Penniless Hearts Page 2
“Gross,” Tina sighed, tossing another piece of cucumber into the trashcan and staring back up at the monitor. “That ten-point type makes it hard to read,” blabbed Tina. “Delete it. Change the font or something.”
Crap, she'd never get out of here. “You don't like the drop shadow type?” Penny asked, reaching for her soda. Deadline or no deadline, she took a quick sip.
“No, I don't, and I don't think the dealer will either. Geez, Penny, the customer has to be able to read the prices clearly or they won't go buy cars.” Tina proclaimed, in her special condescending voice, making Penny feel like a child.
“Okay, okay it's cool,” Penny said, pushing a few keys on her computer, easily changing the type. “Is that better?” She asked, holding her breath and looking up at the stupid clock that still looked like a bomb. Stopping by the travel agency seemed like a good idea at the time, but now guilt beamed down like those lights they shine into a convict's face. Exhaling, she moved her shaking fingers across the keyboard, immediately improving the spacing. A few more hours and this will all be over, she thought, and now that she had the actual ticket, she could not chicken out.
The phone on Tina's desk started ringing. “Tina,” Penny said, “I think that's your line.”
“Thanks Hon,” Tina answered. She got up and stretched an elongated arm into the adjoining cubicle. She picked up the phone and wrapped her index finger in spirals around thick, dirty blonde curls with her other hand. “Advertising,” she sang in the sweetest singsong voice. “Tina Blake, how may I help you?” Ron Parrish the department manager probably wanted everyone together for a team meeting at four o'clock. Tina sighed, “Ron, you like seeing me sweat, don't you?” Her highlighted hair kept spinning around her finger, reflecting like gold under the florescent lights. Penny knew Tina's comment referred to the manager's request of getting Tina back from her territory in afternoon traffic. Something Tina always thought was unreasonable. Meanwhile, Penny tapped on her keyboard straightening out the visuals and sizing the art. She knew that her chances of sneaking out early were vaporizing with every tick of the clock. “Of course, I'll be here,” Tina answered, before hanging up and returning to her full time job of terrorizing Penny.
* * *
Chapter Two
A television commercial blared music into the quiet, unlit living room, where a new medication they were advertising apparently made a screen full of smiling sixty year olds dance like they never danced before. Carl Himmel sat alone with the shades drawn. He wondered if those pills could help him score, with a cool well-preserved 'hottie'. Dancing had been one of his favorite things in the old days when his parents insisted it would help him meet members of the opposite sex. Which of course it did. They had sent him to dancing school so he could learn how to waltz, rumba or fox trot during a time when the twist, the mashed potato and the swim were all the rage. His legs sure knew how to hustle back in the day. All that dancing expertise going to waste, he thought, when the phone rang. Jerked out of his daydreams, he muted the television and slowly wandered into the kitchen to answer the phone. His knees creaked, his back ached but overall he felt good for his age. Flicking on the light, he reached for the receiver and said, “Hello?”
It was Penny's boyfriend wondering if he knew where she had gone after work.
“Nope, no idea John. I thought she was with you.” Scratching his solid white head of hair, he tried remembering what she had told him last night. “Yeah son, I'll tell her. Bye.” Slowly, he set the phone back into the dusty cradle, and observed the neglected house. Penny's science fiction and romance novels were stacked on the kitchen counter next to a bowl of empty peanut shells. Always lost in her dreams, Carl thought, shuffling back to the couch. Reaching for the remote, he saw a floral printed shirt on one of the undercover officers dashing around on the television screen. He'd been watching a cop show. Something about the shirt almost triggered his memory and John's pleading on the phone made him mutter aloud about 'cursed aging'. Forgetting things and losing control were two things he didn't like to think about and here they were facing him like Marley's ghost.
'Heck with it,' he said to himself, cracking open a peanut. His little girl deserved spending time with her friends. Besides, she had grown into a responsible, independent woman who might not be the greatest housekeeper in the world but she made him breakfast every day, before heading into chaos at that newspaper. Wherever she went didn't really worry him because he knew in his heart, she'd turn up soon.
