Bailey stomped one well-heeled foot and huffed. Curse that Chase Meadows. The least he could have done was put up more of a fight. Instead, he left her standing on the sidewalk, watching his taillights disappear in the distance. The heel snapped off, and Bailey twisted her ankle as she stomped down.
"Oh, for goodness sake. Everything I've gone through, and I injure myself stomping a foot."
She limped to a nearby bench and sat, removing the broken heel and its match before examining her ankle. It wasn't broken, but it wouldn't stand much more damage tonight without causing permanent injury. Judy would have to pick her up if she couldn't hire a car. Only then did Bailey realize her phone was missing.
Now not only was she wandering the cold, dark city streets in a torn dress, but Bailey was also doing it without a way to call for rescue. Judy would never let her live it down.
She blamed Chase Meadows. Not one good thing had happened to her since he had entered her life. Did he have it out for her personally, or did everyone who met him feel the same way? The bad luck felt personal. It would feel more personal when Judy found out about tonight and made her apologize.
"Over my dead body."
A couple strolling by paused, concerned that she was talking to them. Bailey waved them on with a friendly smile and a duck of her head. She had to be careful what she did in public. Talking to herself could earn Lori Laker the reputation of a crazy lady.
As if answering her, lightning flashed overhead a split second before thunder roared. The sky opened, and the dry but cool evening was replaced with an instant downpour. Bailey's billowy skirt melted into a wet glob across her legs, pinning her to the bench.
Then again, sitting on a bench in the pouring rain didn't make a positive impression either. She laid down on the beach and pulled her knees up to her chest, hoping to retain some body heat while hiding her face from passersby, not that she saw anyone else stupid enough to be out in the rain.
Not one to give up, though, Bailey allowed herself a limited amount of time to wallow in self-pity before she wiped water and hair back from her face and assessed her options. In the distance, she spotted a flashing open sign in a convenience store window. She could hobble that far and hopefully borrow a phone long enough to call Judy.
Honestly, running away from home sounded like more fun than going home to face Judy. It wasn't that Judy was a bad person. On the contrary, if not for Judy, Bailey would have ended up in a foster home after her parents died. Judy had sacrificed her future to secure Bailey a here and now when it mattered the most. That they had been able to work together to build the Happy Homemaker into a sustainable source of income could be attributed to sheer luck and hard work.
But at what point did Bailey earn back her life? Even indentured servants eventually earned their freedom. However, did she have a right to compare herself to an enslaved person when her sacrifices were begrudgingly voluntary? She had many more questions than answers, and none of them would be answered tonight in the rain.
She eased her way to her feet and limped to the store, the rain so heavy that she wouldn't have been able to find her way there if it hadn't been for the lit-up storefront. Bailey sloughed off as much rain as possible, squeezing out her skirts before entering the store. The air conditioning blasted her as she opened the door, chilling her to the bones. She moved just enough inside for the door to shut her, but she tried to stay on the doormat. No point in causing more work for someone else if she didn't have to.
The store was empty except for a lone clerk dancing behind the counter to an eighties pop song that Bailey quickly recognized. The bone-thin clerk with a shaggy haircut and face acne did a professional twirl and froze as his attention landed on Bailey.
"Damn. You okay?"
"Um, can I borrow a phone? I've lost my phone."
"Oh, sure, but it's over here." The clerk picked up the handset for the store phone.
Bailey nodded and hobbled forward, leaning on the counter's edge as soon as it was in range. Her foot throbbed beneath her. Behind her, she left a trail of water. She left more water as she reached for the phone.
"Hold on." The clerk jumped into action, jogging to the beverage prep station for a wad of paper towels, which he thrust into her hands. "Take a minute and dry off. I'll see if I can find a jacket or something in the lost and found."
"Thank you."
Bailey's teeth chattered as she fought to remember Judy's phone number. That was the downside of depending on a cell phone. She seldom bothered to memorize phone numbers since they were always right at her fingers' tips. Until they weren't. Her first attempt resulted in reaching a disconnected number. Her second attempt got her in touch with a dentist's office, and her third led to a lady cursing her out for calling so late.
The clerk returned with a red track jacket three sizes too big, but at least it was dry and covered her arms.
"Thank you so much. When my sister arrives, I'll compensate you."
"Oh, no need for that. Don't worry about it. You need it more than whoever left it here. Let me pour you a coffee."
"You don't need to do that."
"It's fine. Free coffee comes with the job, and I don't drink coffee."
"Thanks again."
Tears rolled down Bailey's cheeks. She'd forgotten there were people like this guy. His kindness came with no price tags, no promises for future favors. She didn't have to intimidate him or turn on the Lori Laker charm to get what she wanted. In fact, she hadn't even considered asking him for anything he had offered her. All she wanted was a phone, and that plan had totally petered out since she couldn't for the life of her remember Judy's number.
Her hand shook so hard that the hot coffee splashed on her skin. The liquid stung but pulled her back from falling apart again. Twice in one night was two too many. She sat down the coffee before making it worse, then used the wet paper towels to clean up the mess.
"Any luck with your phone call?"
Bailey shook her head. "Wrong number."
"That's too bad. I don't get off work for another hour, but I'll give you a ride if you're willing to wait. I'm Jeb, by the way."
Like Bailey had many choices. "I hate to impose but thank you. I'm Bailey."
"Nice to meet you, Bailey. There are a couple of tables in the back. You might be more comfortable there. I've got to mop."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault. I have to mop every night. At least now it feels like I'm mopping for a reason." Jeb's smile was big and honest, and it made Bailey want to smile with him.
"I'll go to the back then. Thanks."
Jeb followed her with a fresh coffee and a day-old donut, which Bailey knew she couldn't eat, particularly after the gala food and drinks. Even so, it felt nice to see the cream-filled pastry sitting next to the coffee, just like a real person might enjoy.
That was the problem. After so long of playing Lori Laker, she didn't feel real anymore. She was just as fake as the props used to make the set appear more like a person's home and less like a warehouse. In the kitchen area, the oven didn't even work. When they had cooking demonstrations, the raw food went in, and one of the stagehands traded it out for a freshly baked final product. Each bite she took, each groan of pleasure and delighted side stare to the ceiling we a part of the act. Often the food was spit out as soon as the camera cut to someone else. Nothing was worth shoving empty calories down her throat.
The coffee cup felt good between her hands, warm and comforting. Bailey wasn't ready to lift the cup yet, but she could still cradle it between her palms. This was a long night. She hoped Judy would be asleep by the time she returned home. Bailey didn't feel like answering a lot of questions. All she wanted was a hot shower and a warm bed.
Tomorrow was different, though. She would have to answer to Judy, but it was time for Judy to answer to her, too.
Jeb's car was a beat-up subcompact. The interior smelled like cigarettes, but visually, it was clean, and the engine ran smoothly.
With a smile, Jeb asked, "So where are we going, Bailey? Or have you forgotten your address as well?"
Smiling, Bailey shook her head. "No, I have to write out my address enough to have it memorized. I even remember my cell phone number. It's my sister's number that eludes me."
"Hey, I'm not complaining. Your bad memory has given me an excuse to take a beautiful woman home."
"Me? Beautiful? Look at me. I'm a hot mess."
"Darlin', a hot woman is always a hot woman whether covered with tear streaks and missing her shoes or wearing a wedding dress and a diamond ring."
Bailey blushed. She had forgotten that she knew how.