Free Shine Your Love on Me by Jean C. Joachim

level with
Brooke.
    “Hey, Cookie.”
    “Hi, Brooke. How’s the job search
coming?”
    “Do you have anything new?”
    Silence for a heartbeat. “I’m sorry, but
things are really slow. Summertime and all.”
    “I have a favor to ask.”
    “I make no promises.”
    “I’m not having any luck. I submit my résumé.
Go for an interview. Make it past the first, second, and even the
third. All goes well. Then, wham! Nothing. I get turned down for
some made-up reason. Nobody explains. Never anything specific. I
think people are lying, hiding something.”
    “You know we can’t say much more than you
didn’t fit the profile or what they were looking for or something
like that.”
    “Yeah, I know. You can’t say we don’t want a
woman or someone who needs deodorant. I get that. But this has
happened several times, and I’m suspicious there’s something more.
Do you know what’s going on?”
    There was another silence.
    “Cookie? Come on. I can’t get a job if I
don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Please?”
    The pleading tone of her voice must have
softened up the hard-hearted headhunter because Brooke heard a sigh
at the other end.
    “You didn’t hear this from me. If you say you
did, I’ll deny it. What happened between you and Pete Walters?”
    “Nothing. Well, he made a pass at me, and I
turned him down.”
    “Thought so. He’s blackballing you.”
    “What?”
    “Yeah. Probably the old ‘best defense is a
good offense,’ chauvinistic bullshit.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “He doesn’t want you bad-mouthing him all
over town, telling the truth about what a scumbag he really is. So,
he’s saying you made a pass at him, and he had to fire you because,
when he turned you down, you became a stalker.”
    “What?” Brooke rose up off the sofa and began
to pace.
    “Remember, you didn’t hear it from me.”
    “Who’s saying this?”
    “The HR person has let it slip to one or two
of the biggest gossips in the industry. They took care of the
rest.”
    “Damn. I should sue. That’s slander,
defamation.”
    “You can’t say you heard it from me.”
    “I won’t. Thanks for being honest with
me.”
    “Good luck.”
    “Wait, Cookie! Do you have any suggestions
about finding a job?”
    “Switch to a new profession. Gotta go.”
    “Thanks.”
    Brooke closed her cell and leaned on the
windowsill, staring out at the courtyard. Fresh air brought in the
smell of spring flowers from a nearby window box. She frowned at
the unfairness of Mother Nature, being so cheerful when she was on
the verge of losing her livelihood. Panic tightened in her chest. How am I going to pay the rent?
     
    * * * *
     
    She dialed her grandmother, but Nan was on
her way out the door, going to dinner and the theater with a group
from the senior center. She’s got her own life. I have to figure
this out for myself. After a walk around the block, she was no
better. A few quick calls and she managed to rally the Dinner Club
to meet, even though it was a Friday night.
    Everyone was already at Bess’s house when
Brooke arrived.
    She gulped half a glass of wine then launched
into her story. The women were shocked.
    “There must be something you can do,” Bess
said.
    “Call a lawyer,” Miranda offered.
    “My cousin’s a lawyer.”
    “Call him,” Rory said, putting her arm around
Brooke.
    That one touch did it. Brooke dissolved into
tears the moment Rory squeezed her shoulders. Frustration,
loneliness, and fear overwhelmed her. Bess set out a platter of
shrimp salad, potato salad, sliced avocado, and fresh veggies.
Miranda refilled wine glasses.
    “Don’t let that bastard win!” Miranda
said.
    “Show him he can’t mess with you,” Rory piped
up.
    Brooke grabbed a handful of tissues and
cleaned up her eyes and nose. “You’re right. I’ll call my cousin
tomorrow. But I don’t know what he can do.”
    “He can threaten that son-of-a-bitch,” Rory
said.
    “Right!”
    “But how can you take back a rumor?”