Rush to the Altar (3 page)

Maddie cried out in pain and tried to pull free.

“I’ll have your heads for this. You’ll never perform again!” His murderous gaze swept the room and then lit back on Maddie. Unable to contain his rage, he shook her again.

The door opened behind them and Maddie saw a man in an expensive suit enter the room. He strode over to Mr. McKlesky, gripped the arm that was still holding onto Maddie and must have squeezed hard enough so that Mr. McKlesky abruptly let go.

“What are you doing, Frank? What are you thinking?”

Mr. McKlesky, or Frank it seemed, slowly came back to reality, looked back and forth from the nice-looking man to Maddie and then back again. “I quit,” he shouted, turning to run. “I quit!”

“This isn’t going to go away that easily, Frank. Wait for me outside the door.”

Maddie and the rest of the room watched as Frank McKlesky realized what he had done, his face dawning in degrees of horror and fear. He stumbled from the room.

The man turned to Maddie. “Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?”

Maddie’s open mouth snapped closed. She rolled her shoulder around and found it surprisingly fine. She grimaced but shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think I’m all right.”

The man led her toward a quiet corner. “I’m Jordan Tyler. I work for the Racers, and rest assured that we will take care of this. Would like me to call the police? Would you like to press charges?”

The combined events of the last hour finally took its toll on Maddie, and to her complete mortification she began to shake.

Mr. Tyler looked alarmed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Words she hadn’t spoken to anyone since the funeral poured out to this kind and well-meaning stranger. “Okay? Do I look okay? I just danced in front of thousands of people under excruciating bright lights in this,” she looked down at her leotard, motioning with her hands toward her hips, “horrendous get-up with my underwear showing through. I thought the worst was over. Then I come back here and get accosted by a deranged man who claims that I ruined his career. I was out of practice, sure, but I’m not
that
bad a dancer.” To her great dismay, she started to tear up and shake in anger and frustration. “I didn’t deserve to be shaken like that.”

“Of course not.” The man took off his suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “He will be fired immediately. Stay here.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a phone. “We need to call the police.”

He dialed the number and the next half-hour was spent reliving the event over and over. Barb stayed, genuinely concerned, but she couldn’t really be of much help as she’d been hiding behind the changing screen most of the time. Several of the other women, though, had seen the whole thing and were quick to give their accounts to the police. Mr. McKlesky was found trying to leave the parking garage and taken to the police station.

When they were all gone, Mr. Tyler came back over to her and touched her gently on the shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, Mrs. Goode.”

“I’m, um, a widow. You can call me Maddie.”

He reached out to grasp her hand. “I’m so sorry. Was it recent?”

“A little over six months ago.”

“You’re so young.”

“Yes, that’s what everyone says. He was very young too.”

The man looked into her eyes for a moment, silent and searching. “I am truly sorry.”

He sounded so sincere, like he would say something better if he knew what to say. Maddie gave him a wobbly smile. “Thank you, Mr. Tyler.”

“Please, call me Jordan. I’m not quite old enough to be your father.” He smiled kindly at her. “You’ve been through a lot lately, haven’t you?” He paused, looking into Maddie’s eyes again, and then asked with sudden intent, “Do you live here in town?”

Maddie nodded. “My son, Max, and I just moved back in with my parents. I’ll get a place of my own after I find a job.”

He stared at her thoughtfully. “You need a job?”

Maddie sniffed, still cold and shaky. “Yes. I’ve been looking but there isn’t much out there that pays well.” She didn’t mention the hours spent poring over the job ads and the “How to get a Better Career” articles online.

The man nodded at her in understanding. “It can be tough to get back into the workforce. What kind of experience do you have?”

Maddie shook her head, wishing for a tissue, telling herself not to swipe her running nose against the back of her hand. “Office work. I was a regional assistant to a sales manager at one of those weight-loss places and then an office manager at a mobile-phone company. I worked so that my husband could get his MBA. And then, when I was going to go back to school, I got pregnant.”

“Any college? What’s your educational background?”

“I have a degree in communications from Ball State, before Brandon and I got married. Why are you asking me all of this?”

