Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) Read online

  I told her my full name, but then I said, “Everybody calls me Cricket.”

  “We will, too, Cricket. I am Charlotte, and this is Kenny and J.P.”

  The guy named J.P. handed me a cup of water, and I drank it all. Charlotte had me write my information down. She asked me where I was from, and I told her and they all opened their mouths wide.

  “Well, how in the world did you get way up here?”

  I told her I had just moved.

  “You are far from home. Welcome to our state.”

  My cell phone started ringing at that very moment, and it was Chelle. I asked Charlotte to excuse me for a moment.

  “Hello” I answered. “What the hell, Cricket? I thought something had happened to you. I called the police station and everything.”

  “I’m sorry it’s a super long story. I’m at a ranger station now, and I will call you back when I get back on the road,” I pleaded.

  “You better Missy,” she snapped back. Then the line disconnected.

  The office phone started ringing then; Charlotte jogged over and answered it at once. “Ranger station,” she sang. “Oh, Lil Samson, yes, she’s here. Would you like to speak with her? Okay, then,” she said into the receiver. “Honey, he would like to speak with you.”

  “I gotta go now. Thank you again so much for all your help.” I turned around and walked toward the front door. I didn’t have anything to say to that racist asshole.

  “Oh, she’s still a little upset.” I heard Charlotte whisper into the phone as I walked out. When I got back in the car, I called Chelle immediately. I gave her the two-hour version of the story, going into full dramatization mode.

  “You went all the way up there by yourself? Cricket that was too far,” she yelled through the phone.

  I told her I was coming straight home and that I needed a serious hot shower. When I pulled into the garage, Chelle hung up the phone, and the garage door opened wide. She ran over to me and hugged me as tight as I could stand it. She had a hot bath waiting for me, and she said she would make us some hot chocolate. When I got out of the tub, she had a pair of my softest pajamas on the sink.

  I walked into the living room, and she brought in a tray with two huge mugs, one filled with about a thousand mini marshmallows and the other plain.

  “Awhhhh, thanks, Chelle,” I crooned. She smiled at me, and we both sat down on her big oversized couch. I sipped on my hot chocolate, and a marshmallow stuck to my nose. We both fell out laughing.

  Chelle made me tell her the story again, and then she gave out a big sigh.

  “What?” I asked. “Nothing. Keep going.” she grinned.

  I started back up, and then she rolled her eyes at me.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked with a laugh.

  “Okay, so you’ve called him uncouth, rude, prejudice, and a hunky ass,” she answered.

  “Yea, so what?” I snapped back.

  “Soooo…just how cute was he?” She asked with a grin.

  “Wait a minute. I NEVER said he was cute!” I shouted out.

  “You didn’t have to…Okay, so you are safe, clean, and dry now. I am going to bed.” she answered.

  I sat there stumped for a long moment, and then went upstairs to bed. I woke up with extremely puffy eyes and a silent house. I knew Chelle was gone to work now, and her two boys were at school. I got ready for the day. I wanted to go to the job and check out how long it took to get there.

  I got there in forty-five minutes with no traffic, so I would need to give myself an hour and a half drive time on Monday. I stopped at a gas station and grabbed an apartment guide for the city. I searched and searched, never going further than a twenty miles radius from the job. After looking at fifteen apartments and getting almost thirty applications, I was completely exhausted. I got back to Chelle’s house a little after eight, and she told me my plate was in the oven. We talked and laughed for almost an hour. We reminisced about the old days and how things used to be. Chelle made me listen to her read back my encrypted text that I had sent her, and then she wanted to analyze it. She then told me I watched way too much CSI.

  While I was getting ready for bed, my cell phone rang. I knew it was my mother, but then I thought about it. I was three hours behind her; she wouldn’t be calling me at this hour. None of my friends from back home are speaking to me right now, so I knew it was not any of them. Everybody was mad at me for moving across country and canceling the wedding. I didn’t want to hear any of their sighs right now anyway. I picked up the phone and realized I didn’t recognize the number. I had only had this number for three days, and I didn’t have a lot of Washington State numbers in it. I answered it and waited for the caller to ask for the person who previously owned this number.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Cricket?” he asked.

