Polished Slick (Natural Beauty) (20 page)

Preston eyed her lasciviously.

She was such a tease. She tapped her chin with one fingertip and screwed her lips up, thinking,
Maybe I should wear panties
.

* * *

For the nail polish party to have been slapped together so quickly, Trinity thought the barn looked absolutely fabulous. They’d set up two bars, one for manicures, one for drinks.

Charlie and Nikki’s moms, with some help from Gramma Stacy and Gabby, were churning out food for the buffet. No one had any idea of how many guests to anticipate, but judging by the gossip the ladies were reporting on, there’d be a lot.

The parties at Natural by Nicolette were always well attended and more often than not the press showed up. Nikki thought that was great, but wished she’d planned it all in advance instead of it being some sort of trap for that bimbo Becky. She knew she’d come. She knew Becky couldn’t resist a chance to destroy what Nikki and Charlie had built, and Trinity had been around to see the woman’s brazen attempts at destruction time and time again over the past two years. The woman had to be sick, she was so deluded.

While Gabby and her friends clucked excitedly behind their stations at the nail polish bar, Juan poured out drinks for the staff. Judging by the red rims of his eyes, he’d already poured a couple down his own throat. Trinity could hardly blame him. Already, the volume in the barn had ratcheted up to video game levels, and no one had the benefit of earplugs. Here they were, essentially inviting chaos right through their front door, not that Trinity really knew what to expect.

In fact, she was more or less out of the loop. She hadn’t been in on the plotting to root Becky out of her motel room, and didn’t know what exactly Nikki and Jerry had in mind. All she knew was that Jerry had figured out which of the cars in the motel lot was a rental, and made sure to plaster it with fliers.

She wrung her hands and scanned the room, looking for her beach bum. They needed to talk. The timing was shit, but she needed to clear the air. She hated feeling like everything was in limbo. She’d had a lot of time to think, and although it sickened her to act on it, she figured a clean break was best.

Who was this woman she’d become? She hardly recognized herself, and didn’t know if the change was good, bad, or otherwise. That morning while cleaning up for the party, she was struck by the startling revelation that she’d hardly been paying any attention to her job in the past few weeks. And worse? She didn’t even care. Her nonchalance was more disconcerting than her actual lack of enthusiasm. She didn’t give a shit about a promotion. Not anymore. If Nikki was looking for a manager, Jerry was better for the job. People actually liked him. So, what now?

She wanted to go ahead and be dumped outright, because it’d probably save her some heartbreak in the long run.

She’d dropped Ginger off at the airport in Norfolk at dark o’clock that morning and returned home, unable to get back to sleep. She’d picked up her phone twice thinking she’d call Jerry, but considered the vulgarity of the hour and thought against it. So, she decided to get up and make breakfast—something other than cereal for a change. She put bacon in the oven to crisp per the instructions on the packet while she showered and came out of her bedroom to a smoke-filled kitchen, blackened pork, and a greasy oven bottom. Probably should have put the bacon on a pan instead of treating the oven racks like grill grates. Then she’d thumped her head on the kitchen table over the idiocy of what she’d done.

A bowl of cold cereal had perked her up a bit, but she still ended up going through the drive-through on her way to work for a chicken biscuit, cursing herself for being an absolutely useless human being. She arrived at the barn with just enough time to clear the chemicals off her workbench and attend the Monday morning meeting, which Jerry had been suspiciously absent from. She couldn’t hear a damned thing Nikki was chattering about because her heart was beating so fast. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, shutting out all other noise. She didn’t understand why she felt that way—like a big hole had been scooped out of her torso. Then his absence sparked a revelation.

She
loved
the damned jerk, and that was very, very bad. Intelligent, modern women weren’t supposed to fall in love with the first person they gave themselves to, no matter what Ginger said.

“We’re throwing the doors open to let in the horde,” Gretchen announced at two o’clock on the dot.

The noise just beyond the barn doors was almost deafening. Trinity figured it must have been teenagers—not that she’d ever behaved that way, but she’d certainly encountered enough people who had.
God, I’m a boring human being. I couldn’t even do my teen years right.

