Page 10 of Exposed

I forgot my earbuds. I can’t even pretend not to hear him.

“Goldie!”

I stop and turn back to him. “How are you, Mr. Elrod?”

He swipes at his brow as he groans when he pushes to his feet from deadheading the flowers in the garden outside his door. “You know, keeping on. How’s the wedding business?”

I force a smile and realize I’m lying a lot lately. “It’s great. You know, busy. It’s always wedding season.”

“Wouldn’t know. Never got married. Look at me now, thrivingjust like my flowers. You, on the other hand, don’t seem to be thriving. You’ve been pacing a lot. Pacing isn’t good.”

I frown. “Just getting my steps in while I work.”

He narrows his eyes. “Lot of phone calls too. And not many of them sound friendly. They sound desperate.”

It’s my turn to narrow my eyes at my nosy neighbor. “I’m not making desperate phone calls. Maybe you should turn your TV up.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you with the volume of my shows.”

I place a hand on my hip. His passive aggressiveness is thicker than the Florida humidity. And since I’m already sweating, both are in excess today. “When is your birthday? I might get you some noise canceling headphones so I don’t bother you while I work from home.”

He smiles broadly and proves what I already knew—if the man thrives on anything, it’s being a snoopy neighbor. “You’re not bothering me. I need to be alert so I can be on the lookout for my neighbors. Did you know we used to have a neighborhood watch? I ran the program, but it got too hard to maintain with people moving in and out like a revolving door.”

Any other day, I’d bite my tongue and walk away. But as I near the end of my rope with my nosy neighbor, my phone vibrates.

“Another phone call,” he states as I whip my phone from my pocket.

I can’t hide my anxiety when I see who it is.

I sidestep my elderly neighbor and mutter, “Excuse me. I’ll take this while I walk so I don’t bother you.”

“Good luck with that one,” he calls after me.

I let it ring as long as I can to give me enough time to exit the gate before sliding my thumb across the screen and pulling in a deep breath. “Mr. Armstrong. How are you?”

There’s a pause over the line before he starts in. “I’ve beenwaiting to hear from you. I trust that you were able to get us into The Pink tomorrow?”

I quicken my pace and dread what I’m about to do. I’m going to lose this contract, and I cannot afford to lose anything these days.

I try to break the bad news to him, but the words just won’t come out.

“Goldie? Did I lose you?”

“Sorry, I’m here.”

“Great,” he clips. “What time should I meet you?”

“I’ve been making calls, but I haven’t heard back from the owner.”

It’s like he lets my non answer to his question marinate before he finally responds. “What are you saying? Do I need to look for another wedding planner who can get this done?”

“No, no!” The words fall from my lips in a rush. “I mean, don’t look for anyone else.”

“Perfect.” His deep voice rumbles through the phone and hits me somewhere deep, because nothing is perfect at the moment. “I’m free at five.”

I stop on the sidewalk and stare at a weed growing through the crack.

I’ve never done this in my life.

---