Microsoft Word - 49A4C18A-1A2A-28B97F.doc (4 page)

Eve was the most upbeat person Jane knew—just being around her made Jane feel better.

“Good morning.”

“Ready for me?”

“Sure.” Jane stood and gestured toward the chair she’d vacated.

“How was your evening with your remote control?” Eve teased as she sat down.

“Interrupted,” Jane said, shaking out a paper cape to tuck around the collar of Eve’s blouse.

“My new neighbor is so loud, he disturbed my entire evening.”

“He?” Eve asked with a smile. “Have you met him?”

“Yes. Once to tell him that his girlfriend was parked in my parking place, and once to tell

him to keep the noise down. And…I had a flat tire this morning, so he dropped me off here.”

Eve’s eyebrows rose. “Is he cute?”

Jane shrugged. “I guess so. But he’s also a jerk.”

“Gee, he can’t be too much of a jerk if he offered you a ride to work.”

Jane avoided Eve’s perceptive gaze and instead handed her a headband to secure her hair

away from her face. “How were ratings yesterday?” she asked, to change the subject.

Eve studied her with a little frown, then said, “The best ever. I need for today’s show to be strong, too, to keep the viewers we captured yesterday.”

“You’ll pull it off,” Jane said, hoping to soothe the concern she heard in her friend’s voice.

Eve smiled at her in the mirror. “Thanks. But lately I’ve been asking myself why I’m doing

this.” She gave a little laugh. “My life would be so much easier if I could just win the lottery.”

Jane laughed. “Mine, too.” She checked the date on her watch. “Hey, maybe we’ll get

lucky today.” She proceeded to airbrush a layer of foundation on Eve’s lovely face, but this

morning Jane’s focus was compromised as she continually blinked her scratchy, sleep-deprived

eyes. More than once she had to switch off the machine and correct mistakes manually.

“You okay?” Eve asked suspiciously. “You look tired.”

“I…didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Your neighbor again?”

Jane simply nodded, but spared her friend the gory details.

“Sounds like a fun guy,” Eve said slyly.

Jane didn’t respond, but admitted to herself that some of her tears last night had been due

to the fact that Perry Brewer was correct in his assessment of her.

Not only was she a homely geek, but listening to him pleasure his girlfriend had struck a

chord in her—no man had ever given her that kind of physical satisfaction.

He was right. She’d never had a good lay in her life.

“Uh…Jane? Since when do you use green blush?”

Jane gasped at her ghoulish handiwork. “I’m sorry—I’ll fix it.”

“That neighbor of yours sure has you distracted,” Eve remarked.

“Nothing a pair of earplugs won’t fix,” Jane murmured.

Turning her mind firmly away from Perry Brewer and his correct assumptions, she focused

on Eve’s makeup and methodically played up the woman’s eyes, cheeks, and mouth. When she

finished, Jane styled Eve’s luxurious hair while they chatted about today’s show.

“I just hope that ‘Unleashing Your Inner Wild Child’ appeals to enough viewers,”

Eve said wryly. “It sounds a little like a sexual exorcism.”

Jane laughed and removed the paper cape, then stepped back and surveyed Eve’s

turquoise-colored blouse. “I have a necklace that would look great with that outfit.”

From the bureau where she kept stock costume pieces, Jane removed a chunky silver and

turquoise necklace and clasped it around Eve’s neck. Eve touched the piece and smiled wide.

“It’s perfect. You have such a good eye, Jane.”

Jane smiled. “That’s what you pay me for.”

An assistant producer appeared in the doorway. “Bette Valentine is here.”

Eve glanced up at Jane. “And you’re going to earn your paycheck today.”

The women shared a laugh, then Eve heaved a sigh and pushed to her feet. “See you later.”

“Okay,” Jane said, fighting a yawn.

She had just finished cleaning up the vanity area when Bette Valentine sailed into the room

sporting her typical tropical muu-muu, garish makeup, clanging earrings, and teased red hair.

“Hello, hello,” the middle-aged woman sang.

“Hello, Ms. Valentine,” Jane said, hoping her smile was stronger than it felt.