  “Yes, this is she; may I ask whom I’m speaking with?”

  “This is Jyme.” The unfamiliar voice said.

  “Uhh, okay”…I waited for more information besides his name.

  He laughed and said, “I’m the guy who helped you get out of the mud last night.”

  I sat straight up now, giving him all of my attention.

  “Hello,” he called out.

  I hung the phone up immediately. It rang again, and I pushed ignore and lay down quickly.

  The next morning I woke early. And the house was silent. I stumbled around for a few minutes, and then my cell phone rang again. I recognized the unknown number at once. He was calling me again, “Hello,” I answered.

  “Look, I talked to Sal. That’s the man’s mailbox you knocked down. I told him I would come down and fix it, and he was cool with that. So the mailbox is back in the land of the living.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Are you still there?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m here,” I said. “You really didn’t have to do that, and I will pay you for your services,” I said in a rude voice.

  “Listen, I wanted to do this, and I feel horrible about what I said. Charlotte told me you were from the South and that you took total offense to what I said.”

  “Wait a sec. Did she give you my number?” I snapped.

  “Yea,” he said it like, “What’s it to you?”

  “Unfuckingbelievable! the rangers are now giving out people’s private numbers. I mean, that’s my own private information,” I trailed.

  “It’s not like that around here,” he said.

  “Okay, I’m done with this conversation. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.” I hung up the phone and threw it to the foot of the bed.

  The rest of the weekend went by fast. Chelle took me to the Space Needle, and then we took a tour on a big duck tour bus. One minute we were riding in the street, and then the duck turned into a boat, and we were floating in the water.

  Today was my first day at my brand-new, swanky job at the world’s famous coffee company. Their corporate office just happened to be in the PNW. My job was low-key; I am now a full-time mystery shopper, aka THE SNITCH. I feel like a traitor; I have to visit coffee stores and buy stuff, and then rate my service. I knew one day someone would find me out; then I would get it. I know the saying, snitches get stitches is true. Chelle knows the marketing director, and she hooked me up big time. I get a company car, credit card, and an unlimited supply of the world’s best coffee.

  I walked into the office wearing my best black suit and spiked heels. The receptionist’s eyes got wide, and then she smiled at me. She greeted me and asked how she could help me. I gave her my name, and then I told her it was my first day.

  “Oh, Mrs. or Ms.” she asked.

  “Ms. But….please call me Cricket,” I insisted.

  “Sure thing,” she said. “I’m Ophelia, but everyone calls me O.”

  I followed her as she showed me the bathroom, conference rooms, and the kitchen. We finally made it around to my office; well a box with no windows is more like it. Well, it was not a box, but it didn’t have any wind
ows. I would have to liven this up a bit, because it was a little depressing.

  “Well, if you need anything, just pick up your phone and dial zero. D’Artagnan, will stop by in just a moment,” she stated.

  “Uhmmmm, D’Artagnan? I asked.

  “Oh yes…just you wait and see,” she smiled.

  I placed my small, cardboard box on my desk and started unpacking. Three picture frames, a high heel tape dispenser, a purse post it holder, and a sterling silver letter opener set…I was done.

  There was a knock at the door, and I focused on the doorway. I sucked in a quick breath because there was a six-foot six Adonis standing at my door. He stood with his hands crossed over his chest and he leaned into the doorframe. He gave me a cocky smile and his eyes looked as though they could see right down to my thong.

  I had to catch myself because my eyes were wandering too far down south. I jerked myself right and made eye contact with him.

  He gave me a crooked smile. “Hi Eugenia. I’m D’Artagnan, your partner in crime.” He strolled over to my desk with his hand out.

