High-Heels And Slippers!

By Ella Slayne

Meet Josie Jenkins, a Brit living in Texas, fan of indulgent body-scrubs and the odd glass of wine. She’s currently Customer Service Manager at Harpers & Green Co, home of high-end shirts and also, rather unhelpfully, Bob Green: her ex-boyfriend (who also happens to be married). She is thousands of miles away from home and her job appears to be in jeopardy - safe to say, Josie’s going through a wobbly patch. So when the rather handsome Callum Doherty, (just picture blue eyes and Irish good looks) begins flirting with Josie, she is thrilled...until she realizes she’s not the only girl at work with her eye on the office heart-throb. How can she compete against her pert-bottomed rival from the accounts department? Josie’s love-life takes another complicated and unexpected turn when out of the blue Josie receives a mysterious Facebook friend request from her high-school sweetheart, Tom Barker. Tom is keeping something from her, drawing her in and causing her to question if it’s time to reconnect the past with the present. It’s time for some soul searching. Will Josie take the emotional trip back to the UK or try her luck with the handsome Mr. Doherty? Is there heartbreak ahead in Josie’s future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ella Slayne
• Release date: Jul 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9780983834212

Ella Slayne

Originally from the North of England, Ella currently lives in the US with her family, where she juggles the joys of motherhood with her passion for writing!

Book preview

High Heels and Slippers

By Ella Slayne

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Published 2011 by Ella Slayne

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Copyright © 2011 Ella Slayne

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Smashwords Edition

Cover design by Marek Jagucki

http://www.mjcartoons.co.uk

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For Mum and Dad.

Chapter 1

You fell out of a hammock? Hilarious! You Brits are so uptight you can’t even relax in a hammock! Did anyone see? Lana tossed her shaggy blonde hair back and exposed her red cheeks. She always had red cheeks. It made her look as if she was overheating.

Yes, people saw, I muttered, trying to seem a little dignified, although unable to shake the feeling that I was failing miserably.

It was nine in the morning, and the offices of Harpers & Green Shirt Co. were already a hive of activity. This was my first day back at work since my vacation and the subsequent hammock fall. Quite a crowd had gathered by the coffee machine. I like to think it was because I was recounting the tale of my recent accident but it could also have been because people were anxious to get their first caffeine-kick of the day.

Nevertheless I had been enjoying the attention from my fellow co-workers. Anshita and Christine, part of the Customer Service Team, had been suitably shocked to see me arrive back at work with my arm in a strap. They had gasped with exaggerated sympathy in all the right places, which made me feel quite good … until Lana had arrived with her smirk.

Lana Mitchell, my boss and thorn in my side. It wasn’t the fact that she was Style Personified that bugged me, or the fact that she had indisputably impeccable taste. It was the way she seemed to look at everyone, including me, with an air of disdain and probably with good reason. Lana was the kind of woman who had got it sussed. She ate well, exercised often, and had a great job and adoring husband. It was as if she had made a list of all her priorities in life, then went ahead and ticked all the boxes. Most other people I knew - well me mostly - were still having trouble fathoming out the list.

While Lana arrived to work in an immaculate convertible Mercedes, wearing a Gucci straight-off-the-catwalk suit, I arrived in my trusty eight-year old Jeep with a dent in the back, which I had yet to get fixed and with coffee stains all over the seats. I was lucky if I found a matching pair of socks!

While Lana chose to vacation on soul-searching treks through the Himalayas with her husband – who, incidentally, was vegan and spokesperson for a major children’s charity - I chose to vacation alone on a two-star all-inclusive beach resort full of randy couples and retired folk. Thank goodness for free booze!

While Lana opted for couscous salad and ginseng tea, I opted for a bar of chocolate and a glass of red wine!

But what really got to me was the fact that we were only a few years apart in age and she was very obviously a successful company executive. While I had been fumbling away trying to get a grip on the first few rungs of the ladder, Lana had been bounding her way to the top, two rungs at time no doubt.

