She slammed down the phone. Her hands were shaking. For several moments she sat there with her hand still locked on the receiver, unable to move. Her gaze rose upward and Carol was standing outside her cubicle staring at her.
Ann Marie drew in a breath, stood and tugged the hem of her waist length jacket then went to her door. She pulled it open.
“Yes!”
“Here are the files you asked for,” she said, inching them toward Ann Marie as if handing off explosives.
Ann Marie swallowed. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Are you all right, Ms. Dennis?”
Ann Marie looked into Carol’s eyes, and was stunned by what appeared to be real concern etched onto her acne-prone face.
Slowly Ann Marie nodded. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said in a softer voice. “Thanks for asking.” She took the files and turned away.
Ann Marie returned to her desk and eased her way down into her seat without collapsing.
How could she ever explain to anyone what Terrance did to her? Just his voice alone made her weak. Seeing him in her mind’s eye made her hot with a need that had never been fully satisfied since she’d left him.
Yes, she’d played the role of the big woman in front of her friends. But with Terrance she was sixteen again, young, vulnerable and terribly in love with a man who only knew how to love himself.
He said he’d changed. She couldn’t imagine that. But what if he had? What if he was the man she’d always wanted him to be? What then?
You’re still my wife. The words echoed in her head like a shout tossed into the Grand Canyon. She had to make it stop. She couldn’t lose her soul to Terrance Bishop again.
Chapter 4
Barbara, Ellie and Stephanie reviewed the write-up they’d put together to recruit staff. The day had been exhausting to say the least.
“Personally, Steph, I think you did too good of a job,” Ellie moaned. “There was another write-up in the Style section of the Times today. And I got two calls this morning for a radio and a television interview.”
“We could be moaning that the business was a flop,” Barbara said, always practical. “So we really shouldn’t complain.”
“True, but we definitely have to get some trained staff in here or they will be scraping us up off the floor,” Ellie said.
“Not to change the subject from our successful endeavor, but has anyone heard from Ann Marie?” Stephanie looked at Barbara then Elizabeth. They both shook their heads no.
“In all the years I’ve known Ann Marie, I don’t ever think I’ve seen her cry. She’d rather cut someone first,” Elizabeth said, tongue in cheek.
“Yeah, me either,” Barbara concurred. “I’m worried about her. She put on a good face about Terrance but she’s truly shook. He must really be something to have put the mojo on Ann Marie.”
“Not to mention the blowup between her and Raquel,” Stephanie added. “I really thought they were going to make a go at it.”
“Hmm,” they murmured.
“So, what are we going to do?” Elizabeth asked.
“Sounds like our girl needs some sisterly intervention,” Barbara said. “But first let’s get this posting listed as soon as possible before we need the intervention.”
“I’ll put it up on Craig’s List and see how that pans out,” Stephanie said.
“And I’ll post it on the hospital bulletin board,” Barbara said.
They stood.
“So what time do we make this intervention?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’ll make dinner and we can take it over to Ann Marie’s,” Barbara offered.
“I have a better idea. I’ll call Dawne and Desiree and have them whip up something. No need for you to do any more work today, Barbara,” Elizabeth said.
“Works for me.” Barbara grinned.
“So let’s meet at Ann Marie’s about eight,” Stephanie said.
They disbanded to handle the final business of the workday then headed out.
Ann Marie stuck her key in the lock of her apartment door and stepped inside. For a moment she expected to see Raquel sitting in the living room or to inhale the scent of dinner simmering on the stove.
The house was empty, silent and the only smell was the lingering fragrance of her body oil.
She shut the door, oddly disappointed. She didn’t realize until that moment how accustomed she’d become to finding her daughter home when she arrived.
A sharp stab of angst caught her unawares. Maybe there was something she could have said to make Raquel stay, get her to understand.
On leaden legs she moved across the showcase of a living room then on into her bedroom. She closed her door as if she half expected someone to suddenly walk in on her undressing. There was no one. The muscles of her throat tightened.
This was so unlike her, these bouts of tears and feeling sorry for herself. She was not some weak thing that could be bandied about by circumstance. She was the one who took circumstance by the balls and squeezed until she was satisfied.
Hadn’t that been the way? Hadn’t her resiliency, tough as nails, take no prisoner attitude been the ever recurring conversation piece at the weekly girls’ soiree? She was the one who put the starch in Barbara’s, Ellie’s and Stephanie’s backs. And now, she felt weak as a newborn, unable to stand on her own. And why? Because of a goddamn man!
She pulled her jacket off and tossed it haphazardly across the bed then stepped out of her shoes and left them right in the middle of the floor. She took off her blouse, unzipped her skirt and tossed both on top of her jacket.
What she needed was a stiff drink, at least that would have to suffice in lieu of something else stiff. She walked back into the living room in her Victoria’s Secrets and fixed her herself a tall glass of Jamaican rum with barely a splash of Coke. She gulped it down like a desert refugee left to bake in the sun then poured another. By the time she was halfway through her third drink and had moved away from the bar, the world had acquired a soft, warm, fuzzy feel around its edges.
Ann Marie smiled, stumbled over to the couch and plopped down with a flourish.
“The hell with you Terrance Bishop. You won’t run your magic on me no more. Ya hear!” She jerked her glass into the air splashing some of the contents on her forehead. She giggled as she licked the sweet liquid that ran off the tip of her nose down to her lips.
She was thoroughly looped by the time her front doorbell rang. For a while she thought it was her ears ringing and she laughed. But the ringing continued followed by banging and yelling of her name.
She pressed her hands to her ears in an attempt to block out the offending noise that was infringing on her high.
But threats of breaking down her door filtered through the sludge in her brain. Weaving and using the furniture and wall for support she made it to the door.
Through bleary eyes she was able to make out the six bodies that stood in her doorway—maybe it was three. She braced herself against the doorframe.
“You’re drunk!” the trio sang.
“And you’re half-naked,” Ellie added.
“Yep,” Ann Marie slurred, her lopsided grin making her look even more ridiculous.
“Come