Taken by Tuesday (Weekday Brides Series) (4 page)

Mr. Archer hung up the phone. “You’re late.”

Judy froze. She really had hoped he wouldn’t have noticed. “Uhm . . . the off-ramp—”

“Is messed up. Yeah, I know, has been for months. Leave fifteen minutes earlier. Interns are expected to be here on time, if not early.” He still fumbled on his desk, searching for something.

“I’m sorry.”

He tossed his hand in the air. “Never apologize and never give any excuses, Lucy. I only want to hear how you’ll fix it so you won’t do it again.”

Right.
“I’ll leave twenty minutes early tomorrow.”

“Perfect.”

“And it’s Judy.”

Mr. Archer had to be in his midthirties, but his hair was thinning and though he wore a nice suit, it looked like he’d been in it for several hours. “What?” he asked, never taking his attention off his desk.

“My name, it’s Judy, not Lucy.”

“Right . . . OK.” He found the paper he was looking for and whipped it in front of his eyes with a smile. “There you are.” He moved around the desk and out of his office with swift, determined steps. Judy had nothing else to do but move out of his way and follow behind.

In the center of the office were several cubicles along with a dozen light-table workstations. “You can put your purse here,” he told her, pointing toward an empty cubicle.

Judy tossed her purse under the desk and nearly jogged to keep up with her mentor.

“Coffee’s in here.” He pointed toward a small kitchen. “The fridge is for lunches. It’s emptied every Friday so don’t leave anything there over the weekends.”

“OK.”

He kept walking, rounding another corner and down a dark hall. He opened a door and they stepped into a well-lit room with several copy machines.

Steve opened the lid of one, clicked in a command, and waited for the copy to come out the other end. “As you can see, we have paper size, drafting size, and even a blueprint copy machine in here. Did you work on these in school?”

“Not this new, but—”

“There are guide sheets on the side of every machine. If something about the instructions doesn’t make sense, ask someone. You don’t want to be responsible for jamming these machines. It will take you half the day to find the problem and we can’t be without them that long.”

She wanted to ask if they had someone who fixed them in the office, but he was already walking out of the room.

The next door they moved through was the mail room. It was Monday, and the Saturday mail had been delivered and sat in a large bin right below the massive slots with several dozen names.

“This is where you’re starting.”

Judy actually stumbled. She knew being an intern meant she’d be doing a lot of the busy work at first . . . but the mail room?

“Everyone expects their mail ready by nine. If you’re smart, you’ll jump in here again before you leave for the day to get a head start on the next day.” Steve turned to leave her to the daunting task of sorting. “I expect you in my office at nine fifteen. I have a nine thirty meeting and I’ll need a few minutes to tell you what you need to do next.”

And then he was gone.

A blur as he pushed out of the mail room without so much as a
Welcome to Benson and Miller
.

“Holy shit.”
How much coffee did he have this morning?

Chapter Four

“I’m going to find out everything about you, Meg. I do mean everything.”

Meg looked across the table at Samantha Harrison, who looked nothing like Meg had pictured when Judy told her Samantha, or Sam as she liked to be called, was a duchess. Her red hair exploded from the clip holding it back, and even with four-inch heels, she was barely five and a half feet tall. Yeah, she was in casual but expensive clothes and her makeup suited her features perfectly, but she was about as down-to-earth as any of Meg’s old college friends.

“I don’t have much to hide.”

Sam raised one eyebrow and waited.

“Got caught smoking pot in high school once, nearly got tossed out but never bothered to party in school again so they let me stay.”

A slight smile met Sam’s lips and Meg’s confession kept rolling.

“Partied a little in college but my asthma kept me from smoking anything.”

Sam made a note on her pad of paper. “Anything I should know about your parents? Your family?”

“They voted in cannabis for recreational use and grow their own up in Washington. Total throwbacks from the sixties. Dad’s family is Jewish, Mom’s is Catholic . . . never was sure what that makes me.”

Now Sam laughed. “So no strong religious tendencies?”

“More like confused tendencies. Mom would bless the bacon like she’d been taught by my grandmother and put it on everything.”

“Siblings?”

“Only child.”

“What’s your Facebook profile name?”

Meg gave it to her.

“Any other social media platforms?”

