Drop Dead Gorgeous (21 page)

“What's wrong with your hair now?”

“I need highlights. Golden highlights.”

“It's too late to do it tonight.”

“I was thinking tomorrow.” For Richard.

“You're working tomorrow.”

“I know. But since you're off on Wednesdays, I was thinking maybe you'd like to come into the City for lunch.”

“And to do your hair.”

“I'll get that mu shu pork you adore,” Madison coaxed in a singsong voice. “With extra pancakes.”

“If I didn't love you, I'd say no.”

“But you love me.”

“I'm wrapped around your twisted little finger.”

“You're a lifesaver.”

“The candy variety or the water variety?”

“Both.”

“Where can I set up?”

“T. Larry's bathroom.”

“Won't he be in his office?”

“He's got a lunch appointment, and Mr. Dullard always keeps him an hour longer.”

“You like living dangerously.”

Nah. Everything would work out perfectly.

“T
HANKS FOR CLEANING
the apartment, Sean.”

“Why would I clean your apartment?”

“Because you love me?”

He made a rude noise over the phone. “It was a pigsty.”

“I've been busy.”

“With that T. Larry guy?”

Sean's interest set her nerves jangling. She glanced around the cubicle as if someone were hiding behind the file cabinet, then leaned around her entryway to eye the hall. It was early. T. Larry hadn't come up from his workout. Keys clicked in a distant cubicle, the rest were silent. Accountants were not, by nature, an early lot.

“T. Larry is just my boss.”

“Right. And I bet that's why Ma skipped over to clean your apartment after I told her what a pig you are.”

“Ma did it?”

“Hell if I know, but it sure wasn't the tooth fairy. And neither James nor Patrick would be caught dead washing a dish.”

Or leaving her a sweet-smelling rose, two of them. She'd noticed the other on the coffee table this morning. Duh. Of course, her mother did it. Silly to have thought Sean would leave roses and pick up her nightgown. Now Ma would definitely do it to teach Madison a lesson, the old Catholic-Episcopalian guilt trip. It was just her style.

“And since
your
mother shows you excessive amounts of favoritism, I vote she did it.”

“She does not show me favoritism, Sean, and you know it.”

“Hah. You always get the leftovers.”

“That's because she thinks I don't know how to cook.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, I do. And I can start cooking again as soon as Patrick installs that spice rack he made for me.” She paused. “And you put in the new garbage disposal.”

“Then you should have washed the dishes before I got there.”

“They're done now,” she answered sweetly.

He huffed. “All right, today. But Sherry's threatened divorce if I fix your garbage disposal before I put the new faucet in for her so you better not tell her.”

“I love you.”

A snort. “You always manage to get what you want with those three simple words.”

“I mean every one of them whether you put in my garbage disposal or not.”

“Yeah, yeah. You're spoiled.”

She didn't argue. “I left a surprise in the refrigerator.”

“I hate moldy bread.”

“I threw that out. This is something better.” A bottle of Dom Pérignon for his anniversary next week. She'd paid full price, too, because Sean was so special.

“You didn't knit me another sweater, did you?”

“Now, why would I put a sweater in the refrigerator?”

“Well, the last one you gave me was frozen.”

“That's because BeeBee told me it would shrink. I made it just a little too big in the first place.”

“The kids use it for a sleeping bag.”

“I don't remember sewing the bottom closed.”

“Madison, you scare me. By the way, I'm having a little operation next week.”

Her heart stopped beating in her chest. “Operation?”

“I'm getting my tubes tied.”

All the blood drained right out of her head, leaving her dizzy with relief. “Men don't get their tubes tied.”

“Tubes tied, vasectomy, whatever.”

“Ma's going to kill you when she finds out.”

“Ma's the one who suggested it.”

“God, she's getting liberal.”

“She also wants to know if you're on the pill.”

Madison choked.

“Because while we all like T. Larry and think you deserve every ounce of happiness you can find, we don't want any little T. Larrys running around until you're married.”

