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…
5
“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.