Oh Stupid Heart (2 page)

“Don’t normally get to
sit.” Her faded, crumpled, threadbare clothes looked as tired as she did.

The conductor stopped
and demanded five dollars. She pulled out a coin purse and tried to pay him in
quarters.

“No coins.”

The woman put a
calloused hand to her forehead and shook her head. “It’s all I got.”

“Not my problem,” the
conductor said.

“Take her fee out of
the change you owe me,” Trent snapped. Why did the guy have to be such a jerk?

The guy clicked more
paper then thrust a ticket into her coin-filled hand. Finally, he handed Trent
three twenties.

“And a five,” Trent
growled.

Flashing a glare at
Trent, the conductor thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a five.
“You’re only getting this, because of her.” He nodded at Carrie. “Otherwise,
you’d pay a second service fee.” He handed Trent the bill and stormed off.

The old woman flashed
Trent a weary smile, displaying brown and yellow teeth, which made him slightly
nauseous.

His grandmother had always
said, “Never engage with the common people. Perform all charity at a distance.”

“Thank you for the
ticket. They’re so expensive, especially since I got sick last month and needed
medicine. I didn’t have any money left to buy a monthly ticket.”

“How much is a
monthly ticket?”

“A hundred and
twenty-five dollars. But I don’t have it, so I’m paying ten dollars a day. And
I only make sixty a night, forty once they take out taxes.”

“What do you do?”

“I clean an office
building. Job starts at 8 p.m. and I have to be done by 5 a.m. with no excuses.
If I don’t show, or I don’t finish, I get fired.”

He retrieved his
wallet, culled two hundred, and added it to the change the conductor had
returned. He passed it to the woman. “Here’s enough to buy the monthly ticket
and a bit extra to put aside to buy medicine the next time you get sick.”

The woman studied the
hundred dollar bills. “Are these real?”

“I assume so. I got
them from the bank.”

The woman’s brow
furrowed. She handed them back to him, keeping the twenties and five. “I can’t
afford to get arrested. I’ll lose my job.”

Never had a person
refused his money before. It hurt his feelings and frustrated him.
Damn it, I
wanted to be charitable. Why can’t the damn woman just do her part?

Carrie sat up and
asked to see the bills. “See the blue ribbon on the front of the bill? Now tilt
the bill back and forth. See how the bells and the one hundred move back and
forth?”

“My lord!” The woman
took hold of the bill and wiggled it. She smiled. “It’s like magic.”

“Watch the bell in
the inkwell. See how it changes colors and appears and disappears?”

The woman took the
note and chuckled as she wiggled the bill.

Trent suspected she
hadn’t had something to laugh about in a long time.

“You sure these are
real?”

“A hundred percent.
But you can take them to a bank and ask them to verify it. And when they tell
you they are real, ask them to exchange them for twenties.”

“What if they think I
stole them?”

Carrie glanced up at
Trent. “Can I have one of your business cards?”

He handed her one,
curious why Carrie wanted it.

She flipped it over
and wrote,
These bills were given to Miss Claire as an act of charity. They
are hers to spend.

She handed Trent the
card. “Sign it, please.”

He signed the card
and Carrie presented it to the old woman.

Her eyes rounded as
she read it. “You know my name.”

“We’ve talked
before.”

“Right. You’re the
nice girl who pointed out how much cheaper it would be for me to buy a monthly
card instead of paying the daily rate. I appreciated your advice. I’ve been
able to buy better food and even had money saved up, so when I got sick, I
could get well enough to keep working.” She patted Carrie’s arm. “I’m glad you
got yourself a good man. You deserve it.”

Carrie glanced up at
him and smiled. “He is a good man.”

She whispered in the
old woman’s ear. Whatever she said caused the woman’s forehead to furrow.

She thrust the bills
into Carrie’s hand. “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t take your money. But
thank you both. You’re good people, and the world could use more like you.”

To his shock, Carrie
didn’t argue. She only hugged the woman. “You’re good people, too.”

Half the crowded
train watched the fiasco. Great! Not only had the old woman rejected his act of
charity, but a mob of commuters had witnessed his failed attempt at being a
“good person.” His grandmother had to be thrashing in her grave.