Madison growled, but Sean had already hung up.

She dialed her mother to thank her for the cleaning. It was the right thing to do.

Ma, however, wasn't home. Madison left a message with lots of kissy thank-you noises, all the while, thanking the Lord for the delay. Because she knew her mother, and when she did call back, she'd give Madison “what for” for letting her apartment get that messy in the first place.

And if her mother tackled the sex issue again…well, that was just beyond the pale.

 

T
HE SCENT OF FRESHLY
brewed coffee called to Laurence like a siren. Madison bought special beans from a coffeehouse down on Market Street, ground it herself and always used bottled water. Her coffee soothed the most frazzled of nerves—it was working on Laurence's, or was that just the thought of seeing her?—and tamed the wildest of beasts.

In this particular case, the beast was Harriet.

Laurence stopped just outside the copy room door and inhaled the rich coffee aroma, only to swallow a taste of Harriet's unmistakable perfume.

He eavesdropped unabashedly while his senses cleared.

“Day number one and I see you've already decided to break one of T. Larry's rules.”

A pause, then Madison's soft tones. “I didn't have time to go out shopping. But this is one of my longest skirts.”

“And one of your tightest sweaters.”

“Well, it's the one that matches the skirt.” T. Larry idly wondered which sweater and which skirt. Not the flowing one she'd worn on Monday, perhaps something pleated that whirled nicely around her thighs.

“You're so disgustingly obvious.”

He sensed Madison's deep breath before she spoke. “Did I ever tell you about my first job?”

“Am I supposed to care?” Harriet was a tough nut to crack.

“Actually, it's just a funny story.”

“I don't feel like listening to a funny story.”

Madison apparently didn't hear her. Or didn't care. “I had to carry this huge box of reports from the computer room. We didn't have a laser printer or anything.”

“Was this like twenty years ago or something?” Harriet's snarl was written all over her voice.

The slur bounced right off Madison. “We were on a limited budget. Anyway, it was a really big box, and I was wearing this full skirt, and I accidentally got it caught on the top of the box when I picked it up, and there I was walking through the whole office with my skirt hiked up to my waist.” Madison laughed with an unselfconsciousness Harriet would never master.

“So everyone was staring at your panties. Bully for you. Let's just add exhibitionist to your list of admirable traits.”

“I just meant that it was embarrassing at the time, sort of like walking through a restaurant with toilet paper hanging out the back of your pants. But now it's one of my funniest stories.”

So that's what she'd meant last night. Madison's first lesson in teaching Harriet how to laugh at herself. Harriet's first lesson in teaching Madison that no one laughed at Harriet, especially not herself. While the idea might be profound, Madison's sense of timing, quite frankly, bit the big one. Like Daddy Bear, Laurence had the urge to rush to her rescue. She wouldn't appreciate it, especially when she was playing Miss Fix-it with Harriet's psyche. Instead he leaned against the wall, folded his arms over his chest and eavesdropped some more.

Harriet must have shot her straight through the heart with one of those famous Harriet scowls because Madison pushed on, trying a different tack this time. “You know, Harriet, I really admire the way you handle coming to work even after bringing the suit against us.”

“You admire me? And what did you expect? That I'd slink home with my tail between my legs like a dog?”

Madison tried a recovery. “No, but it takes a big person—I mean a
strong
person to—”

“Nice Freudian slip, Madison.” If Harriet had had a knife in her hand, the floor would be awash in blood.

Harriet
didn't
have a knife. Did she?

“I didn't mean it like that.” Madison was failing fast.

“Next you'll be saying how you admire the fact that I'm back after that little oink-oink episode yesterday.”

“Well, actually I—”

“Don't you worry, because I'm writing down every little remark, every bit of nasty talk I hear. And you'll all be sorry.”

