Lovestruck (2 page)

She tapped her foot impatiently as the train reached her stop. With one last glance at her watch, and only two minutes to spare, she rushed out the train doors and almost bruised her hip going through the turnstile. She took two steps at a time and couldn't believe her luck; the red light kept traffic at a standstill. She ran across the street to the century-old hotel.

Jenny held back a cheer. Not one guest waited outside and most of the bellhops stood off to the side talking. She gave them a wave, pulled her hair back into a clip, took another deep breath and pushed her way through the revolving door.

Jeffery, her supervisor and manager of the hotel—and the bane of every St.

Jennings' employee—stood at the front desk. When she walked in, he looked up from the computer and frowned. She slipped behind the desk instead of heading for the locker room, looked up at the antique clock on the far wall, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Jeffery folded his arms and crooked a finger in her direction. "We need to talk, Miss Caffey."

Jenny swallowed. Could her day get much worse?

Across town, Barbara finished up a five-mile run on her treadmill in her Central Park West penthouse while listening to the latest news and stock market reports.

Yesterday, the Dow ended on a high note, making her day complete. She should be in good spirits now that her company's stock was up by three dollars. But her good humor had been lacking as of late, due to the ulcer-inducing decision she needed to make.

As CEO of the St. Jennings hotel chain, she had final say. At least she could count on her trusted board of directors, who urged her, for the good of the company and her sanity, to sell her hotel that was barely staying afloat. After investing too much of her own personal revenue over the years into the Manhattan St. Jennings, she had hit a wall. If she sold the property, her net worth would skyrocket. And now, with a buyer interested and the paperwork almost completed, she had a way to get this albatross off her back. But . . . something was holding her back from making the final decision. She had a tender spot in her heart for one of the oldest properties her family owned on Fifth Avenue. Her great grandfather bought the hotel after he made his fortune in the California gold rush. He built the first St. Jennings in San Francisco in 1875 and then another in New York in 1880. The profits for the hotel in San Francisco continued to amass. The other fifty St. Jennings across the United States, England and France also made a nice profit. But the one in Manhattan couldn't keep up with the others. The hotel continued to lose money every week due to the fierce competition in New York City. With a heavy heart, Barbara knew she'd either have to sell the building or let go of some of the employees.

It would come as a surprise to some people to find out how the guilt ate away at her. She glanced down at the latest Forbes magazine lying on her coffee table. A decade ago, she'd given an exclusive interview to a Forbes reporter. He'd highlighted her no-nonsense business tactics, said she struck without warning, and had given her a nickname: The Barracuda. At first, she enjoyed the moniker; it kept her associates and competitors on their toes. Now it had become more of an annoyance. She might be known as a barracuda when involved in a business deal, but at the end of the day she cared about those who worked for her.

The bright mid-April morning did nothing for her mood.

The way I'm feeling, there should be rain, not a sunny, perfect day.
She finished her cool down and walked into the bathroom to take a shower, thinking about the long day ahead of her. First she needed to go to the St. Jennings and speak with management.

Perhaps she could hold off a while longer? If by some miracle the hotel could be saved and make enough of a profit to keep it afloat until the end of the summer, maybe she wouldn't have to take any drastic measures. But that was a big
if.

Standing under the warm spray, she tried to relax. Strung too tight and not getting laid in a long time added to her stress. Running on her treadmill no longer relieved the tension. Even the Jack Rabbit vibrator she'd been using almost every night before bed no longer did the trick. Tired and horny, she wanted a warm body and another person's hands and mouth to get her off. Her own hands and favorite toy didn't cut it anymore.

Even masturbating in the shower had failed to arouse her.

No man could quench her desires. One of the biggest problems for a high-powered lesbian in her mid-thirties? There just weren't many established, business-savvy lesbians around she could choose as a lover or even think of having a relationship with. She didn't want to spend her days alone on her treadmill, with her Jack Rabbit and her immense fortune to keep her company. She wanted a special woman to come home to, one she could lie next to in bed, who'd help her forget all the stress and worries of her work day.

