Princess's Playground

Secrets, Secrets Part I (Narrative Fiction) – ORIGINAL DRAFT March 10, 2010

Rated M for mild explicit language and some sexually suggestive content

Have you ever been woken by the warm rays of the sun? One minute you’re sleeping, and the next – there they are – peeking through the window blinds to caress your face. It’s become the norm for me and I love it. No screaming alarm clock, no hurried grooming, no skipping breakfast, no rush to catch the bus. Self employment is a dream turned reality. It’s hard to believe six months earlier I was living a nightmare.

Those playful little sun rays finally coaxed me to consciousness, and I shook the last of the sleep out of my eyes. It was Monday; clock read 9:48 AM. My mind drifted to the night before and my first real date since the breakup. Believe me; I had my dirty little doubts. We had met the night before, found fellowship at the bottom of a bottle, and woke up together the morning after.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you. A single girl’s got needs too. The thing is I never expect a drunken fling will spawn a long-term relationship. Shit, I half expected her to be one of those jilted sperm dumpsters that was more les-experiment than she was lesbian. I was shocked when she asked for my phone number and outright floored when she called later that day. The surprises, or so I would soon found out, had only just begun.

I was jerked from my dreamy flashback when my phone’s speaker came alive with AC/DC’s Money Talks. Ten O’clock, right on time.

“Hey Bryan.”

“Good Morning Piper. Have a good weekend?”

“All kinds of crazy shit. You?”

“Becky went out with some friends. I stayed home and changed diapers, cleaned up puke, sang lullabies.”

“You’re still the most exciting accountant I know.”

He laughed, fully aware that I didn’t know any other accountants.

“Thanks. I see you’ve been a busy beaver, huh? You took in over five grand this past week.”

“Yea, I really cleaned up. You get while the getting’s good.”

“You got yours, all right. What’s the plan for this week?”

“My rent’s coming due, cell phone bill also. I need about $800 for groceries and spending cash, and that should cover it.”

“Eight hundred for groceries? What army are you feeding?”

“Well, groceries and there’s a sale at Macy’s…”

“Say no more, you can afford to splurge. I’m looking things over, and I figure even after we make your quarterly estimated tax payment, you’ll still be sitting on a nice sum. There’s a mutual fund I’ve been watching that’s showing some nice steady growth. I had the idea maybe we could start with about two grand and see if we can earn you a little return.”

“Oh my God, this is insane.”

“Calm down, Piper, it’s just a low risk fund. If you’re that nervous we can just forget about it…”

“No, no… I trust your judgment. It’s just… A few months back I was punching a clock, slumming it out in a sleazy no-lease efficiency and pondering whether I could get away with using butter flavored cooking spray on my toast because I couldn’t afford to buy margarine. Now I set my own hours, I’ve got this gorgeous apartment in a high-rise overlooking the park, and I’m talking about investments with my accountant. I have an accountant! This is insane!”

“You deserve it, you’re a talented person. Did you know Becky talks non-stop about how proud she is? She said you never belonged in that office, that with your creativity you should never stoop to entering insurance claims into a computer to make a living.”

“You’re making that up!”

“Would I lie to my favorite sister-in-law?”

His wife, Rebecca, is my only sister. My own joke had been turned on me.

“Ha, very funny, Bry. Go ahead and make that investment if you think it’s smart.”

“Will do. I ought to have that money in your personal checking account within the hour, and I’ll mail a cashier’s check for your rent and pay your phone bill online.”

“Don’t forget your cut on the first of the month”

“If you insist. You’re family and this is easy stuff. I don’t have to charge you, you know.”

“Maybe not, but I say you do. I’m not poor and part of that is credited to your head for numbers. You’re the greatest, Bry, I mean that. Tell Becks I love her, k?”

“Of course. Talk to you next week if I don’t see you sooner. Don’t forget Auntie Piper is free to visit Michaela anytime she wants. “

“I won’t! Bye.”

I suppose some people might say letting my big sister’s husband handle my finances is a mistake, but I trust Bryan. He’s a good accountant and because he’s family I know my secret is safe. Anonymity is a big deal in the business. The targets have big money, and big money can do a lot. You don’t want these people finding out who you are.

After my phone call with Bryan, I fueled up on toaster waffles and grapefruit juice before jumping in the shower. I’d forgotten how luxuriously divine hot – not lukewarm, mind you, but hot – water was until I moved in here. The shower is spacious, plenty of room for two, though I’d not yet utilized it for company. This realization yielded wishful thinking, my thoughts wandering to the image of Vicki and my soapy, slippery fingers wandering across my inner thigh.

Somewhere in my head the voice of cold reality interrupted.

She likes you now, but what will happen when she finds out what you do for a living?

I didn’t know, and I was afraid to find out. My dream bubble burst, the lust vanished, and the novelty of the shower faded. I banished these unpleasant thoughts in the back of my mind and tended to the rest of my hygienic chores. Faded jeans and a cardigan were selected as sufficient attire, and a quick pony tail substituted more elaborate styling. At a time most people took lunch, I was finally ready to start work.

The work was waiting for me, consisting of one email with three attached photos. Three “marks” and the usual note: See what you can do. I could do plenty, of course. Piper Reed always gets the job done. It hurts them a little, sometimes even a lot, but they bounce back. It doesn’t kill them. The public gets served what they like, which pays off for my client, meaning I get paid. Call it unethical if you wish, immoral if your heart insists. I call it business.

To be continued…