Carrie glanced at her
watch. “Trent, you should call your armed security guard and let him know we’ll
be arriving in about fifteen minutes, probably track two, but he needs to read
the monitor to be sure. We’ll be at the far end. Our car number is 903.”

Armed security guard?
Sam? Her intent stare left him no option but to call his driver and provide the
information exactly as she said. Once he had done so, she snuggled up against
him, like a contented kitten.

He noticed a couple
of young punks in the aisle arguing over something. One of them glanced at
Carrie before focusing on Trent. He met the guy’s stare head on. He may have
been sheltered as a child, but he had ridden the New York subway as a teen and could
spot trouble.

Now Carrie’s words
made sense. She’d hoped to scare the guys off. Unfortunately, they had two
hundred reasons to stick to their plan for enrichment, especially when the
person possessing the money barely weighed eighty pounds. They intended to grab
the money before the armed guard showed up. Hell, they might try to grab Carrie
and steal her too.

When the train came
to the next stop and the old woman stood, Trent stood as well.

“This isn’t New York,”
Carrie warned him.

He moved to the aisle
seat and faced the punks. He wished to make a rather large and formidable
roadblock on their road to riches.

As the four boys
approached, he kept eye contact with the one in front, daring him to try.

The front guy’s eyes
narrowed and his face turned hard.

An angry voice barked
from behind them. “Get off where you said, or you’ll pay the difference.”

They glanced at the conductor
and scurried off the train as the door was closing.

The conductor stared
at Trent woefully. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’m protecting my
girl.”

The man’s face
softened. “Don’t blame you, but in the future, carry a few twenties and don’t
offer people money. It makes the kids think you have more than you need.”

Trent rolled his
eyes. “Right. I’m at fault.”

He turned to Carrie
for support. She huddled against the window, hugging her purse, her complexion
pasty white.

“You okay?” He sat in
the middle seat and pulled her to him.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For wiggling the
hundred dollar bill around. I only wanted to show her they were real.”

He kissed her head.
“I thought you did a great job. If I’d had any doubt, you would’ve persuaded
me.”

“Yeah, but I
convinced the three punks, as well.”

“Ah, so that’s why
the old woman gave them back.” He felt better knowing she hadn’t rejected his
generosity; rather, she only wished to live another day.

Carrie hugged his
arm. “If they thought for one moment she had two hundred dollars…. Best case,
they would have snatched her purse, and worse case, they would have seriously
hurt her when she fought to keep it.”

“So instead she gave
the money to you, making you their next target.” He saw the wisdom of his
grandmother’s charity advice.

Carrie’s eyes
sparkled with intensity. “Until you scared them off.”

He held his hand out.
“Pass it over. I don’t want anyone else coming after you.”

“What?”

He raised his
eyebrows.

Carrie grinned from
ear to ear as she slipped her hand into her purse and then into his jacket
pocket.

When he attempted to
retrieve the bills, he found nothing.

She leaned in and
whispered, “Miss Claire only pretended to give it back to me.”

He ran his hands
through his hair. “Next time you wish to bait and switch, make me the bait.”

“I didn’t think
they’d go after me with you at my side.”

“Then why’d you look
so pale and frightened after they left.”

“Because they were
ready to take you on. I feared you’d get hurt due to my stupid bill waving.”

He secured her into
his arms. While most people avoided taking blame like the plague, Carrie went
out of her way to take responsibility. “This was neither of our faults. The
responsibility lay with the kids and the conductor who should have never let
them on. I mean what is the point of him standing outside watching people get
in the train if he’s not going to shoo away the undesirables?”

The train came to a
halt and everyone but Trent and Carrie stood, many of them smiling at him. God,
did these people not understand the concept of pretend privacy?

Well, he’d ignore
them whether they reciprocated or not. He leaned in and kissed her.

A throat clearing
caused Carrie to push away and blush.

“You need to get off
the train,” a stern voice barked.

Trent glared at the
conductor staring at them and then his watch.

“Unless you want to
return to New Jersey, in which case you still have to get off to buy a ticket.
Company policy.”

Trent led her off the
train onto a cavernous, yet oddly, claustrophobic, underground platform crammed
with people swarming the escalators.

At the sight of his
driver, Trent smiled. His train ride ordeal was over! Soon he would return to
his protected space inside his bullet proof limo.
Never
would he take a
train again.

