Sara

“Hi daddy.”

“Hello Sara,” her father replied somewhat wearily.                           

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“How’s Jane?”

“You mean Jenna.”

“Yes, Jenna,” Sara had trouble remembering the women in her father’s life.

“I’m not seeing her anymore.”

“Really? The last time we spoke to you said everything was fine.”

“That was eight months ago.”

“Okay,” she said with a verbal shrug, as though his answer was self-explanatory. “I suppose there’s not much point in asking why.”

“Not really.”

“Did I surprise you?”

“No, I knew you’d be calling soon. After all it has been eight months.”

“Yeah I guess you would,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“You shouldn’t roll your eyes at me Sara. It’s poor salesmanship.”

“How do you know…”

“Because you’ve been doing it since you were a child. So let’s get business out of the way. How much do want? The usual?”

“A little more would be nice,” she said, trying to conceal her annoyance at having been caught.

“Would another two do it?”

“Three would be better.”

“All right,” he sighed resignedly, knowing that it was easier just to give her what she wanted. “I’ll tell Bradley to add another three thousand. It’ll be in that account of yours by tomorrow morning.”

“Not that again,” she pleaded. “Everybody e-banks now.”

“I don’t.”

“Because you have an accountant who handles all of that for you. The only reason you want me to branch bank is so you’ll have an address.”

“Would that be so bad? Knowing your whereabouts might at least help me to stay ahead of the curve.”

“You know what the doctor…”

“Yeah, yeah I know what she said. You have to be on your own.”

“All right then.”

“You know I could always…”

“Daddy if you send somebody to check up on me again I swear…”

“Don’t over react. I only sent the one.”

“So you say.”

“I’m still your father. And it isn’t as if you haven’t needed my help before. What about that incident in Miami?”

“I don’t like being followed,’” she muttered fretfully.

“Okay, let’s not talk about it anymore,” he conceded, sensing that pursuing the matter further would only be counterproductive.

“So how’s uncle Bob?”

“He’s fine. The last time we spoke he asked about you. Of course I couldn’t tell him much.”

“That’s just as well.”

“You know it’s funny how often you two ask about each other, and yet you both seem so relieved when there’s nothing to report.”

“What’s so funny about it?”

“Because it’s been so long since you’ve seen each other and yet you’re both still asking.”

“That year after mom died, and you were away so much, I saw him all the time. I guess I’m just curious. Anyway it doesn’t matter.”

“Then why ask?”

“Let’s just drop it okay?” she replied impatiently.

“Okay.”

A brief but awkward silence ensued.

“So, what have you been up to lately?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“I’m just trying to be pleasant.”

“Same as you. Living my life.”

“That’s hardly illuminating.”

“You have to be on your own, and I have to be on mine.”

“It’s funny how you never quote the doctors unless it’s to your benefit.”

Just then Sara heard the phone in the bedroom begin ringing.

“Daddy I have to go.”

“Give me your number and I’ll call you.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“I’ll call you again soon.”

“You mean you’ll call when you need something.”

“I said I’d call.”

“You’ll have to. Even if you did give it to me the way your number changes…”

“How do you know how often…”

“I have caller ID and a memory. The area code…”

“Daddy let’s not get into that again,” she replied preemptively. “I really do have to go. Bye.”

Robert Cushing hung up the phone, and folding his hands in his lap, sat back in his chair and stared wistfully at the ceiling.

Being Sara’s stepfather was never easy. The child of his second wife by a previous marriage, he had taken responsibility for her when her mother died in a car accident and her natural father refused custody. Finding himself unable to turn her away, he gave her his name – though he never adopted her — spent lavishly on her upbringing, and even now provided her with a generous allowance. But they were never close. What he did for her, he did out of a sense of obligation to the only one his four wives he ever cared for — not because he loved her.

And every time he spoke to her he was glad he didn’t.

For she had always been a willful and troublesome child, and after all, a stepfather could only be expected to do so much; the rest was up to her.

After ending the call with her stepfather, Sara walked to the bedroom and sitting down on the bed picked up the house phone’s receiver.

“Hello.”

“Hello Ms. Kelley?”

“Yes.”

“This is Anton at the desk, I have a call for you from a Mr. Bentley, would you like me to put it through?”

“Yes please.”

Sara lay back against the pillows and collected herself while she waited for the concierge to connect her.

“Hello.”

“Hello Ms. Kelley, this is Bob Bentley.”

“Yes hello Mr. Bentley.”

“How are you this morning?”

“I’m fine and you?”

“I’m well thank you. So, Ryan tells me you met him at the house on Beachwood this morning?”

“Yes I did.”

“And what did you think?”

“I like the one I saw yesterday better.”

“The one on Martindale Circle.”

“Yes. It’s bigger than I need, but I like the space, as well as the open floor plan.”

“And with those large windows it is very well lit.”

“I also like the fact that it backs up onto that nature preserve.”

“Yes, Basin Ridge. It is beautiful.”

“I love nature. It’s so peaceful.”

“So, may I presume we have a deal?”

“If I remember correctly that was four thousand a month, including all the furnishings and appliances I saw. No substitutions.”

“That’s correct.”

“Then yes, we have a deal.”

“Wonderful, how soon would you like to wrap this up?”

“Right away. I’d like to check out of here tomorrow morning, and move my things over in the afternoon.”

“No problem.”

“Your office then, around eleven?”

“That would be fine. All we need to do now is have you sign the lease, and of course I’ll need a check for the first and last months rent, as well as a months deposit.”

“I’ll bring cash.”

“Either way is fine. There is one other thing, I want to have the paperwork completed before you arrive, so I’d like to check something with you just to be sure.”

“Yes?”

“The proper spelling of your name.”

“Certainly. That’s Dana, D-A-N-A, Kelley, K-E-L-L-E-Y.”

“Ah, I’m glad I asked. I was spelling it without the second E.”

“A common mistake.”

“Tomorrow morning at eleven then.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Have a good evening Mr. Bentley.”

“You as well Ms. Kelley.”

As always moving day was busy but not hectic. The truck arrived in the morning with the half dozen large trunks in which she kept everyone’s belongings, and she spent the rest of the day organizing their contents according to the various people to whom they belonged.

With clothing carefully segregated into discreet sections within the walk-in closets, while both makeup, and the smooth, featureless plastic heads upon which rested the wigs that went with each were arranged according to their owners.

As she knew from experience, keeping everyone’s possessions organized was key to maintaining a peaceful coexistence.  

Sara’s attempts to reform herself were sincere but ineffective.

Every time she moved she promised herself she’d limit the number of people she came into contact with in an effort to minimize the turmoil they inevitably brought to her life. And every time she failed.

For the simple truth of the matter was that doing so meant there were fewer opportunities for her to find those people whose lives made hers more interesting.

Her current situation was a typical case in point.

Martindale Circle was a ten-house cul-de-sac of neat two story houses, each built on a half acre of wooded lawn dotted here and there with well-tended gardens. It’s residents were solid, apparently upright people, with good jobs, seemingly stable relationships, and in some cases children. They were the kind of people every community wants, and were therefore of no use to Sara.

The only exception to this uniformity was the man who lived next door. Slovenly, over-weight, occasionally intrusive, and often annoying he was the road’s resident curmudgeon. He liked no one and no one, especially Sara, who had the misfortune of proximity, liked him.

And so, putting aside her reservations about once again involving herself in the turmoil of other people’s lives, she soon began to explore her options.

As always the challenge she faced was to find people who would trust her enough to let her into their lives, while at same allowing her to keep them from becoming both too involved in and familiar with hers.

And though it sometimes resulted in her having to pass up opportunities she thought promising, she was experienced enough that she could usually overcome it.

“We have many temporary positions for secretaries Ms. Kelley, and with your resume and references I don’t see any problem in getting you all the work you want.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“So when can you start?”

“Right away.”

“Excellent.”

“However there are a couple of things I’d like you to understand.”

“Certainly.”

“Although of course, I expect to be well-paid for my work, I do this more to keep myself busy than for the money.”

“I see.”

“Consequently I wouldn’t want you to make any commitments longer than a couple of weeks without clearing it with me first.”

“No problem.”

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No, that’s everything. All I need to do now is clear your paperwork through our corporate database and I can start making referrals.”

“Well there’ll be no problem there, I’ve worked with Amtemp before. After all you are one of the biggest temp agencies in the country.”

“THE biggest.”

“Then I’ll be hearing from you soon.”

“Absolutely. Good day Ms. Kelley.”

“Good day Ms. Rodgers.”

Immediately after leaving Ms. Rodgers’ office, Sara went to a nearby coffee shop, and sitting down at a table where no one could see what was doing, opened her laptop. Several years before she’d hired a poor, but skilled computer geek to show her how to hack into Amtemp’s corporate database, and she had been using it to produce fictitious identities and work histories for herself ever since.

Sara entered her password, accessed her file, and began reviewing her latest creation.

For in spite of the fact she’d double, and even triple checked her work the night before, the perfectionist in her wanted to be absolutely certain everything was in order.

Even though she was vastly overqualified, Sara liked being a secretary. Because although they’re usually over looked, they’re also perfectly positioned to know what’s going on in the offices – and lives — of those they work both for and with.

Over the next three months Ms. Rodgers booked Sara for jobs at several different businesses around the city; none of which however offered the sort of situation she was looking for.

But she was not disappointed. For she knew from experience that finding such opportunities required patience.

And like any predator, it was a quality of which she possessed an abundance.

“Good morning, I’m Dana Kelley. Natalie Rodgers at Amtemp sent me.”

