Confessions of a Mail Order Bride - Complete (24 page)

I work as a makeup artist at a fine department store. One thing I’ve learned is that every woman has a story. No matter how beautiful she looks or how confident she acts; there is always something she needs to get off her chest. Her cheating husband, a deep, dark secret, a terrible illness… Of course, mixed in with the sad stories there are many happy ones these women share also. An upcoming wedding, a date with a special man, a child’s graduation… I’m there to listen and be a source of comfort as I make them feel beautiful.

I have more than my share of stories too. I had a rough childhood growing up and I left home right after graduation, moving in with one of my cousins. She freelanced for a cosmetics manufacturer at Dean’s, a high-end department store, and recommended me for a job. The manufacturer specializes in a line of edgy, cool cosmetics, and they embraced my tats and piercings, hiring me as a team member. It’s a fun job, but there’s a dark side to it—getting customers to buy as many products as possible, whether they needed them or not. But unlike some of the sales clerks, I didn’t play games to get customers to make a purchase—games like wearing a white lab coat to make clients think I was a medical expert. I was honest in what they needed and what they didn’t.

It was usually easy to spot what a woman felt the least confident about and try to take advantage of it, giving her some cosmetic ‘miracle cure.’ But I didn’t want to prey on people. As a result, I had a loyal clientele, but my earnings were not as high as some of the other girls, who sold customers things they didn’t need.

I wanted to help everyone. Some salespeople would ask a woman what products she currently used, and if she named a bargain basement brand they would get rid of her as soon as possible because they knew she was unlikely to spend much money. I wasn’t like that. I spent time trying to find the best products for my customers, and if they bought they bought. If not, hopefully the next one would.

But my honesty meant that money was tight. I didn’t earn if I didn’t sell. The company also had us work as many hours as possible, but always just stopped short of full time so there were no benefits.

I was broke at the bank and that wasn’t the only thing that was broken. My ex-boyfriend had turned out to be a big time jerk. I really craved love, and I’d done everything possible to make it work with him—everything. But he’d gotten deep into drugs and I was going down the rabbit hole with him. A stint in jail helped me see the light and I got clean, but he kept abusing drugs, no matter what I said or did. He didn’t appreciate my help or my love.

I didn’t need a million dollars in the bank to be happy. I didn’t need a guy to wine and dine me to show me his love either. I just wanted to make a decent living so I didn’t have to worry about money all the time and I wanted to find a guy that wasn’t out of his mind on drugs…a guy that cared about me more than his next fix. I wanted a man that would want to take care of me as much as I wanted to take care of him. But day after day, everything was the same—pinching pennies and hoping for love. Would anything ever change? My name is Ava Adams, and this is my story…my confession…

~ * ~

“Come on Ava! You have to do it, too!” Sherry smacked her hand on the restaurant table, almost knocking her water glass over.

It was a beautiful Friday and I had taken the afternoon off and driven to Shifter Villages to visit her. We were enjoying a girl’s day out which included a delicious lunch at a local hangout, Kane’s Bar and Grill.

“I don’t think so, Sherry. I just don’t think it would work for me,” I replied, picking up a quarter of my turkey club and taking a generous bite.

Sherry patted the small, round bump protruding from her tummy. “Things sure are working out for me!”

It sure did look like things were working out for Sherry. She was beaming with happiness.

“It seems like just yesterday I met you. It’s been months now and just look at you—married, pregnant, and looking gorgeous!”

I’d met Sherry when she was walking by the cosmetics department at Dean’s, the store I worked at as a makeup artist. I’d offered her a free makeup lesson and our friendship developed from there. Some months ago, she’d married lion shifter Adrian Landen, the owner of the Sharp Cuts hair salon in Shifter Villages.

“Oh, Ava…you’re such a good friend. It’s crazy to think that when I met you I was meeting Adrian for the first time and all I could think about was what he would think of the port wine stain on my face.”

“Yup, you asked me how you could cover it and then bought that concealer product from me,” I said, remembering.

“I never use it,” Sherry touched her cheek. “Adrian doesn’t like me to wear it. He thinks the mark is special. He says I look more beautiful with it than when I cover it up!”

“You do!” I said. “I’m so glad things are working out! You look so happy! You’re just glowing.”

“Thank you,” Sherry took a sip of water, “Adrian treats me like a queen, and he’s so excited about the baby. He’s constantly rubbing my tummy.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. I would love to have someone rub my belly—baby or not.”

“Well, you need to meet someone new!” Sherry exclaimed.

“I know. I’m trying.” But as much as I would have liked to meet someone, I had to admit, it was unlikely to happen where I worked. As a makeup artist I met tons of women, but the few men that stopped by the counter were looking to buy perfume for their lady. Sure, a couple of them flirted with me, but I was not about to get into a relationship with someone who was already in one.

