When Life Happened by Jewel E. Ann

Chapter Four

Humidity and ninety-degree temperatures usually didn’t suffocate Des Moines, Iowa until late July. That summer, a week of mid-nineties and no rain blindsided June. Relief would eventually come in the form of severe thunderstorms leaving farmers thanking God for the rain and cursing him for the wind and tornado damage.

“You must be Parker?”

Parker turned toward the woman’s voice and jumped up, brushing off the dirt plastered to her sweaty legs like a second skin. Her de-weeding expedition began at six that morning. The sun hovered around the noonish area in the clear sky.

“Hi. Yes, I am.”

The petite woman with blond curls pulled into a bun—makeup flawless—held out her hand. Parker turned her hands palm side up, frowning at her soiled gloves. The woman’s stark-white, sleeveless blouse and pleated dress shorts didn’t stand a chance. Parker’s wide-eyed stare tried to tell her as much.

“I’m Sabrina Westman. You met my husband and dog last week.” Her awaiting hand held firm in the space between them.

“Yes! Pleasure to meet you.” Parker peeled off her old gloves, revealing sweaty hands with dirt embedded under her fingernails. She shook Sabrina’s hand. The last time she talked to Gus was at Brady’s ballgame.

Sabrina may have tried to hide her flinch, but Parker saw it. After six hours in what felt like one hundred percent humidity, how could her hands be anything but disgustingly moist?

Sabrina held her sweat and dirt-smudged hand stiffly from her body like a cast. “I appreciate you taking care of Rags’s bur issue.”

“Oh, no problem. I felt really bad about it. The cockleburs are gone. I removed all of them early this morning. Not that it can erase what happened last week, but …” She shrugged.

“It’s fine. Not your fault. I’ve been telling Gus to fix the fence gate for months. Obviously, he doesn’t listen to me.”

Parker nodded. Sabrina’s husband had seen a complete stranger in her panties and bra. He heard Parker’s fake orgasm charade. And they had had a few uncomfortable moments in her basement and at the baseball game. Asking Sabrina if he mentioned any of that didn’t seem like a good idea, but she wanted to know how much confidence and dignity she could justify in Sabrina’s presence.

“Anyway … he mentioned you were between jobs.”

“Oh … he did?”

“Yes. He said you’ve been doing some temp work. Is that not correct?”

“Um … yeah. I’m waiting to hear back from a chiropractor in Waukee. She’s looking for a full-time receptionist. I think I stand a good chance.” Parker dreamed of using her four-year degree to secure a minimum-wage job with no degree or experience necessary and no chance for promotion.

“Gus said Rags took an instant liking to you.”

Parker laughed, brushing more dirt off her legs. “It was the turkey jerky. I had to find a way to keep him occupied while fixing the cocklebur situation. I’m certain most dogs would take a liking to me if I had dried meat in my pocket.”

“Gus also mentioned you have a lot of energy and that shed of yours is organized to … and I quote, ‘my wife’s perfectionist standards.’” Sabrina smirked.

“I like things tidied up. I’m far from a perfectionist. I just like things … neat.”

Gus talked about her. She wondered if he’d mentioned her legs as well. Doubtful. A few harmless glances meant nothing. Had he nailed her to the barn door with his cock, Caleb and Piper style, that would have been another story. Parker had thought about him … a little too much. The playful banter about his age had been more for her benefit. Finding the married neighbor guy attractive was not allowed, especially for Parker, president of the “I Hate Cheaters Club.” Thinking of him as old, gray, and balding became her survival. And the platonic friendship? That was still in question.

“I’ll get to the point.” Sabrina glanced at her Apple Watch. “I need help. I had hoped Gus could be that help, but he’s too busy.” Her exaggerated eye roll contradicted her words. “I recently took over a large engineering firm, and I travel a lot. Thankfully, we don’t have kids, but recently I’ve found it nearly impossible to keep up with certain things in my life.”