But real life intruded and the fairytale became a distant dream. She could thank her father for stopping those dreams. Even now, ten years after his death, the man's harsh words still rang in her ears.

Barbara finished her shower, dressed in her favorite charcoal suit, styled her layered blonde hair and fixed her makeup until her face looked perfect. With one last glance in the mirror, she smiled.

It would be the last time she smiled this morning.
The Barracuda
didn't smile as she went off to ruin someone else's dreams.

By eleven o'clock, Jenny wanted to scream. From the moment Jeffery "Bane"

Montgomery crooked his annoying finger, Jenny's world had gone to hell in a hand basket.

"Jenny, you know I gave you quite the honor when I took you on as my assistant because of your work ethic. What the hell is going on in that mind of yours lately? You haven't been paying attention to important details. You're an embarrassment. What the fuck? Did I make a mistake when I chose you?" Jeffery picked up a pile of papers lying on his desk and shook them in her face.

Jenny gritted her teeth. Perhaps another in her position would be reduced to tears, but she'd lost all respect for Jeffery a long time ago and didn't care what he thought.

"Can you explain how you misplaced some of the receipts? How the hell could you overbook two rooms?" Jeffery's face had turned an interesting shade of red as some of his projectile spit almost hit her on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, Jeffery. I wish I had an answer. Of course I'll take full—"

"Damn right you will. Sometimes you can be such an airhead." He puffed out his chest and snarled.

She held back the urge to snarl right back. Just because he was a distant cousin far out on some minor twig in the Jennings' family tree, didn't mean he had the right to act so superior. She'd like to knock that chip off his shoulder.

She longed to tell him to go screw himself, but then she'd be fired and have bigger problems to deal with. Jeffery knew most of the employees, Jenny included, needed their jobs. The pay and benefits were the best in the hotel industry, and now that she attended school, she had barely enough to get by. She couldn't afford to just walk away. If she became unemployed, she'd have to drop out of school and move back home with her parents. She shuddered at the thought. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, she had no real solution.

"How can I make this right?" Jenny shook off the feeling of dread and held out her hands.
Please don't make me clean the bathrooms.

"First, you'll go over this paperwork. If I find one wrong number or spelling error, you're out on your ass. Afterward, you'll help housekeeping clean the rooms.

They're short-staffed today." Jeffery took a gulp of his coffee and let out a loud burp without covering his mouth or excusing himself.

Jenny held back a look of disgust and shook her head. She swallowed a moan.

Helping housekeeping was a huge step down for her. Not that she didn't respect the housekeeping staff, but after five years of working at the hotel, she had seniority and should be in charge of the front desk, not reduced to making beds.

"Will do, Jeffery," she said in a cheerful tone.

He dropped the pile of papers into her hands and left the room, but as he hit the door she heard him mumble, "Dumb bitch," under his breath. She tightened her grip on the papers to stop herself from tossing them at his head. She'd never been the violent type. Taking a few deep breaths, she sank into the chair at his desk and went to work.

Four hours later, Jenny found herself making up one of the beds on the second floor with her best friend from high school. Tonya, the assistant to the head of housekeeping, stood barely 5-foot, 3-inches tall, but she had bright red hair and a firecracker personality. She whistled as she fixed the sheet, her long, dangling earrings sparkling in the sunlight pouring through the room's only window. Jenny studied her profile, and not for the first time wished she could pull off Tonya's style.

"I can't believe it's not even the afternoon yet and this day has sucked big time.

What else can go wrong?" Jenny picked up a pillow and fluffed it.

Tonya lifted her fingers in front of her chest and made the sign of the cross. "You know you just jinxed yourself."

Jenny dropped her head into the pillow. "Please don't tell me that."

"Well hon, at least you can count on Mike coming in soon. He'll soothe Bane's temper."

