Tickled Pink

"Yes." He strode over to it with a smile. "Thank you, Heidi. I should check to make sure the lines are straight."

She nodded, eager, watching his face as he looked into the mirror. Surely now he would realize, now he would see-

He frowned, cocking his head. "Do you think the shoes work?” Heidi's mouth moved but she couldn't get the words out as she stared at his bare feet. She only nodded.

Glancing at the watch, he said, "I'm off. Stay by your desk in case I need you.

And keep my 'brother' and his brat busy until I get back, would you?"

Heidi nodded, watching him punch the keypad that would unlock the door.

"Wait!" She couldn't let him go out like that, she just couldn't! "Mr. Kaiser, you-” He paused, opening the door, his mouth grim. "I have one minute, Heidi. Be brief."

"You-you-" She was panicked, near tears. He waved his hand, impatient, and she recognized the real anger in his eyes.

Sighing, defeated, she whispered, "Good luck."

He strode out the door and she watched him turn the corner toward the meeting room. They would all be there by now, waiting for him.

Marcus grinned as his brother walked by and little Anthony giggled, pointing as Warren disappeared around the corner.

"Uncle Warren's naked!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he turned to look at Heidi.

"I know," she breathed, sitting down at her desk chair and waiting for the intercom to buzz.

"Great suit." Marcus grinned over at her.

Heidi looked up at him, her breath caught. "Wh-what?"

Marcus jerked his head toward the hallway where Warren had disappeared. "His suit. My stepfather did a great job, didn't he?"

Heidi just blinked. Was she going crazy?

"I didn't introduce myself properly." He stood and offered his hand to her. She took it, not knowing what else to do. "Marcus D'Orsi."

It was made by master tailor Enzo D'Orsi… She recognized the name, staring after Warren as if he were still there, as if she might call him back and warn him. The pieces were falling into place. The meeting today with the heads of Veruca, the single largest merger among fashion companies ever, the one that was supposed to make Kaiser by far the richest man in the world, was about to be…

"When this merger falls through." Marcus glanced at his watch, keeping his son from jumping off of the chair beside him. "And it will-in just a minute now-"

Heidi pressed her forehead to her palm, looking over at Marcus and shaking her head.

"I don't understand-" she whispered, remembering all the hours and late nights she’d spent working with Warren on this deal.

"I’m going to make an offer to Veruca on behalf of Kiton, which I imagine they will accept, and we will become the largest fashion force in the Western world."

Then she did understand-Marcus was staging a coup, and she had let Kaiser walk out of the office completely naked and right into a trap. She got up and walked unsteadily after Warren, but it was too late. The laughter had begun in the meeting room.

Toto

It was the dog's fault.

That I was out until three in the morning was, perhaps, an issue, but I personally didn't feel my odd hours should really factor into the equation. Wouldn't any rational human being be bothered by the high pitched yelp of the Yorkie-gone-mad next door?

Was it really just me? I couldn't be the only one considering playing my noise-ordinance card with the local authorities, could I?

Still, I didn't. I rolled around in bed, made sure the windows were shut completely, turned on two fans, the air conditioner, and covered my head with pillows, but that dog's little yap pierced through them all. Eventually, my lack of sleep started to affect my work.

Granted, bar tending wasn't brain surgery, and while the clientele didn't mind an occasional on-my-feet nod and subsequent heavy hand, Tilly, The Rusty Nail's owner, was going to catch on to me eventually. I knew it was getting bad when the sound of the blender could start to lull me to sleep.

And the most objectionable thing was, the Yorkie was adorable. When I yanked the drapes, ready to open the doorwall and go out on to the balcony in a fit of temper, there it was-the little canine seemed sure that it was his duty to run the perimeter of their privacy fence, barking nonstop all the while-but it was so cute, I just couldn't say anything.

In my limited experience of pets, I didn't know what calling the authorities would do. Did they take away barking dogs? I couldn't subject the animal to some ominous threat, no matter how much it yelped. The guilt of living with that wouldn't afford me any sleep, either, I reasoned-like some twisted Wizard-of-Oz version of the Tell-Tale Heart, I knew that little Toto-face would haunt me. I couldn't be the masculine version of the Wicked Witch of the West, as much as I wanted to when Barkapalooza began every morning at six.