Doves for Sale Read online

  Lizzy and I are now captivated by her speech.

  “When and if you get married, those thoughts will come to you. You’re going to fight. You’re going to have resentful moments. You’re going to wonder if it’s worth it all. My Stanley is eighty-six years old, and he was diagnosed with terminal cancer four weeks ago. If we’re lucky, I might have another couple of months with him the doctors say. All that complaining I did earlier… all that truth I gave you… you’d think I regretted marrying him, wouldn’t you? Well, I don’t. I’d give anything to have sixty-eight more years with him.

  “You can complain about every dropped sock, every dirty dish left behind, every piece of dirt tracked through the house, or you can deal with it and spend that time you would’ve spent complaining giving him a kiss. Or maybe a tight hug. Or even jotting down a little note for him to find. So here’s the truth—marriage sucks because one day it will end. It’s inevitable. The beginning is usually a fairy tale; the end hurts more than you could ever comprehend. It’s what you do with the middle that’s the most important. Make the most of it. Now I’m going to walk up front to give Stanley a kiss before I get on the phone with the water company.” Click.

  Lizzy looks at me, tears welled in her eyes. “Best. Call. Ever,” she says with a sigh. I’m still rendered speechless. “Oh, crap! My board is lighting up. Signal me if you get another call like that!” She rolls away to plug her headset back into the appropriate slot on her desk, then gives me a sort of point/wave to signal that I have a call waiting, too.

  Rapidly shaking my head does nothing to help me clear my thoughts. “Pole Co. What do you want?” I blurt, desperately wishing I could suck my words back in, but there’s no way that’s happening. I also want to bang my forehead against my desk. That’s not going to happen either.

  “The list is pretty long. Are you sure you have the time to listen to all of it?” An amused male voice comes through the line.

  Embarrassment socks me hard in the stomach. There goes my chance at that gift card I want so badly. “Sir, I sincerely apologize for my lack of professionalism. If it’s okay with you, may I please start again?”

  “Totally unnecessary,” the smooth voice replies with a hint of playfulness.

  “It would make me feel so much better,” I insist, my gut slowly unclenching.

  “If it’ll make you feel better… Bring, Bring,” he loudly calls into the receiver.

  It’s the last thing I’m expecting to hear, and I cup my hand over my mouth to contain the snort that’s trying to break free. “What in the world is that supposed to be?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not really,” I tease.

  “It’s a ringing phone. You remember when phones used to ring, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, but I don’t remember them sounding like that.”

  “How about you quit busting my chops and answer the phone? I said bring, bring.”

  Still trying to keep my laughter bottled inside, I take a shaky breath before answering him. “Thank you for calling Pole Co. My name is Savannah. How can I assist you, Mr. …?”

  “Reilly. Fletcher Reilly. Now that I have you on the line, why don’t you tell me what flustered you so much that you forgot how to answer the phone?”

  Another response I wasn’t prepared for. “I…I really don’t think I can, Mr. Reilly. It’s nothing, really. Just an unusual call,” I awkwardly answer while stumbling over my words.

  “Ah, come on. It’s got to be good. You know what they say about bottling things up, right? You know you want to talk about it,” he coaxes.

  A broad smile crosses my face as I lightly tap an ink pen on the scratchpad in front of me.

  “Come on. Feed my curiosity. You can’t leave me hanging.” Something about his voice intrigues me. It’s comforting, confident, and relaxed. I silently scold myself for my lack of professionalism, but the daring side of me kind of wants the conversation to continue. In a split-second decision, I decide to play his game.

  “So what you’re telling me is that, in your opinion, discussing a work related phone call with a complete stranger is actually good for my mental health?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I smile. “I have a question for you, Mr. Reilly. When you initially called, did you hear the recording that stated the calls to this center may be monitored?”

  “I did. Are we being monitored?”

  “No,” I admit.

  “Then I fail to see the problem. So, what’s up?”

  I put my forehead in my palms. “Oh, this is so gonna get me fired,” I mumble into the headset.