No really - that’s so funny! She sniggered as she picked up the coffee pot. I guess that's what you get if you have one too many margaritas, Josie! Lana flashed a super-model-sized grin and I smiled weakly, unable to think of a witty reply.

I suppose I could see where the accident might have been amusing to the casual observer: me, hurling myself onto a hammock with a plan to relax in the sun and sway in the breeze, but instead falling smack on my back with a thud … wrenching my neck and bruising my buttocks in the process. Yes, what laughs to be had as I writhed in pain, unable to get up and unsure if I could actually move. Oh yes, the amusement as onlookers, sipping on their Corona Light, watched me cry like a baby, calling for my mother, clutching my aching head.

Yes, well … the people at the hotel were very worried. They wanted to call an ambulance and … everything. My voice trailed off. I sounded pathetic and Lana seemed unaffected by my attempts at self-pity as she dug around the counter looking for sachets of sweetener.

A voice surfaced among the group and I heard an audible gasp as all the women around me forgot to breathe for a moment.

That could have been really serious. Did you get it checked out?

It was Callum. My heart did a mini-palpitation and I stepped back a little so I could take in the magnitude of his good looks. They were breathtaking and I knew I was blushing. I noticed Lana start fiddling with her hair, while Anshita, almost pouting, gazed longingly at his face; Callum had this effect on women.

His full name was Callum Patrick Doherty, an American with an Irish name and Irish ancestors to thank for his broad shoulders, gorgeous head of curly black hair, and alluring pale blue eyes.

He’d been brought in to head the international launch and was doing a great job, judging by the steady rise in our overseas sales. He was also doing a pretty good job of turning all the women at Harpers & Green into gibbering fools. We all had a crush on him; I knew I wasn’t the only one. But privately I’d decided he belonged only to me.

I directed all my conversation his way, thrilled to be the center of his attention.

Yes I did. Thanks. I went to Emergency when I got home. They gave me an MRI, but it was all okay in the end.

I was using my important voice, and Callum was watching me intently. It was moments like these I fantasized about when I was home alone with only some crumpets for company. Yes indeed … I certainly had his attention. This was better than fantasy; this was real.

You sound disappointed, Lana blurted. "Honestly, Josie, you are such a drama queen sometimes! All you did was fall off a hammock. Anyone would think you wanted to be hospitalized! She left the room, calling over her shoulder, Don’t forget: meeting at twelve, Bob’s office!"

This was typical Lana: acting like she was one of the gang and then at the last minute throwing in a one-liner to remind everyone that she was, in fact, The Boss. Well, co-Boss, anyway. Lana ran all the staff issues and sales, while Bob Green took care of publicity and development.

Bob Green: the man for whom I had fallen head over heels and the man who, two and half years ago, had turned my whole world upside down. Bob Green, who had adored and then dumped me. Bob Green, who happened to be my boss. Bob Green, who also happened to have a wife.

Actually, Lana was right; I did want to be hospitalized sometimes – to be whisked away from everything into the sanctuary of a hospital bed, nurses and doctors looking after my every need, clean sheets and pain medication on demand - so that I could forget about the fact that my love life had turned into a narrative worthy of a Days Of Our Lives episode. So that I could forget that my heart was still trying to repair itself after having been shattered into smithereens.

Callum began fiddling with the photocopier, bending over the machine and revealing a rather nicely-toned bottom to the rest of the room … although Christine and I were the only ones left and I don’t think she noticed.

As far as I knew, he was single. I had fantasized about asking him out on a date a few times but in reality what were the chances of Miss Wobble-bum asking Mr. Pert-Glutes out on a date? Zilch pretty much.

Christine sidled over to me and said quietly, Josie do you know what Lana’s meeting is about? There are rumors that some people are going to be laid off. A gust of stale garlic breath wafted from her concerned face. I stepped back and immediately began rummaging for some chewing gum.

Oh no! It’s nothing like that. I think she just wants to go over our phone pick-up and some order processing procedures. I thrust the packet of Ocean Breeze gum towards her with a forced grin. Would you like some?

