Jaded
Authors: Rhonda Sheree
Jaded
Rhonda Sheree
Published by Reason Enterprises
Jaded Copyright © 2011 by Rhonda Sheree. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way whatsoever without written permission.
Cover designed by Fabian Ramirez
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Dedicated to all the independent women in the world.
And to those still trying to find their way.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Thank you to everyone who reads this book. Reading is an intimate, time-consuming journey that can transport us to a wonderful new world. Books entertain and enlighten us, and help us forget our troubles, for a little while anyway. I hope this book transports you to a fun and inspiring place.
Thank you to the following people who helped me edit this book.
Erin Barker, I am grateful for your constant encouragement, for assuring me that you “felt something”, and for liking Christian as much as I do.
Katie Kaluza, many thanks for your insightful comments about Syeesha. You have a nose for bull and aren’t afraid to say when something doesn’t quite ring true to you.
Ed Murphy, as the lone guy in our critique group, thank you for challenging me and never backing down from your opinions. Often, you were right. Ugh! Did I just say that?
Elizabeth Smith, thank you for reminding me that my heroine should always be smart and resourceful. And thank you for the many hours spent editing this book (any errors made after your edits are solely mine.)
Rhonda Sheree
Chapter 1
Something was wrong.
Syeesha Green felt it as soon as she walked into the reception area of her office that morning. Although Melinda sat behind her desk as usual, her lips formed a perfect
O
when she saw Syeesha. Melinda looked at her as if she were rising from the dead instead of schlepping into the office from the outside cold.
“C’mon, Mel. I know I’m not on top of my game today, but I can’t look that bad.”
“Oh, no. You look great.” Melinda fiddled with her headset.
Syeesha drifted toward the high ledge of the desk and narrowed her eyes. As everyone knew, the receptionist—despite being positioned far away from the fray of the office—was the recycling bin for office gossip.
“
’
Fess up, Mel. Something’s going on in the office. Gimme the juice.”
Melinda’s hands fluttered about her desk, her eyes shifting. Never quite meeting Syeesha’s.
“No juice today, Sy.”
Syeesha let it be. No need looking petty.
“All right, then. Have a good day.”
As she was about to turn the corner, Melinda called, “Sy! I hope you have a good day, too. No matter what.”
What the—?
Instinctively, Syeesha’s fingers tightened around the plastic bag that contained her lunch. She was tempted to ask Melinda to elaborate, but when the telephone rang, the receptionist, who normally preferred chitchat over duty, scrambled to answer it. Syeesha hesitated, then made her way toward the ladies’ room to touch up her face.
The law offices of Clarke and Associates occupied two floors of a Madison Avenue office building. The glass doors leading into the offices were thick, requiring the full weight of one’s body to push through them. Syeesha traversed the maze of tastefully appointed office spaces. The walls were dotted with contemporary art and the offices boasted imported Italian leather throughout.
Inside the restroom, she had very little to do in the way of freshening up her makeup. She wore just a touch of dark brown eyeliner to highlight her hazel eyes. A dab of water on her hair helped slick back the edges of her wavy mane, pulled tightly into a poofy ponytail; a touch of wine-colored lip gloss finished the job. Syeesha used to wear a little rouge to accentuate her high cheekbones, but her older sister had insisted that black women looked liked clowns wearing blush so Syeesha, though light complexioned to the point of sometimes looking pale, had ditched the blush long ago.
Back at her desk, she hung her coat on the coatrack and, dropped her purse inside a drawer. Melinda’s parting words gnawed at her during the short trek to the break room.
Am I so paranoid that I think someone wishing me a good day has threatening overtones?
Maybe she really was cut out to be a lawyer after all. She definitely had a knack for reading into the minutest details.
Syeesha popped her lunch into the fridge, then poured the last of the coffee into her
Trust Me, I’m a Law Student
mug, a Christmas gift from her boss. She turned when she heard heels clicking on linoleum.
Cheri O’Keefe burst inside the break room like a fluorescent light that’s suddenly flipped on in a dark room.
“Look who’s back. You look great,” Syeesha said. “All tanned and bubbly.”
“Oh God, please.” Cheri waved off Syeesha’s comment. “Sun and beaches are not my style. I’d much rather ski. But what’re you gonna do? Tell the in-laws to pack up and move to Aspen?”
