Smokin' & Spinnin' (2 page)

I sit down on the couch and take out my cell phone to call my parents. I take a deep breath as Mom answers the phone. “I made it!” I exclaim.

“Oh, Whitney! The phone is ringing off the hook. He won’t stop calling. She is calling. They all seem to be in a panic.”

She gasps for breath as I intercede with a laugh. “Mom! Mom! Please! Everything is OK. Just take the phone off the hook! OK?”

She hesitates. “OK.”

I know this is hard for her, but I have got to do what is right for me. “Mom, I have to go, but I will call you soon. I love you!”

I can hear the tears in her voice. “I love you, Whitney!” And the line goes dead.

I haul my belongings in from the underground garage, and suddenly it hits me just how tired I am—not just from the drive, but from no sleep last night and my epic meltdown. I head straight for the shower. I love the bathroom. It is huge. It has a double vanity sink, large walk-in shower, and separate Jacuzzi tub. What the apartment lacks in size, it more than makes up for in amenities.
Oh! I am in heaven
.

I strip off my T-shirt and shorts and then turn on the shower. The hot water is scalding and therapeutic. It rushes over my skin, and I desperately try to wash Georgia off my body and out of my mind. When I emerge from the shower, I realize that I have a new resolve. So, I set out to turn Casa Brooke into Casa Whitney.

It only takes me an hour to accomplish my task. After I unpack, I amble over to the refrigerator. Starving!
Yep, I am going to have to hit the market tomorrow
, I say to myself as I open the door. Shockingly, I find the refrigerator is stocked to the max.
How did she do all that so quickly?
Thanks to Brooke, front and center, I find my favorite bottle of Riesling. Awesome! I find a glass, corkscrew, and I’m in business! I
smile. Brooke really is too much! But I have never been more thankful for another person in my life.

On top of the counter on the center island is a plain white card bearing my name. I read the note that Brooke has left for me:

I laugh out loud. Always a lawyer, but forever my friend! And I realize Brooke is right again. I am home.

Chapter 2

I
am nestled down in Brooke’s bed, my new haven, when I hear the door open. Before I can be alarmed, Brooke bounds into the bedroom.

“OMG! Why are you not up?”

I have to remember to get that key back from her.

“Ugh!” I groan loudly. “You have got to call first!”

Brooke sounds back, “Not hardly, this is my damn house, remember! Get up! We have lots to do today!”

I scramble out of the bed and make my way to the bathroom. Thankfully, I showered last night. All I need is a little makeup, a brush through my brown mane to secure it back in a ponytail, and I am good to go.

“All right, let’s do it!” I exclaim as I walk into the living room, where Brooke sits patiently reading e-mails on her iPad. She looks up at me warily. “Is that what you are wearing?”

I stand back to look at myself. I have on black yoga pants, a Georgia Southern T-shirt, and my best tennis shoes. “Yes,” I exclaim. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

Brooke sarcastically laughs, “You are not going anywhere with me dressed like that.”

I feign disgust, roll my eyes, and put my hands on my hips, but I know all arguments with Brooke are futile.

“Whitney!” Brooke exclaims. “You never know when you might meet a gorgeous stranger or your worst enemy. You should always be on top of your game. Not to mention the fact that you are in a new city with new people and experiences, and you need a job. And you only get one chance to make a good first impression.

I roll my eyes at her. “OK, OK…Mom! Thanks for the early morning lecture!” I say sarcastically. “What do you suggest that I wear?”

Brooke bounds up from the couch and back into the bedroom. She calls back to me, “Where are your clothes?”

“In the closet!” I find Brooke rifling through my clothes at rocket speed.

“It looks like the first order of the day is to go shopping. Seriously, Whitney! What has happened to you? You used to be such a fashionista!” she exclaims, looking through my clothes with disgust.

Tears sting my eyes unexpectedly. She knows what happened. I look down.

“Oh shit, Whitney!” Brooke shouts. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think.”
I shake my head and push back the tears. She is right. I have completely let myself go. “You are right! Let’s go shopping!” There is no need to cry about it. It’s time to fix it.

Luckily, I am able to find some khaki shorts and a long-sleeve polo button-down to wear from a stash of clothes that Brooke left behind. The outfit is perfect for a day out, and it looks perfect paired with my casual brown flip-flops. Brooke is right. I have to be on top of my game. I exaggeratedly model my new look for her. She nods in approval, adds a few pieces of jewelry, and we are out the door.

The bright Charlotte sunshine blinds my eyes as we make our way through the streets. The great thing about Brooke’s apartment is the location. The apartment village lies in the heart of the city, within walking distance of the business district, shopping annex, and historic downtown. I fall in love instantly.

After round one of shopping, we stop for lunch at a small deli called Amelie’s.

“So, what is the latest?” Brooke asks outright.

I roll my eyes, signaling that I know full well what she means. I don’t want to have this conversation. I turn my head to look out the window, hoping Brooke will stop with her inquisition. She doesn’t.

“Have you talked to your mom at all?”

My stomach rolls at that thought. I nod silently.