Oh thanks, she beamed. I made tofu and chick-pea burgers last night. They tend to repeat on me! She put her hand up to her mouth and giggled, which would have been endearing if it hadn’t sent more of her toxic, smile-withering breath my way.

I bet they do, I said stepping back a little. Christine grabbed her cup of Enlightening Tea and scuttled off to her desk.

Oh man! This thing is jammed again, Callum blurted. Does anyone know how to get the paper out? He sounded a little hot under the collar and it was undeniably sexy.

Let me have a look, I said, moving forward, thrilled to be showing off my expertise in the photocopying machine department. I think if you flip this panel down here … you should be able to … remove the jammed sheet. Callum leaned towards me to take a closer look and I could feel his warm breath on my neck. My skin prickled with goose bumps. There! I said triumphantly pulling out a rather gnarled piece of paper. If you press the green button, it should start again.

Thanks! I’m impressed. I’m useless at technical things.

I do a lot of photocopying, I said, holding up my file as evidence and smiling inanely. I’m not really that technical though, I added. Callum leaned over to grab the stack of papers from the photocopying tray and I found myself gazing longingly at his arms. I could almost see his biceps bulging through his shirt. He coughed and I jerked in an unflattering sort of way, slightly embarrassed by my mental gawping.

Really - thanks – I could have been here ages trying to work it out, he said.

I should ask him out now, I thought. It may be a while before I have the opportunity again. My hammock experience flashed before me: time to turn the daydreams into reality. Carpe diem, and all that.

"Oh you’re welcome! Well, I must get on - I’ve got so much to do today! Honestly, you’re out of the office for a couple of days and it all just piles up doesn’t it?" I rushed that and then threw in a goofy laugh, my trademark. Why did I do it? It seemed to come out of its own accord. Like vomit.

Callum smiled a small, unsure smile and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Now! Do it now before he leaves.

I mean, emails are supposed to make everything quicker, aren’t they? But it’s taken me all morning just to delete the spam! I must get Tony to look at that anti-virus program for me. Honestly, the number of emails I get trying to sell me Viagra is just crazy! I mean, as if I need to enlarge my penis! Out came the same goofy laugh again. I might as well have been wearing an anorak with a tea-cozy on my head. "Do you get those too? The emails, I mean. Not that you need to enlarge your ... I mean, I’m sure it’s…perfectly fine…well, not fine, better than … not that I would know. Obviously…." My voice thankfully trailed off, but the silence afterward was somehow worse. Surely - surely - I had not just commented on the size of my co-worker’s …ugh! Mortified does not begin to describe the way I felt.

I dropped my head and glanced down at my feet, noting as always my little mound of tummy on the way down. Yep, I was definitely going on a diet, I decided. Meanwhile Callum hovered in front of me looking so handsome I almost couldn’t bear it.

You crack me up Josie, he said and I looked up into his face. He certainly had the most kissable mouth and it was grinning right at me.

Oh? I smiled shyly. There was an awkward silence which I decided to fill rather clumsily by saying: "Well you know where I am if you need any technical help. I am the photocopying nerd!"

I never think of you as a nerd, Callum said softly, looking right into my eyes. I exhaled loudly, because it was either that or faint. Callum looked away and mumbled, I’d better get back. Lana will be hunting me down if I’m not at my desk.

"Oh yes, you don’t want to get a ticket from the Shirt Sheriff!" I smiled like a happy drunk. Then he was gone and I turned to the photocopier, trying to calm the butterflies which were breakdancing on the floor of my stomach.

I cracked him up! I thought to myself and allowed myself a tiny smile. He did not think I was a nerd! Surely these were good signs? I began feeding paper into the machine.

All of a sudden Emma’s oh-so-perfect body appeared in the doorway.

Josie, I’m doing a doughnut run. You in? Emma Kendal: Accounts Manager with the kind of body to die for: everything in proportion; curves in all the right places; fresh, radiant skin; long, glossy, silky hair. And she knew it. It was quite common to catch her admiring her neat cleavage in her computer monitor or the office drinks machine.

