AS MY WIFE Read online

  AS MY WIFE

  BY GROOVY LEE

  AS MY WIFE © GROOVY LEE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  www.groovylee.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My deepest gratitude and thanks go to my daughter, my best friend, Remi, whose strength and belief in me made this journey possible.

  And to Rene Marcus, who was there from the beginning, even when my writing was crappy. If everyone who reads my novels loves them as much as she does, I’d be a trillionaire. Her love and devotion to my stories gave me the energy to keep improving.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Gracie Allen Jenkins stood among many in the elevator waiting for it to get her to her floor ASAP. If she didn’t get to the office now, she would be late for her morning rounds with her boss, Indigo Farrell. It was a floor by floor maddening stop to allow the other office workers off on their floor before the doors crawled to a close and resumed upward. Finally, the sixth floor bell pinged and the doors opened. She exhaled a sigh of relief and hurried out, balancing the folders in her arms along with her purse and coffee mug. She scurried down the hallway and pushed through the glass doors where the name FARRELL’S GOURMET ENTERPRISES was etched in frosted white alongside a frosted cup of hot coffee. As soon as she got to her desk, she glanced at the double Oak doors that led into her boss’ office. The fact that they were still open meant he hadn’t arrived yet, and she’d made it in time. She threw her purse across the desk and sat her mug down, then began to rifle through the folders to see which ones she needed to take with her.

  The glass doors behind her opened with a soft clink, announcing the arrival of whom she thought was her boss. She turned around ready to greet him with the usual ‘good-morning’ only to meet the spry eyes of one of the junior executives, Reid Anderson, who would always pop in to say hello whenever he had a moment. He shuffled his six-foot, thin frame in, smiling in his own special way, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his gray, pinstripe suit.

  “Hi, Copper,” was his nickname for her number 3J Dark-Scarlet shade of favorite hair color for the year. “Is the task master in?”

  Gracie clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Such a name. You should be ashamed of yourself. And no, he hasn’t come in, yet.” She walked around her desk and settled into her chair.

  “Whew,” he blew with great relief then swung one, long leg over the edge of her desk to rest himself. “I was supposed to meet with him this morning. Figure I’d better be on time.” He unbuttoned his suit coat, and smoothed his hand along the length of his hair to ensure it was still in its neat style.

  “In trouble with the boss again?” Gracie mocked.

  Reid’s eyebrows shot up. “Moi? In trouble?” His held his hand to his chest, pretending the big-one was coming. “Girl, it truly pains me to hear such accusations come from that sweet, lovely mouth of yours. Trouble? Indeed. It’s not the only reason the Great Indigo Farrell demands my presence, you know?”

  She sat amused as he went through the dramatics of defending himself and his reasons for keeping “the Great Indigo Farrell on his toes”. Although she shook her head at that, his light-hearted witticism was one quality that endeared him to her.

  “I admit. I have been summoned to his office on one or two occasions,” he fingered through her array of ink pens in a mesh holder, then lost interest. “But I’ll have you know that I’ve learned my lesson, young lady. Don’t have to hit this one over the head more than three times.”

  She gave his arm a light punch, then turned her chair around to turn on her computer. “Well, he should be in shortly. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Reid didn’t move to one of the plush chairs arranged against the wall, but remained perched on her desk. As she went about searching the morning’s emails to determine which were important enough to give to Mr. Farrell, the quiet began to break through her concentration; It was too quiet behind her. She turned and met that knowing look in those brown eyes that always had her defenses rising. She should have known it was coming.

  “Don’t,” she pointed a warning finger at him.

  “Don’t?” he hunched his shoulders. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t ask that tired question you always ask at least once a month,” she swung back to her computer.

  “What question? Oh, you mean when was the last time you heard from Mickey? Is that the one you mean? I’m not going to ask.”

  Gracie kept her secret smile to herself. “Well, for your information, I haven’t.” She began writing down the important messages on her note pad.

  “I have,” he almost sang.

  “That’s nice,” she murmured matter-of-factly.

  “He’s fine,” he offered when she made no attempt to further the conversation.

  She had no intentions of replying at first, but knew the more she ignored him, the more determined he would be to offer an unwanted update. It was evident he had some news about his friend he was dying to tell her; Best to hear it and get it over with. She took a deep breath, turned, and flashed him a bright, indulging smile. “So, you’ve heard from him. Is he out of town?”

  “Way out of town; Try out of the country. He’s been in Montreal, Canada for the last six months. Hasn’t he at least emailed you?”

  “No. I haven’t heard from him since we parted over a year ago. But, I’m not surprised. He travels a lot.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know what he’s doing up there?”

  “No, but you’re going to tell me anyway.” She gathered up a couple of grey folders and stood. “Excuse me,” she said as she bypassed him for the black, metal filing cabinet across the room. After securing them in their proper place, she pushed the drawer shut and returned to her desk.

  “The firm he works for sent him over there to correct a major problem at one of their offices,” he continued as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “He’ll be there for some time until it’s finished.”

  “That’s nice.” She settled in her chair and leaned back into it.

