High Voltage

"Yeah. Hop a plane to where, sweetheart? The middle of Hickville?"

"It's not like that at all.” Serena couldn't begrudge the connotation—she'd had similar thoughts until she'd seen the beautiful flowers sprouting up along low-rising, rolling hills. And once she'd met the people in Silver ... well, she'd liked it even more. And now that she'd met Garrett...

The smile on her face widened. “You'd be surprised what kind of people you can meet in rural America."

"Okay, the whole ‘Men in Trees' thing is bullshit, Serena, and we both know it."

"I beg to differ. But convincing you will be next to impossible, unless you come here to see me."

"Yeah, sweetie, I'd love to. But, who the hell has time?"

Serena remembered how busy she'd been when she'd lived in New York. It seemed like every single minute was booked, from the time she awoke to the time she fell into bed, well past midnight every single night. Manhattan had been exhilarating, but keeping up that pace for five years, since she'd graduated NYU with honors and landed a fabulous job at a Fortune 50 company, had been downright exhausting.

"You work too much,” Serena suddenly said.

"About ninety hours a week. But who's counting?"

"You are. And you've been at it for like, what, ten years now? When's the last time you took a vacation?"

"Spring Break my senior year,” Shay was quick to say. “My high school senior year, by the way. You don't become general counsel for a Fortune 50 company by the age of thirty if you don't devote your entire existence to your work."

"Yeah, well, I'm worried about your entire existence."

"I didn't call to talk about me. I called to talk about you.” Her thick New York accent made Serena smile. Her own was starting to fade.

"Okay. What's up?"

Shay, in her usual fashion, cut right to the chase. “I have a solution to your problem."

Sinking into a barstool, Serena said, “I don't have a problem."

"Oh, yeah, right. Getting canned for screwing your married, much-older boss isn't a problem?"

Serena let out a long sigh. Mustering her dignity, she said, “I didn't screw him. I thought you believed me."

"I do believe you, sweetie. That's why I've been working my ass off in your defense ever since you left. And now, thanks to my brilliance, I've thought of a way to clear your name and get your job back."

"Oh, my God.” Serena's back straightened in the chair. Her mouth gaped for a moment as she thought of the implication of Shay's words. She could go back? To her life in New York? Her fabulous Fifth Avenue apartment? Her expensive clothes and designer shoes and all those really great restaurants ... “Oh, my God!” Excitement shot through her. “Are you serious? I can get my job back? I loved that job. Shay, you know how much I loved it there!"

"Yeah, sweetie, I know.” Shay's voice held no particular infliction, which drew Serena's attention.

"I did love it there, didn't I?

” Serena posed the question to Shay, but really, she was putting it out there in the universe, wondering what kind of response she'd get back.

"What's not to love, for Christ's sake? It's the only city besides L.A. where they still have two-martini business lunches. There's 24/7 entertainment, nightclubs with beds in them, cabs at four a.m., and anything and everything you could possibly want either around the corner or just a phone call away. Who the fuck doesn't love New York?"

Serena's brow furrowed. “Hmm. Just about everyone west of the Mississippi."

Shay let out a very unladylike snort, which made Serena laugh. By image and appearance, her friend was the epitome of Manhattan Society—beautiful, thin, rich, successful. But Shay wasn't the least bit pretentious. “Whatever. So, do you want to know what I came up with to save your ass, or not?"

"Of course I do!” Serena was quick to say. But something inside her stirred ... a peculiar dread. Was it because she didn't want to think about her dismal fall from grace? Or was it because she didn't want to return to New York?

Pushing aside both thoughts, she added, “I haven't worked in over eight months. I'm going a little stir-crazy here. Tell me what I have to do."

"It's so simple I can't fucking believe I didn't think of it sooner. I mean, my brain must really be fried, because this is the easiest way on the planet to clear your name, and it's taken me all this time to think of it."

"Stop beating yourself up. You have much bigger issues to deal with than me being fired."