“Well…” He paused and stared thoughtfully at Maddie. “I can’t make any promises, but I just happen to know of a recent job opening here, with the Racers. How would you like to interview for Frank McKlesky’s job?”

Maddie sniffed again. “But I’ve only ever been in administrative assistant roles and a mom.”

“We can train you on everything you need to know. Trust me, if Frank could do the job, I think you can. I think you will be better at it, because you’ve been there. You’ve experienced tragedy, just like many of the people we help.”

“What was Frank’s job?”

“One of three foundation coordinators for the Racers. A liaison between the team and the many charities we fund.”

“That sounds…good.” It sounded amazing.

“Here’s my card.” He reached toward his jacket pocket, which was currently covering her chest.

Maddie swatted his hand away.

Jordan swallowed. “Sorry, I, uh, my business cards are in that pocket.” He pointed to Maddie’s chest.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot I was wearing your jacket. I guess I’m a little jumpy after everything.” Maddie took off the jacket and handed it back, cool air rushing over her.

Jordan reached into the pocket, scribbled his private cell phone number on it and held out the card. “Call me in the morning and we will get you scheduled for an interview. And call me sooner if you have any pain and need to get that shoulder checked out.” He gave her hand a warm squeeze. “Again, my sincerest apologies on behalf of the Racers.”

Maddie nodded, barely comprehending it all. Had she really just gotten a job interview with the Indiana Racers?

She changed back into her clothes, throwing the leotard back into the box, imagining burning it, the curling pink fabric going up in pretty flames.

Now, to find Sasha. And hope she wasn’t laughing too hard.

CHAPTER THREE

“
M
y mother will kill me if she catches me using this credit card. She’s so worried I won’t get the job,” Maddie complained to Sasha as they walked into the department store.

“Oh, come on. You need work clothes and a killer outfit for the interview. What do you think they pay for a position like that? I’ll bet you are going to make loads of money.”

Maddie smiled, “I doubt loads. But wouldn’t it be perfect? I might even be able to buy Max and me a house.”

“Of course you will,” Sasha encouraged. “How’s your mom taking the news?”

The two veered toward career separates. “She’s glad for me. Worried about a million things going wrong, like Mr. Tyler didn’t mean it, like he was just trying to satisfy me and will really give me some lame excuse once I get there. And then, if I really get the job, she’s worried that I won’t be able to do it, of course, but she had tears in her eyes when I told her. She wants something good to happen for us.”

“You’ll be fine. How hard can fundraising and charity work be? It sounds so perfect for you.” Sasha rushed over to a rack. “Oh, look at this.”

Maddie had to admit, when it came to clothes, Sasha had a great eye. It was a dark gray jacket and matching pencil skirt that the store had paired with a light pink silk blouse. “I love it. Do they have a six?”

“Have you lost weight?”

“A little. Since Brandon…I just can’t seem to eat much.”

Sasha nodded, understanding in her brown eyes. “You’re going to look great in this. Come on, I see some dark pinstripe pants and a sapphire blouse over there that will look great with your dark hair.”

“Sapphire, is it? You’ve been reading fashion magazines again. You know what I told you about the dangers of fashion magazines.”

“Ha! I’ve been reading Vogue since I was three. Well, looking at the pictures anyway.”

Maddie grinned, then turned serious. “I’m so glad you came. I would have shown up at the interview in an old navy-blue suit or something outdated.”

“Exactly,” Sasha agreed, pulling out the pants and holding them up to Maddie’s waist. “Just wait until we get to the jewelry. You’re going to look so great they won’t even care if you can type.”

Maddie laughed. “Oh, I can type. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to do the rest.”

“Just be confident, really…really…confident. And be yourself. Everyone who meets you loves you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Anyway, you have a champion, right? What position does Jordan Tyler have in the company? He sounds important enough to push it through.”

“His business card says he’s the Vice President of Racers, Sports & Entertainment. He was probably afraid I would sue them.”

Sasha stopped mid-rummage in a rack. “Hey, you could sue them, you know?”