“Both of them are blowing up my mom’s phone. And I have blocked all their numbers from my cell phone,” I say without expression. “I don’t want to hear any excuses or explanations. I just really don’t give a shit anymore! I am sick and tired of hashing and rehashing all this in
my mind. The who, what, when, and where of it all is exhausting. He made his choice. He used me, lied to me, and cheated on me. And I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it all out. But I am done. I am moving on. End of the discussion.”

Brooke eyes me intently. “Good for you!” she exclaims. “I will not mention it or ask another question. I am just so glad that you are here. And in all seriousness”—Brooke reaches across the table to grasp my hand—“you can do a heck of lot better than that bastard!”

I throw my head back and laugh. It feels good. But she is absolutely right!

After lunch, we do a little more shopping. Brooke puts together a few new outfits for me. I seriously love having a personal shopper—it is so easy!

Brooke helps me haul my purchases into the apartment. “Look…I know I said that I wouldn’t say anything else, but if you need to talk or decide you want to vent, please tell me. I am here for you. I could stay with you for a few days, if you want me to?”

I shake my head as a sob wells up in my throat. “You know me better than that. But I appreciate your offer!”

Brooke gives me a wink as she leaves the apartment.

Chapter 3

A
fter an action-packed weekend, Monday arrives all too early. I am thankful that I had the weekend to get acclimated to my new surroundings. Brooke has given me a mini tour of Charlotte.
I love it!
Just the apartment village alone is a small city within itself, complete with supermarket, deli, and other small boutiques. Not to mention the bustling nightlife throughout downtown Charlotte.

There is so much to do and take in. I cannot wait to experience it all. I am excited about all the possibilities. But first, I have got to find myself a freaking job, like, yesterday. Until then, I will be relying on my unimpressive savings funded mostly by my unused wedding budget. Brooke is giving me a wonderful deal on her apartment, but I have got to pull my own weight, and moving back to Georgia is
not
an option. I spend the whole day beating on doors, completing employment applications, and responding to newspaper ads. It’s a “hurry up and wait” process that drives me insane.

After a hectic first Monday in Charlotte, I meet up with Brooke at a restaurant called Vida for what she calls our inaugural Margarita Monday, our new weeknight ritual. This is one of the many reasons why I love Brooke.

I spy her sitting in a booth in the back. As I slide in, Brooke eagerly says, “Whitney, I’ve got some news, gal!”

I can see the gleam in her eye. I am concerned because that glow normally means trouble. I frown.

“I have taken on a new client at the firm. It’s a temporary employment service. The office manager is super nice, and I have told her all about you. Anyway, she is expecting you tomorrow at eight o’clock a.m. sharp,” she says, out of breath but very proud of herself.

“What!” I snap. I am confused. “A temp service? Brooke, I need a real job.”

She grunts at me, “Seriously, I know this! But like I said, it is tempo-rary.” She stresses each syllable. “This will at least give you something to do while you wait. Plus, you never know what doors it will open,” she adds reassuringly.

I roll my eyes at her, but quickly agree. “OK!” Brooke is right, though. Her words ring in my ears, “You never know where this might lead.” It is almost an omen. I raise my glass to hers. “Thank you! I think!” And we erupt into a fit of girlish giggles.

* * *

I arrive promptly at the Kelly Services office on the outskirts of Charlotte the following morning. Albeit, I am a little regretful of that last margarita. I have a slight headache but nothing that is unmanageable. I make a mental note that two drinks is my limit, especially on a weeknight.

I am greeted skeptically by a young, blonde-haired, gum-popping receptionist and am quickly ushered into the branch manager’s office.
Gail Thomas is a middle-aged woman who is meticulously dressed. Her cropped blonde hair is styled to perfection. Even though I am dressed in a Brooke-approved outfit, her professionalism makes me nervous. She is the definition of professional. She smiles warmly at me and immediately puts me at ease.

“It is very nice to meet you, Whitney,” Gail says. “Brooke has told me so much about you and recommends you highly.” She smiles again. Another reason why I love Brooke. She continues to rave about my partner in crime, all things that I already know, of course. “Brooke has helped me tremendously, so I am hopeful that I can return the favor.”

I smile outwardly to Gail but am frowning inside. Great! I’m a charity case!

Gail goes through the temporary service process, various positions that are available, and then hands me a stack of paperwork that I must complete. She asks me a few mock interview questions, mainly about my job experience and my course of study at Georgia Southern University. Luckily, thanks to Brooke, I have bypassed the major interview portion and have jumped immediately into the temporary employee pool. I am filling out the employment forms when I hear an unfamiliar ringtone. I know it is not my cell phone because I always keep it on silent.

I look up to see Gail answer a call on her personal cell phone. I listen inconspicuously to her conversation as I write.

“Jerri! Good morning!” Gail says cheerfully, then listens carefully. “OK, please stop! What are you running over there? A three-ring circus?” After a series of “OKs” and “I sees,” Gail reassures Jerri that she will take care of her problem, then hangs up the phone. I look up as she places her cell phone back down on her desk.