Fearless Flying (The Vivienne Series Book 1) Read online

  Colin will hold flight for you.

  And soothe Kara’s ruffled feathers:

  K: Bob in Savannah office at 6:48 a.m.

  Should b home by 8 a.m.

  Have a gr8 wknd.

  Bob replies:

  Perfect, as always. Thank you from Kara and me.

  Kara doesn’t reply but I’m not surprised. She and Bob have been married for a little over a year now but she is still getting used to the fact that, for better or worse, I’m part of their marriage. If she wants Bob-time she has to go through me because I control his master schedule. I get her as much as I can, but seriously, he has to work too.

  As I spin in my chair to take a much-needed pee break I face Cat, another I-Sales secretary. She’s holding the tray with what’s left of my roast beef and sandwich fixings and the empty pie plate. She drops them in the center of my desk. “I need the conference room.”

  Why does she always make such a big deal out of everything? This girl feeds on drama. I don’t have the time or patience for it. “Oh, thank you, now I don’t have to go get them later.” I smile as I push past her, her cue that this conversation is over. Technically, as the secretary to the senior sales rep I am the senior secretary, but it’s not a power I use very often. Being a MAH, Bob is rarely in the office so he doesn’t need the facilities here, which means I don’t have to join in the reindeer games of fighting for conference rooms and supplies.

  The latest Bob-crisis kept my mind occupied all morning but now the remains of my seduction dinner, strewn across my desk, are taking me right back to last night. Before I lose it and go all pity-party at work I gather it up and head to the kitchen area and the big trash bins. Fuck efficiency and thrift, I’m throwing it out. Fuck saving serving pieces for another day. Fuck my stupid need to have a plan B and not waste my perfect passion meal—a lot of good all that planning and preparing did me. I channel my hurt into anger and take it out on the serving platters, slamming them into the wide plastic bin. That felt great and I’m tempted to clean outdated lunches from the fridge for another excuse to throw things. But I stop myself. Ranting at work is unprofessional and beneath me.

  As I round the corner near the ladies room, I stop dead in my tracks. There’s a guy at the end of the hall in a maintenance uniform. The odds of it being Danny are one in a thousand, but my heart thuds anyway as I strain to look for his wide-legged, hands-on-hips, Danny-stance. This guy’s too tall and lanky. Not him. I want to write my racing pulse off to anger, but hell, it looks like my heart and hormones didn’t get the memo that my Danny-stalking days are over.

  Then my traitor brain joins them, seeing the perfect excuse to call Darlene, my dad’s old secretary to find out why one of her maintenance guys was in I-sales this morning. After all, if one of the sales planes is broken I need to know. I mean, this could affect Bob getting home. Of course, she would also know if Danny has switched shifts…

  “It was one of the new guys.” Darlene informs me. “His name’s Mark. Why, you likie?”

  “No, I just wondered why he was hanging out it I-Sales.”

  “3-2-B is having landing gear trouble in Morocco. They called him in to consult with the repair crew there.”

  “Oh,” is the most enthusiastic reply I can muster. If it doesn’t affect me or Bob, I let it fall off my radar. I’m also a little occupied trying to figure out clever way to turn the conversation to Danny without being obvious.

  Darlene knows me too well. My silence is a giveaway. “He’s here. You want to talk to him or about him?”

  “About him,” I answer. I give her the cliff notes version of last night.

  “He’s still day shift, sweetie. I have no idea why he would tell you that.” She pauses for my reply but I’m too upset to offer one. “I’ve got about five hundred other single guys down here. You sure you don’t want one of them? Give me your shopping list and I’ll send one your way.”

  I chuckle a little at the idea because I know she’s only half kidding. Her desk is the social center of the maintenance hangars. She knows every man and woman who works down there; who’s single, who’s not and wants to be, and who’s about to be. “I want one that’s 5’11, medium brown hair with soulful light brown eyes, full lips, great body, can’t tell a joke to save his life, polite, punctual, kind…”

  Darlene lets out a frustrated breath. “Only got one of those and it looks like he’s taken by the ghost of wife past. As far as I know he still hasn’t gone on a date since she left.” This is going nowhere so she changes the subject. “How’s your dad?”