Syeesha dumped a fresh packet of grounds into the filter.
“I hope you and Mike had a good time despite that annoying sunshine. You get along well with your in-laws, right?”
Cheri tossed her Jenny Craig meal into the freezer. With her curveless body and golden bob, strands of multihued blond bangs spilling into her eyes, Cheri’s obsession with her appearance was matched only by a priest’s devotion to God. Unwavering in her diet, Cheri had lost twenty pounds after birthing her twin boys more than a year ago and nothing passed through her lips that didn’t have Jenny’s stamp of approval on the package. At the holiday party, no one whispered a word of reproach when Cheri brought her own Jenny Craig meal and asked the waiters to heat it up during dinner while the rest of them fattened themselves with steak and lobster.
“We get along great.” She leaned in front of the water cooler to refill her gallon jug. “Now that I’ve got the boys, that is. Before that, I’d go down there and, between his mother and the damn sun, I felt like I’d really landed in hell.”
Syeesha chuckled while pouring water into the machine, her fingertips still chilled by the cold.
“I’ll have some fresh coffee ready in a second.”
“Oh God, please. I’ve got my Starbucks at my desk.”
“Ah, I forgot. Tall, skinny latte.”
Cheri shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t but I figured I deserve a treat after being so good on vacation the past week.”
Syeesha thought if Cheri really wanted a treat she should try the venti mocha latte with extra whip and two pumps of chocolate, but that was probably beyond Cheri’s capacity to conceive of.
Tom Marciano, a weathered-looking partner with a gaunt face perpetually devoid of expression, entered the break room. He glanced at Syeesha for a moment, opened his mouth to speak, but gave her a curt nod instead.
“Welcome back,” he said to Cheri. After more than twenty-five years of living in New York, a slow southern drawl still accented his speech. “Cancún, right?”
He pulled a coffee mug from the cabinet, removed the pot still filling with coffee, and stuck his mug beneath the filter so that the strong brew trickled directly into his mug.
“Aruba,” Cheri replied.
“That’s where I spent my honeymoon. Good time?”
Cheri continued, “Eh. I got a chance to jog along the beach every morning, I swam and the fruit was about the best I’ve ever had.”
Cheri snapped the lid onto her water jug and looked from one to the other, apparently feeling the same shift in the atmosphere as Syeesha felt. Cheri immediately switched back into lawyer mode and headed toward the exit.
“Syeesha,” Cheri said, stopping at the door, “when you get a chance, will you get me a copy of the notes from Friday’s meeting?”
The sugar packet dangled from Syeesha’s fingers, midrip. “What meeting?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tom interjected, grabbing his mug from the hot plate. Coffee continued to pour out and Syeesha hurriedly slipped the pot beneath the spigot. “I’ll follow you out, Cheri.” Tom lightly touched Cheri’s elbow and ushered her from the break room.
Back at her desk, Syeesha looked at her inbox. Usually piled high with the work product of her assigned attorney who left the office long after Syeesha’s daily six o’clock exodus, the empty black plastic receptacle looked oddly out of place.
It wouldn’t be long before Syeesha would be a hungry associate, slinging paper until nine like the rest of them. Her life would be better once she had graduated from law school and secured a position, hopefully, at Clarke and Associates. Her current job as a legal secretary was a bit mundane for her tastes, but it gave her an edge in a reputable law firm before graduation.
Syeesha looked around her cube. Matt’s door was closed. She thought about hanging out at Melinda’s desk, but decided against it. Clarke was an ultra-conservative firm. The attorneys spent only the minimum amount of time socializing required to still be considered a normally functioning human being. For the most part, their hurried gait, hunched shoulders, and furrowed brows were a side effect of their busy careers. They were slaves to the billable hour. And if they fell short of posting two hundred forty hours per month, they had a personal meeting with a partner to explain why they were such slackers. One too many of those meetings meant earning the new title of
former
associate. Still, those slaves lived in penthouses in the city and McMansions in Connecticut. Syeesha wanted to join their ranks. They would never have to nearly poison themselves while deploying a couple of roach bombs in an apartment the size of Barbie’s dollhouse, as she had done only two nights ago.