* * *
Chapter Three
At ten the following morning, Tina stormed into Ron's office. “Where's Penny?” She shouted with the haughty tone of someone in charge of a regiment. “Darin's Fall Clearance ad needs to be changed and only Penny knows how to do it. Where is she?” Tina whined. Standing tall and formidable in three-inch pumps, a navy suit, and a red lace top with a plunging neckline, the statuesque woman's heavy breathing and impassioned gestures drew Ron's gaze firmly to her well-rounded, heaving breasts. Pretending to arrange papers on his cluttered desk, he thought about how much fun he'd have getting to know the two of them intimately. “Ron,” she said even louder with a rather unpleasant biting sound. “Where is she?”
Impatient bitch, he thought, still staring at her remarkable chest. “She's on vacation, Tina. Ever hear of it?” He answered. “Relax,” he added, pulling his eyes from her décolletage. “Call the art department and they'll send someone up.” Though a real asset to his department, Tina's drama queen outbursts were beginning to wear down the whole team. Now that she had hooked the rich mega-dealer boyfriend, Ron knew he'd never have a chance with her anyway. Meanwhile, down in the deepest part of his gut, he also thought maybe it was time to make some departmental changes.
“Vacation?” Tina yelled, in a high-pitched scream that startled employees outside the glass walls of Ron's office. Some of them turned to giggle and stare at Tina's escalating scene. “No, way. That's not possible. I'm going to lose this account,” she said loudly, while a red splotch crept across her collarbone. “Remember the Fall Toyota Clearance Sale Darin ran for Martin's Toyota?”
Raising his right arm and tamping down on the air in front of him, Ron motioned for her to lower her decibels. “Yeah, of course I remember.” He removed his glasses to wipe off the steam caused by ogling her, and continued with “sure it was silly, how could I forget? 'Not Martians…we're Martin Toyota,' ” he said, smiling at the memory that helped his whole department meet their revenue quota for the year. “Our Penny sure has an imagination,” he added, adjusting more papers on his messy desk. The colorful attention getting advertisement had ridiculous space aliens driving around in stylized sports cars above a solar system of planets, offering price leaders and blatant one-only discounts. He had to admit, everyone who ever saw it smiled. Even the mere thought of that ad made him smile, and listening to Tina's desperate pleas for help made his smile even bigger.
“Well,” she continued, “he wants the same characters this weekend with Santa thrown in to remind buyers Christmas is around the corner.” Frazzled for ten in the morning, Tina's neck now completely blended with her red top like stalks of rhubarb perched above firm beefsteak tomatoes.
“Any of the employees with a computer can splice a clip art Santa into your old ad copy,” Ron suggested with a dismissive wave. Confused about all the fuss over something that could easily be photo-shopped, his attention returned to the much more interesting diversion of monitoring her breathing. Every breath seemed to increase the size of her cups and the taut red lace was stretching into a new quivering design with larger, airier leaves grasping at the edge of overwrought petals.
“No, Ron, I don't think you understand. Those Martian aliens need to be sitting with Santa in a new red convertible with a huge bag of Toys for Tots in the back seat,” she exhaled voluptuously. “Penny drew all the characters by hand–can't you do something?”
“Tina, I'm your manager, not God,” he replied, “but sit down and we'll figure this out.
I promise.”
* * *
Chapter Four
Penny's dad once told him that his little redhead used to be a lot of fun. Almost reckless and slightly wild, but never evil or bordering danger like the bad girls he saw in Nam. Just giggly, daring and bubbling like a frothy cocktail of artistic expression, blended with positive aspirations and a dose of retro-inspired, sixties-style free love. John Murray couldn't put his finger on the problem. After all, he used hammers and nails while psychologists used therapy and couches, but the best he could figure was that Penny changed when her mother died. Actually, it didn't seem fair to say she wasn't fun anymore, but there did seem to be something clouding her personality. He felt the warmth steaming through her skin, her eyes and her lips but minutes into their rare moments together, her mind would wander away to daydream about something that distracted her, making him feel like one of her fantasies rather than the real man he wanted her to see. He was flesh and bone, not some ridiculous prince in a faraway castle. Ridiculous.