Yet it seemed like all she ever ate were doughnuts. This was apparently one of those great natural injustices of life.

Tempting … I looked down at my tummy again. I’m trying to be healthy …aargh! All right, but just a plain one, I flashed a smile, but inside I was miffed because now I was going to eat a calorie-loaded, fat-ridden doughnut and put on pounds in seconds, while she was going to sit there and eat the same doughnut and probably go down a dress size.

"Do you mean plain as in plain or plain as in jam in the middle?" Emma knew the doughnut selection like the back of her hand. Incidentally, this has always struck me as an odd phrase, the back of your hand. I mean, it’s supposed to imply that you know something extremely well, but I don’t think I could describe the back of my hand accurately if I had to. I could generalize but, as far as specific details go, I think I’d be stumped!

"Plain as in plain. In fact, make it a bagel instead!"

Oh, She paused. My snack choice seemed to have stumped her, I don’t know if they sell bagels.

A plain doughnut is fine. Anyway, what’s the special occasion? Is it someone’s birthday? I joked.

Well… she beamed at me, then squealed, fanning her arms up and down like a hungry humming bird and wafting her Britney Spears perfume in my direction. Callum has finally asked me out on a date! Then she swirled out of the room on her way to decadent doughnut heaven.

Ah, I said, my stomach curdling - alone with the photocopier, again.

Chapter 2

To the team at Forster’s Medical Center:

Thank you so much for everything you did for me after my hammock fall while holidaying in Mexico. As you could probably tell from my hysterical sobbing, I was convinced I had broken my neck and permanently damaged my spine. (I do hope the poor man whose saline drip I knocked over has recovered.)

Your calm and professional reassurance helped me to relax, along with that shot of whatever you gave me … I think it could have been Valium. Well, whatever it was, it certainly did the trick because after that I was much happier!

The MRI scan, so quickly administered, was extremely useful at eradicating my fears of any long-term damage. It was also helpful in revealing that I did not, in fact, have a terminal brain tumor lurking somewhere, which has always been a fear of mine ever since I was twelve and Mrs. Fibbets, my geography teacher at school, unexpectedly collapsed and died of an aneurism in the middle of Marks & Spencer’s.

As a Brit living in America, I must admit to finding the health insurance system a little complicated, not to mention a bit expensive. However, even though my insurance company did not agree to cover all the costs, I think that the $746.98 you are demanding is well worth it … although I am disputing the charge for the use and laundering of four hospital gowns, as I only remember wearing one.

Thanks again, so much.

Sincerely,

Josie Jenkins

~

My trip to Mexico had been Becky’s idea; a chance to get over my shambles of a love-life.

Becky: my best friend and support system. We’d met in a spa not long after I’d come over the States and chatted non-stop while our heels were being pummeled and nails painted. I was a drama student then and she was waitress trying to work out what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. We clicked.

That was seven years ago. Since then, I had been there when she met her first serious boyfriend, helped her move into their first apartment and helped button her dress on their wedding day.

I’d be lost without Becky. How can I put this? If I were a ceiling, she would be the load-bearing beam.

I hadn’t originally intended to stay so long across the preverbal pond and I certainly never imagined I’d be settling in Texas. I came over as part of a student-exchange program. When I graduated, the college offered me a job as assistant stage-manager. Not exactly my dream job, seeing as I had visions of becoming a Hollywood star, but an opportunity nonetheless. It was a year-long contract and they renewed it four times. Somehow I managed to secure a Green Card and conveniently forgot about my acting plans. Later, when the drama department downsized due to lack of funds, I found myself alone in a big American city without a job.

That’s when I discovered Harpers & Green. Or rather, Harpers & Green discovered me. I’d met Bob at a local bar. We got to talking; he bought me several drinks. We flirted and then he offered me a job in the mail order department. It was perfect timing and I began taking shirt orders over the phone, wooing customers with my English accent.

