Preview - At His Beck & Call #3
Bethany blinks at me. “What? Of course I’ll help you.”
“Beth, you can’t afford it. Not right now. Not with how things are with your parents. You still don’t know how that’s going to play out, and I won’t be the reason you don’t have enough to cover it. I’ve relied on others to support me my whole life. I won’t do it again.”
Bethany shakes her head. “But it’s Hen,” she says, her voice cracking. “I’d die for that kid.”
“I know that. But I have to start standing on my own two feet.”
“You are not calling James,” she spits, her mouth a firm, angry line as she swallows.
Then, her eyes close, one hand falling away from my shoulder as she rubs at her chin. With a supreme effort, she manages to school her features into a blank expression and looks back at me.
“I mean… You can obviously do whatever you think is best, but please, I would do anything to stop you from having to see him. Anything. I know circumstances are tough right now, but—”
“I’m not going to call James, Beth.”
She huffs loudly, sitting back against the booth, looking bewildered. “Thank God. Then what are you going to do, apply for a loan?” Bethany asks incredulously. “That’ll take a lifetime to pay back.”
“And I don’t have a credit history,” I remind her gently. “All our accounts were in James’s name.”
“That fucker.” She snarls, stabbing at her plate. “Then what? Did you win the lottery or something?”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I look her in the eye, determinedly. “I want you to get me an interview at Sterling House.”
Bethany goes still, her mouth parting, red lips hanging open before she sets her jaw.
“No,” she says firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?” I demand, trying to keep my tone even. “We both know I would be able to earn enough in a year to pay for the care Henry needs. And where else am I going to get that kind of money?”
“We’ll find another way.”
“Beth—”
“No, Liss. I don’t want that life for you.”
“But you can do it?” I snap. “You really think I couldn’t handle it? Because you’re so much stronger and more worldly than me?”
She closes her eyes. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you think, though. It’s what everyone thinks. Put me in a box lined with silk and never let me do anything for myself in case I break in two.”
“Lissa, think about this. You do not want to sleep with men for money,” she says, lowering her voice to a murmur. “Your only sexual experience is with James, for fuck’s sake, and he was the shit to end all shits. I won’t let you sell yourself like that. Not after everything you’ve been through.”
“But you can?” I bite out.
“Yes. Because you might not want to hear this, but you wouldn’t have the first clue how to please a Sterling House client, and it would most likely be a horrendous experience that would only hurt you more.”
I stand up, anger coursing through me as I look down at my best friend, all hopes of a swift resolution to my problems fading with the firm, angry gaze staring back at me.
“You seriously won’t help me?” I ask, as heads around the restaurant turn to look at us.
“I won’t set you up for such a heavy fall, no,” she insists. “I know this job; it’s not for you, Lissa. We’ll think of something. I’ll… I’ll ask Pippa for a new client. Someone bigger. I don’t need as much money for my parents, I can—”
“I’m not relying on you to save me, Bethany. Not again.”
Bethany scowls in frustration. “Stop being so stubborn, I want to help.”
“The only person who’s going to help me is me. I’ve had enough of other people controlling what I can and can’t do and being indebted to everyone. I thought you were different.”
“That is completely unfair,” Bethany protests, throwing her napkin down and rising to her feet.
“Do I need your approval?” I ask angrily. “What if I just show up and demand Pippa interview me?”
“You can’t just walk in off the street,” she says, her eyes darting around warily. “You can’t go in there without a recommendation.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I say coldly, turning on my heel and stalking out of the restaurant toward the door.
“Liss!” Bethany shouts after me, but I don’t stop. I don’t turn.
I’m done waiting for permission to live my life. I’m going to do this, with or without Bethany’s help.
Chapter 3 - Lissa
As I leave the restaurant, I feel a twinge of guilt over what I said to Bethany.
Well, more than a twinge. My best friend has always been there for me, through everything I have gone through over the past two years, and now I’ve blown up at her merely for trying to protect me.
But the panic quickly smothers the guilt. I need to find a way to raise this money. Short of moving out of my apartment and using the rent money to pay for Henry’s care while we live in a tent on the street, Sterling House was my best bet.
So I would have to sleep with some crusty old CEO once in a while. Is that the worst thing in the world?