  “Fine,” I say, “He and Carla went to the casino last week and he won two grand.”

  “Good for him. Now there’s another one who I thought would never date again. I still can’t believe your dad left here to get remarried.”

  “I know. I was kind of shocked when he signed up for that dating site, then bam, he meets Carla the first week.”

  “He’s one of the good ones. She saw a good thing and grabbed him up.”

  I sigh, “He is, I know, he’s just too overprotective and meddlesome when it comes to me.”

  “That’s just love, Big Mike style.” I smile and roll my eyes at her too-true statement. My dad is a bit of a legend on the maintenance floor. He was known for helping people out; giving guys their first job out of college or the military, setting them straight when they screwed up at work or at home. He was the mentor of maintenance. He gave Danny his first job when he was fresh out of the Navy and even though my dad is fifteen years older than him they just clicked and became best friends.

  “Speaking of love, yours just walked by my window with a pissed off scowl on his face. It seems like he always looks that way since your dad left.”

  “I know! I think he’s lonely. He needs me Darlene.”

  “Maybe he does, but do you need him? I get the hot part, sweetie. Don’t think I don’t stop and take in the view of him working sometimes, but, I mean, don’t you want someone closer to your age?”

  “He’s only seven and a half years older than me and no, I don’t. I feel like I’m babysitting when I date guys my own age.”

  “Yeah, I bet you do.” She conceded. “You grew up fast after your mom died.”

  My phone buzzes and I reach to shut it off so I can continue my conversation with Darlene but it’s Bob. “Bob’s calling. I need to get this. He’s trapped in Switzerland and Kara wants him home now.”

  “And you are the one person who can make that happen.”

  “Or die trying. Thanks for the Danny update.” I hang up quickly and pick up Bob’s call. It’s nothing urgent; he’s on the train to Geneva and wants to go over next week’s meeting schedule so he can stay off his phone once he gets home. Kara’s threatened to toss it in their pool more than once. I finish his updates then straighten up my desk to make room for my lunch.

  I eat alone a lot and often at my desk. Staying several steps ahead of Bob takes extra effort. It took me six years to work my way from being a receptionist to one of the top secretarial positions in the company. I did it by working my ass off, doing extra work, doing more than anyone could or would ask. I’ve been with Bob for a little over a year and I’m finally getting my stride. I know all his likes and dislikes. I know how to get him in and out of all his most frequent sales stops as quickly as possible while maintaining his maximum comfort. I know his diet, seat preferences, shirt size and favorite tailors.

  I watch the other I-sales secretaries leave together to go out to lunch. I can’t say I want to go with them. Office gossip wears me out. But maybe I have become too reclusive lately. Maybe I’m the one who is lonely and that’s why I can’t seem to let go of my stupid crush on Danny. I’m resolved to take action now and I text Dom.

  What r we going to b for Halloween this year?

  Halloween has always been our thing. Ever since we were little, we would coordinate our costumes and go out together. We graduated from candy to liquor prizes in high school but we’ve always gone out together and ent
ered costume contests. I bailed on her the past two years because of work stuff but I know how to fix that this year. I look up charity Halloween balls in the area while I wait for Dom’s reply. Bingo, there is one at the art museum. I copy the link and send it to Kara along with a few very cool, expensive costume ideas for her and Bob. Calendar cleared.

  Chapter Four

  I wanted us to go as Wonder Woman and Batgirl. Dom put her foot down because we had done that twice already and she hates her Batgirl costume. She wanted us to make new costumes and go as Green Eggs and Ham. I put my foot down on wearing food costumes which are neither cute nor sexy. Besides any literary reference, even one to a children’s book would be lost on the bar crowd. In the end Dom’s momma came up with Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf—sexy versions of both, of course. It was perfect. I got my cute red dress with boob-enhancing corset and Dom got to be BAD in her wolf costume.

