Arrogant Devil(5)

“Apparently she’s up and left her husband.”

“The doting, rich movie producer? Makes sense.”

“Exactly. There’s no way she would have left him willingly. If you ask me, I bet Meredith got herself into some kind of trouble. Maybe she has a spending problem or a boxed wine habit and he threatened to cut her off. Rich people always find some way to fill up their time with vices. I wouldn’t be surprised. Like I said, she was spoiled when we were younger. This is what happens when you’ve never wanted for anything.”

As she drones on, I swear another ten emails pile up in my inbox. I have too much to do to be sitting on the phone listening to a story about some woman I have no plan to employ.

I sit up and sandwich the phone between my shoulder and ear so I can start replying to the first email. “Well, you’ve given quite the glowing recommendation for this suspected overspending alcoholic. Good thing she’s someone else’s problem.”

“Jack, I already promised her I’d get her a position with you.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“She’s family. If I were there, I’d help her.”

“Let’s compromise: you get on a flight home, and I’ll consider it. Deal?”

“Jack.”

She sounds exasperated, but then so am I.

“I gotta go. My assistant left me high and dry and I have emails to answer.”

“She’s my sister.”

“And?”

“And I’m calling in a favor. I’ve worked for you for six years and have never once called in a favor.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to waste that on some spoiled brat who’s bound to go crawling back to California when she gets her first splinter?”

“Isn’t that what you want? The sooner she leaves, the sooner you get your peace and quiet back.”

She makes a good point.

“You owe me.”

“I’ll log in to your email remotely and answer those emails you have stacked up. How’s that?”

“Let’s see if the princess shows up first. Something tells me she’ll take one look at the place and suddenly decide her valley girl life doesn’t look quite so bad anymore.”



3



Meredith



“I can’t go on,” the taxi driver says, pulling over to the side of the road and putting his car in park.

“Boy, do I know what you mean,” I agree ruefully.

“No, I mean, you gotta get out.”

“Oh, actually, I don’t think we’re there yet. We still have a while.”

I lean forward and point through the front windshield as if to prove my point. There’s nothing but trees and dirt road until the sky meets the horizon.

“Lady, this is it. Odometer says I’m officially losing money on you. I run a business, not a church shuttle.”

I officially regret my bold, symbolic gesture with the diamond ring.

“How about you give me your address and I’ll send more money after my first paycheck—”

“Yeah right, I’ve heard that one about a million times.”

I’m going to have to get creative.

“If only there was something I could do for you…” I say, making my eyebrows dance suggestively. “Non-sexually, of course. I could clip those hard-to-reach toenails, or—or, how about plucking back some of that unibrow you’ve got going on—”

“GET OUT,” he insists, and I know it’s hopeless.

The crabby old man kicks me to the curb—or rather, the edge of the dirt road. His tires stir up dust as he turns back for the main road. A sign back there claimed Blue Stone Ranch was only a few miles in this direction. A few miles…shit.

For the first time all morning, I’m grateful I don’t have much with me, just my purse. Inside, hilariously, I have what used to be my life’s essentials: a dead cell phone, a makeup bag for touchups, a bottle of perfume, my wallet, breath mints, a tub of La Mer moisturizer, and the wrapper of a protein bar I failed to ration properly.

No tennis shoes. No GPS tracking system. Hell, a compass would be much appreciated at this point.

As it is, I’m on my own, for real this time. I even left the last of my precious peanuts in the seat pocket of the taxi.

It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Everything is fine.

I hoist my purse higher on my shoulder and set off down the road. The soles of my loafers have such little padding that I feel every pebble. I’d walk in the grass beside the road, but it’s thick and overgrown, and I fear snakes more than I fear pebbles digging into the soles of my feet. I have nothing but time as I trudge along in the dirt. I try to convince myself I only have a little bit longer, but truthfully, I have no way to gauge how far I’ve gone. I left the fancy watch that tracks my steps back in California.

I distract myself by trying to see the positive details of my current situation: I am alive and well, I’ve taken back control of my life, and I am on my way to building something new. I am at the start of a grand adventure. Sure, there will be bumps along the way, but anything is better than the direction I was headed with Andrew.

I think I hear the rumble of a car behind me. I whip around, half convinced I’m hallucinating from dehydration (should’ve opted for low sodium peanuts), and spot an old truck rumbling down the road. It’s coming straight for me, and two things run through my mind at once. First: Hallelujah! My salvation has arrived! Second: In what part of Texas did that chainsaw massacre take place?