“I get it.” Parker didn’t really get it. Twenty-six-year-olds having just left the nest for the second time couldn’t possibly comprehend the demands of a job with experience necessary, demands beyond answering a phone, and traveling for a reason other than a getaway with friends. “Can I ask how old you are?”

Sabrina’s brow pulled into an unspoken question.

“Sorry, I’m just curious how long it took you to…” Move out of your parents’ house. Get a real job. Find a man who’s not a lying, cheating, bastard. “…achieve such success.”

Sabrina’s shoulders pulled back as confidence curled her lips revealing her bleached teeth. No one naturally had teeth that white. “Thirty-eight.”

“No shit. Wow! You don’t look it at all.” Parker made a mental note to invest in higher SPF sunblock and buy some whitening strips. She had twelve years to make something of herself and find a job that required fancy dry-clean-only clothes and an Apple Watch.

Sabrina’s smile faded like she’d reached her smile limit for the day. “As I was saying … if you’re interested, I’d like to hire you to be my personal assistant.”

A job. Sabrina Westman offered her a real job. She traveled, so Parker would travel. She wore fancy white blouses, so Parker would wear them too. She wore an Apple Watch, of course Parker would need one too—so they could sync their calendars, message each other, and calculate how many steps they took to keep their professional asses in shape.

The opportunities reached infinity. Sabrina had to know some influential people. Working with her felt like a real chance to open the door to a job in communications that paid well. Parker prepared to dust off her four-year degree.

“Yes! I’d love to!”

“You would?”

Parker stood corrected. Sabrina managed to find one more smile for the day. The sun had melted her makeup, leaving red lipstick on her perfect teeth and black mascara smeared at the corners of her eyes. In a matter of minutes, the Iowa humidity transformed her from beauty queen to a whore after a blowjob.

“When do I start?” She failed at playing it cool.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect!”

“Great. Seven at my house?”

“I’ll be there.”

*

Three years aftercollege, Parker had yet to procure a job that required something more than casual attire.

“Pathetic.” She performed one last surgical scrub that resulted in little success. Her nails were trimmed and clean, but days in the dirt left the skin around them stained. If she didn’t stop scrubbing them, they were going to bleed.

With less than twenty-four hours’ notice, she had to choose between shopping for a few new outfits and getting a manicure. She decided to keep her hands balled into fists for the day and hoped Sabrina and her colleagues would focus on her new blue skirt and light gray, three-quarter-length-sleeve blouse. Of course, she went with closed-toe navy pumps until mani-pedi day.

The Westmans’ modern, two-story house dwarfed Parker’s century-old fixer-up farmhouse in every way. From the moment she stepped onto the marble tile in the impressive foyer, her neck strained to gawk at the blown-glass entry chandelier.

“Your home is simply amazing,” she said in a weak voice. The grandeur of it took her breath away. “The outside is impressive, yet still conservative. But the inside … this is … wow.”

“Thank you, my brother designed it,” Sabrina said with her focus on the contents of her handbag. “Do you have a funeral or something today?”

“Uh … no. Why do you ask?” She rubbed her hands down her skirt.

Sabrina pulled out her compact and applied another layer of red over her plump lips. “You seem a little overdressed for errands. That’s all.”

“Well, I didn’t know what we had planned today.” Parker tugged at the sleeves to her blouse and picked invisible lint from them.

Sabrina’s red dress and silver heels were far from casual. Why was Parker’s attire so out of place?

A laugh escaped Sabrina as she rubbed her lips together while snapping her compact shut and depositing it in a black handbag. “We, my dear, don’t have plans today. I have a meeting then I’m flying to Hong Kong. I’ll be gone for the next five days. On the kitchen counter is a list of things to do today. Give me your cell number, and I’ll have my assistant, Brock, send you instructions for the rest of the week.”

Her words sounded like Chinese, but the part Parker definitely could not have heard correctly was “my assistant, Brock.”

“I … I don’t understand.”