Sam returned his
smile with an irritated scowl. “I’m double parked, and you guys are making out on
the train? If we still have a car, I’ll take you to a hotel and you two can go
at it like bunnies for all I care.”

Trent raised a brow.
Sam normally pretended to be a respectful driver in Carrie’s presence. “I’m
guessing your night didn’t go well.” He’d given his driver the night off to
spend with his new girlfriend, something he’d never do again. The train ride
had almost killed them and Sam hadn’t even enjoyed his mini-vacation.

“You’d be right.” Sam
stormed off without them.

“Go save the car. We’ll
show up eventually,” Trent yelled at his retreating driver.

Endless rows of dirty
concrete boarding ramps stretched across what looked to be a giant cave carved
out of bedrock. On some ramps, people frantically bunched at the escalators, on
others, he didn’t see anyone, just silent empty concrete slabs. The place
looked like a shot out of an apocalypse movie. Wrapping his arm around Carrie, he
strolled beside her, in no hurry to join the mob pushing to escape the dismal
place.

She grimaced and
stared up at him. “I’m sorry the morning has been so trying for you.”

“Stop apologizing. You
are not responsible for everything that goes wrong.” He tugged her closer. “Although
a great deal that goes right is your doing.”

With Carrie at his
side, ghastly train rides and insubordinate, ill-tempered drivers couldn’t
upset him. She was his rock and foundation. She made him a better man.

Carrie and Trent
stood on the extra-wide sidewalk outside Penn Station, searching for his black
stretch limo in the sea of yellow cabs. Carrie’s focus turned to a tall, slender
blonde in a provocative blue suit with a plunging neckline and short skirt,
smiling at Trent.

Evidently not used to
being ignored, the young woman laid her hand on his arm. “What you tried to do
for the old woman on the train was really nice.”

Trent lost all
interest in searching for his limo and eyed his new admirer up and down as he
bestowed his smile-of-charm upon her. “Thank you.”

Carrie had seen him
use the technique to sell chairs to a reluctant executive, but this femme
fatale wasn’t shopping for chairs.
Probably a pickpocket.

“And your name is?”
he asked.

The sexpot kitten
extended her paw. “Angela Carson.”

He captured it in
both of his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Trent Lancaster.”

Her eyes rounded. “Of
Lancaster Chairs?”

He nodded.

“Wow! What a
coincidence. I have a job interview with you today.”

“For what position?”

“Human Resource
assistant.”

Carrie moved up
beside Trent. She hadn’t liked the young woman flirting with Trent but since
she might be a future employee, Carrie needed to make an effort. “I’m Carrie,
Trent’s EA.”

The young woman’s
eyes remained on Trent as she wrinkled her brow. “I thought Grant was your EA.”

Trent shook his head.
“Grant?”

“Wow!” She ran her hand
through her shoulder-length blonde hair. “He’s my boyfriend, who received a
call late last night telling him he had the job.”

“As Trent’s EA?”
Carrie asked.

Again the sex kitten
ignored her. Instead, she focused on Trent. “This is so embarrassing.”

Hero to the rescue,
he rubbed the woman’s arm. “Not at all. A little confusing, but I’m sure we’ll
sort it all out. Carrie’s been my EA for two years. But I promoted her to a
different job, so we did interview several young men yesterday, and if your
boyfriend Grant got a call from Coco, then he got the job.”

An inferno raged
inside Carrie’s head. This was their company, not Coco’s! “Why did you let
her
choose your EA?”

“Because they
impressed me equally, so I left it up to Coco.” He pointed to the road. “And
there’s Sam.” He gave Angela his charm smile again. “Pleasure to meet you…Angel,
and I look forward to our interview.”

She glowed. “Me,
too.”

Trent hurried Carrie
to the limo. Once they were both inside, she snapped at him. “Her name is
Angela, not Angel.”

He shrugged. “She
didn’t seem to mind?”

Was he purposely
being dense?
“Why would she mind when Mr. GQ Handsome alludes she’s
God’s gift to man? I wouldn’t mind, and my name isn’t even close to Angel.”

Gathering her into
his arms, he kissed her temple. “My sweet angel, I don’t want a fight every
time you hear mention of my new EA. I purposely asked for a male, so you
wouldn’t be jealous. Jealousy has been a major cause of fights in my prior
relationships. I don’t want it to be ours.”

