Billionaire’s Pursuit(4)

 She’d do.

 Oh sure, I’d seen her type before. Your garden variety, blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty. They were everywhere in Los Angeles. Nothing special, but definitely worth a few hours of my time.

 I leaned back in my chair and interlaced my fingers behind my head. It looked as if this trip wouldn’t be purely business after all. And after what had just happened with Mary Ann, I could use a bit of mindless distraction for a few days.



 MADDIE

 By the time I finished the conversation with Katy my mind was clouded with a mish-mash of to-do’s.

 Frantic, I pulled up the proposal I’d sent, grabbed a pad of paper, a pen and immediately began to scratch out a list of calls I’d have to make all over town. I rolled the hard plastic of the pen back and forth in my fingertips as I brainstormed. However, only a few minutes into my note taking, my email notification chimed once again.

 “Uh, now what?” I groaned.

 Knowing I’d never get anything done with it incessantly alerting me all day long, I picked up my tablet to silence the distraction. But before doing so, I checked to make certain nothing urgent needed my attention. As it turned out, the email was a notice from my bank that the deposit went through.

 Thank God.

 Now at least I would have the money I needed to put down on his transportation and hotel not to mention grease a few palms at some of the better restaurants and nightclubs around town, if required.

 I was hoping it wouldn’t be necessary but since most of the people holding those jobs were Trevor’s friends to begin with, I needed every little bit of help I could get. God forbid there was somewhere Mr. Sinclair wanted to go and I couldn't make it happen. That would probably be the end of my entire business right there. Too much was at risk not to take whatever measures I had to, even if that meant cutting into my profit margins to do it.

 With that bit of financial reassurance now in hand, I spent the next few hours making what seemed like a million calls. For whatever reason, things were going my way and because of that, time flew by. In fact, it was past one o’clock by the time I realized I still hadn’t eaten anything all day. In the wake of my breakfast disaster and the ensuing conversation with Katy, I’d worked straight through the morning. Now famished, I’d reached my low blood sugar limit.

 The kitchen stool groaned on the linoleum floor as I pulled it up to the counter and sat down to grab a quick bite before I made the final arrangements for transportation to the airport. And last, but certainly not least, I had to figure out what the hell I would wear when I picked up Mr. Sinclair.

 Like an idiot, I assumed I would have time to shop for an outfit or two before I got my first job. But now I’d have to throw something together I could get away with wearing during the day and night, if it came to it. Hopefully it wouldn’t. In any case, I had to come up with something and quick.

 With that, I plopped down over a savory meal of canned tuna and crackers. As the salted fish lingered in my mouth, I looked at my list and checked off the items I’d managed to get done. To my surprise, I’d made some decent progress.

 Maybe Katy was right after all. With a little hustle I could pull this off.

 Just then, my phone rang. With my mouth half full of crumbs and bits of fish, I grabbed it from the counter and flipped it over.

 It was Katy.

 I swallowed a dry, hard bite and pressed talk, “Hey.”

 “How’s it going? You doing okay?” Katy asked.

 I spent the next few minutes recounting my series of minor achievements to her and finished by explaining the dilemma I now found myself in when it came to what I would wear.

 Unfortunately, even though she and I had similar styles, we didn’t have the same shape whatsoever. Katy was quite a bit shorter and curvier than me, which meant wardrobe sharing was out of the question. About the only thing she could offer me was my pick of her abundant accessories. Before we hung up, I thanked her and promised not to lose or break any of her things I chose to wear.

 As I disconnected, I glanced down at my pitiful excuse for a lunch and decided I’d had enough. Besides, by that time it was closing in on two o’clock and I needed to get moving if I was going to get the car and get myself ready in time to meet Mr. Sinclair's private jet at Van Nuys airport.

 After a hasty shower and an even worse attempt at shaving my legs, I wrapped a towel around myself and ran a comb through my wet hair as I made my way to the closet. As I walked, tiny droplets of water rolled from the rounded teeth of the comb down between my shoulder blades, causing me to shiver. I stopped in front of my sorry excuse for a wardrobe and sensed a deep-creased wrinkle form between my eyes. I scowled at the underwhelming choices that hung from plastic hangers of every color in the rainbow and as I did, a single thought dominated my mind.