“At least you split up with Lance Murphy,” Sherry stuck out her tongue. “Ugh, that man was not good for you.”

“I know, I know…we’re done.” Lance Murphy, my ex-boyfriend, was a big time loser. He treated me like shit and was a drug dealer. I really don’t know why it took me so long to see the light, except that I was pretty messed up in the head myself sometimes. He’d talked me into doing some shit I shouldn’t have. Of course, that was no excuse. I knew better, but most of the time I went along with him because…because I loved him, and it was easy. The final straw came when he told me he wasn’t feeling well and asked me to deliver some drugs for him. Something about the way he asked me gave me a weird feeling. My guts told me not to do it, but Lance assured me everything would be fine. He was wrong. I got busted for possession with intent to distribute. I was sentenced to two years in jail, but thankfully was released after six months. Later, I found out that Lance had suspected the feds were watching him so he’d sent me to do the delivery instead of doing it himself. His lame excuse was that he had a long rap sheet and if I was caught it was likely I wouldn’t get much time, whereas he would be put away for a while.

Sherry raised her brows. “I’m telling you—you need to put your profile on the ‘Luscious Lads and Ladies’ site. It worked for me, it worked for Judith, it worked for…”

“Stop, stop!” Ok, I had to admit it had worked for Sherry and several other women I’d met, including Sherry’s former boss Judith Banks, but that didn’t mean it would work for me.

“What’s stopping you?” Sherry asked, her bright, shiny eyes searching mine.

“Well, I…”

“Ava?” Sherry persisted.

“Ok, I’m just not the type of woman shifter men like.”

Sherry shook her head. “What! What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve got all these curves,” I waved my hand at my body.

“Umm, many shifters love curves. I know Adrian does. I’m very curvy. He says he likes something he can grab on to.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got curves in the right places…big boobs, a small waist…well,” I grinned, looking at her baby bump, “it’s usually small…and you have nice hips that balance your boobs. I’ve got these teacup breasts and hippo hips.”

Sherry frowned.

“And then there’s this,” I said, motioning to my neck and arms. I was covered in tats.

“A lot of men love tats,” Sherry said, leaning forward.

“I know,” I whined, “but a lot of mine are pretty gloomy—like this one.” I pointed to the skull and crossbones on my shoulder. I’d gotten a lot of the tats when my head was in a dark place—and it showed. “And then there’s my scar tat. What shifter would want a woman inked with another man’s branding?” I tapped my skin. A large heart with the initials ‘L.M.’ inside it covered a good chunk of the right side of my neck. I could kick my own ass for that one; Lance Murphy inspired it. Ugh. Even at the time I got the ink I had this little voice in my head telling me not to do it, but sadly, I didn’t listen. The combination of the beers I’d drank, along with Lance egging me on, convinced me to take the plunge. Of course I regretted it later, but I couldn’t afford laser surgery to remove it. One night after a couple of shots of whiskey, I made the mistake of trying to do something about it. I tried to remove it at home with salabrasion. After mixing salt and tap water, I had a friend use a rough wash cloth to try and scrub it off. It was so painful I thought I would pass out, and it only made things worse. Not only could I still see his initials, I ended up with a raised, pink scar.

Now, whenever I looked in a mirror, which was often with my job, I’d see the tat on my neck. It was a constant reminder of our failed relationship. I actually loved the heart shape. It was curvy and cool, with spikes sticking out along the sides. But who would want a scarred woman with another man’s initials plastered to her neck? I hated seeing the initials, and I often wore cover up to conceal it…the same product I’d sold Sherry to cover her birthmark, but I knew what was under the makeup.

“Shifters love tats and yours are cool,” Sherry explained firmly. “They tell your story. And when the right man comes along, another man’s initials won’t stop him from falling in love with you.”

Yes, it was true my tattoos all told a story; the story of my life so far. I just wish that I had some that represented happier times, instead of the dark, gloomy days I’d had. And I wished that my heart tat wasn’t raised and pink, thanks to my stupidity, and had the initials of my
real
true love—a man I hadn’t met yet. I only knew that his name was
not
Lance Murphy.

“Well, if the tats don’t bother them…then the hair might.” As I shook my head, strands of my purple hair fell against my face. “I’m not sure what color it really is anymore! Or maybe they wouldn’t like this…” I tapped the stud on my left nostril, “or this,” I stuck out my tongue, revealing the small threaded ball stud in the center. “If they do like this,” I elongated my tongue, “it’s usually for the wrong reasons.”

“What do you mean?” Sherry asked.

“Nothing…” I muttered.

“Ava…” Sherry whined, “what?”

“Ok,” I blurted, “they think because I have a tongue piercing, I like to give blow jobs. They aren’t interested in getting to know me; just in what I can do to get them off.”

Sherry shook her head. “That’s insane.”

“Well,” I shrugged, “it’s true.”