Lately, a recurring thought kept bouncing around in the back corners of his mind, making him think she wanted to break up with him. Either way, something was up, and he felt it gnawing like acid against the walls of his stomach. Week after week, he disregarded her flighty behavior and desire to do things alone. Weeks turned into months and the negative feeling was starting to weigh him down, making him wonder if it was too late.
Maybe he'd call her at work and try wrangling a lunch date out of her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her regarding his sleepless nights and his pent up feelings, but she never gave him a chance. It had to be love, he reasoned, thinking about the unbearable way he felt watching her come home from a grueling day at work to cook and clean for her dad and rarely, if ever, asking for help.
When the sprinkler broke yesterday thanks to a dog fetching his ball, she laughed it off, even though it leaked water all day into her vegetable garden. When he offered to assist with the repair, she beat him down with a typical, “It's cool, I'll just call a handyman.”
Didn't she realize he wanted to be her handyman? He wanted to marry Penny and end all this self-reliant bull-crap forever. Picking up the phone, he started jabbing at the touch-tone keypad with a renewed passion.
Today, he'd put his working boots down hard and have a serious talk with the sweetest girl in the whole world. After three rings, his heart skipped a beat when the machine said, “Hi, you've reached Penny's desk. Please leave a message at the tone. If this is a deadline situation, call back, press zero and ask for the art department. Thanks and have an awesome day!”
What a voice, he thought, silently praying to God for courage. The time had come for him to tell her his plans so they could move into the coming year together.
“Penny,” John paused, pacing himself, trying not to sound eager. “I'm just wondering if you'll have lunch with me today. Call me back,” he hesitated, “wait, I'll just swing by to pick you up and we'll go to that new sandwich place. Love you.”
* * *
Chapter Five
Penny hated flying. Looking out over the wing of the jet, she wondered about the gloomy fog blanketing the entire airport. How did the pilot navigate his way through the murky chowder to get up above the clouds? As the engines rattled the plane, undesirable thoughts filled her head, creating doubt, where minutes ago she had oozed with confidence.
She calmed herself by thinking about the last few days. Thinking became rationalization and soon, she realized the past needed to stay in the past. After all, going to Hawaii was a dream and the thought of fun lured her into a semi-relaxed zone aboard the plane. Time to forget the stress related to worrying about her father or that lionized bitch Tina at work and even her darling John who kept trying to please her while annoying the crap out of her. Inhaling deeply, she decided to meditate and soon felt better about leaving everything behind. Why would she owe anyone an explanation? It's wasn't like she was married. This week, she'd be busy snorkeling with a cute guy, watching tropical sunsets, drinking fabulously wonderful fruity cocktails, hiking volcanoes and possibly kissing until sunrise. This week, home would be down below–35,000 feet below in the past.
“Anything from the bar?” A smiling, blonde flight attendant stood above Penny with a collection of headphones around her left arm. Reaching her right arm into the overhead compartment, she retrieved a pillow, handing it to Penny who pulled her white-knuckled fingers off the armrest just long enough to grasp the pillow with both hands.
“Yes, thanks, do you have Pinot Noir?” Penny asked hoarsely, as she looked up at the athletic woman whose bright red lipstick matched her uniform perfectly. The luscious lips accentuated her smile and cheekbones, lending her a graceful air of comforting reassurance. It said 'Heidi' on her name badge next to a miniature flag of the United States.
“I'm sorry,” she replied sympathetically. “We only have Cabernet, Chardonnay or Zinfandel.”
Gulping audibly, Penny placed her pillow against the window. Wishing she could replicate Heidi's plastered on smile, she whispered, “Cabernet sounds cool. Can I have a headphone?”