“Yes Ms. Kelley, I’ve been expecting you.”

“Please call me Dana.”

“Good, we like to keep things informal when there aren’t any clients around. I’m Naomi Walker, Mr. Jackson’s secretary, just call me Naomi.”

“That’ll be great.”

“You’re early.”

“I like to be early, especially on the first day.”

“Mr. Ross will like that.”

“Mr. Ross, as in…?”

“Yep, he’s the boss. I’ll show you your desk.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll be filling in for Cindy Wyatt,” Naomi said over her shoulder, as she led Sara to a large desk outside an impressive looking set of dark wooden doors emblazoned with shiny brass letters declaring the room behind them to be the office of Lawrence J. Ross, President and CEO of Lawrence Ross Investment Services. “She’s on vacation.”

“Ms. Rodgers said the job was for three weeks.”

“It is.”

“Wow, a three week vacation. How long do you have to be here to get that?”

“It isn’t seniority dear, it’s what you do for it.”

Sara didn’t understand Naomi’s answer, but because of the manner in which she said it, thought it better not to ask for an explanation.

Always a quick study, Sara soon became so familiar with her new boss’ work habits that it was as if she’d been there for months instead of weeks. As a result she not only became one of his favorites, but also gained the respect not only of the account executives who worked under him, but of the other secretaries as well.

Soon she was joining them for lunch in the break room, which in turn led her to being included in their conversations, not only about their own lives, but also the lives of everyone in the company.

“You can’t be serious,” Bobbi exclaimed in a hushed voice as Sara entered the room carrying the salad she’d just purchased at the delicatessen on the corner.

“Dead serious,” Naomi replied.

“Unbelievable,” Ariel muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What’s up?” Sara asked as she sat down.

“Looks like you’re gonna be getting a call from your friend at Amtemp,” Naomi said archly as she glanced at the others.

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause Cindy won’t be back on Monday.”

“My three weeks is up Friday,” Sara reminded them as she poured a small cup of vinaigrette dressing over her salad.

“That’s why you’ll be getting a call.”

“So what happened? She sick or something?”

“No, she’s just having such a good time, she wants to extend her vacation another week.”

“You can do that?”

“We can’t,” Ariel chimed in.

“She can,” Bobbi sneered, as she sipped at the straw in her soda.

“I haven’t asked before because I’m only a temp, and I didn’t think it was my place. But from what you guys have told me, she seems to get away with a lot around here.”

“That she does,” Naomi replied, drumming her fingers angrily on the table.

“So how’s she do it?”

“Guess?” Bobbi asked, relinquishing the straw.

“She sleeping with somebody?” Sara jested.

“Try everybody.”

“Everybody?”

“The account execs.”

“All of them?”

“Just about.”

“Genital job security,” Ariel commented with a mischievous grin.

“Boy, if she gets fired, they won’t be a happy bunch,” Bobbi observed in an upbeat voice.

“Larry’s not doing her,” Naomi reminded them.

“He’s too much of a straight arrow for that,” Bobbi said offhandedly. “Besides, he loves his wife.”

“Saint Joan,” Naomi declared, as she put her hands together as though praying.

“Saint Joan?” Sara asked.

“All the way. Church goer, charity work, you name it.”

“She sounds like the perfect type for him.”

“Well,” Bobbi cut in. “Whoever takes the job will have to deal with Christie.”

“You mean Larry’s sister?” Sara asked.

“You met her yet?”

“Only on the phone. She called one day when Larry was on a conference call, and when I wouldn’t put her through…well let’s just say she wasn’t happy.”

“That’s Christie: always with an attitude,” Ariel rejoined mockingly.

“She’s so pretentious,” Bobbi said.

“Arrogant.” Ariel added.

“The problem with her,” Naomi explained, “is she never figured out that being the child of wealthy parents is an accident of birth, not an accomplishment.”

“Gets her hair done at David’s.”

“Oh no, ‘Daveed’s’ she pronounces it, like the French painter.”

“Yeah, Pilates at PilatesX.”

“Weekends at the St. Moritz Spa.”

“So what’s the story with her and Larry?” Sara asked.

“Not much to tell really,” Bobbi shrugged. “Larry senior, their father, built the company, and when he died, gave control of it to Larry junior, while putting Christie on an allowance. Since then they have regular knockdown drag-outs over money. She always wants more, and he won’t give it to her. Which is understandable, considering the marriages, divorces, boyfriends, drugs, drinking, DUIs, rehabs, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”

“The ones I feel sorry are her kids,” Ariel chimed in. “I can only imagine the kind of hell she puts them through.”

“By the time she’s through with them they’ll be scarred for life.”

“How she’s managed to keep them I’ll never understand.”

“Larry’s tried to get custody, but in spite of everything, the court won’t take them away from her.”

“She’s got a great lawyer.”

“Considering that Larry and Joan don’t have any of their own, the kids would be much better off with them than they are with her.”

“Well be that as it may,” Naomi said resignedly. “I think this time Cindy might have gone too far.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Bobbi commented dryly, shaking the ice in her now empty cup.

“No I mean it. Larry looked really pissed when I gave him her message. Then he told me to have Jack Blakely come to his office at two.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ariel remarked with an eye-roll.

“Jack is Larry’s hatchet man,” Naomi reminded them. “If something’s gonna happen, he’d be the one to do it.”

“So what are you gonna do Dana?” Naomi asked.

“I don’t know,” Sara replied evasively. “Staying to the end of next week is okay, but I don’t know about making it permanent.”

“Well I’d like you to stay.”

“That’s nice of you to say. But you’re a good person. I’m sure you’d get along with anyone they brought in, as long as they were nice.”

“The difference between the devil I do know and the devil I don’t I guess,” Naomi said roguishly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“However in all fairness, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Christie.”

“Was she a problem for Cindy?”

“She’s a problem for anyone who gets between her and Larry.”

“So how did Cindy handle her?”

“Pretty well actually. I think that’s part of the reason Larry didn’t fire her sooner. That and the fact that although he’s a straight shooter, he didn’t want to ruin the account exec’s fun.”

“She sounds like a handful.”

“I do have to admit though, watching the two of them duke it out was fun. Of course I have the luxury of watching from the outside. You’d be in the middle.”

Sara said nothing for a moment as her mind churned. The more she thought about it, the more she began to wonder if perhaps circumstance was presenting her with a situation that was tailor-made for her.

“That doesn’t bother me,” Sara said with a verbal shrug. “If Cindy was able to handle her, I’m sure I could. I don’t know; I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well anyway, I hope you stay.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh yeah, don’t forget that Bobbi, Ariel and I, along some of the girls from the Federal Street office are getting together tonight for drinks at The Blue Parrot.”

“I didn’t forget, but I won’t be able to make it. There are some old friends I haven’t spoken to since I moved here, and I really should talk to them tonight.”

Sara sat down at her dressing table, and after meticulously applying the appropriate makeup, took a shoulder length auburn wig off the smooth, featureless head upon which it rested, and placed it carefully on her own. Pleased with the result, she then sat for a few moments with her eyes closed, waiting for Mona to arrive.

“Hello Sara,” Mona said stiffly.

“Hello Mona,” Sara replied, as she opened her eyes and looked at Mona in the mirror. “How are you?”

“How do you think I am?”

“Mad.”

“Mad? Now why should I be mad?”

“Because it’s been awhile.”

“Awhile? It’s been over a year,” Mona countered with a quiet anger.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry! You can afford to be sorry. You’re out all the time. But for the past year it’s been Jennifer and Nadia, Jennifer and Nadia. Well what about me?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Sara repeated, this time more contritely. “But those two places were perfect for them.”

“And what was the idea of dragging me to Dallas?”

“We’d never been to Texas before.”

“And what did you find there? Texans for Jennifer and Mexicans for Nadia.”

“Well I’m going to make it up to you now. I’ve been out scouting clubs and I found the perfect places for you.”

“I saw them.”

“And what do you think?”

“They’ll do,” Mona admitted grudgingly.

“Oh come on,” Sara teased. “They’re full of professional people, just the way you like.”

Mona said nothing.

“Mona please don’t sulk. I hate it when you sulk.”

“I don’t like being ignored.”

“I don’t ignore you,” Sara protested. “What about New York, you were out all the time. Jennifer and Nadia weren’t there at all. Then they were complaining.”

“I’m the eldest.”

“I know you were first. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Apparently I do.”

“Mona, you know I love you. I love all of you. You’re a part of what I am. But there are only so many hours in a day. There simply isn’t time for everyone.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to be a little more attentive. Maybe even just a shopping trip now and then. I mean look at my side of the closet! There’s nothing new. Now look at Jennifer and Nadia’s.”

“I promise I’ll take you shopping before you go out.”

“And I want new glasses.”

“What’s wrong with the old ones?”

“I’m tired of them. I want the kind with circular lenses and wire rims. Dark blue.”

“If the eyes are the windows of the soul….”

“Then we can’t have just anyone looking in there.”

“Okay, new glasses.”

“And a new wig.”

“You already have a very nice one,” Sara said, turning her head first one way and then the other as if to remind her of what it looked like.

“I don’t like looking the same all the time.”

“They’re very expensive you know, they’re made of real hair.”

“Over a year.”

“All right,” Sara sighed resignedly. “A new wig too.”

“There, was that so hard?”

“So are you okay?”

“Fine,” Mona conceded. “I think I’ve made my point.”

“So long as we’re all right,” Sara said in her most conciliatory voice. “However I do have a word of caution.”

“Here it comes.”

“Yes, ‘here it comes’. You have got to watch your temper this time. We can’t have another incident like Miami.”