“I’m Jane.”

“I remember from the last time I was on the show,” the woman said with a smile.

“Although I’m not sure why they sent me in here. I did my own makeup already.”

“I’ll just give you a little touch up,” Jane said, gesturing to the chair. “You don’t want to look shiny under all those lights.”

The woman sat down, her bracelets and other jewelry jangling.

“Ms. Valentine, just between us, you might want to remove any jewelry that makes noise.

The microphone will pick it up and our viewers won’t be able to hear you.”

“Oh? We wouldn’t want that,” the woman conceded.

“And I think I have a color of eye shadow that will better highlight those gorgeous green

eyes of yours.”

One compliment at a time, she tweaked the woman’s appearance to tone down the makeup,

extract some poof from the hair, and she even found a silver beaded tassel belt to cinch the

voluminous muu-muu.

“That’s nice,” the woman agreed with a nod. Then she angled her head at Jane.

“You’re quite pretty, you know.”

Jane blanched, her tongue tied as her mind replayed her neighbor’s brutal assessment of

her. “No…I’m not.”

Ms. Valentine laughed and gripped Jane’s hands. “Dear, you’re just the sort of person I’m

targeting today. You need to ‘Unleash your inner wild child.’ “

A flush climbed Jane’s neck. “I don’t have…I mean, I’m not—”

“Do you have a man in your life, Jane?”

“No, but—”

“It’s because you haven’t released the passion that lives deep within you.”

Jane squirmed. All this touchy-feely stuff made her nervous.

The woman clasped her hands tighter. “You have a secret. You hide behind your plain

clothes and your ponytail because you’re afraid to let men see the wild child in you that’s dying to get out. Yet you grow bored with the men who don’t recognize that about you.”

Jane started to protest, but Bette stared into her eyes with such intensity that for a split

second, Jane felt as if the woman had a “third eye,” that she could see something that Jane

herself couldn’t even see.

“She’s in there,” Bette said, releasing one of Jane’s hands and tapping her lightly on the

chest. “You need to find the courage to unleash her.”

Jane’s heart was hammering beneath the woman’s hand, and she couldn’t speak—wouldn’t

know what to say if she could. For some reason, the woman’s words made her want to

laugh…and cry. It was as if she had channeled into Jane’s deepest fear lately—that she was

doomed to be the girl whose name no one could remember.

“Ms. Valentine,” an assistant said from the door, “you’re on in five.”

The woman gave Jane’s hand one last squeeze. “This one’s for you, hon.”

Jane simply stared after the flamboyant woman, feeling as if she’d been emotionally dive-

bombed and blaming some of her vulnerability on her lack of sleep. But as she cleaned her tools and supplies, she turned up the monitor and watched the show with more interest than usual.

Eve introduced Bette Valentine to much applause—the colorful woman was a favorite

guest. “Tell us what you mean, Bette, when you say that women should unleash their inner wild child.”

Bette’s voice was hypnotic and she emphasized main points with her elegant hands.

“Women are taught from a young age to repress behavior that might seem unladylike or too

aggressive, especially when it comes to sex. Some women internalize those behaviors to the

point of extreme shyness, but inside, they’re dying to burst out.”

“And these are women we know?” Eve asked.

“Absolutely. Sometimes women whom you would least suspect. The facade they exhibit to

the world is one of good-girl obedience, sometimes even submission.

They are what everyone around them expects them to be.” Bette leaned in conspiratorially.

“But these women have a secret. Deep down, they’re unhappy because they have this longing

buried inside to do something wild, something completely unexpected to prove to themselves

and to everyone else that there is more to them than what meets the eye.”

Jane went completely still as the woman’s words seemed to penetrate some kind of

invisible shield she’d maintained over the innermost workings of her mind…of her heart.

Bette looked into the camera and Jane felt as if the woman were speaking directly to her.

“Remember, it is easier to live with rejection than to live with regret. You owe it to yourself to be the authentic you.”

“But some women are happy being demure,” Eve pointed out.

“I’m not talking about the women who are truly happy with their quiet existence,” Bette

said. “I’m talking about the woman who is sad…lonely…restless.”