Steam began to percolate from his ears. Enough was enough. Even Madison couldn't expect him to let her handle this on her own. Laurence showed himself in the doorway. Wide-eyed, desperate and speechless, Madison's gaze leaped to his.
Stand back, ladies and gentlemen, let the boss handle this.

Madison had a way of making a man feel ten feet tall, while Harriet merely cut everyone down to size.

“Don't threaten, Harriet. It won't help your suit.”

“Coming to her rescue like always, aren't you, T. Larry?”

Harriet's vitriol shoved Laurence back a full step. Her face throbbed with the color of beets. A furious shade of red tinged the whites of her eyes. Her lips turned blue as if she'd failed to take a breath between any of her sentences. In short, she looked ready to rupture. What had they done to her without thinking? Sympathy grew inside him like a germ. The germ sprouted guilt. They'd all had a hand, himself included, in creating this Harriet.

But Harriet had no right to heap the punishment on Madison, the only guiltless one in the office bunch.

“I expect civility from you, Harriet, no matter what your personal problems are.”

“Personal problems?”

He cut her off with a look, a hand gesture and a step forward. “If you need to vent your feelings, I expect it to be done in my office behind my closed door. You can say anything you want in there, but out here, you treat everyone with respect. Understood?”

Her mouth worked. Clearly, she didn't have the faintest desire to give in. But something, whether it was his authority or the preservation of her suit, forced the spiteful words back down her throat.

Her heels pounded the linoleum. Laurence wondered idly if she would have pushed him had he gotten in her way?

Things were deteriorating rapidly at Carp, Alta and Hobbs.

 

“S
HE ROASTED ME
, BeeBee. It was horrible. But T. Larry was magnificent.” Madison closed her eyes and relished a deep satisfied breath, only to break out in a hacking cough when the caustic fumes of BeeBee's dye hit her nostrils.

Her mascara dripped, and her nose watered. T. Larry's bathroom during the lunch hour probably wasn't the best place in the world to spread a load of toxic chemicals on her hair. His desk chair had barely fit through the door, the tile crunching ominously beneath the casters. But the bathroom had water and a sink, a mirror for Madison to watch the procedure and a counter for BeeBee's dyes, foils, combs, scissors and clips. Madison only prayed BeeBee wouldn't drop any of the goop on T. Larry's leather chair.

BeeBee took the clip from her mouth to pin another bit of tinfoil in place against Madison's scalp. “Definitely an Uzi-in-the-workplace type of gal. I'd watch out if I were you.”

“Going postal is a male-dominated act of aggression.”

“There's always a first time.” BeeBee stroked a goo-tipped brush across another lock.

“Well, I'm not giving up. T. Larry says maybe in addition to learning to laugh at herself, she needs to learn how to build people up rather than strip them down.”

“Sounds like something her mother should have taught her,” BeeBee muttered, her teeth clenched on another clip.

Her chin barely topping Madison's head, she went on tiptoe to pat the foils in place. Two white stripes flashed from her temples through her short, black hair like wings. Cat's-eye reading glasses—which she wore more for effect than use—slipped down her nose. Madison wasn't at all sure that the speckles on the fuchsia frames didn't come from all the goo BeeBee applied rather than by design.

“What time did you say T. Larry's coming back?”

Madison waved a negligent hand from beneath the black poncho BeeBee had brought to protect her clothes. “At least not until two o'clock. Davis—

“I know. Davis Dullard
always
keeps him out an hour longer. I still think we lost valuable time eating the mu shu first.”

“But you were hungry.” Madison coughed again, the small bathroom having failed to provide adequate ventilation. Hopefully the smell would be gone by the time T. Larry got back.

BeeBee pushed her hair back with a bent wrist, her hands covered with latex gloves and the strange orange goop. “Have you noticed how changing the inflection on a word changes the meaning of the whole sentence?”

“Huh?” Madison answered.

“Well, if it's Davis
always
keeps him out an hour longer, then we're safe because he'll be gone another forty-five minutes.”