Deadly Blessings (17 page)

Of their own accord, my eyes shot back to
her face for a reassessment. Perhaps she and I were closer in age
than I thought. Could be her line of work that added the lines and
wrinkles.

“
I like to take notes, if
you don’t mind,” Lisa said, with a smile devoid of warmth. All
business this woman.

“
No, no, not at all,” I
said, thinking that I’d better be careful to remember everything I
told her.

“
Spell
your name for me, please.” Her hand was poised above the sheet. Was
she trying to check me out? I chose to use my undercover name, my
parents’ original last name Szatjemski, the one that never showed
up on
Midwest Focus’s
rolling credits.

“
Czy mowi pan po polsku
?” she
asked

I hesitated. The question in Polish
surprised me, but in a split-second decision I feigned confusion,
with a shrug. I could tell by her pronunciation that she was
probably as fluent as I was. It would be smarter not to let on that
I understood, just yet. My chances of learning anything significant
might be better that way.

“
Was that Polish?” I asked,
biting my lip to convey concern that my answer wouldn’t meet with
her approval. “I don’t understand it,” I lied. “Well, a couple of
words and phrases is all.”

She nodded, regarding me closely. “You don’t
look Polish.”

“
I guess I take after my
mom.”

From what I could tell, looking at it upside
down, she was recording her notes on a form. Neat blank sections
with bold print titles. I could see the top section, where my
personal information ought to go. She looked ready to start a
question and answer session, when I asked, “Is that the job
application? Do you want me to fill it out for you? Make it
easier?”

“
No. I prefer to get
information on you first. Make my decision. Then, if we come to an
agreement and it looks as though we could have a good working
relationship, I’ll make sure that section’s completed.”

“
Okay.”

“
Phone number?”

I was ready for this. “I don’t have a home
phone. Little problem there.” I shot her an embarrassed grin,
“Okay, they shut it off.” I dug out and held up my cell phone. “But
this is paid up till the end of the month.”

As I gave her the number, she jotted it
down, nodding. “Where did you work before? You said you were
fired?”

“
Yeah.” I
tried to both look and sound regretful. Sticking with the truth as
much as possible, I said, “I used to work at
Midwest Focus
.”

“
The television news show?”
Her eyes widened and I felt the walls go up again.

“
Uh-huh,” I said, trying
for nonchalant.

“
What did you do there?”
There was that squint again.

“
Well …” I bit my lip, “I
used to tell everybody I was a secretary there, but …”

“
But?”

“
But really, I was just
kind of a gofer person. They told me that if I worked out, maybe
I’d get to be one of the assistants, someday.”

“
How long did you work
there?”

“
Just over a
year.”

“
Who was your immediate
supervisor?”

“
A girl named Jordan
Harvey.”

Lisa took notes with a
sinuous motion. Even upside down I could tell that she had flawless
handwriting. Clear, even, and strong. She looked up at me and
asked, “
Jak sie pisze
?”

“
Excuse me?”

“
I’m sorry.” She shot me a
lips-only smile. Testing. “Spell her name for me
please.”

I did. Jordan, fully apprised of my antics
here today, would have my story ready for anyone who might call to
check on my employment. Everything from a starting date to my
skimpy salary and reasons for dismissal. I just better remember not
to apply for any credit cards over the next few days. All calls
regarding my recent tenure at the station were to be referred to
Jordan. With the tale we concocted, my credit rating would fall
through the floor.

“
Why were you let go?
Downsizing?”

“
Yeah. That’s
it.”

“
Do you have a cosmetology
license?”

“
No, but Helena says I
should apply for shampoo girl.”

“
How much schooling have
you had?”

“
I took a couple college
classes after high school. But that was kind of a long time
ago.”

“
What did you
study?”

“
This and that. You know,
general stuff. I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet.”

“
What do you want to
do?”

I tried to look sheepish. “I still don’t
know yet?”

“
Have you ever worked in a
beauty shop before?”

“
No.”

Lisa stopped writing, leaned back in her
chair, holding the expensive pen up by her lips. “Then what makes
you want to work in one now?”

I was ready for this one. “At this point
I’ll take anything.” I took a deep breath and shook my head. “I’m
telling you, I can spend money faster than I make it and I got
bills up the wazoo.”

A long moment passed where she said nothing
but merely tapped the fancy pen against the desk top, considering.
“Most of the girls I hire are recent immigrants,” she said.

“
Yeah. It’s gotta be hard
for these girls to leave home for a big city like Chicago. I’m from
downstate, myself. Sophie says that Father Bruno set her up with
you. She says he helped her get out of Poland and into the job
market here. She’s forever grateful to the guy.”

Lisa reacted to the mention of Father
Bruno’s name with a flicker of interest. Almost imperceptible, but
it was there. “You know him, too?” she asked.

“
Sophie introduced
us.”

I was here to assess this Lisa, to get
information on her organization. According to Sophie, she guarded
the truth about the salon’s clientele from Father Bruno. But I
wanted to see for myself.

Her hiring me as a shampoo girl would be a
bonus and would provide opportunity for further investigation, but
I needed to maximize this interview, now. So, I pressed further.
“How did you ever get hooked up with him, anyway?”

I watched wariness slip over her eyes, like
a veil. “Why?”

She’d answered a question with a question.
Fencing maneuvers. I shrugged again and made light of it. “I don’t
know. Just curious. Father Bruno doesn’t look like the type to come
walking into your salon for a haircut.”

“
And you don’t seem the
type to take a minimum wage job.”

I shrugged. “It’s been a tough year.”

“
So … what is this?” she
asked.