It was a year before anything physical happened between Bob and me. He had made several pretty obvious advances which I had pretty obviously rejected. I knew he was married and I had no intention of becoming a mistress. Ah but the best laid plans …

One evening as we were leaving work together, heading to the car park, it had started to rain. We had ducked under a nearby doorway. We were laughing, looking at each other with hair plastered to our cheeks. He reached in his pocket for his car keys, worried they had been rained on.

I don’t know why I did it. I have played that moment back in my mind many, many times hoping somehow to find that, in fact, I was the victim, that he seduced me. Not so. It was me, not him, who grabbed his hand and pulled it to my cheek. It was me, not him, who leaned forward and pulled his neck towards me. It was me who kissed him.

I should have walked away but I didn’t. Instead I became a mistress. Something I had always disapproved of. I certainly never entertained the thought of becoming one.

The affair had lasted a little more than two years and it had been four months since Bob had abruptly finished it. I can’t do this anymore Josie, he had said. I’m done cheating on my wife. To which I had squeaked in a rather high-pitched sort of a way: I wish you had worked that out a year ago!

I should have known it would happen eventually. Bob had never said he would leave his wife for me. But then he’d never said he wouldn’t either. And that’s what kept me hanging on I suppose.

As a married woman herself, Becky had always been against my relationship with Bob. Truthfully, so was I. But when our sordid affair had finally ended, Becky had been there to pick up the pieces, to try and salvage something of what was left of her best friend. Me: Josie Jenkins, her British chum, rejected harlot and general fuck-up.

Of course, the natural thing to do would have been to find another job but, unfortunately, the slump in my love-life happened to coincide with a slump in the economy and, faced with a risky job-market, I wasn’t brave enough to hand in my notice. Besides, I quite liked my job as Customer Service Manager. I didn’t see why Bob Green - or Bull-Shit Bob as Becky named him - got to break my heart as well as my career.

I did need to get away though and so Becky had grabbed my laptop, went online, found some cheap flights to Cozumel and booked me a room at the Casa D’Amor, a small hotel that served weak cocktails and fried chicken, as it happened … but she couldn’t have known that by the photos on its website.

And she also couldn’t have known that my impromptu, bargain-bucket vacation would end with a rather inelegant fall, involving splayed legs and a cricked (or rather, severely sprained) neck.

The hotel staff had been keen to take me to the local clinic, mainly because I think I was scaring the other guests with my wailing. But, having some vague recollection of a recent report on 60 Minutes about the spread of infection in Mexican hospitals, I decided to wait until I’d got back to Dallas. I spent the last two days of my holiday hiding in my room with a bag of ice and a bottle of Advil.

How I made it through the flight home, I still do not know. By the time I reached my local medical center, I was unable to move my neck without searing pain and my shoulders seemed to have frozen. Convinced that the fingers on my left hand were going numb and that the pain in my head was a sign of delayed concussion, I was - it has to be said - slightly hysterical.

I felt much better after a good dose of pain medication and tranquilizers though. So much so that I resisted the offer of a neck-brace. I don’t look good in high collars at the best of times and, besides, I wanted to keep the whole incident low-key at work. I promised not to move my neck and they strapped my bruised arm instead.

An experience like that can really make you think. I mean, it was a close thing and afterwards I just kept obsessing about all the what if’s? What if I had twisted my back and was left paralyzed? What if I had fractured my skull and gone into a coma for the rest of my life? Or what if I had simply broken my neck and died? Obviously none of those things happened. But you know … it gets you thinking.

And that’s how I began to write the letters. It occurred to me that, if I had died, there were probably lots of people in my life to whom I would like to say goodbye, and many more whom I would like to thank. Then I thought, well thank goodness I didn’t die. I felt like I’d been given a second chance.

At first, I began my scribing in an arty Paperchase journal I’d bought on sale in Borders, glad to finally find a use for it. I began with a letter to Forster Medical Clinic because, really, they had been so helpful and also because one of the ladies in my apartment block works in reception there and I was trying to be neighborly.