Jenny giggled. Jeffery had it bad for Mike. On the other hand, Mike had no interest in their boss. Jeffery never stood a chance because Mike was head over heels in love with Tonya's brother, James, who owned and operated The Watering Hole, a Hell's Kitchen hot spot, which the St. Jennings staff often frequented after work.

"I'm going to need a drink after today. Are you thinking about going to
The Hole
for happy hour?" Jenny asked.

Tonya rubbed her hands together. "You know I'm always up for a drink after a long day of work. But don't you have a killer economics paper to finish?" She walked to the cart and rummaged through the supplies.

"How could I forget?" Jenny mumbled under her breath. "Knowing my luck, I'll flunk out of college and have to work with Bane for the next forty years."

Tonya shook her head and rolled her eyes. "At least you're getting an education. I should have a tattoo printed on my head saying,
abandon all hope—"

"Stop it. You know full well you can—"

"Yeah, I've heard it all before. Let's not talk about it, okay?" Tonya grabbed a pillow and threw it at Jenny.

Jenny caught it and finished helping Tonya make the bed. She didn't want to start an argument with her. "Whatever. Hey, maybe if Jeffery liked women he'd treat me with more respect. Some days he can be okay, especially if he knows I can put in a good word for him with Mike."

Tonya finished making a hospital corner and looked up. "Um, dear, even if Jeffery liked pussy, you still wouldn't give him any."

Jenny blushed. "Tonya Marie! Watch your language!" She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone happened to be walking by the open door at that moment.

"You're surprised by the way I talk after almost thirteen years of friendship between us? You'd think someone like you wouldn't be so easily shocked." Tonya teased.

As Jenny finished with her side of the bed, she spread out the blanket on top.

"Ha! Sometimes you make it sound like my sexual preference is what defines me. I can be gay and not like foul language, you know? Besides, it's not like I'm getting a lot of action, so you talking about it only makes it worse."

"Being gay in NYC isn't a big deal at all. Hello, practically all of the people we work with play for the other team. Well, except me. You'd think with so many options around you could finally get some good loving."

Jenny looked down at her hands. "Tonya, you know it's not easy for me. Gay men have it so easy. Being a lesbian is much harder, even in a city that's so open. The bars and clubs scare me. Some of the women are so vicious. I'm not comfortable having a one night stand. I want . . . damn it, I want a relationship, someone to go to the movies with, to walk in Central Park with, go out to dinner with. I want what you had with Tom."

Tonya snorted and started dusting the tables and chairs. "Yeah. We had a good three years together. If only he wasn't a walking STD."

"You don't know that for certain. Tom seems like a good guy. We've known him since we were fourteen. You even married him. Do you honestly think he's cheating on you?"

She shrugged. "He's a fireman. It's the norm for a man in uniform to cheat. They all do. I should have known the moment he became the quarterback in high school.

Even back then he liked the tall, big-boobed, skinny, blonde bitches."

Jenny placed her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Stop it. You're beautiful, smart and brassy."

Tonya raised an eyebrow "Brassy? You mean loud, obnoxious and chubby." She spread out her arms to show her petite, curvy body.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You still don't know the whole story about what happened that night. Maybe you should ask—"

"There are my two favorite gal pals."

Both women turned. Mike stood in the doorway looking very handsome in his St. Jennings uniform. At six-two, with bright blue eyes and great muscle tone, he was a woman's dream man come to life. Jenny held back a sigh. Mike always looked good in whatever he wore, even in his work uniform.

Tonya went over and Mike gave her big bear hug. He lifted her up and she giggled.

"Hey there, handsome." She kissed him on the cheek. In return, he gave her a loud smack on the lips.

"What are you two hemming and hawing about?"

"Jeffery's on the war path. He let me have it as soon as I came in today. And Tonya is lamenting about Tom."

"I'm not." Tonya insisted.

Mike dropped his arm on her shoulder. "Hey, Red, if you ever need to talk, all joking aside, you know where to find me. You don't have to hide your feelings from us.

We know the separation is hard."

Tonya looked down at the rug. "I'm going to start divorce proceedings."