She took a deep
breath and calmed herself, cuddling against him. “Sorry. I’m feeling defensive
because she’s the ‘type’ you’ve always gone for.”

“You think so?”

“Tall, thin,
beautiful blondes? Yeah.”

He kissed her temple.
“Recently, I’ve dated quite a few short, adorable, cute brunettes, but their
inability to become you doomed each relationship.”

She laughed and shook
her head. He’d say anything to get himself out of trouble.

“Sam, back me up
here. You remember the young woman I went out with while Carrie was in Taiwan,
right?”

Sam glanced at him
through the rearview mirror. “Very well. She and I dated for a couple of weeks
after you so rudely ended your evening, leaving me to take her home.”

Trent blinked several
times. “You what?”

“I took her home like
you told me too.”

“And what else?”

“A gentleman’s driver
never tells.”

Trent’s body radiated
anger like a nuclear plant ready to blow. Carrie rubbed his chest softly to
sooth him. “Does it matter?”

He sighed heavily.
“I’ll let this slide if you promise not to dislike your replacement on sight?”

“Deal.” She already
disliked him. She didn’t need visual confirmation.

Honestly, Carrie
wanted to cancel today and go home. Given her current mood, she had no hope
she’d get through it without yelling at someone. Nor was it just her. Sam who
was normally the epitome of a proper driver had behaved most provocatively this
morning. First, he scolded Trent for making out in the train, then he ran off without
them, and now he tells Trent they’d shared a past date. His actions made no
sense. Trent had given him the night off to see his girlfriend, which should
have made him happy, unless—

“Did you and Dawn
have a fight last night?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed
as he glared at her through the rearview mirror.

She took that as a
yes. “Would you like me to talk to her?”

“You are the last
person I want talking to her.”

“Sam,” Trent growled.

“Sorry, sir.” He flipped
a lever on his dashboard and the privacy window rose, cutting off any further
communication.

Trent’s fist clenched
and his face turned fire engine red. He radiated such intensity; she feared he
might break through the privacy window and rip his driver limb from limb.

Carrie rubbed his
chest, hoping to calm him. “He didn’t insult me. To be honest, it was
presumptuous of me to assume I could help. I’ve only met Dawn once.”

His eyes rounded. “When
did you meet Dawn?”

“At Sam’s…favorite
bar.” She didn’t think Trent, in his current mood, should learn his driver
owned a bar.

“How would you know
about Sam’s bar?”

Crap! This
conversation could head south fast. “It’s where I went the first time you fired
me.”

He raised a brow in
challenge. “You just happened to wander into Sam’s bar.”

She shrugged and
brushed non-existent wrinkles from her skirt, hoping he’d drop the topic.

Instead, he gripped
her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “The bar he owns in Brooklyn?”

She grimaced and gave
up. The truth would probably get Sam in serious trouble. She needed to modify
it a bit. “No, he drove me there. He found me attacking a door and thought I
needed some ‘down time’ before he took me back to you.”

“What door were you
attacking?” His right eyebrow had risen again.

“No clue. I can’t
recall the street I was on or why I attacked the door. All I remember is feeling
like I’d lost everything good in my life, and I needed to kick the hell out of
something.”

He wrapped his arms
around her and kissed her temple. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell
you about Sam’s bar before, but I feared you’d fire him if you knew he had a
second income.”

Trent softly snorted.
“I think I’ve paid for the damn place. Is my face still plastered to his dart
boards?”

“Yes, but no one threw
any darts, and the crowd toasted you several times.”

A low chuckle
erupted. “Then I can sleep well, tonight,” he teased. “So how did you meet
Dawn?”

“She’s his barmaid.
She’s tall, sexy, and blonde.”

He shook his head in
disgust.

Now she understood
why he’d become so angry with his driver. Sam’s obsession with Trent’s dates
could be classified as creepy.

“Maybe you could hook
Sam up with the therapist you dated. Might help him to date a redhead.”

“She was blonde…oh I
get it.” He chuckled and kissed her. Electrical currents sparked right down to
her toes.

Sam pulled the car to
the curb and lowered the privacy glass, glaring at them. “Would you like to
enter through the lobby or shall I park in the garage and let you two have a
rumble in the backseat?”