“Brace yourselves,” Gretchen warned.

Trinity did exactly that. She took a deep, bolstering breath and leaned onto the top of her empty workbench that was now covered with pamphlets and product information sheets. She tried to put thoughts of Jerry aside.
Later
.
I’ll deal with him later
. Her job was to talk to anyone who asked about the natural ingredients, and according to Nikki, the reporters would probably make an immediate beeline for her. “Yay,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes around in their sockets.

“Glad to see you, too,” Jerry said, sneaking up behind her and reaching up the back of her dress for a grope no one else saw.

She yipped, and he smiled as he leaned against the tabletop next to her. “Nice dress,” he said, eyeing her from head to toe.

Her face burned, and she pulled her strapless dress up a bit and tightened the high, wide belt. “Where have you been?” she croaked.

He wore a dark blue button-up oxford tucked into belted black slacks, and black leather flip-flops. Only
he
could pull off that look—sexy, casual, and yet still rather professional. Wasn’t as nice as the tuxedo, but still damned arousing. He looked good in everything, even his ugly orange camo-print pants.

“Been looking for me?”

“Well, yeah.” She swallowed hard, and turned her face to avoid his dark blue gaze. “Haven’t heard from you since…and I thought…”

He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in close, scooping her closer with an arm around her waist. “Never
think
, Trinity. Always
ask
. Ask me.”

Ask him? She struggled for words. Where was old Trinity when she needed her? The one who would have told him to go fuck himself for scolding her? Because all this
new
Trinity could manage was, “Oh. Okay.”

He placed a gentle hand on her bare right shoulder, and gave her tight muscles a much-needed massage. “Nikki’s been keeping me busy. I’ve been doing surveillance on Frick and Frack, making sure they don’t leave town. And the PR requests through the website have been keeping me in front of my computer a lot more than I’d like. I’m sorry, pixie. I would have rather been at the beach with you. The thought of getting that intern so I can see you more is the only thing keeping me afloat right about now.”

Her plan shattered then and there. She wanted that man, and if it meant two months or two weeks before he’d dump her, it’d be worth it to her. Her stomach felt like a pit of writing snakes, and she put a hand over it, hoping to calm her anxiety. “Oh, well, I didn’t go to the beach over the weekend. Aunt Ginger left for a long trip this morning and we spent the weekend getting ready for that.”

“Yeah?” He rotated the silver ring on his right middle finger and stared off at the people flowing into the door. “How long a trip?”

“Eight to twelve weeks, maybe longer.”

“Jesus.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, forehead furrowed.

She’d had never seen Jerry unshaven, and from where she stood it didn’t seem to be any sort of experiment, just a factor of not having enough hours in the day. What else he must have been doing in the Jeep to have not shaved as always on the way in to work? Nikki must have been really working the man ragged.

Trinity hoped the boss came through on that promise to get him some help. Although in the past she’d assumed
anyone
could do Jerry’s job, deep down she’d always known there was no one else who could wear that many hats without dropping any. She certainly couldn’t. She knew how to do one thing well, and everything else…well, everything else sucked.

“Yeah. Hey, listen, can we talk? Later, I mean?”
Tell me you want me.

“Of course. We can do
other
things, too.” He gave her ear lobe a flirtatious pull and strode to where Charlie was waving frantically at him.

She forced a smile, and leaned there on the bench for a while with her chin resting on her fists, staring at Jerry in profile as he and Charlie pretended to be sipping drinks. She could see that they were just barely moving their lips behind them. She kept right on ogling until some woman tottered over in very high heels, and introduced herself as the beauty columnist from some magazine Trinity was sure she should have recognized but didn’t. They traded business cards, and Trinity spouted her rehearsed talking points while the reporter took extensive notes.

After about an hour of presentations, Trinity had become so distracted she nearly missed it when Becky walked in. The only reason she noticed was Gabby had left her place at the manicure station, sidled over to Trinity, and whispered, “Oh my God, she’s trying to look like Nikki.”

Trinity had never seen Becky in the flesh, but she knew immediately whom Gabby referred to. “That’s your mother?” she said through clenched teeth, not taking her eyes off the tall woman in the mini-dress.