“Must you bring that up again?”

“Yes I do. Do you have any idea how close we came to being discovered?”

“Yes,” Mona said, clearly exasperated.

“All right then. I’ll take that as a promise.”

“Okay, okay, a promise. So what are you going to do about that Ross situation?” Mona asked, eager to change the subject.

“That was quite a segue.”

“You know how I hate being predictable.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“You’ll take it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because it’s promising.”

“You’re right,” Sara admitted. “It is promising.”

The next day Sara informed Naomi that she was accepting Larry Ross’ offer of a full time position.

In fact, she told her, she was looking forward to it.

Sara found comfort in motion. And so, as she so often did when she wanted to clear her mind, she went for a drive. First to a nearby Farmer’s Market where she bought fruit and vegetables, and then into the foothills of the mountains she could see from her deck and had been promising herself she would visit since day she’d moved in.

The tranquil mood the trip put her in however vanished the moment she pulled into her driveway. While she was gone, her neighbor, who because of a series of confrontations she’s had with him over a variety of petty but annoying issues she’d come to detest, had set out his trash for pick up the following day. Some of which, as it had been on other occasions, was again piled on her side of the property line.

Sara seethed inside as she stared at the grapefruit rinds, eggshells and moldy bread crusts that lay on the ground by her mailbox. Suddenly hearing a loud clanging sound she looked over and saw her neighbor through the open door of his garage.

“Hey Gacy,” she called out.

“Yeah,” he shouted back irritably.

“You’re doing it, again,” she said, pointing at the mess.

Bob Gacy waddled over to the curb, and looking obstinately at Sara and then at the garbage, grunted in reply.

“Clever comebacks just aren’t one of your strong suits are they Gacy?”

“What’s your problem Kelley, it’ll all be gone in the morning.”

“You know they only take the stuff that’s actually in the cans. They won’t pickup the stuff on the ground.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Ya know Gacy you really are a pig.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes it is. In fact you’re the worst neighbor I’ve ever had.”

“Is that so?”

“Wow, another snappy comeback. Yeah that’s so. You’re loud, obnoxious and sloppy.”

“I keep my yard clean.”

“Only because the homeowners association threatened to take you to court.”

“I do my part.”

“Only when somebody makes you. And I’ve got better things to do with my time than reminding you about your garbage.”

“Then stop doing it.”

“I don’t like you Gacy. Aside from being loud, obnoxious and sloppy, you’re also fat, ugly and you drink too much.”

“Anything else?” he asked arrogantly.

“As a matter of fact yes. You’re an all around terrible person. Not only don’t I like you, nobody on the street likes you. Hell, even your own family doesn’t like you.”

“How do ya know that?”

“Are you kidding me? You had an argument with your son right here in your driveway just a couple of weeks ago. He called you every name in the book.”

“Ungrateful little mama’s boy.”

“Yeah, well according to what he was saying his mother, your wife, doesn’t like you either. No wonder you live alone.”

“So do you.”

“Not entirely.”

“I’ve never seen anybody over there.”

“They come, they go.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” he huffed as he spat on ground and began walking away.

“Hey, don’t you want to hear the rest?” she called out.

He didn’t turn around to look at her, but instead raised his right hand to the level of his shoulder and extended his middle finger in reply as he trudged up his driveway.

“One of these days,” Sara muttered to herself. “He’ll get his.”

Although Sara sensed who she was as soon she walked through the door, she thought it better to act as though she didn’t.

“May I help you?”

“I want to see Mr. Ross,” the woman demanded.

“I’m sorry but he’s not in at the moment.”

“Covering for him again?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When I called the other day you wouldn’t put me through. So are you covering for him again now?”

“You must be his sister.”

“Very perceptive.”

“He had a meeting off-site and he hasn’t returned yet.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would you like to see for yourself?” Sara replied politely, gesturing towards the door behind her.

“That won’t be necessary or else you wouldn’t offer. So, you’re Cindy’s replacement?”

“I am.”

“I was hoping that whoever replaced her would be more…helpful, than she was.”

“I always aim to please. But I work for Mr. Ross, and he told me never to interrupt him when he’s on a call unless it’s an emergency.”

“And how did you know it wasn’t?”

“It didn’t sound like one. But perhaps I should have asked.”

“Perhaps you should have,” she rejoined coolly. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to catch him later.”

“Would you like me to give him a message?”

“No. In fact I’d rather you didn’t tell him I was here at all.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it?”

“As I said, I aim to please, when I can.”

“Good. Let’s see if we can keep it that way. Good day Miss…?”

“Kelley. Dana Kelley.”

“Miss. Kelley. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again,” she said dismissively as she turned to leave.

“You can count on it,” Sara whispered to herself as the door closed behind her. 

Though she’d already seen it through Sara’s eyes, Mona felt a surge of excitement the moment she walked through the door. It was her place now. And after her long absence she intended to make the most of it.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked the moment she sat down.

“You always so quick on the draw?”

“I always take special care of the newbies,” he explained. “It’s good for business.”

“What makes you so sure I’m new?”

“Article one of the bartender’s creed. Never forget a face, especially a pretty one.”

“Article two, never forget you work for tips.”

“I never do. Now, about that drink.”

“What do you suggest?”

“You look like the white wine type.”

“Really? Why so?”

“Something about you tells me you like to stay in control.”

“Very perceptive.”

“A useful skill in this profession.”

“So what do you have?”

“We have a good Chablis, but I recommend the Pouilly Fuisse. It’s a little more expensive, but it’s worth it.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to take advantage of me would you?”

“Me? Never. In fact I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You order the Pouilly, and if you don’t like it, I’ll only charge you for the Chablis.”

“No, that’s okay. I trust you. Beside I wouldn’t want to feel beholden.”

“For a glass of wine?”

“For anything.”

“You’re a careful woman,” he said as he placed a glass on the bar and began pouring.

“Always. So what’s the story with the crowd here?”

“That depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Some say professional and upscale, others say arrogant and entitled.”

“What do you say?”

“All of the above.”

“And I bet you know who’s which,” she said, gesturing broadly at the noisy, crowded room.

“Mostly.”

“Care to help me out?”

“I’m pretty sure you can handle that yourself.”

“It’ll take longer.”

“Not as long as you might think. With your looks and gift for patter, you’re gonna get hit on a lot.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. In fact you can start with this one,” he replied with a wink as he turned away.

“Hi, my name is Steve,” said the handsome, dark haired man who sidled up beside her. “What’s your name?”

“Mona,” she responded coolly, as she looked him over.

“Like the old rock song.”

“If that helps you.”

“So what brings you here?”

“What brings anybody here?”

“The chance to hook-up.”

“Define hooking-up.”

“Meeting new people, conversation, the chance to develop a relationship…romance.”

“From the looks of you I’d guess more the latter than any of the former.”

“I like to take things one step at a time.”

“Do you?”

“Okay I’ll prove it to you. What do you do for a living Mona?”

“And what does that prove?”

“That I’m trying to get to know you.”

“Investments.”

“Are you any good at it?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, judging from your hair, makeup, jewelry, clothes, I’d say yes.”

“And you’d be right.”

“So whom do you work for?”

“Who said I work for anyone?”

“You have a habit of answering questions with a question. Are you always so cautious?”

“Always. Is that a problem?”

“It makes it hard for people to find out who you are.”

“It also gives me the chance to find out if I want them to know who I am.”

“What’s the matter, don’t you want to get to know me?”

“I’m talking to you aren’t I?”

“Somewhat reluctantly.”

“Perhaps you need to try harder.”

“Steve,” exclaimed a whiny feminine voice from behind them.

Turning around, Sara found herself looking down at diminutive young blond in a short glitzy dress with a plunging neckline that revealed a pair of suspiciously oversized breasts.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! You said we were going over to Marooned with Kayla and Brad to go dancing.”

“We are. I was just waiting for you and Kayla to come back from the Ladies Room.”

“Who are you?” the girl asked with a slight sneer as she noticed Mona.

“By all means Steve,” Mona said mischievously. “Tell her.”

“Casey…”

“Cassie,” the girl corrected.

“Cassie this is Mona. Mona, Cassie.”

“So nice to meet you Cassie. Steve has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” she replied proudly.

“Oh yes, he’s just bad with names.”

“We just met.”

“Well regardless, you seem to have made quite an impression on him. Hasn’t she Steve?”

“Yes,” he agreed a bit awkwardly. “Well we really should be going.”

“By all means, don’t let me keep you.”

“It was…interesting meeting you Mona, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

“Sometimes the world is too small.”

Looking back over his shoulder as he steered Cassie towards the door, Steve caught a glimpse of Mona smiling at the sight of his discomfort.

Mona stayed until closing. It was time well spent. For among the dozen or so people she met, one in particular showed enough promise that she agreed to meet her there again the following weekend.

David’s Salon lived up to its reputation. Located in the most exclusive shopping mall in the city, it was surrounded by luxury clothing and jewelry stores, upscale restaurants, trendy galleries and high-priced antique shops. Spacious, modern and antiseptically clean, its lobby was staffed by attractive young women accustomed to dealing with the whims and wishes of the wealthy; while the hairdressers, manicurists and beauticians it employed exuded the air of technical expertise and awareness of current styles that its clientele was eager to pay through the nose for.

“Good afternoon Ms. Kelly,” the receptionist beamed as Sara walked up to the desk. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Hello Courtney.”

“I saw your name in the appointment book, you’re becoming one of our regulars.”

“I like to look my best.”

“And you certainly do. You always look radiant.”

