Personal Shopper (3 page)

"Velvet Nights?"
asked Laura. "What is that?"

"Hold on, let me
check the charges," said the representative. "OK, from the charges it appears
to be a lingerie shop." She laughed. "Someone's going to have a very sexy
Christmas morning."

Laura felt her
jaw clench. "Bastard," she thought. "He bought that little bitch panties with
our last resort card."

"Well, thank you
for the information," she said, on the verge of tears.

"Glad I could
help you," said the representative. "But you should know a payment is now past
due. Would you like make arrangements now?"

"No," said
Laura, tears slipping from her eyes. "I'm afraid I'll have to get back to you
on that."

***

The closest Max
Greenway had come to a significant relationship was Prissy Able, who was
neither prissy nor particularly able. A professional horse riding instructor,
Prissy was respected in local equine circles. But she was dysfunctional outside
the riding ring.

She spent their
first date trying to balance her checkbook, and her ditzy helplessness appealed
to Max's sense of protectiveness. He spent the early months of their
relationship helping her through the multiple
crisis
that ranged from engine trouble from dirty oil to numerous scheduling conflicts
because she couldn't keep track of time.

So Max gave her
an ultimatum: Submit to spankings as a way to modify her behavior, or see the
relationship end.

To his delight,
Prissy had agreed, and her first spanking came the night after they went out to
eat at the restaurant where they were supposed to have reservations. Prissy had
forgotten, and rather than go somewhere else, Max had driven her home over her
objections.

He hadn't wasted
time carrying out her first punishment, save for a brief moment of admiring
Prissy's
well-muscled flanks once she was over his knee.

Max had spanked
many women for play, including Prissy. But this was the first time he'd spanked
for punishment. She'd reacted vigorously, and even though he was much larger
he'd had a hard time restraining the bucking blonde while administering her
punishment.

He's started out
spanking her over her panties, but when she began cursing him through her tears
he pulled them down and worked her over on her bare skin as she wailed and beat
the floor at his feet with her fists.

Max used his
instincts to decided how much was enough and finally stopped when Prissy was
limp and sobbing, her bottom a cherry red.

She'd pouted
prettily afterwards when he'd made her stand in the corner and gladly accepted
his advances later, her way of showing him she wasn't holding a grudge. But
while it was clear she didn't enjoy the punishment spanking, they didn't really
have the desired effect, either. Prissy would improve for a while and then backslide.
And Max, who didn't want to be a brute, wasn't comfortable with increasing the
severity of the punishment beyond the last one she'd received - a strapping
that left moderate bruising.

He'd talked to
Prissy about this, telling her that punishment spankings weren't for his own
gratification and that she needed to take more initiative. It was only after a
month of promises that she came clean with him: the punishment spankings were
causing her resentment, and while she appreciated his attempts to help her she
wasn't sure if she wanted to be in a relationship with a man who felt he had to
be so in charge.

They'd parted as
friends, and while Max missed the good times - and sex -they had
shared,
the experience helped him refine exactly what he was
looking for. He wanted a woman who would accept his guidance, but not a
hopeless case who resented being guided.

So aside from
some casual dating, Max had not had a girlfriend since Prissy. He'd thrown
himself into his work instead, always keeping his options open.
For if Max Greenway was anything, he was an optimist.
And he
knew good things would come to those who waited.

***

Laura woke up
the next morning with a terrible headache. She'd hardly slept the night before,
her head spinning with fear and worry.

Clay had been
vicious to her on the phone, telling her he didn't have to have her permission
to use a credit card with his name on it and accusing her of prying. When she
reminded him that she wouldn't have even found out about it if she'd not used
the card in desperation after to pay for Evan's school, Clay's girlfriend - who
had been listening on the line - told Laura that Clay wouldn't be paying for
any private school.

"You're not
going to be putting on airs at our expense," she said. "Clay said you could
hardly afford that school when you were together, but you insisted. Don't think
you're going to get it now."

"That's fine,"
Laura had replied coldly. "I'm sick of this. I've tried everything I could
think of to keep from collecting child support, but you leave me with no other
choice."

"Oh
yeah?"
Clay had screamed into the phone. "Just try it and you'll be sorry, bitch!"