  “Hi, it’s very nice to meet you. Please call me Cricket,” I said, gripping his hands and shaking.

  “Well, you are not what I was expecting at all,” he said.

  “Yea, they ordered a medium but got a 2X instead,” I laughed, losing eye contact now.

  “No, they normally don’t hire pretty girls,” he said with a smile.

  “Oh, that was a good one. Now does that normally work on the girls?” I asked pulling my hand from his. He got a tighter grip and led me over to my desk. He had just crossed the personal space bubble I had up.

  “Now I wouldn’t know that because I don’t fool with girls,” he growled.

  “Oh, so do you like little boys?” I breathed out. He looked me over as if he could see straight through my clothes, and I suddenly felt exposed.

  “No princess, I like grown women who know exactly what they want.” he growled again. “Oh, so you’re into Sugar Mamas.” I grinned.

  At that, very awkward moment my phone buzzed, and I heard O’s trilling voice bursting through the speakers, “Cricket, you have a package at the front desk.”

  D’Artagnan didn’t ease up on the grip; I glared at him and then glanced down at my prisoner hand. “Well, first day, and you’re already getting little trinkets,” D’Artagnan said.

  “Uhhh, Cricket?” O asked.

  “She’ll be right there, O,” he answered.

  “Oh, okay, D’Artagnan,” she said in a dazed voice.

  The speaker died out, and then D’Artagnan smiled at me. “We have a meeting in ten minutes in the Caramel Mocha Conference Room.” He finally let my hand go, and I quickly raced out of the room.

  I prayed all the way down the hall that I didn’t stubble over an invisible line on the floor. Walking this fast, with this weight, and in these heels was dangerous. I made it to reception, and O was on the phone. She pointed to a clipboard on her counter and motioned for me to sign it. I saw a line with my name printed on it and an X beside it. I signed at the X, and then O pointed around the corner to a room with the door wide open. Boxes and boxes and then more boxes. I saw a large flower arrangement with the most amazing flowers I had ever seen. I picked up the large arrangement with both hands and wobbled back to receptionist. I sat the arrangement on O’s desk and waited for her to get off the phone. She was writing a message down and I decided to hunt for a card in the arrangement. I had no luck finding one.

  The flowers were in a frosted vase. I looked and looked for a card, and nothing. I heard people talking in the hallway and looked up at the clock. I had four minutes before the meeting. There were twenty-eight flowers in the vase, and they were beautiful. All of them different colors and styles. I looked again; no card. I would have to research this later; I left my office and the sweet smell of the flowers.

  D’Artagnan stood at the end of the hall, holding a thin folder. I walked past him, not saying a word; then, he appeared next to me. Neither one of us said a word as we walked into the conference room. He pulled my chair out for me at the long table before the meeting and after.

  At the end of the day, D’Artagnan stood by my rental car. I unlocked the door with my wireless entry, sliding my briefcase in the passenger seat. Reaching to shut the driver’s door, D’Artagnan cleared his voice. I looked up at him.

  “Cricket, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. Please let me make it up to you?” he asked.

  I just sat there, looking at him.

  “I was the new guy here for nine months. And my parents taught me better than that,” he stated. I watched him, and he had transformed into a different person. He seemed genuine now; the cocky asshole had finally left the building.

  “I accept your apology.”

  “Please let me make it up to you. Dinner at Palisade, or maybe Maximilian; and my treat?”

  “Rain check?” I asked.

  “Sure, but we will sit down together real soon, and I will wine and dine you, Ms. Hooper.” he smiled.

  “I’m positive you will, Mr.—uhhhhh?”

  “Crain. D’Artagnan Crain,” he chimed.

  “Where does the name D’Artagnan come from?”

  “Let my mother tell it, and she says it’s Romanian; but my father says she was obsessed with The Three Musketeers. My baby sister’s name is Echo,” he said.

  “Echo?”