  Then I put myself in charge of creating our agenda. Ever since our first Halloween as over twenty-ones, Dom and I have had a goal of spending nothing all night. It sort of just happened the first year, but we figured out the system (my analytical issues rearing their ugly head) and have it down to an art now. Step one is carrying no cash on us, just our IDs and cell phones strategically placed in our costumes.

  Then we start at the Corner Bar near my apartment, home to lots of skeezy old men and no contest but extremely cheap drinks. It’s my dad’s old hang out so I rarely have to pay there anyway. Someone who remembers Big Mike will crack open his wallet to reward Dom and me with a couple of three-dollar drinks. Once we have some liquid courage in us, we will have Dom’s fiancé, Luis, pedicab us downtown to hit as many costume contests as we can. Even if we don’t win, drunk people will buy us drinks just because they like our outfits. When Luis finishes his pedicab shift at midnight he will bring his car, meet us, and drive our drunk asses home—free and safe.

  The costumes Dom’s mom, Lucca, made are awesome. She’s the one who taught me to sew…and knit, crochet, macramé, and bake. She’s a true Jill of all trades and my organizational idol. She found a tutorial online for making a wolf face with makeup and Dom sits patiently while Lucca and I touch up details and freeze the edges of her long black hair into a frame around her face. She looks evil and hot. Luis should be expecting serious scratches on his back later tonight.

  We can walk to the first stop because it’s close and, well, we can still walk.

  The old dudes at the Corner Bar don’t disappoint. They buy us cheap shots and throw cliché lines and jokes our way about our costumes. We call for Luis at ten so we can head downtown and catch the first contest at the BarBar. Dom catcalls her fiancé as he peddles. “Hell yeah, babe. Look at that ass—dimpled with the promise of pleasure.”

  Luis is laughing and I have to admit Dom is right. His job definitely has body benefits, the man has some beautiful legs and a butt I don’t mind watching for ten blocks.

  BarBar is normally a little too young and goofy for my taste, but I need immature and stupid tonight. I love Halloween because being in costume lets me be someone I’m not, someone silly, laid-back, easy-going, fun. Tonight I’m not Vivienne, over-organized wonder, I’m Red, walking trouble.

  Dom and I place third in the costume contest behind a girl wearing pasties as a top and some guy dressed as a used tampon (yeah, they keep it classy here). All we win is a bunch of swag from the liquor companies, but it’s cool. We can trade it for drinks to the college kids who want it for their dorm rooms. While I’m more focused on executing our free-drink, hit-every-contest plan, Dom is focused on finding me a Danny replacement. She keeps pointing out any guy who looks even remotely like he might be my type.

  The next bar is more touristy so there are very few people there in costume which works to our advantage. We win this one and walk away with $100. Technically this could be drink money but I tell Dom we need to stick to our plan and put this in her wedding fund. I know she’s getting pretty tipsy because she hugs and kisses me and keeps telling me what a great fuckin’ friend I am.

  She doubles down on her search for my next obsession and focuses on a bunch of businessmen who are more than happy to buy us premium drinks on their expense accounts. They’re definitely not college boys and one does look particularly good in his suit, but there is no spark there. At Dom’s urging, he gives me his card and I see he works for one of JetStream’s vendors. I’m glad I’m in costume and calling myself Red because he is someone I might call for my job.

  Dom doesn’t hide her frustration. “He was cute!” She yell-slurs at me as we walk to our final contest.

  “I know but he works for HighTel. I have to call them for Bob sometimes.”

  “So!”

  “So…” I don’t have an answer because, shit, she is starting to make sense. There are no rules against me dating a vendor. I change the subject because I really don’t want to go back there. The guy was a good match for me. His only fault is that he isn’t Danny and my defenses are down enough for me to admit that I still want the lying bastard.

  “Next stop you have to at least kiss whoever I pick for you.”