“Yes. Hide me while I make a run for it. I don’t want to be near her when there are cameras rolling.”

“But she’s your
mother
.”

“Don’t you start that crap, too. I get enough of it from everyone else. I thought you’d understand since you chose to live with your aunt.”

“Well, honey, my mother isn’t…” Trinity was about to say “insane” but slammed down her filter just in time. “Get in front of me, and I’ll tail you to the office.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“You grew up real nice, Jerry,” Becky said, attempting to coo into his ear.

He held himself a bit away from her and tried to be more of a moving target. Bob and weave, bob and weave.
Where did Trinity go?

“I haven’t seen you in, what, fifteen years? You were kinda skinny back then. Kinda reminded me of those little boys from the band Hanson.”

“Yeah. Hanson.” Jerry rolled his eyes. He was about to excuse himself to the bar, when some asshole with a camera guy rolled over and stuck a microphone in his face. Jerry said, “Fuck,” before he could filter himself.

“Folks, this is a where-are-they-now story gone right! I’m standing here in front of Jeremiah Rouse. Ten years ago, you couldn’t crack open a magazine during the spring and summer without seeing his face in a swimwear ad. Here he is today, an employee of a little cosmetics company that’s generating a lot of buzz because of what they
don’t
put in their products and because of who they’re marketing them to.”

Nikki appeared from out of nowhere and forced herself between Jerry and Becky. She gave a Becky a rude shove to get her out of the frame, and then beamed at the camera. “That’s right, Paul. Jerry handles everything electronic here at N-by-N. If it involves the web or our store, Jerry did it.”

Paul looked from Nikki to Becky and back to Nikki again, probably noting the similarities, what few there were. Nikki was a natural beauty. What she had was the real deal, including the premature, broad gray streak at her right temple. She’d stopped dyeing two years ago because it made her feel like a hypocrite. Took her a while to adjust, but eventually she began to rock her gray like an accessory. Becky, on the other hand, was pumped full of artifice: sliced, diced and dyed to resemble some kind of third-rate, Frankenstein’s monster of a knock-off. No one could do Nikki like Nikki. Even Paul could see that.

He cleared his throat, but obviously decided not to address it. “Nicolette, were you aware of Jerry’s past career when you hired him?”

“Yes, but I didn’t actually care. I hired him because I’ve known him forever, and he’s the smartest guy I know. He’s friggin’ diabolical.”

Uh, thanks?

“So, whose idea was it to put Jerry in the ads with two of America’s most famous drag queens?”

“They’re not drag queens. They’re female impersonators,” she sniped. “But the idea was my style coordinator-slash-trend watcher Beth’s. I believe in using natural resources in my company, and Jerry is one of them. As is my junior chemist Trinity, who seems to have stepped out.”

Becky popped her head back into the frame. “She’s working my little girl like a dog,” she said, screwing her face up, and looking like she was trying to squeeze out a couple of tears.

Nikki sighed.

Too late, the camera was already on Becky.

“Explain,” Paul said, holding the mic toward her. “And who are you, exactly?”

“I’m Becky. Gabby’s mother.”

“Who’s Gabby?”

“My step-daughter,” Nikki said off-camera. “Well,
daughter
, I guess, seeing as how I adopted her. Remember that, Beck?” They whipped the camera back around to her.

“Is that true, Nikki? Does Gabby work here?”

“Every now and then. She’s fourteen going on forty. She works about eight hours a week helping my chemist and shipping guy. She likes hanging out here ’cause we’re cool.” She snorted.

Truth was, Gabby was a kid with an old soul. She was one of those people who loved observing, and where better than in a cosmetics company?

“That hardly sounds unreasonable. Becky, can you explain why you think…”

Boom!

“What
now
?” Nikki groaned.

That became apparent, as people in the room hurried toward the door, covering their noses and mouths with their hands and coughing loudly.

Then Jerry smelled it, and then Nikki. They shared a look that could only be described as murderous.

Apparently, someone had rigged a timer onto a stink bomb and left it in the cabinets beneath Trinity’s workstation.