Meg’s palms started to sweat. Not that she had any naked photos hanging around out there, but she wasn’t sure of every picture taken over the last four years. “I deleted my MySpace four years ago. Never have figured out Twitter, but I’m on there.”

“How did you meet Judy?”

“Freshman dorms. She was two doors down from me. We often met in the lobby while we waited for our roommates to move their dates along. Didn’t take long for us to switch rooms.”

“Did you know Michael was her brother when you met?”

The questions struck Meg as strange, but she answered them anyway. “Not a clue. She talked about her brothers, but it wasn’t until the rumor mill started up and people were lining up to be her best friend that I was told that Mike was Michael Wolfe.”

Sam made another note.

“So why that question?” Meg asked.

“I need to know how you respond to the rich and famous. Many of our clients are beyond loaded and nearly all of them are famous in their own world.”

That made sense. “Seems everyone in this city thinks they’re famous. I’ve never met so many aspiring everythings in my life.”

Her future boss laughed. “What about you? Ever want to be an aspiring anything?”

“Not enough to pursue it.”

“Not even a singing career?”

Meg shot her eyes to Sam. “How did you know I sing? Did Judy tell you?”

Sam shook her head. “I haven’t talked to Judy . . . yet.”

Shivers ran up Meg’s arms. “What else do you already know about me?”

Sam placed the pen and paper on the table and reached for her coffee.

“Let’s see . . . your student loans top seventy thousand, and as much as your parents would like to help you out they’ve never planned for the future and have less than ten thousand in their savings account.”

“Financial information can’t be terribly hard to discover.” Meg knew there was very little that couldn’t be found out with a click of a mouse.

“Dane Bishop was your high school squeeze.”

Meg froze.

“Kind of an ass from what I could tell. What did you see in him?”

She hadn’t thought of Dane in years. Tried hard not to. “I was young and stupid.”

“And he was a couple of years older and a user.”

Boy was he.

“Like I said, Meg, I will find out everything. My business is rooted in secrecy and trust. There can never be a breach in either if you work for me. So far, everything you’re telling me pans out. If you weren’t looking for a job, I’d attempt to recruit you as a client.”

It was Meg’s turn to grin. “Can’t I be both?”

This is a stupid game
, Judy typed into her tablet.
I’ve hit the boss six times and still haven’t won once
.

She clicked out of the chat room and hit the boss again. The image of Steve Archer and his endless tasks of meaningless shit fueled her desire to win the game in her hands. For five days, she’d played secretary, postman, and useless runner. This was not what she thought an internship meant.

The voice on the house intercom let her know that Meg was home.

She pulled a swig from her beer and hit the boss one last time with the energy level she had in the game.

Match lost.

Damn game.

She moved back into the chat room when Meg sailed into the house, tossing her keys and purse on the coffee table. “I see you’re being as productive as ever.”

“Don’t judge,” Judy scolded, even if her best friend was right. “I’ve had a shit day.”

“Again?”

All Judy could do was growl.

“Well I’ve had a fabulous day.”

Judy closed her tablet and tossed it aside. “I take it you met Sam today?”

Meg opened the fridge and grabbed a beer as she spoke. “I can’t believe she’s a duchess. Are you sure about that?”

“Ask Karen if you think I’m lying.”

“I don’t think you’re lying . . . she just seems, I don’t know, normal.”

Judy laughed. “People say the same thing about Mike. Being a celebrity or royalty doesn’t make you less than normal. Just makes people think you need to be some kind of cartoon character of a real person. So Sam shows up in normal clothes and treats you like a potential employee and suddenly she’s not a duchess
?
”

Meg tilted back her beverage and then sighed. “Yeah. I guess. She’s so . . . I don’t know, normal.”

“A real person.”

“Right.”

Judy pushed off the sofa and tossed her empty bottle in the trash. “I wish my boss was as real as Sam.”

“Is he still calling you Lucy?”

“Yes! Every damn time he does, I tell him my name. I laugh.” Judy demonstrated with a dramatic toss of her hair. “It’s Judy, Mr. Archer.” She paused, then said in a lower voice to mimic her boss, “What? Yeah, yeah . . . file this. Fix this. Do this.”

“Sounds awful.”

“I haven’t seen a blueprint since I walked into the office.” Well, she’d managed to see a work in progress on one of the drafters’ desks. Other than that, she’d seen nothing. Filing, paperwork, and bullshit.