* * *
Chapter Six
Ron closed the door and sat down at his desk. “Tina, have you ever thought of moving up into corporate?” He tried to look her in the eyes, but felt the overwhelming desire to stare a bit lower. His glasses usually helped cover any obvious displays of misguided attention.
She looked at him with a strange, almost fiendish smile. “I'm having enough trouble right now without thinking about some career change,” she said, brushing hair out of her face and looking him in the eyes. “Ron, where do you think this territory would be without me? I've grown it over a million dollars last year and with Darin's account we'll push it over two this year.”
“I know, I know,” Ron mumbled, silently thinking about replacements and some of the newspaper's internal candidates who would qualify for her position. “But wouldn't you eventually like to get into management?” He tried to tread lightly on this subject, because if she really wanted to get into management, he'd have to start climbing way out onto a limb for her. The higher-ups would want to know what in the world he spiked his coffee with; because everyone knew, Tina wasn't exactly management material. A picture of him desperately holding onto Tina over a rushing river flashed into his head. In his mind's eye, he saw the branch breaking as they toppled into the mouth of a hungry alligator called VP of Marketing and Business operations, or more commonly, his boss. Licking his chops and grinning, the giant alligator dipped back down under the water and swam to the other shore. Loosening his tie, Ron felt a sharp knife-like pain twisting around in his stomach.
“Ron,” Tina said bringing him out of his cartoon-like reverie, “I'm sure you know that I'd have to take a huge cut in pay to do that, so why would I aspire to all your meetings, and pressure filled management seminars?” She looked down at her nails, as if wondering where this conversation was heading. “Weren't you the one complaining about grey hairs?”
Last week, when forced to cancel a special section because they didn't have enough advertising for it, he had complained about some grey hair after dealing with the publisher. Shit, she remembered everything. “I did it Tina, and it's not that bad.” Ron continued, ignoring her pessimism and obvious distaste for his graying side burns. “Salespeople come and go, but management has a bit more stability. With our commission structure and low quotas you could be prepared for every eventuality.” Fiddling with his tie again, he felt a swamp-like heat rising from under his clothes. He shot a quick glance up at her eyes. His stomach lurched. “I guess you're fairly stable now that you've moved in with Darin?”
Tina rolled her eyes, “Ron,” she said, “I'm not following how any of this has to do with finding Penny.” She stood up and leaned over the desk, allowing Ron one of the most beautiful views he had seen in a long time. “Yes, if you really must know, I am a bit more stable with Darin paying all my bills and no–I do not want to transfer to corporate.
” The volume of her voice increased, and the tiny red splotches reappeared on her neck. “In fact, if you don't find Penny and have her illustrate this ad, I'm quitting.” Turning around, she opened the door and left.
* * *
Chapter Seven
When she came into the world, the doctor, an avid golfer, called her eyes 'fairway green.' Her mother told her stories about the hospital staff admiring her elfish red hair, alabaster skin and perfect little nose. Her parents doted on her and named her Penny because their last name was Himmel or heaven in the German language. Thus, they thanked God for raining a Penny down from heaven.
Growing up, she became a mischievous art student with a great sense of humor and an angelic smile. A cherub-like innocent face covered up a wild side, a side that astonished her teachers, parents and all her friends. At first, she exasperated her mother by tattooing all her Barbie dolls, and piercing all the stuffed animals with safety pins. Later she dyed the family dog, a little white terrier emerald green for St. Patrick's Day. Enjoying her creativity, her parents usually laughed-off her pranks. The teen years caused them mild consternation but she blossomed into an imaginative young lady who kept everyone on high alert. From making her own clothes out of kitchen towels or painting her dorm room chartreuse so her roommate would move out, she lived her life like a progressive work of art. In sculpture class she invited the nude model home to meet her parents for Thanksgiving, (fortunately he wore clothes), then, she brought the black leather-clad musician home for Christmas. The following year she had a photographer as her Valentine, a philosophy major, a biker and more experiences before she was twenty than most people had in a lifetime.