Jane swallowed hard—she was all of those things. This edgy feeling that had been

festering inside her since that loser James had dumped her…was it her inner self trying to tell her that she deserved better? That the reason she hadn’t met her soul mate was because she was

presenting a false front to the world?

“Okay,” Eve said, “let’s say some of our viewers are out there thinking ‘yes, that’s me.’

What can she do to let out that inner wild child?

“The process is different for every woman—sometimes it’s as simple as giving yourself

permission to let that wild child out of the closet. Sometimes it takes more drastic action, such as a makeover, or a change of scenery.”

A change of scenery…that’s what she needed. A place where she could experiment with

this wild child theory in private…away from the prying eyes of people who would judge her. A

weekend jaunt far away from Atlanta.

Her heart fluttered with excitement, but as her mind fast-forwarded through the details, she

realized that her finances were already likely to be strained from repairing the dent in her

car…and possibly buying a new tire. Her mouth tightened in renewed anger toward Perry

Brewer, then she sighed in resignation.

Financial reality came first.

Jane turned down the volume on the set monitor, reached for the phone and the yellow

pages, and reluctantly put plans for unleashing her inner wild child on hold until she had some spare cash. Maybe next month. Or next year…

“So, how’d it go?” Theresa asked him on the phone.

“I feel good about my closing,” Perry cautiously told his long-time office manager. “But

the judge postponed his decision until next week.”

“Perry, I don’t think we can hang on that long. Your creditors are breathing down my

neck.”

“What about the money from the sale of my house?”

“We’ve already gone through it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache that threatened. “Put them off

for a few more days, Theresa. When the judge rules in our favor and orders Deartmond

Industries to pay, we’ll be back on top.”

“Don’t you mean if the judge rules in your favor and orders Deartmond Industries to pay? I

think it’s great that you took on this case pro bono, but you’ve spent so much time on it, your revenues have hit bottom. If you lose this case, or if the compensation isn’t spectacular, we’ll have to close the doors.” She made a rueful noise. “Perhaps you should consider taking the

settlement.”

He set his jaw. “The settlement is an insult to my client. And besides, it’s no longer on the table.”

“This newfound nobility of yours is admirable, Perry, but it was easier to pay the bills

when you were an ambulance chaser.”

He laughed at her dry humor. “Have some faith. I’ll find some way to pay the bills.”

She sighed. “When are you coming in? You have about a hundred phone calls to return.”

“I’ll be there after lunch. I need to stop by my condo first.”

“So, how is condo living?”

He frowned into the phone. “Apparently, the walls are thin. I miss my house.”

“Win that judgment and you can move,” Theresa said flatly.

Perry pursed his mouth. “Which reminds me—would you run down a bio on a woman

named Jane Kurtz? She lives in my building, so she’ll have the same address.”

“Is this someone you’re trying to hit on?” she asked suspiciously.

“No,” he said with a frown. Although strangely, the idea wasn’t completely unappealing.

“Okay, well, I have to go so I can make a deal with the devil to keep our lights on for

another week.”

“You’re the best,” Perry said.

“Yes, I am,” Theresa agreed, then hung up.

He switched off the hands-free microphone and exhaled while loosening his tie.

The Kendall case had already drawn out eighteen months longer than he’d expected, and

had consumed an enormous amount of time. He’d passed on other cases and was now operating

his law firm on a shoestring, but he’d thought it was worth it when he’d taken on security guard Thomas Kendall’s case. His employer, Deartmond Industries, had exposed Kendall to dangerous

emissions over two decades as he manned his post in a guard shack situated next to the

manufacturer’s exhaust system, then fired him when the man had applied for disability over the lung ailment he had developed.

In hindsight, Perry still believed in the case. He only hoped he didn’t wind up filing for

bankruptcy for his principles. The Kendall case was all or nothing—if they won, and if the

reparations were as big as Perry thought they should be, Thomas Kendall could afford a lung

transplant and he and his family would be set for the rest of their lives. And Perry’s law firm would recover. But if they lost, or if the reparations were less than the trivial amount the