Every attempt I made to speak just ended up in a sob. Tear after tear fell from my face. I sniffed, trying to regain control of my emotions, but it was useless. The dam had finally broken.
“It’s okay. Let it out,” my best friend soothed on the other end of the phone.
I did as instructed as Gabby repeated over and over that everything was gonna be all right.
Chapter One
Chanel
“You know, when I agreed to move to Houston, this isn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.”
I laughed as I picked up the receiver of my office phone, taking it off the speaker. “What’s the problem now, Gab?” I grinned, just knowing she was getting ready to complain about her boss. After five years of living in the City of Angels, I’d made the decision to move back home to Houston. It wasn’t too hard to convince Gabby to move as well, and I was grateful.
“Nothing, just that ‘Dr. Grabby Hands’ is in the office today.”
I frowned. “Gab, I thought he only came in the office on weekends. Are you in the office alone with him?”
Gab worked as a massage therapist and esthetician in a plastic surgeon office. One doctor in particular had taken a liking to her and at times made things uncomfortable for her. When she’d approached the head surgeon about it, he’d immediately rectified the situation so that “Dr. Grabby Hands” and Gabby never worked at the same time. Although I knew my best friend wouldn’t hesitate to handle the guy if she needed to, I didn’t like the idea of her being in that position.
“Nah, there’s a couple of other docs in today, but one had to call out, so Grabby Hands is taking over his patients for the day. It’s cool. I’m only here for another couple of hours. He hasn’t even looked at me today.”
I could still hear the tension in her voice. “Gab, have you looked at any of the office spaces I sent over to you last week? When we agreed to move out here, you were so gung-ho about opening your own spa.” It’d been months, and she hadn’t taken any steps to begin opening her business.
“I’ve just been busy. Between the office, my side clients, and volunteering at the shelter, I hardly have any time.”
“You’re making excuses.” I didn’t have to sweeten my delivery for Gabby. We both knew she was stalling for some reason which she was refusing to address.
“So, I’m not busy?” she challenged.
“Of course, you’re busy. But you make time for what you want, and for some reason you’re not making time for this. If it’s the money, I already told you—”
“It’s not the money,” she interrupted. “And you willnotoffer me another red cent. You’ve already given me enough.”
“I didn’t give you anything. That was your money.”
“Yes, money that was supposed to go to rent, and instead of using it for that purpose, your sheisty ass had to save it behind my back.” The irritation in her voice made me laugh.
This little back-and-forth had gone on for months, ever since Gabby found out that I’d never spent any of the rent money she’d given me. A month after I moved to L.A., more than five years prior, I purchased a two-bedroom condo close to the law office where I worked. A few months later, Gabby’s apartment building caught on fire. I insisted she move in with me because I had space. She agreed but insisted on paying rent. I didn’t need it and told her as much, but she continued to slip me money each month, so I decided to open a separate savings account. When we finally decided to move to Houston, and Gabby thought this city would be the right place to open the spa she’d always wanted to own, I told her about the bank account and signed every penny over to her. It was the least I could do for the person who’d saved my life.
“Call me sheisty all you want, but you’ve got the money to open your spa and a friend who’d be more than happy to loan you more if you needed it. No matter what you say,” I raised my voice on that last sentence to drown out her protests. A second later, my phone buzzed. “Gab, hold on, that’s my assistant.
“Yes, Liza,” I answered my assistant.
“Ms. Richards, there’s a Marjorie Combs here to see you.”
My eyebrows raised in confusion. “What the hell is she doing here?”
“I’m not sure, Ms. Richards. She doesn’t have an appointment but says she’s willing to wait.”
I cleared my throat, realizing I’d asked the question out loud. “Um, okay, Liza. Just give me a minute before you send her in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I made a mental reminder to tell Liza to refer to me by my first name. I hated the formality of being referred to by my last name.
“Hey, Gabby. I gotta go. Marjorie’s here.”
“Ohh, the step-mama?”
