A Heart Not Easily Broken (The Butterfly Memoirs) (33 page)

When I was allowed to comb my cousin’s hair, I spent hours styling it. The difference in the textures always amazed me. Make-up followed; before long, I gave tips on how to dress for their dates and the prom.

Even now, years later, I was the go-to person in my family for fashion advice. Why continue doing what I loved for free? My research showed the demand for fashion consultants was on a rise, especially in Los Angeles, my hometown.

My paper work filed away, I turned back to my computer and opened the hotels accounting program. The screen went blank.

“Oh shit,” I groaned, flopped back into my chair, and put my hands on my face. “Shit, shit, shit…”

I sat up and flipped the power switch on the computer tower. A spark of energy flashed and the smell of smoke permeated the air. Brandon and I jumped; he lunged for the power cord while I ran for the fire extinguisher in the hall. By the time I returned the flames had burned out.

Brandon whistled and waved at the smoke filling the room. “I hope you saved that information on a backup drive.”

I grimaced. “No, I never got around to it.”

Not only were the hotel spreadsheets lost, my business plan was gone too. I was on the verge of tears.

He reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “So far, I don’t like the idea of being manager at the new location.”

“At this rate, you’ll probably replace me here.”

I needed to fix this screwed up situation, ASAP. The computer was still under warranty, thank God. This very computer crashed two months ago. The technician who’d come out recommended replacing it, even though he’d gotten it up and running again. My parents didn’t want to spend the money. Everything was tied up in securing the funding for the third hotel.

There was no choice. The computer needed to be replaced. They were not going to like this.

I dug the warranty paperwork out of the file cabinet. Sal-U-Tech had serviced our computers for years. The technician who’d come out was considerate, knew his business, and was not bad on the eyes.

I dialed the number listed on the receipt and waited impatiently for someone to pick up.

“Thank you for calling Sal-U-Tech, can you hold?” a squeaky voice said and put me on hold without waiting for my reply.

I cursed, hung up, and called again. When the line was answered, I cut the guy off. “I need to speak to…,” I looked for the name on the work order. His handwriting was hard to read. “Zachariah Givens.”

“Oh, Mr. Givens is on a call right now. Can you hold?”

“What choice do I have?”

Cheesy elevator music played. I spent the time trying to remember what the guy looked like. He was black, and if I remembered correctly, he was a few inches taller than me, but not by much. I was 5’7”, making him short for a man of my liking. If I wore my favorite stacked heels, I’d probably tower over him. He had a nice body and wasn’t skinny or overweight like the average computer nerd.

His eyes were what I remembered most, though. I could envision his dark hazel eyes hidden behind black square frames.  They were the sexiest eyes I’d ever seen on a man.

Not that it mattered. A relationship of any kind was the last thing on my mind.

Minutes ticked by. It was nearly four o’clock. According to the paperwork, the store closed at five. I didn’t have time to wait. I hung up the phone and dialed the number on my cell. The same voice answered and put me on hold again. I gathered my purse and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Brandon asked.

“I am not waiting for him to come to the phone. I’m going over there and I’m not coming back empty handed. I’m bringing that Zachariah guy back and a new computer.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, and opened my office window to let in fresh air.

“Thanks.”

I needed all the luck I could get.

Meet the Author

M.J. Kane stumbled into writing. An avid reader, this stay at home mom never lost the overactive imagination of an only child. As an adult she made up stories, though never shared them, to keep herself entertained. It wasn’t until surviving a traumatic medical incident in 2006 that she found a reason to let the characters inhabiting her imagination free.  Upon the suggestion of her husband, she commandeered his laptop and allowed the characters to take life. It was that, or look over her shoulder for men carrying a purple strait jacket. And the rest, as they say, is history.

No longer a television addict, if M.J. isn’t reading a book by one of her favorite authors, she’s battling with her creative muse to balance writing and being a wife and mother. She resides in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia with her high school sweetheart, four wonderful children, and two pit bulls. MJ can often be found hanging out at the local library where she is director of a local writer’s group, or online connecting with readers and other authors. Other activities she enjoys include: creating custom floral arrangements, assisting her children in their creative pursuits of music and art, and supporting her husband’s music production business, 3D Sounds.

You can find MJ on social networking sites, sharing writing tips, talking about music, life, and family. She’s always excited to meet new people. Connect with her via the websites below.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/MJKaneBooks
FB Author: https://www.facebook.com/MJButterflyBooks
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6034900-m-j-kane
Google+: https://plus.google.com/111337870949730559736/posts
Blog: http://thiswriterslife-mjkane.blogspot.com/
Email: [email protected]