Chapter Eighteen

Abbey laid in her bra and panties beneath the stiff cold bed sheets.  She stared out the window of the dismal hotel room, listening as another plane’s engines roared overhead.

There were many things she forgot in her hurry to get out of Miami and away from Sloan.  For starters, she left her suitcase with all her clothes in her hotel room.  She also left the key to Sloan’s penthouse in the inside zipper pocket of that suitcase.  She was unable to get any clothes she had already moved to the penthouse.  Not that she would venture to the penthouse.  Abbey wanted nothing to do with that lying son-of-a-bitch ever again.

Abbey tried to buy something to wear besides her power suit, only able to find a matching “I Love New York” t-shirt and shorts set in a little gift boutique in the airport.  It would work for the night.  However when the clerk ran Abbey’s card it once again was declined.  Abbey left the outfit on the counter of the boutique without a word, plodded into the waiting area of the airport, flopped into a cold plastic seat and began to cry.  A flight attendant, feeling sorry for her, gave her a voucher for this hotel room.

It was a memory that reminded Abbey that she needed to call the bank.  She slowly sat up and, tucking the sheet around her, picked up her cell phone and turned it on.  It had finally stopped beeping and shuddering.  32 texts, 14 messages.  Abbey quickly thumbed through the texts then selected them all for delete.  They were all from Sloan.  She had hoped there had been at least one from Michael.  She really needed to hear his voice right now even if it was across a digital screen.

She dialed her voice mail and pressed the button for the speaker phone.  She viciously pressed the delete button whenever that sensual Irish brogue appeared.  She froze at the final message.

“Abbey, this is Aubrey.  Your failure to show a the event sponsored for you by Panda Publications also indicates to me your desire to terminate your contract with us,  That termination forfeits your rights to your royalties and any other bonuses.  Also, we would like the advance you’ve been given back.  Call me at your earliest convenience to make arrangements.”

Abbey deleted the message with a heavy sigh.  She not only left her luggage in Miami, she left her new career as well.  She scrolled through the address book on her phone for the bank’s profile and hit the send button on her phone.  When the line was answered she asked for Tom.  Abbey had been good friends with Tom since kindergarten.  He could fix her bank card problem.

“This is Tom,” a voice greeted through the phone.

“Hi, Tom.  This is Abbey.  I need your help,” Abbey pleaded.

“Sure, Abs.  How is New York?”

Abbey glanced around the dingy hotel room.  “Not good.  I’m coming home soon.  It seems my bank card isn’t working.  It keeps coming up insufficient funds.”

“Let me take a look.”  Abbey could hear Tom through the phone typing away on his keyboard.  There was a cold, hard pause.  “It’s not working, Abbey, because there is no money in your account.  It’s bone dry.”

“That’s impossible, Tom.  I deposited a half million dollars in there.”

“Let me look further.”  There was another pause.  “Abbey, it looks like Michael Simons withdrew the entire balance of your account three days ago.”

Abbey felt her blood grow cold.  “How…”

“Can I ask you a question, Abbey?  Why did you put Michael on your account in the first place?  Normally women don’t put their ex-boyfriends on their bank accounts.”

“He’s not my ex-boyfriend.  He’s my fiancé.  He flew to New York a few weeks ago and asked me to marry him,” she defended.

“Really?  Since you left he’s been all over Jenny.  He’s been sleeping over at her place every night and bringing her here to work every morning.  As a matter of fact Jenny quit showing up for work a couple of days ago just out of the blue.  One of the girls at the teller window said she was planning a trip to Mexico.”

Abbey couldn’t say a word.  She had no money, no way to get home.  Now she knew shy Michael didn’t return her calls and texts.  He and Jenny probably laughed themselves sick every time her name popped up on his phone knowing she had no clue they stole her money.  Her boyfriend and her best friend.  Her stomach lurched as she felt her world crumble beneath her.


Abbey snapped back to reality.  “Thanks, Tom.”  She flipped her phone shut.  She stiffly stood from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom.



About triciaandersen

I am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.

Posted on May 17, 2012, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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