Secret Shopper

SECRET SHOPPER

BY

Tanya Taimanglo

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∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Other Titles By Tanya Taimanglo

Sirena: A Mermaid Legend From Guam

(Children’s Book-Authorhouse
2010)

Attitude 13: A Daughter of Guam’s Collection of Short Stories

(Fiction-Authorhouse
2010)

www.GuamBooksAndBeads.Com

SECRET SHOPPER

By Tanya Taimanglo

Secret Shopper © 2013. Tanya Taimanglo

The moral right of this author has been asserted.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover photo by: Tanya Taimanglo

Design by: Tanya Taimanglo & Sonny Chargualaf

Author Photo by: Mark J. Pacheco

ISBN-13:  978-1482313772

ISBN-10:  1482313774

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to my husband,
Henry

and my children,
Elijah
and
Samantha

for putting up with me for three and a half years

as I molded this novel.

I love you three lots and lots.

To my omma,
Un Cha Chargualaf

for hearing the story first as it was freshly born in 2009/2010.

To my kid brother,
Sonny Chargualaf
for inspiring me.

And, for helping with the evolution of the
book cover.

To my late father,
Tedy Gamboa Chargualaf

for always being the voice in my head

and the man I want to impress.

Dedication

I
dedicate Phoenix’s story to the ladies who hold me up:

Kimberly Untalan Taisipic (my real life Rachel),

Alison Taimanglo Cuasay,

Desiree Taimanglo Ventura,

Dr. Patricia Taimanglo,

Nari Taimanglo,

Angie Barker,

Raquel Santos

and

Denise Avitia.

Special thanks to authors,

Carlene Rae Dater and Lani Wendt Young

for your advice and guidance.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Stand By Your Chieftain

Chapter 2: Meet My Friend, Gym

Chapter 3: Bag It and Blonde It

Chapter 4: My Fairy Spa Mother

Chapter 5: Becoming a Golden Girl

Chapter 6: Enter Sandman

Chapter 7: Hello, Kitty!

Chapter 8: Two Coffee Shops and a Boy

Chapter 9: Man and Ex-Wife

Chapter 10: Popeye, My Hero

Chapter 11: Karaoke Therapy

Chapter 12: Yes, I’m From Guam

Chapter 13: Our Two Dads

Chapter 14: Humid Homecoming

Chapter 15: If We Took A
Holiday

Chapter 16: Funerals Suck

Chapter 17: A Phoenix is Forever

Chapter 18: He Loves Me, He
Really
Loves Me

Chapter 19: My Tongue is in a Celtic Knot

Chapter 20: We Have Lift Off!

Chapter 21: The Princess and the Hot Frog

Chapter 1

Stand by Your Chieftain

             
No one on a talk show ever tells you that divorce makes it hard to breathe. When Dr. “Feel” tells the pretty, plump lady in a pant suit that she can move on and heal from heartbreak, she nods obediently and smiles with hope. I see the cracks in her brave mask threatening to reveal her true face. The line of tears blazing through her foundation tells me that she’ll go home, beg her husband to take her back, eat a ton of chocolate and curl up in the fetal position under her favorite blanket, for weeks.
At least that’s what I did.

             
I never wanted to move to California from Guam. I didn’t like shifts in my universe. I didn’t want to change my Facebook status from married to single. I had convinced myself that I could take Bradley back even after he cheated on me. Jem, short for Jemima, was an agent in his real estate office who doubled as Bradley’s part-time lover. Nix, short for Phoenix, was the gullible wife who thought that dropping thirty pounds was the way to save the marriage.
Phoenix is my name.

              “Bradley! I got the job!” I yelled from our second floor office. The Lure Company was San Diego’s largest secret shopping firm and they hired me after a trial evaluation. It was the dream job for me. I was going to be paid to buy iced coffees, deli sandwiches and if I was lucky, clothes. All they wanted was a customer evaluation and my spy skills. Writing a customer service evaluation was mundane, but easier than a master’s thesis. And, I always have an opinion. I’m not always heard, but now I had an outlet.

             
“I’m in the bathroom!” I heard Bradley from the third floor of our towering condo. I never liked the idea of stairs in our home, back on Guam life was simple in a single level, solid concrete abode. Here, there were too many places to hide from each other, although the “acoustics are great,”
Bradley’s words
, not mine.

             
I felt my belly jiggle as I bounded up our carpeted stairs. Catching my breath at the top step, I thought that at twenty-five-years old, I should be fit without having to work at it yet. My usual choice of exercise was a leisurely walk hunting for lucky pennies.

             
The sound of rushing water and the wispy steam emerging from our master bathroom told me that Bradley was preening himself in front of the mirror, again. Something he did a lot more of since Easter, when business slowed in the real estate market.

