cash back for six to eight weeks.”
“I’ll take the job.” Josie grabbed the assignment sheet from his greasy fingers. Harry was chomping the pork chop like a toddler with a teething ring.
She started to breathe easier. She was going to walk out of the office with her job. That was a minor miracle after the scene with Danessa and her spineless boss.
She hoped Harry didn’t check out her threat. There was no such thing as the Federal Female Employment Code. She’d made up all that stuff. The year, 1996, was Amelia’s birth year. As for Section 131-B, with any luck Harry wouldn’t realize Josie lived at 131 Phelan Street, Apartment B. She hoped he never asked for the tape. It didn’t exist, either.
Josie was almost out the door when he said, “One more thing.” His voice was hard now. Josie looked into his small, porcine eyes.
“If you want to keep your job, you better find that Marina woman,” Harry said. “Because if it turns out that Amazon with the Russian accent doesn’t exist, you’ll never work again.”
Josie yanked up her tube top and walked out.
Chapter 6
A cheap tart. A liar. A bribe taker.
Danessa had called Josie all those things, had accused her of deceit and corruption, while Harry cowered with his pork chop. Her pig of a boss didn’t say one word in Josie’s defense. He let Danessa verbally beat her up.
Josie marched across the hot pavement with short, furious strides, her cheap red shoes sinking into the melting blacktop.
She yanked her car door open and broke a fingernail. The seat burned her bare legs, but it was no match for her flaming anger. Josie cranked the engine and started to peel out of the parking lot. She wanted to be away from Suttin Services as soon as possible.
Danessa had insulted her character, her integrity, even her home. What had she called Josie?
Oh, yeah, a “jealous little nothing from Maplewood.” Josie slammed on the brakes and skidded across the lot. Maplewood. Danessa knew where Josie lived. She knew her name, too. She’d said, “This report says you were in my Plaza Venetia store . . . Josie Marcus.”
Even the client wasn’t supposed to know the name of the mystery shopper. That was confidential, for Josie’s protection. But someone gave Danessa her name and told her where Josie lived.
Josie knew who did it, too: Her scumbag boss. Danessa—or her lawyers—had applied a little pressure and Harry had cracked like an egg. He’d sold her out. She couldn’t complain to Harry’s boss at headquarters. She was cheap help, easily replaced.
Josie was shaking so badly she was afraid to drive. Deep breaths, she told herself. Take deep breaths. You can’t help your daughter if you’re arrested for road rage. Josie checked her watch. It was two thirty. She’d never make it to the school by three to pick up Amelia. She took out her cell phone.
“Hello, Mom. I got called into the office unexpectedly. Can you pick up the kid?”
“Office? You never go into the office. There’s trouble, isn’t there? It’s Danessa.” Josie’s mother had an irritating way of being right. “There’s a big stink over your report, isn’t there? You slammed poor Danessa.”
“Mom, poor Danessa just tried to get me fired,” Josie said.
“Good!” her mother said. “I told you not to attack her, but you didn’t listen to me. Since this problem is your fault, I’ll pick up my granddaughter on one condition. You have to go out with Stan. He stopped by today to look at the air conditioner and asked if you’d be interested in a date.”
Ha, Josie thought. He wasn’t looking at the air conditioner. He was hoping her tube top would roll down again. Too bad he didn’t make anything move for her. Stan was a friend, not a lover. Everyone but her mother could see that.
“Mom, that’s blackmail.”
“It’s for your own good, Josie. Now, am I going to pick up Amelia or not? It’s two thirty-five. At three fifteen, she goes into the extended school day. That
“I’ll take the job.” Josie grabbed the assignment sheet from his greasy fingers. Harry was chomping the pork chop like a toddler with a teething ring.
She started to breathe easier. She was going to walk out of the office with her job. That was a minor miracle after the scene with Danessa and her spineless boss.
She hoped Harry didn’t check out her threat. There was no such thing as the Federal Female Employment Code. She’d made up all that stuff. The year, 1996, was Amelia’s birth year. As for Section 131-B, with any luck Harry wouldn’t realize Josie lived at 131 Phelan Street, Apartment B. She hoped he never asked for the tape. It didn’t exist, either.
Josie was almost out the door when he said, “One more thing.” His voice was hard now. Josie looked into his small, porcine eyes.
“If you want to keep your job, you better find that Marina woman,” Harry said. “Because if it turns out that Amazon with the Russian accent doesn’t exist, you’ll never work again.”
Josie yanked up her tube top and walked out.
Chapter 6
A cheap tart. A liar. A bribe taker.
Danessa had called Josie all those things, had accused her of deceit and corruption, while Harry cowered with his pork chop. Her pig of a boss didn’t say one word in Josie’s defense. He let Danessa verbally beat her up.
Josie marched across the hot pavement with short, furious strides, her cheap red shoes sinking into the melting blacktop.
She yanked her car door open and broke a fingernail. The seat burned her bare legs, but it was no match for her flaming anger. Josie cranked the engine and started to peel out of the parking lot. She wanted to be away from Suttin Services as soon as possible.
Danessa had insulted her character, her integrity, even her home. What had she called Josie?
Oh, yeah, a “jealous little nothing from Maplewood.” Josie slammed on the brakes and skidded across the lot. Maplewood. Danessa knew where Josie lived. She knew her name, too. She’d said, “This report says you were in my Plaza Venetia store . . . Josie Marcus.”
Even the client wasn’t supposed to know the name of the mystery shopper. That was confidential, for Josie’s protection. But someone gave Danessa her name and told her where Josie lived.
Josie knew who did it, too: Her scumbag boss. Danessa—or her lawyers—had applied a little pressure and Harry had cracked like an egg. He’d sold her out. She couldn’t complain to Harry’s boss at headquarters. She was cheap help, easily replaced.
Josie was shaking so badly she was afraid to drive. Deep breaths, she told herself. Take deep breaths. You can’t help your daughter if you’re arrested for road rage. Josie checked her watch. It was two thirty. She’d never make it to the school by three to pick up Amelia. She took out her cell phone.
“Hello, Mom. I got called into the office unexpectedly. Can you pick up the kid?”
“Office? You never go into the office. There’s trouble, isn’t there? It’s Danessa.” Josie’s mother had an irritating way of being right. “There’s a big stink over your report, isn’t there? You slammed poor Danessa.”
“Mom, poor Danessa just tried to get me fired,” Josie said.
“Good!” her mother said. “I told you not to attack her, but you didn’t listen to me. Since this problem is your fault, I’ll pick up my granddaughter on one condition. You have to go out with Stan. He stopped by today to look at the air conditioner and asked if you’d be interested in a date.”
Ha, Josie thought. He wasn’t looking at the air conditioner. He was hoping her tube top would roll down again. Too bad he didn’t make anything move for her. Stan was a friend, not a lover. Everyone but her mother could see that.
“Mom, that’s blackmail.”
“It’s for your own good, Josie. Now, am I going to pick up Amelia or not? It’s two thirty-five. At three fifteen, she goes into the extended school day. That
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