was probably the most alarmed I’d ever heard him in my entire life. “You don’t belong here. You never belonged here.”

My throat turned bone-dry. “You know me? You see
me
?” My arm stayed frozen over the car door. A cool breeze swept through the alley, swirling tiny hairs that tickled my face. A compressor or heater hummed somewhere in the distance.

Charlie didn’t answer. “Leave here, Grace. Now.” Then he turned for the shadows, his footsteps crunching over the gravel.

“Charlie, wait!” I brushed my hair from my eyes, but Charlie blended into the darkness, the gravel growing softer.

I blinked against the night. It was like he simply disappeared. I began to wonder if I’d seen him at all. “Charlie! Come back. Please,” my voice begged. “I’d like to talk to you. I
need
to talk to you. I need you!”

He didn’t answer.

A stray cat jumped down from the Dumpster and snarled, clearly annoyed by my intrusion.

I debated whether to follow Charlie down the dark alley but a sharp, dizzying pain pulled across my forehead. When I reached for my temples, the bills swirled into the sky as I waited for the dizziness to fade.

Then I put the car in reverse, the tires crunching over the gravel.

I backed out of the alley onto the road and then drove straight for my condo, a place lonelier than the alley I left behind.

The next day, the dull ache across my forehead not only returned but grew sharper and more frequent.

Several extra-strength aspirins later, I drove to work. I’d never missed a day of work in my life and had no intention of starting now.

“It feels like someone’s jabbing shish kebab skewers into my head,” I told Julie as she applied another layer of eyeliner before the noon newscast.

“Probably just tension. I’ll give you the number to my masseuse.” She stepped back to survey her handiwork under the bright lights in my dressing room which, frankly, burned my eyeballs. “The woman does wonders, Cal.”

“But I’m ticklish.”

She frowned at me. “So live a little. A massage will do you good.”

“I’ll think about it,” was all I could promise as she began to work at the back of my head with a round brush and a blow dryer. Each stroke from her brush jabbed at my migraine. I couldn’t help but wince with each pull.

Julie turned off the blow dryer. “Another one?” She grimaced in sympathy.

I forced a smile, waiting for the latest wave of pain to pass. “Only a short one this time. I think they’re getting better,” I lied.

“Maybe you should tell David you can’t make it today. Sean could take your place.”

“Sean is on vacation.” I rubbed my temples. “I just need to lay down for a few minutes. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Julie held on to my elbow as she helped me down from the chair. She didn’t let go until she led me to the couch.

I sank into the leather. It felt pleasantly cool against my skin. “I just need a few minutes.” My eyes felt heavier, and not just because of all the eye makeup. They closed instantly. “I think I’m feeling better already…” My voice trailed off.

Julie placed a light blanket over my legs before my vision turned black.

“Thanks,” I whispered. Even speaking hurt my head. I’d never had a migraine as bad as this one.

“Don’t mention it,” she whispered back. A few moments later, the dressing room door clicked shut. Soon all I heard was my own ragged breathing.

I pulled the blanket close to my chin and everything went blessedly dark and silent.

The next time my eyes opened, the window glowed orange-yellow from the Phoenix streetlights below.

Orange?

I bolted upright. “Damn it!” I was late.

A flash of white fuzz exploded before my eyes, throwing me backwards against the couch. Then my head fell forward into my hands and I rubbed my temples, waiting for the pain to pass. It only lasted a few seconds this time. I regarded this as an encouraging sign, a window of opportunity to move before the next wave started.

Tossing the blanket to the other side of the couch, I rose and felt my way to my dressing table, reaching for the light switch. I squinted against the light until my eyes adjusted. The lights shone so brightly that I almost missed the pink post-it note taped to the mirror:

I touched Julie’s note and smiled weakly. Then I thought about finding David to apologize, assure him that I’d be ready for work tomorrow, bright and early. But another sharp pain jabbed down the center of my head. Instead of just my forehead, it sliced down the center of my entire body. Nausea began to build inside the pit of my stomach. I swallowed it back, struggling to stand.

I needed to get home. Julie was right. Maybe I had been working too hard. Maybe I should see a masseuse. Or a doctor.

The digital clock on my dressing table blinked
7:00 pm
. I’d been asleep for almost nine hours. It was as if my morning coffee had been drugged or something, loading my body down like a cement block.

Grabbing my shoes and purse, I walked toward the door, my knees still wobbly. I turned out the lights, hopeful that I wouldn’t have to see anyone till I got to the condo.

When I reached the lobby, I stopped to see Kevin, a habit that I’d developed since my second day as Callie Collins when I learned that he liked to bake. That day I asked him if he liked raspberry scones and he said they were his favorite. We’d been fast friends ever since.

After work we’d talk recipes, his family and, of course, the weather. One time he’d asked me about my own family and I really didn’t know what to tell him except lie and say they all lived in Colorado, which was only partly true. My cousins—Grace’s cousins—lived in Boulder.

Migraine or not, I couldn’t dash past him without a hello, especially when he was usually one of the highlights of my day. I never missed an opportunity to talk about things requiring powdered sugar and vanilla extract.

“Hi, Kevin.” I crossed the empty lobby toward him from the elevator to the front desk where he sat in front of a computer playing solitaire. It hurt to smile and my voice echoed loudly—too loudly—inside my head.