  “Yeah. I knew you were waiting breathlessly to hear that.” He paused to study her for a moment. “He asked about you.”

  “Oh? How nice. And what did you tell him?”

  “That you’re miserable without him. You walk around like the living dead in hopes he’ll come back and claim his lost love—Just kidding! Ouch!” he laughed behind the protection of his arms when she threatened to club him with her stapler. “Wait. What I really said is that you’re doing fine, and still as beautiful as ever.”

  “Thank-you, Uncle Reid. I need my morning coffee,” she held her giant mug up to him. “Want to share?”

  “No thanks.”

  She flipped the top and held the lip of the mug to her mouth, all the while watching his crushed soul sitting silent. Poor Reid, she fought the urge to snicker. As usual, he was getting nowhere with this. Easier to catch the wind than try and get her and Mickey back together. She couldn’t fault him for trying though. Mickey is his best friend, and he wants to see him happy. Still, he just has to face the fact they have taken separate paths, and there’s no turning back.

  “Reid,” she said after a few sips of the sweet, warm pick-me-up.

  He looked over at her with a rather wounded smile on his face. Her mouth curved warmly as she regarded him; She leaned forward and placed her hand over his. “I know you mean well. After all, you were the one who introduced us. We had some good times together. But, there’s no chance of Mickey and I ever getting back toge
ther.”

  He crooked his head to one side, his eyes gliding over the contours of her features. “You sure? He paints a different picture. After all, you were engaged once.”

  She felt that familiar pang at the mention of the word. To think, she had once come so close to making such a big mistake. “Yes, I’m sure,” she stressed to make it clear to him once and for all. “We both decided it was the right thing to do. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  He smiled in defeat, reached over and tugged at a loft of her scarlet locks. “O.k., Copper. I give. I’ll leave it alone—for now.”

  “Thanks,” she twisted her mouth at him.

  “So, what’s up for tonight?” he asked as she continued to drink her coffee. “Or will you be too exhausted from working with that slave driver of a boss of yours to have any fun? You know, with Indigo Farrell it’s always, tote that barge, lift that bail. I have the sneaky suspicion that Attila-the-Hun is a distant relative.”

  As much as she tried not to, Gracie laughed out as Reid began imitating her boss, his mentor, in voice and manner. “Mr. Reid, there are projects to close, new ones to open. See that it’s done by day’s end. But Mr. Farrell, I would say, may your humble servant please take the night off for some fun? Just one, your Highness? Reid, he would say, what is this word—fun?”

  Neither of them noticed the glass doors opening but something solid in her peripheral vision caused her to glance over and see the dominant figure of Indigo Farrell standing by the doors giving Reid his full attention. She coughed on her laughter and tried to warn her unsuspecting friend who was more than happy with his one-man show to notice her signaling with her eyes.

  “And that, sir, is the meaning of fun. And so I ask you, Gracie, why don’t you get old task master to let you off early some evening for fun? I’m sure if you reminded him of what the word means, he may break. I mean, doesn’t he realize that a beautiful flower such as yourself should be out tripping the light-fantastic in this party-all-night city of Los Angeles? Not cooped up in a stuffy office all day? If you were my executive assistant,” he leaned closer with a hand on his heart, “We would wine and dine every night. But then, he’s not half as exciting as moi.”

  “I’m sure you’re right about that, Reid,” said the deep voice from across the room.

  Reid jumped off the desk in mid-air, straightening at himself while he faced his boss, barely able to look at him.

  “And Ms. Jenkins could sure use it after a day in my company, right?”

  Gracie couldn’t tell if Mr. Farrell was a bit annoyed, or a little entertained by what he heard. His smooth, strong jawline, those big brown eyes, and full set mouth held no hint of emotion.

  “Mr. Farrell good morning,” the words tumbled out of Reid’s mouth along with a few bows of the head. “I didn’t hear you come in, sir.”

  “Obviously,” he walked all the way in. “Good morning, Ms. Gracie Allen Jenkins.” He stood at her desk and sat his briefcase on the floor. His eyes touched over her face and trailed down to her pale-pink chiffon blouse under a black sweater with tiny pearl buttons before lowering to inspect the messages she handed out to him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Farrell.”

  “Hold all calls this morning till I’ve finished with Reid here.” He gathered up his briefcase and headed for his office.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Reid was still facing the glass doors as he took a moment to calm his nerves. He then turned and shot her a pitiful look before following Mr. Farrell into his office, closing the doors behind him. Gracie’s heart beat a compassionate note for him, but at the same time couldn’t help laughing at his plight. She could only imagine what was going on inside Mr. Farrell’s office right now: Reid pouring himself into one of the chairs facing Mr. Farrell’s desk waiting for the sermon he knew was forthcoming. Sometimes his playful ways would often go too far, especially when dealing with important clients. Many of the stuffed shirts they dealt with couldn’t fully appreciate Reid’s nature, and Mr. Farrell had to remind him of the importance of behaving more professionally.