  “Or, it could get you promoted. The recording asked if I’d be willing to take a brief survey after the call. Maybe my glowing review will help you to rise through the ranks.”

  “Yeah, I doubt that,” I scoff.

  “How old are you?” he asks.

  “How old are you?” I fire back.

  “Twenty-nine,” he answers without hesitation.

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “So, what are you wearing?” he asks, his voice dripping with sexiness.

  Oh great! He goes from charming to pervert in seconds flat. Time to get out of this conversation. “Uh, look I… uh…”

  He laughs. “Wait! Wait! Don’t get flustered! I was just picking. I wanted to break the ice a little more. That’s all. I swear it was only a joke.”

  “Fletcher. I mean, Mr. Reilly, do you have a power related issue that I can help you with?”

  “Ah, and I get shot down. I guess I went too far. My most humble apologies, Savannah. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You didn’t offend me, but I do suddenly have a queue of calls that are waiting to be answered. I’m sorry, Mr. Reilly, but I really must tend to your problem, and then move on.”

  “I understand. Okay, my problem is that I can’t find my bill, so I’m unsure how much I owe for this month,” he explains.

  “That’s no problem at all, Mr. Reilly. Will you please verify your address for me?”

  “You want my address? Does that mean you might come by for a visit one day?” he questions in a playful tone.

  “I sincerely doubt that.”

  “You’re breaking my heart, Savannah. 4617 Fulton Road, apartment 2.”

  “I’m sorry about your broken your heart, Mr. Reilly, and thank you for verifying your address. It shows that the balance owed is $187.39. Is there anything else I can help you with today, sir?” I ask in my most professional tone.

  “Will you send me a friend request now that you have my personal information? You do use social media, don’t you?”

  “That would be an unethical invasion of your privacy and a huge violation of company policy, Mr. Reilly.”

  “So you’re telling me that if I, Fletcher D. Reilly, who resides on Fulton Road in Lafayette, Louisiana, would like for you to find me on social media so that I can offer my services as listener extraordinaire in order for you to preserve your precious mental health by letting you discuss your day with me, that would be a violation?”

  “Yes. Very much so.”

  “That’s it. I must speak to a supervisor. That policy is antiquated and a hazard to all involved. It must be amended immediately. I’ll hold while you connect me,” he jokes.

  He’s hooked me again. “Mr. Reilly…”

  “Call me Fletcher.”

  “Fletcher, I need to move on to the next caller,” I say with a smile.

  “Will you find me? Come on. It’s an internet friendship, not marriage. You can delete me, block me, whatever if you don’t like me, but at least give me a chance.”

  I’m silent for a beat before conceding. “Okay, I’ll find you.”

  “You’re not married are you?” he asks.

  “Shouldn’t you have asked that first?” I scold.

  “Maybe. Are you?”

  “No,” I say with a laugh.

  “Okay, that’s good. I don’t need some guy showing up with a baseball bat or
something. I mean, you do have my address and all,” he teases.

  “No need to worry about that, Fletcher. It was nice speaking with you. Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

  “Did you write my name down?”

  I playfully roll my eyes. “I don’t have to. Trust me, I’ll remember.”

  “Goodbye, Savannah.”

  “Goodbye, Fletcher. Have a nice day.” I disconnect from the call and toss my headset to the side. The queue has emptied, so I signal to Lizzy that I’m going for a break. She gives me a wink and the “okay” gesture, so I bolt from the call center to the closest restroom.

  “What in the hell just happened?” I ask the perplexed reflection looking back at me. Staring into the mirror isn’t going to help me to decipher anything, so I smooth my dark shoulder length hair, dab at the corners of my hazel eyes with a tissue, and take a deep breath before stepping into the hall. I still have thirteen minutes before I’m due back to my desk, so I step through the large double glass doors that lead into a courtyard just outside the building. Lizzy, with her phone to her ear, paces frantically while chewing on her thumbnail. She looks up when she hears the door clicking shut.