Kevin immediately reached for his train conductor hat but then left it sitting on the counter when he saw it was me. “Callie.” He gave up trying to call me
Miss Collins
, especially after I confessed to him that it didn’t seem right that anyone who’d served in the Vietnam War should call me Miss Anything. He refused to let me call him by his last name too, so I guess we were kind of even.

He met me in the middle of the foyer with his brow furrowed. “The wife and I missed you on the noon news today. What happened?”

I waved it off. “Oh, nothing really. Just a little headache today. That’s all.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “Just tired?” His eyes began to scan my face like he was searching for clues.

I immediately began to fidget with a button on my wrist, deflecting his gaze. “I’ll be back in the studio tomorrow.” My voice sounded too bright. “Guaranteed.”

“Yeah, well, that Alexandra Summers gal took your place today.” He winced as though watching the newscast was painful. “I know she’s your friend, but she can’t hold a candle to you.”

“Alexandra?” My eyes widened even though it hurt. Julie didn’t tell me that, although I never got the chance to ask her either.

Kevin’s chest puffed out as he inhaled. “She doesn’t have your style and warmth, your finesse.”

“Really?”
I have warmth? Style?
“Well, thanks,” I stammered. “But I’m sure Alexandra did fine. And she’s got way more experience than me.”

Kevin tsked me, sort of like Dad used to do when I put myself down. “You’re too nice.”

I sighed inwardly.
Not really
.

The elevator bell rang behind me. Kevin glanced over my shoulder, putting on his hat.

“Well, I better get upstairs and get some sleep if I’m going to make it to work early tomorrow. It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, you better.” He nodded in agreement. “Have a nice evening, Callie. Make sure you get plenty of rest. I find that a nice cup of peppermint tea before bed sometimes helps.”

I inhaled. Peppermint sounded wonderful, preferably with a warm sugar cookie. Or three. “I’ll give it a shot. You have a nice evening too.” I fished inside my purse for my keys. “Please say hello to your wife.”

“Will, do. ’Night, now.” He winked.

The elevator bell rang again and I got on. It was empty and I sank against the rail as the elevator rose to my floor. Even though I’d slept most of the day, I felt like I could sleep another nine hundred hours more.

As soon as I opened my front door, I kicked off my shoes and didn’t wait before I rubbed the toes on both feet while I hung on to the doorknob with one hand.

The foyer was dark, except for the light from the hallway outside my front door. Leaning against the doorknob, I stood hunched over, massaging my right foot. I moaned in ecstasy as I rubbed each freed toe before stepping onto the cold tile.

In between my moans, I heard whispering inside my bedroom.

I bolted upright, clinging to the front doorknob.

At first I thought it was the echo of my own relieved moans. But when I tilted my head for another listen, a new wave of white fuzz burst in front of my face. I reached for my temple, pressing a finger against it.

It wasn’t exactly the best time to be fussing with a migraine. Or the nausea that followed. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to be dealing with intruders.

Instead of walking outside the front door like a normal, rational person, I picked up one of my stilettos with the heel pointed outwards.

On tiptoe, I crept closer to my bedroom door. The door was closed and it was just off the front foyer. The room was dark underneath the door.

I reached for the doorknob.

Then a man groaned. My hand pulled back.

And a woman giggled.

The bed sheets—my bed sheets—rustled.

Another groan and I heard something soft plop to the hardwood floor. Pillows, probably. The bed was littered with them.

Drawing back a breath, I reached for the doorknob again. Quietly, I turned it. It didn’t make a squeak.

The door opened a crack.

I stuck my hand inside and reached for the light switch, brushing my fingertips against the wall till I found it. My other hand clutched my shoe, ready to use it.

Without another thought, I flipped the switch, bathing the room in an annoying white light.

Voices gasped.

The chandelier over the middle of my bedroom lit up my four-poster, king-sized bed.

And the naked bodies of Alexandra Summers and Max Kramer.

I squinted against the light.

Max reached for the sheet and pulled it up to his chest.

Alexandra pulled at the sheet too, although not as quickly. She let my eyes linger on her glistening skin before she discovered any modesty, and then she barely allowed the sheet to cover much of anything. It was the first time I had ever seen her sweat. Ever. Until this moment, I didn’t think she had functioning sweat glands.

“Callie?” Max tugged at more of the sheet to cover the space between his legs. Like it mattered.

“Yeah, that’s me.” I stepped closer. “I live here. Remember?” I wondered how they got past Kevin. Then I realized they must have entered through the parking garage, bypassing the lobby. Otherwise, Kevin would have mentioned that he saw them.

Alexandra giggled again and bit down on her lip when I glared at her. Frankly, she looked halfway irritated by the interruption. “We can explain.” Her voice held little enthusiasm for explanations. She sank back against a pillow, folding one emaciated arm over her head; the other, across her chest.

I rolled my eyes at the both of them. Frankly watching Alexandra and Max in bed was like watching cheesy porn. But feeling oddly bold, I folded my arms across my chest, letting my stiletto drop to the floor, and waited. I had a pretty good idea who’d speak first.

“Well, I came by,” Max stammered, licking his lips, “to see you. To talk.” His eyes darted nervously between Alexandra and me. “Used my key,” he added, as if that made having sex in my bed a good enough reason.

“And so did I,” Alexandra said with big innocent eyes.

“I guess you hadn’t heard that I wasn’t feeling well today?” My question was directed at Alexandra. “And I heard you took my place.” In more ways than one.