“How kind of you to say so. Is Monique ready for me?”

“I’m certain she is, I told her you were coming. Just give me a moment while I call her station and tell her you’re here.”

A minute later, Monique, sporting a new, and of course hip hairstyle, and wearing her customarily clued-up clothes emerged from the hallway that led to the private rooms in back where she and her colleagues performed the wonders their clients came to them for.

“Dana,” Monique gushed through a broad smile.

“Hello Monique. New do?”

“Yes,” she replied, cocking her head to make her hair more visible. “You like?”

“It’s you.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“Certainly is.”

“So what we doing today?”

“Just a tune-up.”

“And maybe a little clip here and there,” Monique commented as she gently touched Sara’s hair. “Follow me and we’ll get you fixed up.”

As always Monique took longer than was necessary to fine-tune Sara’s hair. Talking nearly non-stop about the doings of her friend’s husbands and boyfriends, all of whom, because she prided herself on her discretion, she identified only by their first names.

After giving Monique her customary tip, Sara began walking down the hall towards the lobby when another of the salon’s clients suddenly emerged from a nearby room and almost ran into her. Stopping dead in her tracks, the woman stared at Sara for a long moment, as if trying to remember where she’d seen her before.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“We’ve met.”

“I…”

“A few weeks ago at your brother’s office.”

“Oh yes,” she said, looking at Sara a bit coolly. “The new secretary.”

“Executive assistant.”

“Whatever.”

“I should have known I’d run into you here.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well that day we met, you looked so stylish, so well put together, I mean after all, this is the best place in the city.”

“Which is why I’m surprised to find you here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well as you said, it is the best place in the city, and it is rather…expensive.”

“I can afford it.”

“Really? My brother must pay his secretaries…”

“Executive assistants,” Sara corrected.

“Of course, executive assistants, more than I would’ve guessed.”

“When my parents passed away, they left me, shall we say, well off.”

“How fortunate for you. Not that they passed of course,” she explained feebly. “But that they provided for you.”

“Of course. I love your skirt by the way. Is it Chanel?”

“Yes it is,” she said proudly, swinging her hips slightly to show it off.

“Let me guess, The Stone Pony.”

“Why yes! How did you know?”

“It’s where I bought this jacket.”

“Very nice. Is it Versace?”

“Yes. I wish I could wear my best things more often, but I don’t want to, how shall I say it, alienate the women at work.”

“I understand completely. I sense it every time I go there.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally,” Sara commiserated. “After all I think they’re just jealous.”

“Really?”

“Well, as I said before, you are very stylish.”

“That is so kind of you to say.”

“It’s well-deserved.”

“So tell me, Donna…”

“Dana.”

“Of course, Dana, I’m Christie.”

“Who could forget?” Sara asked, as though such thing was impossible.

“So tell me Dana how often do come here?”

“Every week to ten days. Two weeks at the most.”

“Why don’t we stop at the desk on the way out and make an appointment for the same day, say next week?”

“Why that would be wonderful. Since I moved here, I haven’t met many people I seem to have so much in common with.”

After they parted company outside, Sara watched her new friend sashay off down the street as if she owned it.  

“That was easy,” Sara grinned to herself as she walked in the opposite direction. “So very, very easy.”

Obviously the fifty dollars she’d given the booker at David’s a few weeks before to schedule her appointment for the same day and time as Christie’s had been money well spent.

Sara returned from a walk in the nature preserve that bordered her backyard, and after grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, went to the deck to lie down on her favorite chaise.  As usual, she then closed her eyes so that she could lose herself in the sound of the birds chirping in the trees that dotted her yard and those of the house next door; until at last, turning her head, she gazed languidly at a nearby oak, watching a small group of sparrows as they skipped playfully from one branch to another.

Then, just as she was about to close her eyes again, she thought she saw one of the birds she’d been watching fall to the ground.

Assuming that her eyes were playing trick on her however, Sara merely shook her head to rid herself of the image, and again rested it on the cushion. A few minutes later she fell asleep.

When Sara awoke she could still hear the birds chirping in the trees around her. As she watched, several more flew over from the direction of the nature preserve and perched on the fence separating her yard from that of her occasional nemesis and next-door neighbor Bob Gacy. Suddenly one of them fell to the ground, causing the others to fly away in a panic. Startled and curious, Sara got up and walked over to where she’d seen the bird fall, and bending over, looked down at its tiny lifeless body. It’s wings splayed at grotesque angles, it had evidently suffered a wound to the head. The next moment she heard  sharp, mechanical click, followed quickly by another. Placing her feet on the fence’s bottom rung, she then pulled herself up and peered into her neighbor’s yard. There sitting on a lawn chair sat Bob Gacy. The ground around him littered with empty beer cans, he was holding a small BB gun.

“Hey Gacy,” Sara shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut the fuck up Kelley,” he slurred in reply.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t? Shoot me in the head!”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“This is it Gacy, I’m calling the cops.”

“Go ahead. I’m sick of listening to you.”

Dropping to the ground, Sara went quickly into the house, and retrieving her phone, called the police. She was pacing angrily back and forth in her driveway when they arrived.

After explaining what had happened, she then waited for them while they went to speak to him themselves. They returned a few minutes later looking annoyed but resigned.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

“There’s really not much we can do,” replied the older of the two officers.

“What do you mean not much you can do? I told you what happened.”

“He’s denying it.”

“But I saw him.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you saw him with a BB gun. You didn’t say you saw him shoot it.”

“What about the dead birds?”

“There is the one in your yard, and another in his. But again you said you didn’t actually see him shoot either one. That makes it his word against yours.”

“But you can’t just let him shoot defenseless animals,” she stammered, her eyes filling with tears.

“We’ll write it up in our log of course, and make a report to the officer who keeps track of incidents concerning alleged cruelty to animals. We can even check with the people in the house on other side and ask if they saw anything. But unless they did…”

“But…”

“I can see you’re upset Ms. Kelley,” the officer said sympathetically. “And I can certainly understand why. I like animals too. Furthermore this isn’t the first time we’ve been called about him. Not for this, but other things, like noise, yelling at kids for riding their bikes on the sidewalk, as well as occasional problems with other people on the street. But never anything we could even ticket him for, let alone arrest him.”

“If I’d known about him before I signed the lease and paid for the year upfront, I never would’ve moved in,” she muttered angrily.

“Well on the bright side at least you’re renting. If you owned the place, barring an act of God, you’d really be stuck.”

“An act of God.”

“Or nature,” he added, motioning towards the birds still chirping in the trees.

A moment later the officers got into their car, and after giving her waves and sympathetic smiles goodbye, went to the house on the other side of Bob Gacy’s before driving off down the street apparently empty handed.

“God or nature, God or nature, God or nature,” Sara mumbled to herself in a teary rage as she stalked back up the driveway.

The Alibi, Marooned, and Club 2000 were the most popular nightclubs in the city for the upper class professional crowd that Mona preferred. A fact that over a period of several months led her to establish herself at all three as a desirable, though somewhat mysterious player who was open to liaisons with either men or women, so long as they did not involve a commitment. And while the course and duration of these relationships could be frustrating, confusing, or even hurtful to those she became involved with, they fulfilled Mona’s need to be wanted without the threat of an unwanted degree of intimacy.

“You said what we have is special,” Alice pleaded as she reached across the table for Mona’s hand.

“I said special, not unique.”

“So that’s it? It’s over?”

“I’ll always think of you fondly.”

“Are you even looking at me?”

“Who else would I be looking at?”

“Those glasses you wear all the time, it’s like your hiding behind them.”

“You never said anything about them before.”

“No, but I’ve wondered.”

“Now you can stop wondering.”

“I should have known better than to get involved with someone like you.”

“What do you mean someone like me?”

“With your reputation.”

“At your age Alice you really should stop living in Wonderland.”

“You said you cared.”

“I did, I do, but I never promised anything. Whatever you believed is on you.”

“I have to go. I can’t look at you anymore.”

“Suit yourself.”

“You know Mona,” she said, her eyes full of hurt. “I’ve never known anyone who could be so warm one moment and so cold the next.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I’m sorry too. Not for me, but for you.”

Getting up from the table Alice turned around and walked quickly into the crowd.

“How extravagant of you, throwing away an attractive blond like that,” Steve said as he slid into the chair Alice had just vacated.

“Have you been watching me?” Mona inquired, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms defiantly across her chest.

“Yes,” he replied unabashed. “As a matter of fact I have.”

“Why?”

“You interest me.”

“Is that so?”

“Same as first time I met you. Questions, questions, questions.”

“So how about some answers, answers, answers?”

“The Alibi, Marooned, here, you cut a wide swath.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Like I said, you interest me. You’ve interested me since that night we met at The Alibi.”

“Why?”

“There’s something about you. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

“And you’d like to put your finger on it.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said suggestively, as he leaned towards her.

“Uh-huh.”

“So what do you think?”

“Have you seen any pigs flying lately?”

“Don’t be so quick to judge. I’m an acquired taste. I grow on people.”

“So do infections.”

“Give it a little time. I’ll wear you down.”

“Speaking of time, I think I’ve given you all of mine I want to tonight,” Mona said as she reached for her evening bag.

“There, you see? You said ‘tonight’, not never.”

“Good night Steve,” she replied with finality.

“Good night Mona. See you around.”

Mona walked away slowly in a deliberate attempt to appear nonchalant. But she wasn’t; at least not entirely. For although she was accustomed to stalking others, she found the thought, the prospect of being if not exactly stalked, then at very least checked up on, unsettling.

Beginning that night she began changing cabs several times on the way home.