  “There you are! Where were you? Oh, my gosh! What is going on today? First, your call with the married couple, and then the call I just took. Ugh! The woman was so freaking mean to me. You won’t believe what… Hey. Are you okay?” She ends her rant long enough to snap her fingers in my direction.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Rude lady. That’s terrible.”

  “No, what’s terrible is the way you’re acting. Did that call really throw you off that badly? I know her words were pretty powerful, and believe me, I appreciated hearing them, but you’re acting way funny. What’s wrong?” She twirls a strand of her honey blonde hair around her finger while batting her mascara-laden lashes at me. Eyes the color of peridot shamelessly demand an answer.

  “I guess it’s the combination of that call and the one I took right after it. Some guy named Fletcher Reilly wants me to send him a friend request.”

  “Was he a freak? Did he make you feel icky?”

  “No, and I think that is what’s bothering me the most. He was funny and charming, very charismatic. And his voice! Lizzy, I could’ve listened to him go on for days about nothing.”

  She gives me an odd look before she whips out her phone and madly swipes at the screen with her finger. “It’s finally happened! A man has grabbed your attention! Is he hot?”

  “No, he didn’t necessarily grab my attention, and I don’t know if he’s hot. I didn’t check his profile.”

  “Why in the hell not?” Lizzy snaps.

  “Because I haven’t had a chance!” I shoot back before I can stop myself.

  “So you admit that you intended to search him out? Whoa, momma! Holy hell! Fletcher Reilly, you stay right where you are because this dirty girl is coming for you!” Lizzy says to her phone.

  “Now wait a minute! Let me see!” I demand while making a mad grab for her phone. She pulls it just out of my reach.

  “Are you sure you want to see this? I’m not sure you can handle this level of hotness, Savannah. We know that your interaction with members of the opposite sex is extremely limited.”

  “Shut up and show me. We only have five minutes before we go back to work.”

  She acts as though she’s going to give me the phone then pulls it away several times before I’m able to snatch her wrist. My breath catches when I see Fletcher’s profile picture. Donning full desert battle dress and holding his helmet toward the camera, he smiles broadly while entering the doorway of a Blackhawk helicopter. His eyes are hidden behind a dark pair of wrap-around sunglasses, but even so, he is by far the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His hair is dark, clean cut, but not super short. It’s clear that his lips, though taut from his smile, are full and just begging to be kissed. His nose is straight and perfect for his face. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from the screen.

  Lizzy tries stealing it back from me, but since I’m holding it with a death grip, she settles for peering over my shoulder. “Tom Freaking Hardy wants to get to know you, and he’s never even seen you! Why couldn’t his call have been sent to my desk?” she asks with a pathetic sigh.

  “He does look like Tom Hardy, doesn’t he?” I say with a silly grin.

  “Uh, yeah. Totally could be his twin.”

  Reality comes crashing. “Wait! First, how do we know that this is actually him? Maybe it’s a friend, or his brother, or some random stranger’s picture he threw up as his profile photo. Second, this is absolutely insane. I answered a question for him, and he wants to get to know me better? That’s insane, isn’t it? Like isn’t it borderline creepy?” I ask before nervously gnawing on my lower lip.

  “Or,” Lizzy says melodramatically, “is it the most romantic thing ever? Imagine retelling the story ten years from now as you’re flanked by five kids and celebrating your eighth wedding anniversary.”

  I squint at Lizzy. “Seriously, you already have us married with five kids? Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

  “Not at all! It’s time for you to lighten the hell up. Did I forget to mention that I’ll be celebrating too, but I’ll be with his slightly younger, but equally handsome brother?” She lets out an obnoxious squeal.

  Shaking my head, I throw my hands up, smiling as I walk to the glass doors. “Break’s over. Let’s finish out this shift. I can’t wait to get home.”

  Lizzy is right on my tail. “Why are you in such a hurry to get home? So you can pick up where you left off with Fletcher?”