“Maybe that’s the case with some, but not all men are like that,” Sherry smiled. “You’re beautiful, and you’re the one that told me how everyone is beautiful in their own way. And here you are, picking yourself apart.”

Sherry was right. I did pick myself apart—often. My years behind the cosmetics counter watching women tear apart every real and imagined fault they had, made me super critical and picky about myself.

“Look, promise me you’ll at least try the ‘Luscious’ site; worst case scenario you don’t meet anyone and best case you meet the love of your life, but at least you’ll be able to say you tried! How does that saying go? It is better to have loved and…”

“…lost then never to have loved at all,” I chimed in.

Sherry was right. I wanted love, and right now my love life was a big fat zero. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but I might as well try!

“Oh shit! Do you hear that?” Sherry’s face creased with concern.

I grimaced. “It’s definitely a fire truck.”

“God, it sounds close. I hope it’s not another fire. And not at…”

“We’d better go find out.” I dropped the French fry I was getting ready to munch back onto my plate. I knew exactly what Sherry was thinking. Several of the buildings near Adrian’s hair cuttery ‘Sharp Cuts’ had been torched…was Adrian’s salon next?

“This whole thing makes me sick. What is wrong with people that they would do something like this?”

I could see Sherry panicking as she grabbed her sweater.

“Let’s go, Ava.”

As we headed towards the door, Marcie Shore, the assistant manager of Kane’s Bar and Grill, hurried towards us. I’d met Marcie when Judith Banks married Evan and Grant Myles, the owners of Crazy Cakes Bakery. I did Judith’s makeup for the event and had attended the wedding as a guest.

“You heard the sirens?” she asked quickly.

“Yes… do…do you know anything?” Sherry stumbled over her words, her face creased with worry.

“We’re trying to get it on the TV. One of the customers that just came in said there’s a fire at Sweet Pups.”

“Ugh, that sucks,” Sherry said sadly.

I could see visible relief wash over her body knowing the fire was not at Sharp Cuts.

“Marcie, please ask Tawny to hold our check. I’ll be back to pay for it later today,” Sherry said, “I want to make sure Adrian is ok.”

“Of course,” Marcie replied, “I’ll have her box the rest of the food and hold it for you.”

“What’s Sweet Pups?” I asked Sherry as we headed towards her car. “Is that a kennel for dogs?”

“Close…you know how shifters are about their dogs?”

“Right.” I’d only visited SV a few times, but during that time I’d seen quite a few shifters with dogs. The way they talked to them and dressed them, it was like they were their babies.

“It’s a doggy spa. They don’t board dogs, but they offer grooming services like dog baths, nail trimming, brushing, ear cleaning…”

“Hmmm,” I mused as we climbed into Sherry’s car, “you seem to know a lot about Sweet Pups. Did you get a dog and not tell me?”

Sherry frowned as she turned the key in the ignition, “Adrian and I talked about it. We came this close,” she took her right hand off the wheel, holding her thumb and forefinger almost next to each other.

“So, what stopped you?”

“We were going to, but then we got this sweet little surprise.” Sherry said, patting her stomach. “I did some research online and found out that the average lifetime cost of raising a puppy was over twenty-three thousand dollars! With a baby on the way, we have enough expenses right now. Maybe we’ll get one later.”

“Dogs are a pain in the ass anyway,” I muttered.

“Aww, they can be very sweet and loving!”

“Well, they’re not for me. Hey, that must be the place,” I pointed towards a large building with smoke billowing out from the top.

“Yeah, that’s Sweet Pups,” Sherry shook her head as she parked the car. “God, I hope no one was hurt and the animals are ok.”

We walked over towards the building. It was absolute chaos, with tons of people milling around. Firefighters were fighting the blaze and holding back people trying to get closer to the burning building. People were shouting and yelling. On the building next to it someone had spray painted ‘FU Dirk.’

“This is crazy,” I said as Sherry and I walked closer to the building.

Sherry shook her head, “Well, it’s got to be the same person who started the other fires in Shifter Villages. See,” she pointed at the spray painted letters, “they left their calling card. They always spray paint the words ‘FU Dirk’ near the fire. Dirk is the first name of our sheriff, Dirk Matthews.”

“What idiots.” As I looked around, I noticed a lot of people were yelling at the firemen who were there to help. “What do you think is going on, Sherry? Why are so many people screaming at the firemen?”

“I’m not sure, but I guess people are trying to find out if their animals are trapped inside the building.”

I eyed Sherry’s belly. “You stay here. We don’t want to risk you getting poked. Let me go see if I can get a better look.”

“Right, I’ll wait for you over there,” Sherry pointed to a nearby tree.

I moved past Sherry. I’m a large woman, but it seemed like everyone around me was a shifter. They were much bigger than me and blocked my view. I tried to get closer to see what was going on.

“You can’t go in there, ma’am,” a deep voice boomed at me.