             
“Dear husband, I am a certified secret shopper!” I yodeled. He should be proud of me since it was his suggestion that I get a part-time job. Bradley hadn’t sold a house in two months. We weren’t starving yet, but we were about six months away from calling mom and dad on the island for some floatation money. We only had to do that once, just before we refinanced our home at a better rate. I was darn proud of weaning ourselves off our parents, even though the occasional twenty dollar bill in a birthday card was always thrilling.
Mom, you can’t send cash in the mail. It’s not safe.
I once told her half-heartedly.

The smell of shaving cream reminded me of my dad and as the fluffy white clouds settled, I saw Bradley’s muscular bronze back first. His leaner hips minus its love handles were wrapped tight in a white towel. He was the sexiest man burrito I had ever seen.

In the past month, Bradley had been on a fitness quest—exercising six days a week and cutting out everything bad from his diet, including me. As I enjoyed the yummy contours of his body, my sights elevated to Bradley’s newly bald head. My eyes darted to the sink which cradled clumps of brown hair. I felt like I was karate chopped in the throat and no speech could escape. I loved his floppy hair and now I had Mr. Clean. The softness of his once longer locks preserved the boyish face I was so fond of. Now, he looked hard, older and determined.

Bradley’s eyes were intent on his reflection. I watched as he seemed appreciative of his new look. He didn’t hear me or ignored me as usual. I cleared my throat and his eyes flickered to me. They were dark and intense, daring me to object. For a second, I did not recognize the man I married, the man I had my first kiss with, the man who had been my classmate since the first grade. I felt like the cute puppy I fell in love with had grown into a large unmanageable dog I couldn’t wrangle.

              “So, you got a job. Good for you, Phoenix.” Bradley was indeed listening. “When do you start this little job of yours?”

             
Little
, that stung, but I didn’t tell him that. “I start on Monday. You do realize that you look like a Chamorro Mr. Clean.” I became better at ignoring the arrogant tone he whipped at me.

             
“And you do realize that I’m a new man. I have a new mission and a,” Bradley broke his glare with me and pulled his towel off roughly. He retreated to the shower. I wondered if his new mission was to actually sell a house this month. We needed the commission. I surveyed Bradley’s scattered locks and fought the urge to keep some for my scrapbook. I cleaned the sink, humming a sad melody to myself like a funeral song for Bradley’s hair. It seemed like Bradley had molted and was now washing away his old life.

             
“Are you joining a Buddhist nudist colony? Or, is there a Chamorro Chief Club out here?” I said more for my amusement.

I got on my knees and wiped up the stray hairs on the floor with a wet tissue. Bradley pulled open the shower curtain dotted with tiny coconut trees. Finding the curtain at the dollar store had been the highlight of my week. My sight gravitated to his man parts and a pint of blood raced to my eyeballs. The realization that Bradley hadn’t touched me in
weeks weighed heavy on my mind, among other parts.

             
I heard Bradley sigh. He grabbed his robe and as the soft flannel enveloped him, it took the edge off his tone. “Nix, get up. I can clean up after myself.”

             
“I was wondering when you were going to call me
Nix
again.” I staggered to my feet, cursing the bad knees I inherited from my dad’s side of the family. Around the same time Bradley started his extreme hottie makeover, he stopped calling me Nix, only referring to me by my full name. I didn’t ask him why. I didn’t want to know.

             
“We need to talk.” He pointed to our bedroom and I washed my hands twice and let the last of the hot water scald my hands. I looked at my reflection in the hazy mirror. My almond eyes were plain and set too far apart for my liking. My brown hair was long and wild. My high cheekbones were the only saving grace of my face, that and maybe the creamy skin I snagged from my mom. I flattened my unruly hair with my damp hands. I bit my lips to make them pink, then pushed up my breasts. Maybe I would get lucky today.

Bradley waited, arms folded by the head of
our Ikea bed. His new look had stirred something in me. I realized my eyes were batting more than usual, well ever and my chest heaved. He was the embodiment of a strong Chamorro man, the type of man from Guam who could rip a coconut tree out of the ground and hunt a wild boar barefoot. Before I could stop myself, my inner seductress—
didn’t even know I had one
, emerged. Bradley stood in protest with a scowl in place as I stripped. I tripped over my jeans tangled around my ankles and disappeared from view at the foot of the bed. I heard a giggle escape from the Chieftain’s mouth, a good sign. I peered over the bed and Bradley sat now. His light brown eyes were softer and his robe lay open. I continued my strip tease, secretly hoping I wouldn’t have a concussion before climbing into bed. Well aware of my best features, I sucked in my belly, held my hand over my now unfastened bra, keeping the cups over my breasts. Then, I scaled the side of our bed. I kept my plump back side away from his line of vision. Bradley’s jaw tensed and he lay back in invitation, but his face had the same look he made when he was in the dentist’s chair. This confused me. Did he or did he not want this?