  “Greek Mythology. She was a famous nymph.”

  “Oh, well that is interesting,” I mumbled.

  We sat in an awkward moment. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning,” I stammered. D’Artagnan gave me crooked smile and then a hundred watt show with those sparkling whites. I swallowed hard as he walked away from the rental.

  All the way back to Chelle’s, I thought of the flowers. I knew deep down exactly where they came from, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. They were tall, strong, mysterious, and wild things. I knew he had to be the one who sent them. They were him all the way down to the last steam. I had no idea how my mud god somehow had found me

  Later that night when I got ready for bed, I looked at a number I had never called before. I finally tapped the screen, and my phone started dialing. It rang three times, and then a stern voice answered.

  “May I speak to Lil Samson Jyme,” I asked.

  “Speaking,” he laughed.

  “I owe you an apology, and I assume a ‘Thank You’ is in order as well,” I said.

  “What exactly are you thanking me for,” he asked.

  Oh, so he wanted to have one of those conversations…I didn’t take him for the gloating type, but I guess I was wrong. “Well first off, for helping me get out the mud, second for repairing the mailbox, and third for that amazing floral arrangement. They’re beautiful, and I’m so grateful.”

  “You forgot one,” he said.

  “Uhmmmmm.” I answered.

  “And for not killing you.” he answered.

  I sat there not saying a word. I knew my breath was getting heavy, but I didn’t know what to say. “I’m really sorry about all that,” I whispered.

  “We’re even,” he answered, disconnecting the line. I sat there looking at my cell phone until the backlight went black. I sat and thought for a moment, this man could have killed me and chopped me up into tiny pieces and no one would have found me. But I was intrigued and almost addicted to the mud god; not the possible murder on the reservation.

  Chapter 2

  The First Date

  On my way to work the next morning, I needed a little musical courage to help me through the day. Beyoncé was blasting about her video phone when the song was interrupted, it was a number I recognized, but had decided not to save in my contacts. The touch screen car stereo was blinking bright, and the speakers were chiming in my ears. I touched the screen and answered the phone.

  “Lunch at twelve,” His voice was not asking, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. All I could think about was, what would Beyoncé do?
/>   “Alright,” I said. For one brief second, there was silence, and then Beyoncé was back in my ear on the second chorus. I smiled and then I frowned. I didn’t even get a chance to ask him how he knew where I worked. I had never told him that before, and we didn’t know the same people, so how did he know? He just hung up the phone; no farewell, no goodbye, nothing.

  At eleven thirty, I grabbed my makeup bag and headed towards the ladies’ room. As soon as I stepped out into the hall, I ran smack dead into Mr. Crain. (In order to keep our relationship professional, I decided to call him ‘Mr. Crain.’) I dropped my halfway-zipped makeup bag, and he lost his folder full of papers. I went for his papers; he went straight for my makeup bag and grabbed at the rolling lipsticks and liners.

  He took a deep breath. “Cricket, that fragrance you’re wearing is remarkable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “May I ask what it is?”

  “I’m not sure. I swiped a couple of sprays from my roommate’s vanity this morning,” I answered.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you knew anyone here. That makes me feel better,” he said.

  I gave him a strange look. I frowned at him then I felt the heat rising on my face. I tried to hold it back, but I felt my eyebrows narrowing. I knew now I was scowling hard at him. I tried to pull myself together because in all honesty, no matter how much he was stepping into my private boundaries, the man was still my boss.

  He explained. “No, I meant, I worry about you being all alone in the big city,” he sputtered.

  “I used to live in New York and Atlanta. I think I’m safe here,” I snapped.

  “I didn’t mean-”

  I interrupted, “Don’t worry about it,” I said, pulling my makeup back out of his hands and handing him his folders. I turned and headed towards the bathroom again. I refreshed my face and stepped back into my office.

  O buzzed my phone. “Cricket, your twelve o’clock is here,” she chimed.