“Sounds like you need a night of confidence. I’ve scoped out the local pool halls.”

Suddenly Judy felt a little more like herself. “Did you say pool hall?”

Penthouse Pool was a dive. Something that would fit in with the college crowd. Too bad the college crowd wasn’t anywhere near Hollywood. The beer was cheap and it only took one round to find someone to buy them their drinks.

“I’m actually really good,” Judy warned the thirtysomething guy and his friend who challenged her to a game.

“I can stand losing twenty bucks,” he told her.

Judy racked up the balls and let Meg hold the money. It took less than five minutes to relieve Phil, or maybe it was Bill, of twenty dollars. Phil/Bill doubled his bet and lost in four minutes. “I warned you.”

Phil/Bill scowled and moved back to the bar, leaving Meg and Judy sitting on the side of the table. If it wasn’t for the music in the jukebox they probably would have left the minute the guys left. It didn’t take long for a couple of other men to take their place. Only these guys were looking to get into something more than a corner pocket, and Judy and Meg both knew better than to challenge them to anything.

“I can sink that ball in your hole,” the scuzzball managed.

Judy laughed, not willing to meet the guy’s gaze.

“We’re lesbians,” Meg announced.

The blond actually seemed turned on by the idea.

“And we don’t share,” Judy told him. To add to the effect, Judy slid a hand around Meg’s waist and pulled her close.

“Fucking Hollywood,” the man mumbled under his breath as he walked away.

Judy turned toward her friend. “This is a bust.”

Meg scanned the bar with a nod. “Cheap beer and cheaper pool. I thought it sounded great.”

“We managed sixty bucks. Not that bad.”

Behind them, someone laughed. “That was classic.”

Judy and Meg both twisted toward two guys who stood shoulder to shoulder. They were about the same height as Meg, which rivaled five nine, and they both looked enough alike to make Judy think they were brothers. Only the auburn-haired man placed his hand on his friend in a way that told her they were much more than friends.

“What was classic?” Meg asked . . . the music in the pool hall changed and seemed to get louder.

“Putting those guys off.”

Judy laughed. “Not hard to do when they come on that strong.”

“You guys play?”

“She does,” Meg told them.

Lucas had short blond hair that fell in his eyes with every shake of his head. His friend, and if Judy had to guess, his lover, Dan, had an easy smile and an open wallet. “You girls want another drink?”

“You go ahead,” Meg suggested. “I’ll drive us home.”

“Not to mention I’ve had a crap day.”

Lucas racked the balls while Dan sat across from Meg at a nearby table.

“Bad day at work?” Lucas asked.

“You can say that.”

Lucas pulled the triangle away and hung it on the nail sticking out of a beam. “We playing for money?”

“She’s good,” Meg warned him.

“I’m good,” Judy said at the same time.

Dan laughed. “You guys suck at hustling pool.”

“We’re new in town,” Judy told him. “It’s never a good idea to hustle anything until you know the players or have backup.”

Lucas pulled a twenty from his back pocket and set it on the table with Meg. “I’m not half bad either. If you kick my ass, it will be the only twenty we ever play for.”

Meg placed a twenty on top of it, solidifying the bet.

Judy broke, sank a solid, and missed her second shot.

Lucas followed with two stripes before she had another turn.

“You guys aren’t really lesbians.” Dan wasn’t asking a question.

“Not even in my diary,” Judy said as she set up her shot.

“And you guys aren’t straight.” Meg called them out.

Dan laughed. “According to my mother I am.”

Lucas leaned next to his friend and watched Judy take out two more balls.

“So is this place always so lively?” Judy asked, letting the sarcasm drip from her voice.

“This place is a dive, but the drinks are cheap.”

“Hence the term, dive.” Meg glanced around. “Even the jukebox isn’t turned up enough to drown out the burps from the bar.”

Lucas cleaned the table on his next turn, putting Judy to shame. Once he sank the eight ball, she handed him the forty bucks and shook his hand. “And that will be the last twenty you get from me.”

“Fair enough,” he said as he slid the forty bucks in the back pocket of his skin-tight jeans.

“There’s a dance club up a block. Wanna blow out of here?”

From anyone else, Judy might be a little concerned, but Lucas and Dan were obviously into each other and about as safe as anyone could be outside of her brother.