CHAPTER 1
The girl who had this job before me was murdered.
That should have been my first clue.
But, honestly, that little chunk of info hadn’t seemed like a big deal when I’d applied for the position. And the fact that I’d been hired pretty much over the phone didn’t seem significant, either.
So I, Haley Randolph, with my worthy-of-a-romance-novel-cover dark hair, my I’m-enviably-tall five-foot-nine-inch height, and my too-bad-they’re-mostly-recessive beauty-queen genes, had accepted a position as an assistant planner at L.A. Affairs, the biggest, coolest event-planning company in Los Angeles.
I mean, jeez, what else could I do? I needed a job—or, really, a paycheck—plus I owned eight fully accessorized business suits left from a job I’d had a few weeks ago—long story—that I absolutely had to wear somewhere.
Everybody has their priorities.
My life had taken a lot of hits in the last month or so, but I’m proud to say I’d rolled with all of them. Some other person might have been knocked for a loop at losing the best job in the entire world, as I had, or been devastated beyond belief at breaking up with their totally hot boyfriend, as I had. But not me. Oh no. In fact, I was doing way better now than before those things happened. Really.
My whole future had suddenly crystallized—like when you see a to-die-for Louis Vuitton satchel in the display window and know that, no matter what, you’re going to buy it—and I knew exactly where my life was headed and how I was going to get there.
So here I was facing down birthday number twenty-five pretty soon—the dreaded hump year on the downhill slide to the my-life-is-over-I’ll-never-have-fun-again big three-oh—and I was perfectly okay with it. I swear.
That’s probably because, at long last, I’d settled on the career I wanted. It didn’t even bother me that it required that I finally get my bachelor’s degree.
The decision had come to me in a flash at three o’clock one morning when I was sitting alone on my couch, eating Oreos stuffed with M&M’s, dipped in fudge, and topped with chocolate chips—my own personal recipe—and watching television. I’d discovered the History Channel—do they have interesting shows, or what?—and believe me, a lot of fantastic ideas can spring up during those all-night documentary marathons.
I’d decided I wanted a career as a corporate buyer. I mean, jeez, it seemed like a natural fit for me—I loved to shop, I had great taste in absolutely everything, and I wasn’t intimidated by crowds, even on Black Friday.
I’d actually been hired to work as a buyer, sort of, a few weeks ago at a fabulous company downtown. I ended up working as their corporate event planner instead—long story—but everything had turned out okay. Kind of.
That life-altering, future-defining decision made, I’d registered for four classes at College of the Canyons—most of them were online, but they still counted—and was loving every one of them. Really.
My life was rolling along great now. I had my totally cool apartment in Santa Clarita that was about thirty minutes north of downtown Los Angeles. It needed a little fixing up but was still fabulous. My best friend Marcie Hanover and I were giving killer purse parties, though, really, I hadn’t had much time lately to plan a party. I had tons of really great friends, even though I hadn’t seen any of them in a while. I still had my part-time sales clerk job at Holt’s Department Store and, yeah, I only made about eight bucks an hour, but it was okay. And the best part of my life was that my mom and I were getting along great.
I left my Honda in a parking garage off Sepulveda Boulevard in Sherman Oaks and headed for the building that would be my new home away from home. It was a gorgeous Southern California morning in September. Nearby were lots of office buildings, banks, apartment complexes, and the Sherman Oaks Galleria with terrific shops and restaurants.
Showing up for the first day on the job could be intimidating for some people, but not me. Let’s just say that I’d done this quite often in the last few years. I’d worked as a lifeguard, receptionist, file clerk, and two weeks at a pet store before moving on to a fantastic job in the accounting department of the Pike Warner law firm last fall. Things hadn’t turned out as well as I’d hoped—there was that whole administrative-leave-investigating-pending thing—but I’d moved on.
The one constant in my life, employment-wise, was my job at Holt’s. I’d taken a part-time sales clerk job there about a year ago and, well, there had been a few—okay, more than a few—problems, but every job had its moments, didn’t it?