As I head toward the store to buy myself some lunch, lamenting the loss of the glorious-looking food that I have just abandoned, my cell phone begins to vibrate.
All thoughts of Bethany, Sterling House, and my financial worries fly out the window as I see the school’s number on the screen.
“Hello?” I say, running across the road in front of a cabby who beeps at me angrily.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Davenport?”
“Yes.”
“We have Henry here. He’s not feeling well today; would it be possible for you to come and pick him up?”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk as angry New Yorkers push past me in every direction.
“He threw up.”
Nausea rises in my throat as I think of Henry alone in the school, sick and not understanding why. I check my watch. If I head straight from the office, I could be at the school in about fifteen minutes.
“I’m on my way. Would you be able to give him some water and let him know mommy’s coming?” Dread trickles down my spine as another thought occurs to me. “Did you call his father?”
“No, Mrs. Davenport. We have a note on the file to contact you first.”
“Thank you, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up, forgetting the food I had been on my way to buy, and instead, head straight back to the office. But as soon as I walk through the doors and into the reception area, I know I should have called instead of coming back in person.
Maria is behind the desk, a phone beneath one ear, and a line of patients waiting to be seen in front of her.
“Oh, thank God,” Maria mutters the second she sees me. “Could you deal with this gentleman’s bill?” she asks distractedly, then begins speaking into the phone.
But my thoughts are only on my son, I don’t care about any of these people, I just need to get to Henry and check if he’s alright.
“I’m really sorry,” I say genuinely, as I hurry to grab my scarf from the coat rack. “I have to go. Henry’s sick.”
“What?” comes a shrill voice.
I freeze as my fingers curl around the thin fabric of my scarf, turning slowly in place as Francesca Charvez, our boss and head of the practice, steps out from behind the reception desk. I hadn’t even noticed her.
Shit.
“You’re leaving again?” she asks, her face creased in irritation.
Francesca is a wiry woman, tall and spindly with slicked-back brown hair in a tight ponytail, a long, pointed nose, wide mouth, and small, beady eyes that narrow as she looks at me accusingly.
“I… I’m sorry, Francesca, but Henry’s sick.”
“I understand that, but you can’t leave early again. This is the third time this month.”
That’s not true. I haven’t left early for weeks, the last time in late January, but I don’t correct her. I know it’s futile.
“I’m sorry, I have to—”
She holds up a hand. “Can’t you see how busy we are? We rely on you, Lissa, and there is such a thing as coparenting. As a mother, I know you must feel it’s your duty to deal with your son’s every need, but I think, just this once, his father can step in and take care of this, don’t you?”
I stare at her, my brain swirling. She knows nothing about my marriage to James or the protective order I have against him.
I shake my head helplessly, the line of patients staring at me.
“I have to go get him; he’s been throwing up.”
Francesca’s eyes harden, and the look of triumph on her face is enough for me to know that this was a test, and I failed it.
“I see, well then, I’m sorry to inform you, Lissa, that if you aren’t able to fulfill your duties at this practice, you will need to find another job. I can’t have my office staff walking out every other day, no matter what the family circumstances are, regrettable as they may be.”
“Francesca, please—” I attempt, my heart thudding.
“Either you go back to your desk and find another way to deal with the issues at your son’s school, or consider this your two weeks’ notice.”
“What?” I whisper, a weight dropping into my stomach. “No, you can’t—”
“It’s a simple decision. Look at the line of people waiting to be dealt with,” she says, sweeping a dramatic arm behind her. “Then look at me. Does it seem like I’m kidding? If you go to his school today, fine, but you’ll need to start looking for another job.”
“Francesca?” Maria pipes up suddenly, hanging up on whoever she was speaking to and stepping forward. “It’s fine, I can deal with everything today; it’s just the lunch rush. I’ll—”
“No, you will not,” Francesca snaps, and I see a man in line wince at her tone. “This isn’t a job for one person. It’s a two-person reception for a reason, so we can tackle the backlog and ensure all calls are answered in a timely manner. So, what’s it going to be, Mrs. Davenport?”
Every eye in the room is on me, including Maria’s, whose normally uncompromising expression is, for the first time, filled with sympathy.
“I… I have to go and collect Henry,” I say yet again. It’s the only words my brain can come up with. “I don’t have anyone else who can look after him.”