Then I just carried on writing to people at random with no plan or system. I simply wrote when I felt like it and to whoever took my fancy. I would make myself a pot of tea and sit at the kitchen table with a plate of buttered scones, feeling like a character in a Jane Austen novel. After a while, though, I began scrawling them on any scrap of paper I could find, usually late at night whilst splayed out clumsily on my sofa, glass of wine in hand.

I didn’t actually mail any of the letters. I just stashed them away under the bed, in a rather stylish Crate & Barrel gift box. As time went on, I had quite a collection and found myself having grand thoughts of them being published one day - A Collection of Letters by the Great Josie Jenkins or Letters from the Heart by Josie Jenkins – that sort of thing.

It was quite cathartic. In fact I’d recommend it as a way of getting things off your chest.

Chapter 3

Dear Bob,

Thank you for showing me how to find true strength….

Dear Bob,

Thank you for all the good times we had. Now I know what it is to love….

Dear Bob,

Thank you for very slowly and carefully FUCKING ME UP!

~

My first day back at work was dragging. By the time I found myself in Lana’s meeting, my neck was aching and the strap on my arm had begun to itch. It was making me crabby. Well, crabbier than a lunchtime meeting with Lana usually would.

I really feel it’s a mistake to force people to answer the phone like that; it’s false. Customers want to hear someone real on the line, not someone who sounds like they’ve had too much to drink, I might have let a hint of frustration slip into my voice at this point, but Lana was always going on about speaking with a smile and talking with tenderness and, frankly, it got on my nerves.

"Obviously, Josie, you have a natural way with customers on the phone; but for those who are new to the job or who may be struggling to connect with clients, having a set phrase and technique may be useful." I could swear she said all this through clenched teeth, but I was not yet ready to concede my point.

"I just think that, as a company, it’s sending a mixed message if, in our catalogues, we harp on about how down-to-earth we are and how we like to get back to the grassroots of customer service … and then we ask our mail order staff to pick up the phone and say: Welcome to Harpers and Green - guiding you to shirts that shape you! What does that mean?" I glanced at Lana and she threw me a haughty look.

But I see what Lana is saying, Bob interjected diplomatically. Our phone pick-up has gotta have the right style. I could tell that he was tired of the topic already; he found the training aspect of our work mundane. But he had never been very good at people management. Instead, he followed his instincts and took what came. Fortunately for him, what usually came was success.

My head began to throb. Excuse me, be back in a minute. It was a relief to be out of the stuffy office. I meandered down the corridor rubbing my temple.

Hi again. We must stop meeting like this, Callum’s voice stirred something in my stomach and made it lurch. It usually had that effect on me. I could almost smell him and it was intoxicating. He never wore aftershave. It was just pure man-smell.

Hi. I was just getting some water, I smiled weakly.

Meeting that bad, huh? He winked conspiratorially and flashed his charming Irish grin, while I reflected for the umpteenth time that the best thing Human Resources had ever done for me, personally, was to hire Callum.

Yeah, you know the score. Ugh. There I was again, sounding naff. It irritated me when I said things that didn’t really have any meaning. Why did I always waste these precious moments with Callum by spouting meaningless drivel? It wasn’t as if I had nothing interesting to say. In fact, in my Callum and Josie Fantasies, I’d made myself as knowledgeable as a college professor. I’d imagine us out on a date, in a restaurant, and I’d say something funny and clever and he’d laugh appreciatively, wowed by my wit. Then, overcome by my sheer beauty and brilliance, he’d lean over the table, touch my face tenderly and gaze longingly into my eyes. I didn’t like to think about it, but that was probably exactly what was going to happen on his date with Emma tonight.

My head was pounding now. I hear you and Emma are going on a date tonight? That’s nice. I was trying to sound light-hearted but sounded more like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. What was wrong with me? Callum’s eyes lost their twinkle and he began to rub the back of his neck. I couldn’t bear the thought of the two of them together.

Before