The last thing she needed was for Steve to find out where she lived.

In light of the situation in which they found themselves, Christie and Sara agreed – each for their own reasons — to keep the true nature of their relationship a secret. Not only because from Christie’s point of view it insured the security of the person she believed to be a trusted spy inside her brother’s company, but also because for Sara it put her in position to be privy not only to the sordid details of Christie’s life, but also to the lives of her inner circle as well.

Spending time with Christie’s friends was like visiting the set of a reality television show, full of puerile personalities engaged in a seemingly endless series of petty squabbles and uneasy truces, awaiting only the next perceived slight to trigger them anew. It was an environment about which all complained, but to which all were addicted because without it their lives were empty.

It was, however, precisely because of its vacuousness that it was a world tailor-made for Sara. For in it she could easily exploit the latent rivalries and picayune jealousies of its narcissistic inhabitants in order to provoke the conflicts she found it so amusing to create in the lives of the self-important. And although Christie was unaware of Sara’s machinations, she delighted in the opportunity it gave her to cement her position as leader of the group by playing peacemaker.  

As a consequence over the months following their initial meeting at David’s, Christie more and more came to regard Sara as her most trusted, and indeed only confidante. Increasingly inviting her on her endless shopping trips, her frequent lunches and dinners at exclusive restaurants, as well as her mini-vacations to the extravagantly expensive San Moritz Spa.

It was a process that Christie’s naïve, but nevertheless overweening ego, allowed Sara to manipulate with ease.

“You’re early,” Christie said as she opened the door, her eyelids already heavy with whatever it was she’d imbibed.

“I wanted to get out of the house,” Sara replied as she stepped inside. “Where’s Consuelo?”

“I gave her the night off.”

“Oh? If I’d known it was going to be one of those nights I would have prepared myself.”

“A last minute whim. Besides it’s not as if you ever take full advantage of the opportunities. Which sometimes leads me to wonder why I invite you.”

“Hope.”

“That’s true,” Christie agreed as she closed the door. “Something wants me to believe you have it in you.”

“Perhaps I do, maybe that’s why I keep coming.”

“And to that end,” Christie said airily as she led Sara towards the living room. “Name your poison. Wine? Appletini? Cocaine? Oxy? All four?”

“You know.”

“Yes, I do,” Christie sighed as she poured a glass of Chablis and handed it to Sara, “But you won’t mind if I keep trying.”

“Not in the least. So who’s coming?”

“The usual perpetrators give or take.”

“So, Laura…”

“Of course Laura,” Christie laughed. “What would the evening be without…”

Just then the muffled sounds of hurried feet came from the ceiling above them. Instantly an angry scowl flashed across Christie’s face.

“Those damn kids,” she muttered loudly as she put her glass down on the table so hard that Sara was surprised it didn’t break.

“After Consuelo put them to bed I warned them…” she said through clenched teeth as she started towards the stairs.

A moment later Sara heard Christie shouting.

“What did I tell you? What did I tell you?” she demanded.

Sara couldn’t hear what was said in reply.

“That’s right! And so what do you do? Come over here, both of you. I said come here!”

Then twice in quick succession, Sara heard the nearly inaudible but nevertheless unmistakable sound of a hand striking bare flesh, immediately followed by a woeful whimpering that tore at her heart.

“Now don’t make me come up here again, understand?” Christie shouted, followed a moment later by the crash of a door being slammed shut.

A few seconds later Christie walked down the stairs, and impatiently brushing the hair away from her face picked up her drink and resumed her seat.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Christie said, with a wave of her hand, as though she was brushing the events of the last few minutes into the past. “Now, what were we talking about?”

“You’d just said Laura was coming.”

“Oh yes, and Ted, he’s back from the islands, and Chanel…”

Sara did not hear the rest of what Christie said. Indeed what she had overheard transpire between Christie and her children threw her into such a state of emotional turmoil that she had to leave before everyone had even arrived.

Sara had witnessed Christie’s indifference, irritation, and even outright hostility towards her children before, but the realization that she also struck them fanned the smoldering resentment Sara felt for her into an open flame.

“I don’t know what happened,” Sara prevaricated. “Shortly after people started arriving, I just got this tremendous headache, and I had to leave.”

“Well you missed a really good time,” Christie said.

“I knew that,” Sara replied matter-of-factly, as she strolled slowly around her bedroom holding her phone in one hand as she sipped her morning coffee from a mug in the other. “One could use a lot of words to describe your parties, but dull isn’t one of them. So, anything special happen?” she asked, knowing full well she was opening the floodgates.

The question invited a monologue to which Sara responded with the comments she usually made to fool Christie into believing she was actually listening.

As Christie spoke, Sara continued to amble about the room, stopping now and then to shuffle through the things on her desk and dressing table or gaze vacantly at the view outside her window.

It was during one these pauses that she noticed Bob Gacy waddling around his backyard, moving a lawn chair and table from place to place as if trying to decide where to sit.

“Is that so?”

“Yes! Can you believe it?” Christie said excitedly. “So Chanel picked up her glass and…”

“There he is,” Sara thought to herself as Christie rambled on. “What a putz. I really shouldn’t waste the mental energy thinking about him, but he’s so frigging annoying I can’t help myself.”

“Anyway enough about the party,” Christie said, breaking Sara’s train of thought. “I want you to come over Friday night,”

“Why? Another party?’ she asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“No. I have a surprise.”

“Really. What is it?”

“If I told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Oh no, you can’t leave me hanging ’til Friday. At least give me a hint.”

“No. You’ll just have to be patient. All I can tell you…”

Just then something happened that immediately grabbed Sara’s attention. As she watched her neighbor rearrange his table and chair for the sixth or seventh time, he seemed to stumble slightly, and after placing a hand on his forehead, sank to the ground.

“Then I’ll see you about nineish?”

Riveted by the sight unfolding before her, Sara barely heard Christie’s question.  

“Dana, are you there?”

“Yes I’m here.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“I’ll see you about nine, on Friday?”

“Oh yeah, Friday at nine, that’ll be fine. Listen Christie I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Sara disconnected the call and put the phone in the pocket of her hoodie. Then, going down the stairs, she walked out her front door and across the lawn to a gate in Bob Gacy’s fence and went into his backyard.

Walking over to where he was lying, Sara then bent over him and looked quizzically into his eyes. And though wide with terror and disbelief they seemed to brighten slightly when he saw Sara standing over him.

“What’s the matter Bob,” she asked sympathetically. “Not feeling well?”

Bob’s mouth moved awkwardly as though he was trying to speak; but the only sound to escape his lips was a feeble, almost indistinct gurgling.

“What’s that? You’ll have to speak up if want me to hear you.”

In response, Bob’s tongue moved clumsily around his mouth as if trying to push the words out.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m really not being very…what’s the word I’m looking for?” she asked rhetorically. “Caring? Sensitive? Oh yes, of course,” she suddenly exclaimed as though the word she was searching for finally came to her. “Helpful! I’m not being very helpful am I?”

As before, Bob could only blink his eyes and gasp fitfully in reply.

“You don’t have to answer,” Sara said consolingly. “I know I’m not. And just so you don’t have to think about it anymore, I’m not going to be. You see Bob,” she continued. “For some time now I’ve been wondering what I was going to do about you; and here you’ve gone and done it for me yourself. So why should I interfere? Oh, and just so you know, it’s not just me, and the neighbors, and your family who’ll be happy you’ve gone, but the birds too. Goodbye Bob,” she concluded as she straightened up. “Have a good trip.”

Sara then walked out the gate; and closing it behind her, strolled calmly back to her own house and made breakfast.

Two days later, a propane deliveryman found Bob Gacy’s body and called the police.

A short time later, a van from the county coroner’s office arrived. And after some initial difficulty getting his body into a bag and onto a stretcher, the crew had just begun wheeling it across the yard, when looking up, they saw Sara standing at her bedroom window waving at them.  

Unaccustomed to so friendly a response to their presence, they waved back awkwardly before loading their passenger into the rear of the van and driving away.

Sara wondered if something was wrong. Christie’s house, which was usually lit up like a Christmas tree, was almost dark. Only the porch lights on either side of the front door together with a faint luminescence that shone through the transom were visible from the driveway.

As Christie had instructed, Sara pulled her car around back to a small parking area outside the service entrance, and walking up to the door rang the bell.

A few moments later Christie opened it, and pulling Sara inside, led her to the sunroom, the curtains of which were drawn and like the rest of house only dimly lit.

“So what’s going on?” Sara asked; her curiosity piqued by the air of mystery.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“If you thought I couldn’t you wouldn’t have asked me.”

“I haven’t known you for as long as I have some of my other friends,” she whispered even though she and Sara were alone. “But I guess because you’ve never asked me for anything or betrayed a confidence, I trust you more than I do any of them,”

“Okay,” Sara said, her sense of anticipation heightened by the intensity in Christie’s voice.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

“All right,” Sara replied tentatively, certain that something more surprising must be coming.

“Do you remember Dan?”

“Dan? You mean that guy I ran into here a while back who was leaving as I was coming in?”

“Yes.”

“Barely. You said he was delivering some papers from your lawyer or something.”

“Yeah, well I lied. He’s my dealer.”

“Okay.”

“He usually delivers. But a few months ago he sprained his ankle and was laid up for a few days, and because I wanted to buy, I went to see him. Well, as it turned out, his boss, who was coming to see him, arrived early and saw me leaving. And according to Dan I made quite an impression.”

“Is that so?”

“Certainly is,” Christie replied proudly. “Anyway to make a long story short, Dan arranged a meeting, and we’ve seeing each other ever since.”