I looked up to see a muscular man with dark hair and cocoa colored eyes wearing an old, faded red tee and well-worn denims. He was covered in dust and grime. My ex Lance never dressed to please either, but at least he was somewhat clean. This man looked like he’d been rolling around in the dirt. From his size it was obvious he was a shifter. I had to admit, he was hot and handsome, despite his dirty appearance. Though he was sexy in an earthy, sensual way, he looked tired. Lines of tension were etched in his forehead.

“I’m not trying to go in there, I was just looking.”

“Well,” he scratched his head, “it would sure help matters if you stepped back and moved out of the way, miss,” he waved his hand at the crowd. “Let’s clear the area, people,” he yelled at the throng.

“Snake, did you hear me?” he pointed to a gangly, red-haired man standing a short distance away from us. “How about your brother?” he waved his finger at another redhead next to him. “Did you hear me, Chip? Move along,
now
!”

It was easy to see how the men got their names. Snake had a long, slithering viper tattoo working his way up his sinewy arm, and Chip had his hand stuffed into a potato chip bag. From the surly look they both gave the bossy man, they were not pleased about being ordered around. Suddenly, Snake started towards Mr. Bossy Pants, his eyes flaring with anger. It seemed as if he were going to attack him.

Mr. Bossy Pants cried out, “I said move it, Snake!”

Snake hissed at him in a way that seemed he was getting ready to transition into his animal. But Chip pulled his hand out of his bag, giving him a hard shove. Snake shook his head, grunted, and they both walked away.

The man had an air of authority about him, but his bossiness was annoying. Who the hell was he to tell us what to do? Unlike Snake and Chip, I wasn’t about to take directions from him.

He looked at me, frowning, but I ignored him. If the police or firefighters wanted me to move they could tell me, not this dirty, domineering dude.

“And did
you
hear me?” he asked, giving me a stern stare.

He was persistent, but still…I’d move when I was good and ready. Someone accidently elbowed me and as I turned to look at them, I saw Sherry coughing by the tree. These fumes were not good for her to be inhaling. I shot Mr. Bossy Pants a dirty look and walked briskly over to Sherry.

“Come on, Sherry, let’s get out of here. This smoke is not the best for you or the baby.”

As Sherry and I walked to the car she seemed deep in thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I called Adrian and he’s fine, but he’s pretty pissed off.”

“Why so?”

“Well, he heard about the fire and stopped by to offer his help but they told him no—some new rule. Apparently everyone in the department has to have some pricey accident and insurance policy. He was not a happy camper.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, he likes to do his part for the community. Anyway, he’s over at Kane’s sulking and having a beer. I told him we’d meet him there.”

“Good, we can finish our sandwiches.” My stomach was growling. I hadn’t had time to eat more than a few bites of the turkey club and a couple of fries before we’d rushed out of the restaurant.

It was easy to spot Adrian’s massive frame at Kane’s. He was sitting at the bar, hunched over a beer and looking glum. After Sherry scooted up behind him and gave him a big hug, his whole attitude changed.

“Baby, it’s so good to see you,” Adrian’s face lit up as he gave Sherry a kiss.

“Silly man,” Sherry giggled, “you act like you haven’t seen me in weeks instead of just this morning.”

The two of them were so cute together. A flash of jealousy swept through me, but I brushed it aside. What was wrong with me? Of course I was happy to see my friend so happy and in love. After my heartache with Lance, I sometimes doubted true love existed. When I saw Sherry and Adrian together it made me realize what was possible. I only hoped it was possible for me.

Adrian grabbed his beer and we moved to a comfortable booth facing the door. Tawny, our waitress, had the kitchen warm up the sandwiches and fries we hadn’t finished earlier. We chowed down on them, along with some food Adrian ordered. The three of us had a great time, telling stupid stories and cracking jokes. Before I knew it, a couple of hours had passed and it was almost 5 o’clock.

“It’s starting to get late, Ava. Why don’t you stay with us for the night and drive back to Pennsylvania tomorrow?”

I hesitated. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be disturbing you two lovebirds?”

“No, not at all,” Adrian said, “We’d love to have you.”

“Alright, but only if you’re sure it’s no trouble.” I was tired and the idea of leaving tomorrow when I felt fresh was appealing. Plus, my car had been acting up. Even though I was a member of an auto club that offered emergency roadside assistance, if I was going to have any issues and be stuck on the side of the road I would rather have them during the day.

“In that case,” I grinned, “I think I can have another beer.”

“Make that two,” Adrian motioned to the waitress.

“Water for me, please,” Sherry said.

I let out a deep sigh. It was fun being with these two, and now that I didn’t have to worry about driving home I could relax. But just as I nestled back into the chair, the door to Kane’s opened.

“Well, look who it is,” I jeered. “It’s Mr. Bossy Pants!”