  Thirty minutes later, the doors swooshed open and out came Reid, seemingly in a better disposition, with Mr. Farrell behind him. Gracie automatically stood and gathered up her iPad and a few folders ready for the day.

  “See that it’s done by day’s end, Mr. Reid.”

  “Yes, Mr. Farrell,” Reid replied. He shot Gracie a quick lift of his brows as he passed her and exited through the doors.

  “Ready?” Mr. Farrell went to the door and held onto the handle for her to follow him out.

  “Yes, sir,” she hurried over to join him.

  He opened the door and allowed her to proceed him. Once in the wide hallway, he led the way for the morning’s rounds. As with every Monday and Thursday, he would stroll confidently down the hallway to inspect his domain, dressed in his immaculate suits, (today it was black with a pale-yellow shirt and paisley tie), hands planted deep in his pants pockets with her scurrying behind him while answering his many questions on the progress of this and that:

  “Has the meeting with the new distributors been confirmed, yet?”

  “Yes, sir. Tomorrow at nine.”

  “What about the three-way call from Japan?”

  “Mr. Okawa wants the time pushed up two hours.”

  “Make it happen.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied and scribbled it on her iPad.

  “Who wants to see me at closing today?”

  “Jeremy Sims from tech.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  “Sir, legal wants you to sign these.” While she scurried behind him, she managed to pull a couple of contracts from one of the folders and hand them out.

  Without turning around, he took them, signed them, put the pen back in his pocket, and handed the papers back to her. As she wrestled to return them to their place, she almost ran into him as he stopped at one of the elevators.

  “Which department is first?” he pushed the down arrow.

  “Research and Development, sir.”

  Two hours later, she returned to the office alone, leaving Mr. Farrell to make his cross-town trip to the company factory. After allowing everything to slide from her arms, she dropped into her chair and blew out a tired breath.

  Lunch time finally came around. Gracie sat in the company’s cafeteria with her two roommates, Heather and Bitsy.

  “Two more weeks and we’ll be on our way to London,” Heather said before slipping a portion of salad in her mouth.

  “Can you believe it?” Bitsy wiggled with excitement. “The three of us in London.”

  Gracie exhaled a small, grateful sigh at the thought of the exciting trip she was about to take; and even more excited that it wasn’t the usual vacation lying around on the sunny California beaches during the day, and taking in the L.A. hot spots at night. “I can’t wait,” she swirled her straw through the ice in her glass of tea. “The days seem to go by so slowly. It’s pure torture.”

  Heather threw Bitsy a knowing wink. “Gracie, you sure you can stand to leave that hunky boss of yours for two whole weeks?”

  “You’re not funny, Heather,” she eyed her with cool reproof.

  “Relax, I was only joking.” She swallowed a sip of her iced tea before asking her next question. “Do you think he’s still pining over Felicia?”

  “That iceberg?” Bitsy snorted. “I doubt if even her own mother misses her.”

  Heather threw her sandy head back and laughed.

  “Well, there must be something special about her if Indigo was willing to marry her once,” Gracie reminded them.

  “Indigo, is it?” They cooed together.

  “Stop it, you two.” Gracie didn’t appreciate it when they teased her about her boss. Yes, he’s fine (on a scale of one to ten, he’s easily a twenty) and seems to cast a magical spell on every female he passes; but it’s too important that she not allow one crack in that professional armor of hers. “If you can’t be more mature about this, we’ll just drop the
subject and talk about something else.” She shot a curious glance at Heather. “So, what’s this urgent matter you have to speak to me about?”

  Heather met Bitsy’s cautious eye before speaking. “Well, I need to ask a favor of you.”

  “Yes? Go on,” Gracie pressed when she hesitated too long.

  “An old college buddy of Tony’s is visiting him from out of town. Tony wants to show him a good time before he leaves. So, he thought it would be a good idea to find someone for him so we could double-date.”

  She knew what Heather was leading up to. One corner of her mouth lifted in an obstinate crease. “Let me guess. I’m to be the odd wheel.”

  “Well, you have to admit it’s certainly better than your traditional nights in front of the television.”

  “It’s safer, too. I’ve seen some of the derelicts Tony hangs around.”

  “Gracie Allen Jenkins, that’s not fair,” Heather dropped her salad fork in her plate and placed her hands on her slim hips. “Tony’s friends are not derelicts. They’re nice people once you get to know them.”

  “Heather, please, I’m trying to eat here.”

  “What about Crusher?” she challenged.

  “Crusher!” she threw back. “You mean that semi-pro wrestler who broke just about every piece of furniture in the house showing off his moves?”

  “He was trying to impress you.”

  “Please.”

  “Well, Billy was nice.”

  “Ah, yes, Dear Billy—dear convicted felon Billy. But of course, aren’t they all just after they’re released from prison? And by the way, I saw a lovely picture of him yesterday hanging on the wall of the post office. He’s graduated to number eight on the Most Wanted List.”

  “Whatever,” she crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. “If you can’t say anything nice then don’t say anything at all.”

  “You brought it up. And while we’re on the subject, remember the overly virile Dayton who wanted the three of us to…”