“I thought you might have a weak spot for bad boys,” Sara said through a mischievous grin. “And it looks like he found it.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Last week he brought a girl with him. A Cambodian. She doesn’t speak much English, but she doesn’t need to.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So you had a threesome?”

“Yes,” she confessed with a repressed but obvious enthusiasm. “It was so…”

“Exciting?”

“Yes.”

“And decadent?”

“Yes.”

“My you are a naughty girl,” Sara remarked archly.

“He’s coming here tonight. And he’s bringing her with him.”

“And you want to show them off.”

“I had to tell somebody.”

“Telling and showing are two different things.”

“I had to.”

“I’m not sure… “ Sara began only to be interrupted by the door bell.

“Too late now,” Christie whispered excitedly. “He would’ve seen your car when he pulled around back. Wait here while I let them in.”

Sara was angry that Christie had drawn her into a situation that made her uncomfortable solely to satisfy some whim of her own. But the sudden arrival of her lover, and the girl who was evidently his plaything, left her no choice but to go along. It was a predicament she had no time to think about, for in little more than a minute after the bell rang, Christie returned on the arm of a tall, dark-haired man with a small, mousey, and disturbingly young looking Asian girl trailing closely behind.

“Cesar,” Christie said somewhat ceremoniously. “This is my good friend Dana Kelley, Dana this Cesar Torres.”

“So nice to meet you Mr. Torres.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he replied warmly, taking one of Sara’s hands in his and kissing it.

“And this is?” Sara asked pointedly.

“Ah, this is my protégé Sela Chhi.”

“Nice to meet you Sela.”

“She’s new to this country Miss. Kelley,” Cesar interjected. “And speaks almost no English. I am, what you might say, taking her under my wing.”

“Ah so you speak Khmer?”

“Khmer?”

“The language of Cambodia.”

“Regrettably no.”

“That must make communicating with your… protégé, somewhat difficult.”

“She understands what she needs to. Sela sit,” he instructed, pointing to the couch.

Immediately the girl took a seat on the sofa.

“There you see?”

“She’s lucky to have you as a mentor.”

“I was once new here myself,” he explained with a deliberate graciousness. “So Christie, where are your lovely daughters? I brought presents for them.”

“Aren’t you thoughtful,” Christie replied warmly. “I’ll go upstairs and get them.”

Immediately Christie turned round and trotted quickly up the stairs.

“So will you be joining us this evening Miss Kelley?” Cesar asked.

“I think not. I have an previous engagement elsewhere.”

“What a pity to deprive us of your company.”

“Perhaps another time.”

“Shauna, Alisha,” Christie said as she herded her daughters down the stairs. “Hurry along now, Cesar has something for you.”

“Ah, here they are,” Cesar exclaimed happily as the as they entered the room. “How are my girls?”

Although Alisha seemed unsure of Cesar’s attentions, her older sister obviously welcomed them. Blushing and coquettishly returning his smile as he smoothed her hair and affectionately touched her cheek.

“How lovely you look tonight Shauna,” he remarked in a way and in a voice that made Sara uneasy. “And you Alisha are as adorable as always. Sela,” he then said, extending his arm in her direction. “Give me the boxes.”

Sela perked up at the mention of her name, but did nothing.

“Sela,” Cesar repeated, snapping his fingers impatiently. “The boxes.”

Slowly Sela reached into her handbag, and removing two small gift-wrapped boxes, tentatively handed them to him, as if uncertain they were what he wanted.

“Go ahead,” he said as gave one to each girl. “Open them.”

Her eyes bright with anticipation, Shauna eagerly tore into hers, while her sister’s small fingers fumbled with the ribbon and paper on her own.

“Is it real gold?!” Shauna gasped, her face alight as she held up a heart-shaped pendant suspended from a slender chain.

“Would I give my angels anything else?” he asked, obviously delighted by her reaction. “Read the inscription.”

“What does it say Shauna?” Christie asked.

“It says, ‘To Shauna, All my Love, Cesar’”, the girl said through a broad smile.

“How sweet,” Christie cooed. “And yours Alisha?”

“’For My Angel Alisha’,” she replied dutifully.

“Girls, say thank you to Mr. Torres,” Christie instructed.

“Thank you Cesar,” Shauna said happily, throwing her arms around his neck as he hugged her warmly.

“Thank you Cesar,” Alisha added quietly, in response to which he patted her gently on the head.

Sara didn’t like what she was seeing. To her Cesar seemed unduly lavish in his attentions to Shauna, and she far too eager to receive them. For she knew all too well the desperation that the absence of a father figure can cause in a young girl; as well as the lengths she’s sometimes willing to go to in order to assuage it. And the memory, and pain, of what she did, and was done to her, in her own pursuit of it, never left her.

“I really should be leaving,” Sara said hurriedly. “But I’d like to use the powder room before I go.”

“Certainly dear,” Christie replied pleasantly. “You know where it is. Cesar, I’m going to take the girls upstairs now.”

“Oh Mom, it’s too early,” Shauna protested.

“Now Shauna,” Cesar said with a quiet firmness. “Listen to your mother, and I’ll see you again in the morning. We’ll all have breakfast together, won’t we Christie.”

“Certainly.”

“Now run along,”

As Sara washed her hands, she realized how conflicted she was about the scene Christie had just forced her to witness. Because although she was furious with her for having introduced her to Cesar and the poor girl who was so obviously his, and now her, victim; as well as her apparent blindness, willing or otherwise, to Cesar’s disquieting affections towards her daughters. She was also grateful to her that by revealing her attitude towards both situations, she had provided her with welcome proof of just how corrupt she really was.

As Sara walked back down the hall to the sunroom, she heard the indistinct mumble of hushed voices, which grew clearer with each step she took, until at last she could make out what was being said.

“I warned you about introducing me to people without clearing it with me first.”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Don’t think,” Cesar said emphatically. “Just do what I say. Do you know why people call me Cesar?”

“Because it’s your name?” Christie replied as though the answer was obvious.

“No it’s not. My associates gave me that name because I’m a dictator, an absolute dictator, and people regret it when they don’t do what I say.”

The second he finished his sentence Sara heard the sound of a slap, followed by a whimper of pain.

“Do you understand?” he asked threateningly.

Another stifled whimper was the reply.

“Do you understand?” he repeated.

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“All right then, after your friend leaves, you, Sela and I will spend a pleasant evening together. And you will never do anything like this again.”

“Whatever you say. Just don’t be angry with me.”

Now more eager to leave than before, Sara took several steps back, and coughing loudly into her hand to warn them she was coming, strode briskly towards the sunroom. When she entered Christie was standing with one arm folded across her chest supporting the other, the hand of which was resting on her cheek in a clumsy attempt to conceal what lay beneath.

“Well I really must be going,” Sara said as she reached into the pocket of her jacket for her car keys.

“It was a pleasure meeting you Dana. May I call you Dana?” Cesar asked with the easy nonchalance of a moral chameleon.

“Please do.”

“Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.”

“Perhaps so. Christie I’ll call you in the next couple of days.”

In answer, Christie gave Sara a grim, but oddly self-satisfied grin goodbye. As though in spite of what Cesar had just done to her, she was looking forward to the evening ahead.

As she walked towards her car, Sara took comfort in the knowledge that whatever she decided to do about Christie, she could now do without regret.

Much to her frustration Mona felt the weight of Sara’s deliberations as keenly as though they were her own. Unlike Sara however, who dwelt on them constantly because it was she who would act on their result, Mona sought escape.

“Hello Jack.”

“Mona! This is the second night this week. To what do we owe the honor?”

“Stress.”

“Everybody’s feeling it these days. But it is good for business. The usual?” he asked as he reached for the white wine.

“No. Make me a margarita. A big one.”

“Going for broke tonight,” he remarked as he filled a cocktail shaker with ice.

“Have you seen Alice lately?”

“No, she doesn’t come in here much anymore since you stopped seeing each other.”

“Good. Those disapproving looks she was giving me were getting a bit tiresome.”

“The breaker generally takes it better than the breakee,” he observed as he added the drink’s makings to the shaker. “However I did see your buddy Steve earlier.”

“Oh God tell me you didn’t.”

“Sorry.”

“When did see him last?”

“About an hour ago. Maybe he’s downstairs, or maybe he left.”

“Hopefully the latter.”

“Sorry again,” he said as he poured the shaker’s contents into a glass and placed it in front of her. “Incoming.”

“Mona!”

“Hello Steve,” she responded through an exasperated sigh.

“You don’t sound happy to see me.”

“Do I ever? Which kind of makes me wonder why you keep trying.”

“Two things actually.”

“And they are?”

“One is your reaction.”

“You like rejection?”

“And the other is that I think you’d be disappointed if I stopped.”

“Is that so?”

“You’ve heard the expression, ‘Me thinks she doth protest too much’?”

Picking up her drink, Sara downed it two quick gulps and putting down the empty glass, gestured to Jack that she wanted another.

“So you think that somewhere beneath this veneer of contempt, I actually long for you?”

“The idea’s occurred to me.”

“How so?”

“Because we’re two of a kind.”

“How do you figure?”

“Easy.”

“Hurry Jack,” Mona called out. “I’m hoping alcohol will make this conversation easier to understand.”

“You laugh.”

“Okay,” Mona replied airily. “Enlighten me.”

“As you know, I’ve been watching you for some time now.”

“And?”

“I’ve come to several conclusions about you.”

“Such as?”

“You like sex.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“And from what I’ve been able to gather your good at it.”

“No argument there.”