  “No, Lizzy. Will you give it a rest? It’s been a long day. I’m ready to pour myself a huge glass of wine, sink into a nice, warm bubble bath, and forget about the millions of problems rolling around in my mind right now.”

  She stops in the middle of the gray carpeted hallway; her face is solemn. “I’m so sorry, Savannah. I wasn’t thinking. How’s your grandpa doing? Any change?”

  Tears threaten to fall, but I refuse to let them. “I’ll fill you in later.” Swallowing the ball of emotion that was once heavy in my throat, I take solace in the fact that it’s now packed away deep in my gut, right where I like to keep all of my emotions.

  Lizzy gives me a quick hug before tugging on the door to the call center. “Of course, but if anymore calls from hot strangers who want to hook up come through, transfer them to my desk.”

  I smile. “Deal.”

  The Fall of Sky

  ~Part One~

  A Serial Novella

  Sneak Peek

  By

  Alexia Purdy

  Chapter One

  Liv

  FUCKING SPLINTERS! I HATED them, and now, they stuck into my flesh as I sprung over an old, rotting wooden fence and landed hard on the balls of my feet, sending pins and needles shooting up my legs. I didn’t have time to pull the slivers out. I had to keep going or he would catch up, and that would be the end of the line for me. It would all be over. All the crap that I’d been working toward for half a year would be for nothing—nothing but ashes in the wind. If I didn’t lose my pursuer, I would be in a heap of trouble, more than I already had in my hot little hands.

  Which brought me to the reason I was running away from the damn bastard in the first place; it wasn’t that he didn’t deserve the wreck of the wrath I’d left behind me. If anyone deserved to get their digs torched to the ground, it was Ruben. No one would ever make me, Liv Westing, do their bidding ever again. Never. And no one would ever hurt me or my sister Audrey ever again— that, I promised myself with every living atom of my being.

  I spotted our rusted, ancient station wagon down the street as I emerged from behind an old one story stucco, two bedroom shack which matched the entire block in its tired crumbling state. The poor construction was evident throughout the neighborhood and left it looking like the epitome of ghetto America, forgotten and left to the rats, human and rodent alike. I could feel eyeballs peeking from behin
d the dirt stained windows and stares from people sitting in their dollar store plastic lawn chairs with their paint-spotted jeans as they pointed toward me racing down the cracked asphalt of the decaying urban street. They didn’t concern me one bit. All of them were what I swore I would never become. For this, I ran. I would run from this kind of life, trapped in a rotting suburbia, until I collapsed, if I had to.

  My muscles burned, and my chest felt like it was swelling up into an asthmatic fit, but I kept on. The station wagon was getting closer and closer, and I prayed Audrey had the engine already running. Relieved to spot the vapor puffing from the tailpipe, dirtying the air behind the car, I huffed in a deeper breath and booked it. Audrey was waiting and would slam the gas to get the hell out of Dodge, if needed. Thank God. I waved her down madly, gripping the wrapped canvas bag I had tucked under my left arm. I couldn’t glance behind me. I just couldn’t let myself realize the dread I could feel crawling inside if I saw Ruben closing in on me, right on my heels. Nope, couldn’t turn around now.

  “Open the door!” I hollered toward Audrey, hoping she could hear me over the obnoxious humming of the engine of our vehicle. It may have been old, and it may have been worn out like an old shoe and sputter coughed like the best of the old clunkers, but it had been our home many times over and held our entire world within its belly. Now, it would be our rescuer once more, our knight in shiny armor of metal and rust.

  Audrey leaned over and opened the door, giving it a good heave to send the heavy door swinging outward just in time for me to lunge inside, grip the door with my free hand, and yank it with all my strength to pull it shut.

  “Go, go, go!”

  The screech of tires and the smell of rubber permeated the air as the station wagon lurched forward, the belts screaming in protest but catching enough to send us on our way. My heart was racing, but I finally let myself chance a peek behind us. I could now actually hope that we had, maybe, just maybe, gotten away by the skin of our teeth.