I held my breath. Maybe my acting skills had
failed me, after all. She shook her head, and leaned forward to
rest her bare elbows on the desk. “Are you just looking for
something to hold you over till a real job comes along?”

“
Listen,” I said, working
to let the breath of relief that whooshed out of me sound like a
sigh of frustration, “if I can make a pretty good buck, I’m gonna
be happy. Alls I want is the kind of job so I can make enough to
get back on my feet.”

“
Helena was right. Shampoo
girl is about the best I can offer. There’s not a lot of money in
that.”

“
Sophie says that lots of
girls start out shampooing, but they work their way up. If I try
real hard, maybe I could move up … or something. You know, have
more … responsibility?” I tried to put just the right spin on the
word.

Tiny squint. Both eyes this time. “What did
Sophie tell you about some of the responsibilities the girls
have?”

Here it was. Sophie had made me promise not
to let Lisa know that she’d spilled the beans. Though I prepared
myself ahead of time for a question like this one, I still felt my
mind doing a nervous tap dance inside my head. “You know,” I said
drawing the words out, “not too much. Even though I asked her a
couple of times. She told me that you were a really nice boss and
really fair. She said that, over time, you’d decide if I was good
for the place or not. And if you thought I was, you’d find a place
for me. I thought that sounded pretty good. Kind of like a tryout
period.”

The shift in her attitude was subtle. She
laid the pen down and squinted at me one last time. “I like to take
a picture during the interview, if you don’t mind. Helps me
remember who’s who. I have a lot of girls I interview, you realize.
This is a cutthroat business sometimes.”

“
Sure.” I
shrugged.

She pulled out a Polaroid camera from
another drawer and asked me to stand against the far wall. Totally
blank wall—no décor whatsoever. I bet every picture was taken
against this very background. Had Milla stood here, just like I was
doing now? Smiling for the camera and dreaming of a better
life?

“
Should I
smile?”

“
Please.”

I did as she snapped a shot, then gestured
for me to turn sideways. Mug shot time.

“
You have a boyfriend?” she
asked. The tone was conversational but I sensed the weight of the
question. And it occurred to me that a boyfriend in this business
could be a major hindrance. For a split-second, so quick I could
almost pretend it didn’t happen, I thought about William. And his
turn-my-knees-to-jelly smiles.

Then I remembered Dan and gave a half-laugh.
“No.”

“
What’s so
funny?”

Sticking with the truth, I grinned at her.
“I just broke up with him.”

“
Feel bad?”

Total truth. “God, no.”

“
No reconciliation in your
future then?”

“
Not a chance.”

“
Take a deep breath and
straighten up for this one.” I did and she nodded, popping another
flash at me. “You look better … prettier, when you hold your
shoulders back like that. Let’s take another one.”

Hold my shoulders back. Hmm. Seemed what she
was trying to tell me was to thrust my chest out.

Lisa finished posing me this way and that.
She took a handful of shots, some close-ups, a couple full-length,
but I had to admit, they made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t like
the idea of my image being passed to sweaty-handed men, with money
in their pockets and lewd thoughts on their minds. Men like creepy
Emil.

I pushed my discomfort aside. “So, do I get
the job?” I asked.

Her eyes raked over me and I caught her
squinting one more time. Looking over the Polaroids she spread
across the desk, she ran her tongue over her lips. “I can probably
find a place for you temporarily. After that, we’ll see how it
goes. Fair enough?”

Chapter Twelve

Dan’s message on my voicemail at work first
thing Tuesday morning asking me to dinner was a shocker. I’d left
him a quick message Sunday, reminding him that I still had his
keys. I planned to drop them off at his station by mid-week unless
I heard from him otherwise.

I expected that he would want to meet for
the exchange; Dan was particular about his keys. I had no problem
with that, but I also didn’t want to go out of my way to return the
things, either. I figured he’d make a quick stop by my office on
Monday or Tuesday and that would be that.

I punched in his number and sat back,
waiting for his voicemail to pick up on the fourth ring, like it
always did. This morning, my office window gave me the kind of view
I live for. From the azure sky with picture perfect clouds dotting
the expanse, to the sharp focus of the buildings and the river, it
was a sight that made me, for just a moment, pretend that the
window was a painting on the wall instead of a glimpse into the
real world outside. I’d like to have been able to freeze the
moment, take a snapshot, and use that as my view on days I needed a
boost.

He answered the phone himself, on the third
ring. “Dan?” I said, sitting up. Even I heard the surprise in my
voice.

“
You were expecting someone
else?”

I sat back again. “I expected your
voicemail.”

“
Well, then I guess it’s
your lucky day.”

I rolled my eyes, wishing he could see me.
“Yeah.”

“
So, how about
it?”

“
How about
what?”

“
Dinner, tonight. Say,
seven o’clock?”

A knock at my office door interrupted. “Hang
on,” I said, then called, “Come in.”

William walked in, opening his mouth as if
to speak, but he stopped short when he noticed I was on the phone.
I invited him to sit down with a hand motion toward my chairs then
turned my attention back to Dan.

“
I can’t. I have a wake to
go to.” Matthew’s. And I didn’t think I’d be able to just make an
appearance and run at this one. “Why don’t you just stop by the
office after work and I’ll have them for you. Or I could leave them
with the receptionist.”

He was silent.

“
I promise to put them in a
sealed envelope.”

He wasn’t amused. Or so I gathered from the
grunt on the other end of the connection. I shot a quick smile over
to William to let him know I’d be right with him.

“
What about lunch?” Dan
asked.

“
I’ve got another hair
appointment this afternoon,” I said, “and my schedule’s
packed.”