“Probably, but I wasn’t really hurt, so there’s no point. I would much rather have the job.”

After a couple of hours of trying on clothes and a hefty charge bill, the women left the store for lunch.

Maddie eased her older Nissan into the turning lane for I-69 and a new restaurant on the busy 96
^th
Street. She thought of Max and wondered what he would be eating for lunch. Another bologna sandwich? Her mother seemed to have forgotten how to cook since Maddie and Michelle, her younger sister, had moved out. Every week since she’d been back at home lunch and dinner had revolved around a diet of bologna sandwiches, tacos from the store-bought kits, spaghetti and meatballs and chili. She’d offered to cook, but her mother never seemed to remember to get any of the ingredients she wanted. So mostly she and Max just ate whatever was there.

All she could think of now was a big, fat cheeseburger. Maybe she’d bring one home for Max. The pang in her heart reminded her of just how much she was going to miss him when she went back to work. She couldn’t even be gone on a three-hour shopping trip without the image of his chubby-cheeked face popping into her mind. He was two, plenty old enough to be in daycare. But it didn’t seem fair. She’d wanted to stay home with him until kindergarten, maybe even have another child before then. They had just started talking about another baby when Brandon had the accident. Now she might never have another one.

The sad, depressed feeling started to come upon her, so she quickly turned to Sasha and said, “I’m tired of thinking about my problems. Let’s talk about yours.” She grinned. “How are things with Rob?”

Sasha gave her that look that said “don’t get me started” while digging into her purse for the pale lip-gloss she couldn’t go an hour without. “Driving me crazy, as usual. Just when I think his parents are lightening up about us, and he’ll finally get himself down on one knee and give me a big, fat diamond, some family emergency occurs and he has to fly back to Philadelphia. He says he loves me, but sometimes I wonder if he knows how to think on his own. He agrees with me when we’re together and then turns around and agrees with them when he goes home. I just wish he would decide what he wants and then stick with it.”

“I don’t get it,” Maddie put in. “Is it you they don’t like, or the whole idea of any girl with him?”

“Both. I can’t imagine that there will ever be a woman Rob’s mother will think is good enough for her son, particularly not an Asian one.”

“It’s so unfair. She doesn’t even know you.” Maddie sighed, merging into the far left lane of traffic, then, seeing a Hummer boring down on her from behind, she stepped on the gas. She hadn’t gone more than a mile, flying down the road, trying to stay well in front of the Hummer until she could get back over into the center lane when they saw it—police lights.

“Oh, no,” they both muttered at the same time.

“Why is he pulling me over? That Hummer was going just as fast and obviously tailgating!”

The Hummer sped by unimpeded as Maddie signaled and pulled off onto the shoulder, the police car right behind her.

“It’s called small car discrimination,” Sasha remarked. “Someone important might be in that Hummer.” Sasha adjusted the vanity mirror, trying to see. “Is he cute, at least?”

“No! Oh, this is just what I need, after spending nearly five hundred dollars on clothes today. A speeding ticket costs about two hundred dollars, doesn’t it?”

“Depends. How fast were you going?”

Maddie didn’t have time to answer as the tall, lean policeman stepped to the side of the car, leaned down and rapped on the window. “License and registration, ma’am.” He looked to be in his late forties, all business with that military crew cut and motorcycle sunglasses. Never a good sign.

“Hi there, occifer, I mean officer.” Maddie smiled and tried to be friendly.

“Have you been drinking, ma’am?”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “Oh no! No, sir. I just said that because that’s the way my son, Max, says ‘officer’ and I’ve gotten so used to repeating it because it’s so cute.” She grimaced and handed him her license. “Sorry.”

The cop looked at her sideways as if he had some special method of judging whether or not she was telling the truth, some magic power behind the mirrored shades.

Almost unconsciously, Maddie corrected her posture, letting the D cups do what good they could.

Sure enough, his head shifted, then quickly snapped back to her face, wary of traps.

“Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Uh, not really. The Hummer was bearing down on me pretty hard and I couldn’t get immediately back into the center lane, so I just sped up a little. Was it very fast?”