Peterson is Ellie’s favorite R&D person to work with. His specialty: the motors and suction units in vibrators. There’s no combination of vibration and suction he can’t create.
“Perfect.”
Loud footsteps come from outside. Shouting between three people penetrates the thick door of the conference room.
I listen, frowning. One voice belongs to Heather and the other to Dan, the head of security—who has to have been called by Heather—because the final voice belongs to Linda. Ugh.
Ellie makes a moue of distaste. “What’s your stepmom doing here?”
“I don’t know.” It isn’t like Linda to just show up out of the blue. Or draw attention to herself within the company. She isn’t involved in the running of Silicone Dream. To honor my grandmother’s deathbed wish and will, I have no intention of letting Linda, Felicia or my father manage the company in any way. None of them care about the company anyway, just the money it generates.
“Does she have an appointment Heather forgot to tell you about?” Ellie asks.
“Heather never forgets anything about Linda.” Mainly because she hates my stepmom. Heather calls her a “greedy opportunist” the infrequent times we talk about her. She probably uses more colorful words when I’m not around.
Now there are thumps. Probably Linda pounding the wall with the heel of her hand to show her displeasure. She wouldn’t do anything more violent, since she’d rather eat rat poison than break one of her precious nails.
I stand up. “I should probably go see what’s going on.”
“I’ll be your backup,” Ellie says, getting up.
I straighten and push my shoulders back, making sure I’m radiating authority. That is the only way to get Linda to absorb even a fraction of what I say, since she has the most extraordinary talent for filtering out what she doesn’t want to hear. I open the door and step into the hall, Ellie close behind.
His arms stretched out, Dan is standing in front of Linda, who is doing her best to shove him out of the way. Excessive hair spray has turned her bleached platinum hair into an artistic wire sculpture rather than anything resembling what should naturally grow out of a human skull. Her dress is so tight it looks like Saran wrap. But it’s black, so she’ll think that makes it “classy.” Her diamond earrings and necklaces are huge enough to be blinding, but that’s just her wordlessly communicating how well she married. She used to be a bookkeeper for our parents, and the second Mom died, she managed to get Dad to propose. He doesn’t like being lonely, and Linda knows how to keep him entertained, which is a valuable life skill for the wanna-marry-up type. Their extravagant wedding took place within three months of Mom’s funeral. I didn’t have to attend the spectacle because Grandma sent me to Cancun that weekend, but I saw photos.
As the years have passed, Linda’s features have grown more sculpted—her pricey plastic surgeon is a man of divine talent—and her face less mobile. I gotta give her credit for her drive, because I can’t remember to slather lotion on my face half the time.
“Get your animal off me!” Linda shouts shrilly.
As usual, she expects people to jump to do her bidding.
“Dan is a member of our security team, and he’s following my instructions,” I say to calm her down. My number one goal is to get her out of the headquarters. “I told him not to let anybody without an appointment come bother me.” Mainly to ensure Todd doesn’t bug me. But saying so would only upset Linda, so I leave that part out.
“I’m not just anybody!”
“Dan, it’s fine. Let her pass.” She won’t quit until she says whatever she’s here to say. It must be important for her to make the trip, since she prefers to spend her time in spas and her plastic surgeon’s office.
“You have another meeting,” Heather says, while giving Linda a look dark with disapproval.
It’s a lie, but I play along. “Right. I don’t have much time.” I turn to Linda with a smile but don’t invite her to sit down or come into the conference room, since that would only encourage her to go on and on. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to sit down with a latte,” she demands.
“I’m afraid there’s no time for that,” Heather says. “Sierra’s meeting is in five.”
Linda shoots Heather a look of sheer hatred. She knows that Heather doesn’t care what she thinks because I’m the one who pays the salaries, but I’ve told my stepmother repeatedly to avoid coming over to the company if interacting with Heather upsets her that much.
Heather checks her watch, then taps the round crystal face with a thin smile.
Linda turns to me and says, “You know Todd still can’t talk right?”
“I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. That was quite a kick to the head he took.” She probably expects me to feel terrible about what happened to him, but it isn’t easy to dredge up much sympathy. “Maybe he should see a better doctor?”
“Seeing a better doctor isn’t the answer. I thought you’d be…” Linda waves a hand around in the air. “More concerned?”
I raise both eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”
“Why don’t you send him flowers? Or visit to see how he’s doing?”