  I open my mouth to protest but she shuts it with a glare. She has great taste and knows me well enough that I’m game. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Hell yes you will.” She’s dragging me toward The Rail, our favorite Irish pub, and the place Luis will meet us. As we wait in line to get in, Dom makes some needed adjustments to my costume. I’ve gone from boobilicious cleavage to my nipples almost popping out and I try to stand still as she adjusts the laces on the front of my corset but the cocktails are kicking in. We get a giggle fit as the guys behind us encourage her to play with my boobs. I start to play with her hair, stroking it and we move toward each other, looking like we might kiss. They’re chanting “kiss ” and we’re laughing and none of us sees that the line has moved on. The bouncer yelling, “move on,” breaks our little show. I turn to face the bouncer, fishing my ID out of my top and I stop.

  Danny is sitting on the bar stool in the doorway of The Rail looking anything but amused. He holds his hand out for my ID. I’m too stunned to speak. Dom isn’t.

  “Oh, fuck me!”

  She gets several offers from the group of guys behind us. Danny gives my ID a cursory glance because he knows how old I am and does the same to Dom’s, never saying a word to us. He hands them back and looks past us to the next group in line.

  “Danny, I..” I start to speak but he ignores me and talks to the guys behind us.

  “Oh, NO WAY!” Dom won’t go through the door now. She’s turning Puerto Rican, she-wolf crazy. “Yolo, you think you can treat my girl this way?”

  She’s in his face but Danny just looks up at her slowly and calmly replies, “Get inside Dom. I don’t have time for this right now.”

  I push her through the door because my heart is pounding and my head is spinning and my drinks are threatening to come up and out all over Danny and the front steps. We retreat to the ladies room to regroup.

  “Why would you ever want that lying sack of shit,” Dom says angrily. “I don’t care what he looks like, he’s a fucktard and a loser.”

  I only half hear her tirade because my fuzzy brain finally pulls the missing pieces together so I can form a thought and sentence. “He didn’t lie.”

  That stops her cold. “What?”

  “He didn’t lie.” I repeat both to myself and Dom.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? So he didn’t lie, he just snubbed you, AGAIN!” She shouts the last word like she’s using it to wake me up.

  “No, Dom, he was going to work the other night. He was going to work here.”

  I can tell from her look that she is too disgusted with me to grasp the enormousness of what I just figured out. I push myself away from the sink I’d been leaning against and pull on the rickety door handle.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Dom pushes the door shut. There is a loud groan from the girls waiting in line outside t
he bathroom.

  “To talk to him.” It’s obvious that I have to now that I know he’s not a liar. Why can’t she see this? I pull on the door again and she holds it closed with her hands.

  “V, wake up. Whether he lied about the job or not he just totally snubbed you.”

  “He’s working. He couldn’t talk right then.”

  “And you think he wants to talk now?”

  Damn she makes more sense drunk than I do. I stew for a minute then say, “Fine, whatever, let’s just get out of here.”

  I pull her toward the front of the bar where I can see Danny from where we perch on a window ledge.

  Dom follows my line of sight. “You’re killing me, V, let him go.”

  I shake my head “no’”and she settles in. She knows I never give up easily.

  Chapter Five

  When Danny takes a break I approach him, despite the look in his eyes that says he is anything but happy to talk to me right now.

  “So this is where you work at night.” I state hesitantly

  He just nods, crosses his arms and stands back. He has “fuck-off” body language down to an art but I’m not intimidated. I know him too well and drunk Vivienne is ten times more tenacious than sober me.

  “I don’t know what I did to piss you off…”

  He’s trying to cut the conversation short and doesn’t let me finish. “You didn’t do anything. I’m not pissed, just busy.” He looks away like he has somewhere to go.

  I know this isn’t a good time or place for this, but I want answers. I want a final declaration of some sort. My voice sounds whinier than I want it to, “Danny, I just want to know. I mean, you must have figured it out by now…”

  He cuts me off again, changing the subject. “You need to go home, Vivey. You don’t need to be here.”

  Normally I turn to mush when he calls me Vivey. He and my dad are the only two people I ever let call me that. Tonight, it pisses me off because it makes me sound like some child he has to correct then sends off home to her parents. “What the fuck?! Why shouldn’t I be here? I’m twenty-five years old, its Halloween night and I can be in a bar if I want to.”