“You also like to keep your relationships casual, even disposable.”

“Right again,” she said, nodding her thanks to Jack as he placed another drink in front of her, which she again drank in two swift draughts.

“Keep them coming Jack,” Mona urged. “I need to get away from here in a hurry.”

“Hmm, number three. Not that I’m objecting but I’ve never seen you drink like this before.”

“What can I say? You inspire intoxication. No, amend that, inebriation. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Even better. The more I get under your skin the more it proves my point.”

Whether it was the alcohol making her reckless, or her inherently vindictive nature asserting itself, Mona was suddenly seized by an irresistible desire to retaliate against the source of the intrusions that had for too long been bothering her. She had allowed Steve to first annoy and then frighten her, and the time had come for a reckoning.

“You know Steve, maybe I have sold you short.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how would you like to sample first hand what you’ve only heard about from others.”

The moment the words left her lips, a voice of protest rose within her.

“If I’m following you correctly I’d like that a lot.”

“Follow is a word well chosen,” she said, crooking her finger at him suggestively before sliding off the bar stool and walking towards the corridor that led to the restrooms.

“Upstairs,” she instructed once the door had swung shut behind them.

“There’s nothing up there but the door to the roof.”

“And a landing leading to it.”

“So?”

“It’s dark, and private, and this wouldn’t be the first I’ve been up there with someone.”

Again Mona heard the voice, and again she ignored it.

“My you are dirty,” Steve said, as a salacious smile spread across his face.

“C’mon,” Mona added with a backward glance as she started up the stairs. “If you’re afraid of the dark, I’ll lead the way.”

“Right behind you,” he replied as he looked down the stairwell as if to make sure no one was on the way up from the floor below.

The moment they got there Steve impatiently took Mona in his arms and bent his face towards hers.

“No kissing,” Mona said, as she turned her head away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“What then?”

Mona wriggled from his grasp, and pushing him gently back against the wall placed her hand on his crotch.

“Take it out,” she whispered.

The voice spoke louder.

Steve hesitated.

“C’mon Steve,” Mona said in a soft but challenging voice. “Man up.”

The voice, now shouting, rose again.

With the look of someone intent on proving something, Steve unzipped his pants and exposed himself.

His eyes fixed on hers he did not realize she was reaching towards him until he felt her fingers close around him, causing him to gasp reflexively.

“There’s a good boy,” she murmured encouragingly as she began caressing him.

Mona worked her hand back and forth, watching him carefully for signs beyond what she could feel that his passion was rising.

Although for Steve one moment passed fluidly into the next, Mona studied each blink of his eyes and twitch of his face until at last she was sure his time was rapidly approaching.

Then, suddenly letting go, she backed away.

Startled by the abrupt cessation of her touch, Steve gazed uncomprehendingly at her, only to see her staring back at him, her own face devoid of either passion or even interest.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes wide with confusion.

“That’s enough,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“That’s enough?” he stammered.

“Yes, enough.”

It took a moment for the impact of what was happening to sink in. When it did Steve’s anger, driven by the embarrassment of how he appeared, not only to himself, but also to the person who had shamed him, immediately boiled over.

“You bitch,” he growled, almost spitting out the words, as he fumbled with his pants in a frantic but only partially successful effort to cover himself.

“Have I made you angry?” Mona asked as if she was actually guessing.

“Angry? I’m about two seconds away from killing you!”

“Why?”

“Why?” he replied as though he couldn’t believe the question.

“Is it because I’ve made you feel vulnerable, used, violated?”

“Among other things.”

“Now you know how you’ve made me feel.”

“You? What did I do to you?”

“You followed me, pursued me, checked up on me, invaded my privacy and my life until it got to the point where I was afraid I’d answer my door one day and it would be you.”

“Okay, if that’s how you want to play it, maybe I’ll finish what you started.”

Grabbing Mona by the shoulders, Steve spun her around and pinned her against the wall. Tearing open his pants again, he then exposed himself, still furiously erect, and roughly pulled her skirt up to her waist.

“Not so funny now is it?” he hissed as he tried to force himself between her legs.

Mona struggled to free herself of his grasp, but the grip he had on her wrists was too strong for her break. Instinctively she brought one of her knees up violently against his groin, causing him to double over in pain. Wriggling free of his grasp, she then pushed him as hard as could, causing him to stumble backwards to the edge of the stairs. At first waving his arms frantically in an effort to regain his balance, he at last tumbled down the stairs to the landing below.

Looking down at Steve’s crumbled body, Mona felt a surge of satisfaction at the sight of a small puddle of blood near his head that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment. Just as quickly as the feeling came over her however, it was replaced by the realization of how threatened she was by what had just happened. Once the police were involved, questions would be asked, her life scrutinized, and inevitably the truth of who and what she was revealed. It was an eventuality she could not allow and would not accept.

Straightening herself as best she could with out a mirror, Mona walked quickly down the stairs, gingerly stepping over both Steve’s body and the ever-expanding circle of blood he was lying in until at last she reached the club’s ground floor and the rear exit which led to the alley that ran behind it.

Reaching the street, she then strolled as casually and inconspicuously as she could for several blocks until at the corner of a crowded intersection she hailed a cab. Going at first in one direction and then another, she changed taxis so many times that it took her more than two hours to finally arrive at a place that was still so far away from her house that she had to walk another forty minutes before she got home.

As she’d done every day for the past week, Sara turned on the set in the living room, and after selecting the local news channel, sat down on the sofa to see if there was any mention of the only story she was interested in. She didn’t have long to wait. Just as the woman who anchored the program began reading, a picture appeared on the screen along side her. The person it depicted looked disturbingly familiar.

“This morning police released a sketch of the person wanted for questioning in the case of a man who was assaulted in the stairwell of The Alibi night club last Saturday night. The woman, known only as Mona Freeman, is described as being in her mid to late twenties, between five feet four and six inches tall, weighing approximately one hundred ten pounds, with auburn hair and green eyes, although she reportedly often wears wire-rimmed glasses tinted a dark blue. She was last seen by several of the club’s patrons at about one AM on the sidewalk outside the club. The victim, a Mr. Steve Bailey of Riverside, was discovered only minutes later. He remains in serious but stable condition at Park City hospital. According to the victim, the woman, with whom he was previously acquainted, lured into him onto a stairwell inside the club and then assaulted him without provocation. If you know or recognize this woman you are urged to contact police directly or through the departments tip line at 1-800-555-TIPS. All calls will be kept confidential. In other news…”

Sara turned off the set and began pacing back and forth across the living room until finally she stopped dead in her tracks. Her hands clenched at her sides and her body rigid with rage she then threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Mona,” she shouted the moment her scream faded.

No answer.

“Come here damn it,” she shouted again.

Still there was no response.

Storming into the bathroom, Sara leaned against the sink, and staring into the mirror demanded that Mona show herself.

“You can’t hide from me forever,” Sara warned. “I swear if you…”

“I’m sorry,” Mona moaned contritely.

“Did you hear that? Did you see that picture?” Sara yelled, ignoring Mona’s apology.

“What could I do?” Mona replied. “He was trying to force himself on me.”

“You didn’t have to take him into the stairwell,” Sara retorted. “Didn’t you hear me warning you? Didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s just like that man in Miami,” Sara fumed. “You let your temper get the better of you and it gets all of us in trouble. And you wonder why I didn’t let you out for over a year. It wasn’t because I wouldn’t, it’s because I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk you being recognized. And to think I actually apologized to you for doing it.”

“Please don’t send me away again,” Mona begged.

“Then tell me what to do. Tell me what the hell I can do?” Sara shouted as she raised her arms above her head and brought her fists down so hard on the mirror that it cracked, splitting both their reflections into a crazy quilt of fragmented images.  

“We can run away.”

“Again? We’ve been here less than a year.”

“We can’t stay.”

“And what do I do about this Christie situation?” Sara demanded.

“Forget about it. We’ll go to another city, another place and lose ourselves for awhile.”

“You know I can’t do that. You know I can’t abandon the children.”

“Now who’s letting their temper get the better of them?”

“It’s not the same,” Sara snapped. “What you did was temper, my concern is for others.”

“You know it is,” Mona said accusingly, in an effort to deflect Sara’s anger. “It’s about that man, and what he did to you.”

“I told you to never mention him.”

“Uncle Bob, uncle Bob, uncle Bob,” Mona shouted.

“Shut up!”

“I won’t.”

“If you ever want to see the light of day again…”

“All right, I’m sorry. I won’t…”

“You’d better not. If you knew anything at all you’d know I can’t let it happen again. It’s like it’s happening to me. I won’t! I won’t!”

“It’s too dangerous,” Mona objected meekly.

“It’s necessary,” Sara replied with a quiet determination. “Someone has to do it.”

“Dana where have you been?” Christie asked breathlessly as she closed the door. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for over a week.”

“I had to leave town for a few days,” Sara replied as she followed Christie to the sunroom.

“You could have at least returned my calls.”

“I had a family emergency.”

“Still,” Christie sighed as she plunked herself down on the couch.

“Well I’m here now. So, what’s the emergency?”

“No emergency. It’s just that I have so much to tell you.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“Such as?”

“Well to begin with, Cesar is moving in.”

“Is that so?” Sara asked coolly.

“Yes,” Christie said excitedly. “He suggested it a couple of weeks ago, and well, after thinking about it, I just had to say yes.”

“You had to?”

“Well, you know, or I guess actually you don’t, how forceful Cesar can be when he wants something. It’s one of things about him that I find so attractive. Very alpha-male.”

“And that girl, Sela, is she moving in too?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds cozy. What about the girls?”