Trent eyed him and got
out, leaving Carrie behind.

She scooted across
the seat and followed, wishing he had waited for her. The frightening memories
of the day before returned as she stared at the lobby where her life almost
took a direct path to hell.

Yesterday, she’d
purposely lagged behind Trent and Coco. All she’d wanted was time away from
them, to recover from Coco’s barbs and Trent’s betrayals. Instead, she ran into
Bad Pimp Boss who wished to make her one of his girls. If she hadn’t kicked the
fellow in the balls, and run like the wind, she’d either be dead or chained to
a bed while unclean men did unspeakable things. Thank God she’d had a good
angle and aim.

After he collapsed in
pain, she’d run full speed to the lobby of this building, intending to find
safety in Trent’s penthouse. Only the lobby guard thought her a homeless person
and tried his hardest to throw her out where an angry Bad Pimp Boss waited.

She gripped her arms
as a shiver ran down her spine.

Trent stopped at the
glass door and turned to her. “You okay?”

She gulped, steadied
her nerves, and hurried into the lobby.

Dressed properly, dirty
tennis shoes aside, and accompanied by Trent, she had no trouble gaining access
to his penthouse today.

No crime scene tape forbade
their entrance. Evidently, when the cops shoot and kill a Mafia drug dealer in
your penthouse, they can close the crime quickly.

While Detective
Pascal could have arrested her for distributing narcotic turtles, thankfully he
didn’t since she hadn’t done so intentionally.

All she’d wanted was
an electronic copy of an expense report. But before she could ask any more
favors of poor Jack, their systems person, she needed to make him his favorite
treat: her grandmother’s chocolate turtles.

She had found some dark
chocolate bars in Trent’s kitchen and made a whole tray of chocolate caramel
turtles. She hadn’t known the chocolate bars contained the narcotic Europa.

Poor Mars, the
penthouse butler, and Jack, their only working systems person, remained in the
hospital, coming down from their Europa Delight trips. Mars believed he fought
terrorists in Iraq and Jack climbed his walls, screaming “Rosebud.”

At least the cops had
killed Ivan, the Russian mafia chef, instead of just winging him. Saved her
from having to fear the guy would hunt her down and kill her for cooking up a
half million dollars worth of high-concentrate chocolate designer drugs.

While Trent showered,
Carrie sat on the edge of the giant marble spa tub and kept him company. The
marble stall, the size of a small room, had no curtain so all that kept her
from seeing the most beautiful body in the world was her self-preservation.

After an early peek,
she focused on the tub’s plumbing. Otherwise, she’d forgo all their good
intentions, shed her clothes, and jump his bones under the spray.

But this morning’s
encounter with Angela only further proved their need to take it slow as they
transitioned from friends to lovers. Otherwise, jealousy would undoubtedly
raise its ugly head and destroy their relationship before it began. They required
time to develop emotional trust in each other.

Trent exited the
shower and grabbed a towel, having no consideration how the site of his
muscular, toned body might torture her and her four-year dry spell. If he’d
dangled water before a girl dying of thirst, he couldn’t be crueler. She
focused on her tennis shoes and waited for him to dress.

“Before you go to San
Francisco, I need you to get our offices redone.” He’d evidently left the
bathroom while she admired her shoes, because his voice came from the bedroom.

Following his voice,
she walked into an empty room. She turned in a circle, confused as to where
he’d gone until the clacking of wooden clothes hangers sounded from his walk-in
closet. “Sure, what style would you like?” she asked.

Buttoning his shirt,
he led her through the servants’ area to Mars’ beautiful, yet highly functional
cherry-wood office. “Something like this. What do you think?”

Mars had made her
promise never to tell Trent about this room, but clearly their boss wasn’t as
oblivious to his environment as his butler thought. “I think it’s the finest
office I’ve ever seen”

“But do you like it
for us?”

“I think it’s perfect.”

“Then go visit Mars
today and see if he can leave Iran long enough to answer your question.”

A familiar,
disapproving voice spoke from the door. “I have left
Iraq
, sir, and returned
to my post.”

Carrie pressed closer
to Trent when Mars’ stern eyes focused on her.

“Stop glaring at
Carrie. If she knew about this space, she never said a word. I’ve known about
it since I had my accountant investigated. The detective thought the bills were
high for a butler’s office.”