“August, I’m leaving. I’ll text you when I land.” She paused her busy hands for two seconds, eyes focused on the top of the staircase. “Lazy ass is probably still asleep.” Sabrina’s blue eyes did that familiar roll Parker had come to associate with most of her comments about her husband—August.

“Sabrina, I thought you hired me to be your assistant.”

She pulled her suitcase to the front door. Parker followed her like a dog waiting for a nibble of turkey jerky.

“I did. Sorry … I know we didn’t have time to discuss payment. Will thirty dollars an hour work? You can use my car to run errands if you’d like. Ask August for his credit card if you need gas.”

Thirty dollars an hour exceeded her expectations. And she should have been doing backflips, but … Brock. Parker needed to know about Sabrina’s assistant Brock.

“But you just told me your assistant Brock would email me.”

She turned on her pointy heel. “Shoot, yes, I almost forgot to get your email and cell number.” Sabrina pulled out her phone and handed it to Parker. “Add yourself as a contact while I take my suitcase out front since my lazy ass husband isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?”

Parker froze when a familiar deep voice sounded behind her. Shirtless Gus pushed past in a pair of jeans, no shoes or socks—also no balding gray hair, old-man gut, or anything remotely repulsive. And he smelled of lingering shampoo and soap.

Dammit!

The expected intimate goodbye between Mr. and Mrs. Westman surpassed chilly and settled into iceberg territory. The wall at Parker’s back refused to camouflage her presence which added to the awkwardness.

Gus shook his head at Sabrina. She rolled her eyes at him. Parker kept her nose down, typing her info into the phone, trying not to stare at shirtless Gus because … wife … married … off-limits. Someone needed to drag shirtless Gus up the stairs for a proper goodbye. Sabrina turned her nose up at the opportunity. In another life, one where she wasn’t president of the “I Hate Cheaters Club,” Parker would have volunteered.

“Here.” Parker handed Sabrina’s phone back to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to press the assistant Brock subject anymore with the thick tension between Mr. and Mrs. Westman.

“Have a safe trip,” Gus said as he came back into the house, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

Sabrina only nodded. Not even a smile.

“Good morning, Parker.” Gus offered a friendly grin as he brushed past her again.

Stealing a quick sniff, her lips twisted into a nervous smile. “Morning,” she whispered as if acknowledging Gus broke an unspoken rule; Sabrina sure thought it did.

“Rags is out back. At least I hope he hasn’t escaped out the broken gate again. Ask August if he’s going to walk him. Otherwise, I need you to do it before you pick up the flowers for Rae.”

“O—kay.”

The door closed behind her as a black Lexus slowed to a stop in the circle drive, leaving Parker befuddled.

Sabrina thought she needed two assistants.

Flowers waited for Parker to deliver them to a woman named Rae.

Archenemies showed more affection toward each other than Gus and Sabrina.

Parker needed to ask Gus about walking Rags and possibly his credit card. Nothing about that felt awkward.

She slipped off her unnecessary heels then found the kitchen and the to-do list.

Pick up flower order from Flowerama and deliver it to Rae with a bowl of chicken and rice soup from one of the local delis. Ask August for the address.

Drop off my dry cleaning that’s in the hamper on the north side of my closet.

Pick up the dry cleaning. Transfer it to my wooden hangers and arrange in order.

Find out why they haven’t treated the yard recently. The dandelions are out of control.

Buy and wrap three baby gifts and two wedding gifts – check registries.

Find out what August wants for his birthday – purchase, wrap, and text me what it is.

“What. The. Hell?” Parker whispered to herself. Sabrina didn’t hire her as an assistant; she hired her for an errand girl. No dress clothes required. No traveling outside of a fifteen-mile area. No Apple Watch. No chance for promotion—ever.

Thirty dollars an hour. Parker could do it. If she could manage to extinguish her fiery ego, she would see that working for Sabrina beat the minimum-wage receptionist job at the chiropractor’s office. Then again … they were offering free adjustments and spinal scans.