“Oh they’ll be fine,” Christie replied dismissively.

“No, I mean how do they feel?”

“Shauna’s delighted. She and Cesar have become very close.”

“Aha. And Alisha?”

“She’s seems a little unsure about it. But you know how shy she is. She’s not as close to Cesar as Shauna is, but she’ll get used to it.”

“By the way where are the girls?”

“Asleep in their rooms.”

“It looks like I got back just in time.”

“In time?”

“For you to tell me all about it,” Sara explained. “Say you know what?”

“What?”

“I have been running around for the past week like a chicken with my head off. I could really use a drink.”

“That sounds like a great idea. The usual?” Christie asked as she started to get off the couch.

“No, I’ll tell you what. How about if I make us a pitcher of margaritas? Do you have the makings?”

“Margaritas? You?”

“What with all I’ve been through this past week I need something a little stronger than wine. Now you just sit still and I’ll go to the kitchen and make them, okay?”

“Okay,” Christie agreed cheerfully.

A short time later Sara returned with two glasses, and handing one to Christie resumed to her seat on the couch.

“It’s a little sweet,” Christie said as she took the glass from her lips.

“I think those limes might have been a bit over ripe,” Sara explained. “So I added a little extra agave nectar. Anyway, it’ll get the job done. Go ahead, drink up, there are at least three more glasses each in the pitcher.”

“Aren’t you driving?”

“You’re always after me to stay over, maybe tonight I’ll do it,” Sara replied lightheartedly as she took a long sip from her glass. “And while we’re at it you can tell me how all of this came about.”  

“That would be great,” Christie enthused as she too drank deeply.

Christie then spent the next half hour explaining sometimes candidly, and sometimes evasively, the whys and wherefores of how she arrived at the decision to let Cesar and his protégé move into her house. Even going so far as to acknowledge that although she was puzzled by Cesar’s sudden attachment to her daughters, she saw no reason to suspect that it was anything more than a genuine desire on his part to be close to them for her sake rather than for any ulterior motive of his own. All in all it was a near monologue that even for someone as self-involved as Christie was a masterpiece of rationalization.

For her part Sara left the room only for as long as it took for her to refill their glasses, but otherwise let Christie weave her tale of half-truths and outright lies free of either questions or comments until at last she appeared to have talked herself out.  

“Wow these margaritas are really hitting me hard,” Christie said as she put her glass down on the coffee table. “How many is that?”

“It’s your third.”

“I feel so tired.”

“That is the usual result of ingesting fifty milligrams of oxycodone.”

“Yeah right,” Christie said with a chuckle that vanished the moment she noticed how Sara was looking at her.

A long moment of silence then ensued as Christie grappled with the realization that Sara wasn’t joking.

“Are you serious?” she asked aghast by Sara’s complacency.

“Completely.”

“But…why?’ Christie sputtered weakly as she tried to stand.

“Shh,” Sara whispered as she rose quickly from her seat and gently eased Christie’s unresisting form back onto the couch.

“What, how?”

“I made the mix for the margaritas without any alcohol,” Sara explained. “And after pouring it into glasses, added triple sec, tequila, and the powder from several tablets of oxycodone to yours. I was a bit concerned that the oxy might make the margaritas bitter, so I also added a little extra agave nectar just to be sure. I don’t know if that was necessary, but in any event, it worked.”

“But why?” Christie mumbled feebly.

“Actually,” Sara replied thoughtfully. “I think I’d enjoy telling you. I so rarely get the chance to explain my side of things to someone who doesn’t already understand me.”

Her face slack, Christie could only blink in reply.

“You see, some people aren’t meant to be what they are; like you and motherhood. And after observing how you go about it, and knowing from experience what it must be doing to your children, I simply couldn’t let it go on. The thought was just too painful. You see children should be nurtured, cared for; and evidently you just can’t do it. Now your brother and his wife will get custody of Shauna and Alisha, and maybe they can repair some of the damage you’ve done to them. I doubt they could do any worse. Although I do wish Cesar had been here as well,” she mused. “But I suppose he would’ve brought that girl with him; and that would have been a problem. Well, no matter, given the sort of person he is, I’m sure one day he’ll get what he deserves too.”

Looking down at Christie, Sara could see that the light had nearly drained from her eyes.

The next moment it was gone.

Picking Christie’s phone up off the table, Sara carefully wiped it with a blanket that was draped across the back of the sofa, and placing it in Christie’s lifeless hand, used her fingers to dial.

“Hello this is 911, what is your emergency?” a woman’s voice asked almost immediately.

After resting the hand holding the phone on Christie’s chest, Sara retrieved her purse, and began walking towards the backdoor.

“Hello this is 911, what is your emergency?” Sara heard the voice ask again. “Hello? Hello?”

Closing the door behind her, Sara then walked to her car, and getting in, pulled out of the driveway and onto to the street, where she waited until she heard the sound of an approaching siren that grew louder with each passing moment. As she drove slowly away, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a police car, its lights flashing madly, pull quickly into the driveway of Christie’s house and stop at the front door.

Although she knew the call to 911 could have been risky, she’d wanted to make sure the girls would not have to find their mother themselves in the morning.

“Hello, this is Natalie Rodgers, may I help you?”

“Yes Natalie this is Naomi Walker at Lawrence Ross.”

“Yes Naomi, so good to hear your voice again. How are you today?”

“I’m fine thanks and you?”

“Wonderful. How may I help you?”

“Well as you know Dana Kelley recently left us and Human Resources just informed me that due to a miscalculation she’s still owed a weeks salary.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Now we’ve tried getting a hold of her, but the cellphone number we have is no longer in service, and one of our people who lives out in the Brentwood area tried stopping by her house, but it’s vacant.”

“Ah-uh.”

“Now you know what sticklers those people over at the State Labor Board are about compensation, so we were wondering if you knew how we could get a hold of her.”

“No I haven’t heard from her myself Naomi, however I am going over to Brentwood the day after tomorrow, and perhaps I could stop by and see if one of the neighbors knows anything.”

“If you could that would be wonderful. HR and Accounting are eager to get this off our books.”

“No problem at all. Lawrence Ross has been a valued customer of ours for many years and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Thank you so much. Let me what you find out.”

“I’ll call you back in the next couple of days.”

Natalie Rodgers had to stop at several houses on Martindale Circle before she found someone at home. And although the woman she talked to had occasionally seen Dana carrying groceries from her car to the house, and walking about the yard, she never spoke to her, and knew nothing as to her whereabouts. Indeed the only information she could provide was that she saw a truck from a local moving company at the house several weeks before, whose name she remembered because it was the same company that moved her furniture from her previous address to her current one.

Tony Romano, the owner of Tony Romano Moving and Carting, remembered the job well. Not only because he’d done it himself, but also because of the person he’d dealt with.

“I’m sorry Ms. Rodgers,” he told Natalie when she called. “But I never met anyone named Dana Kelley. The person I met with was a woman named Jennifer Shelby.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It’d be hard forget.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh she was a hoot. Bleach blond hair, beauty mark on her left cheek, dressed in these sort of glittery, what do call them, oh yeah, toreador pants, and a tight blouse. Real upbeat and flighty, kind of reminded me of Marilyn Monroe. Seemed smart enough though, she knew exactly what she wanted.”

“And where did you take her things?”

“It was a light load. No furniture or anything, just a half dozen or so large trunks. I handed the actual delivery off to one of my drivers. According to the paperwork they were delivered to a locker at Penton Storage in Phoenix.”

Natalie called Penton Storage, but there the trail went cold. The locker was cleaned out late one night less than a week after the trunks arrived, and no one had any idea where to find the woman who they too knew as Jennifer Shelby.

After calling Naomi to tell her that she’d no luck finding Dana, Natalie then accessed Dana’s file and added a notation suggesting that the next time Dana registered with Amtemp, whoever was handling her case should tell her about the money Lawrence Ross still owed her.

It was, however, an eventuality that she had no way of knowing would never come to pass.

For the fact of matter was, the person it concerned no longer existed.

And though she would live on in other places, by other names, Dana Kelley would never be seen or heard from ever again.

“Hello Ms. Malone, this is Amos Wright with Bayview Realtors, returning your call.”

“Yes, Mr. Wright, thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”

“No problem.”

“Mr. Wright, if it’s still available, I’ve decided I’d like to take the apartment you showed me yesterday morning.”

“The one on River Road.”

“Yes that one.”

“Excellent. If you can meet me there tomorrow morning, say around ten or ten thirty, you can sign the lease and I’ll hand over the keys.”

“Ten thirty would be good.”

“Ten thirty it is then. Of course I’ll need a check for the first and last months rent, as well as one months security.”

“I’ll be paying that in cash.”

“That would be fine too. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten thirty then.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, one other thing. Could you please give me the correct spelling of your first and last names for the lease?”

“Certainly. That’s Ronnie, R-O-N-N-I-E, Malone, M-A-L-O-N-E.”

“Thank you. I’ll have the paperwork completed when we meet. Have a good afternoon Ms. Malone.”

“You as well Mr. Wright.”

Sara disconnected the call, and lying back against the pillows, gazed at the top of a palm tree growing in the courtyard of her hotel, several of which also happened to be visible from the bedroom window of her new apartment.

She had never woken up to the sight of palm trees before, and the prospect of it delighted her.

Off in the distance, a long line of puffy white clouds drifted languidly across the horizon, while now and a then a few seagulls floated by suspended in the cradling hands of the wind.

It was all very peaceful.

And inwardly she smiled; for nothing pleased her more than beginning a whole new life.