Free TROUBLE 1 by Kristina Weaver Page A

you know it, you old crone,” I laugh, scanning the paper. “But I’ll make you a deal. If I can find an affordable caregiver, you can stay. If I can’t…you have to understand that there’s no way I can go to work and do my job while I worry about you. Last time it took me hours to find you when you went walkies.”
    That had been terrifying. I’d come home to an empty apartment and no note or sign of her. To this day I will never forget what I felt as I’d roamed the streets searching for her. I’d eventually stumbled across her here in the park, but it had been so scary it still gives me the chills.
    “Okay.”
    “Okay?”
    I’d expected more of a fight.
    “Yes, dear. Although, could you go for someone with personality? I need stimulating conversation.”
    I rather think, with the way she’s been picking up lovers, she’s had enough stimulation for her old heart, but I nod and go on reading.
    That’s when I see it, and boy, when you know you’ve messed up…I’ve messed up, big time, and I am so angry and mortified it takes a monumental effort not to react as Nana keeps babbling.
    There, staring at me from the gossip section, is a photo of Gregory staring heatedly at a woman. Who happens to be me. Wearing a stolen dress.
    Shit.
    I flick the paper closed with a tremor, feeling like an ostrich as I drop it to the bench and try to pretend it doesn’t exist. Not smart, but I’m still feeling crappy, and another disaster is not something I can handle today.
    But ignorance is definitely not bliss, and I worry about that photo all day till I’m ready to scream. When Jordan sees it…shit.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Thirteen
     
    As I get off the elevator and do the death march towards my office, I feel so nervous I can hardly feel my legs. Not only do I have to face Jordan, knowing what I know, but if he or his wife has seen the paper, I know I’m in for a tongue lashing.
    I get to my desk and drop my purse in the drawer, eyeing the sofa. It’s still there, that goddamned dress, laughing mockingly at me, and I want to shred it or hit it or something.
    After a deep breath and a huge pep talk, I peep into Jordan’s office. Good, he’s not here. He will be soon, but at least I have enough time to grab some coffee before he gets in.
    “Oh my Lord, Han! You look like crap,” Lucy gasps when I look up from my cup to see her barrelling into the kitchen.
    “Gee, thanks.”
    “Did you see yesterday’s—”
    My stomach cramps.
    “Lucy—”
    “I can’t believe Taz didn’t tell us!” she continues, flopping down at my desk. “I knew something was up when they brought the account to such a small agency, but I never would have guessed this!”
    What? I can’t really track her words. I am tired and sleep-deprived. Nana, bless her, is more than a handful, and unless she was just getting back at me for Amber, I would say her singing shows are the norm. I’d woken at exactly two this morning with her singing at the top of her lungs.
    And I wasn’t lucky enough to get Sinatra. No, I’d gotten Streisand, performed a note too high for aural comfort. So yeah, no sleep.
    “Lucy. What the heck are you talking about?” I ask, shooing her from my chair so that I can flop into it and attempt to start my day.
    The funny part of this is that a week ago I was as spick and span as a Stepford wife. No hang overs from a horrible sex night, no sleepless nights from Nana’s Vegas tour, and no nervous stomach from seeing myself wearing a stolen dress. I’d been perfect.
    No, a week ago I had been in control of every single aspect of my life, and while I may not have been happy, exactly, it sure as hell beat what I’m feeling now.
    I look and feel like crap, and I don’t know what’s going to happen from one moment to the next.
    At least I got to tell Gregory Lucas what a douchebag he is.
    Small consolation, but that is true. It makes me feel a little better, and I can damn