Laura had hung
up then, shaking from hurt and anger. She knew men some men cheated on or left
their wives and had long ago reconciled
herself
to the
fact that her husband was one of those men. But she still couldn't get her mind
around the notion that any man could so easily forsake his child.

When Clay had
originally left, claiming he "needed his space to work a few things out," he'd
been good about still picking Evan up from school or taking him on the weekends
for an overnight. Even though it killed Laura to have her son away from her,
she allowed it, believing that even if she and Clay couldn't work things out,
Evan still deserved a father.

But when Clay
started dating, he found more excuses not to spend time with Evan. He was
either sick or his car had broken down or he had to work. He'd also stopped
providing any support, making it difficult for Laura not to consider suing for
child support, something she was afraid to do since Clay had hinted that fight
her for Evan if he did. Now he'd outright said it and the thought filled her
with terror.

Before
yesterday, she'd not thought he'd have much of a case. But now, as she stood
watching her son's bus disappear around the corner, she wasn't so sure. She had
used $1,000 that wasn't hers to pay her son's tuition, and had no way to pay it
back.

She recalled Max
Greenway's conversation to his subordinate the day before. He was obviously a
strict man who didn't believe in people letting down their customers. In fact,
he'd been on the verge of firing a long-time employee for what had sounded like
a relatively minor infraction. What would he do to her? At the very least he'd
sue her. At the worst he'd call the police. Either way, her reputation as a
personal shopper was toast.

Yet, she knew
she had no other choice but to tell him. If Clay had taught her anything, it
was that lying only compounded a problem. As much as it had hurt her to find
out her husband had been with other women, what hurt even more was finding out
later that he'd lied all those times he'd claimed to be working late or out
with a male friend.

Laura decided
that the least she could do was purchase as many things on Max Greenway's gift
list as she could before telling him what had happened. She'd be completely
honest about everything. She wouldn't charge him for her services, or her gas.
If she was lucky, he'd let her pay him back the difference between her fee and
what she'd taken without prosecuting her.

She threw
herself into her shopping with single-minded determination, vowing to please
him with her gifts as much as she'd disappoint him with her revelation. His
mother loved to read, he'd said, and she'd loved birds. Laura knew just what to
do. She headed down Walton Street to Shea Bros. Used and Rare Books. Back when
she'd had a little money, before the breakup, it was where Laura - also an avid
reader and book collector - would sometimes go to treat herself.

Stooped little
Ben Shea had helped her find the perfect gift for Mrs. Greenway, a book by John
James Audubon signed by pre-eminent bird experts Roger Tory and Virginia
Peterson. She paid the $400 price in cash and carefully tucked the book and the
receipt in her bag.

Next on the list
was Jean, and Laura was touched that Max Greenway obviously valued the women in
his life. It made her feel even worse for having spent his money on her son's
tuition.

The Greenways
had an account at Simple Pleasures, a store featuring items for bath and body.
Laura, remembering that Mr. Greenway's receptionist was about to
have surgery, purchased a cashmere throw, sheepskin lined bedroom slippers
before heading down to
Fineman's
Catering, where she
purchased gift certificates for six catered meals.

As the afternoon
wore on, the crowds became a problem. But she was determined to finish. Laura
rang her neighbor, Tammy, who sometimes babysat for her, and asked her if she
would mind picking Evan up from school and keeping him for a few hours. Tammy,
who was between jobs as a nanny, said she'd be delighted.

Laura continued
to shop, and soon her Jeep Cherokee began filling up with gifts. There was an
underwater camera for one of Max's younger brothers, who'd recently taken up
scuba diving. There was an antique map of Scotland and a tiny but expensive bit
of illuminated manuscript for another brother and
a
electronic grain mill and pasta machine for a sister with a passion for gourmet
cooking.

Business
associates were easier; Laura had gotten their wine, cheese and cigar
preferences and matched them with gifts of to fit their tastes.

It was 4:00 when
she pulled up in front of Mr. Greenway's building. She was about to start
pulling things out the back when he walked out the door.

"Laura," he
said. "You must be psychic. I was just about to phone you to check in."

She started at
the sound of his voice.

"You're a jumpy
little thing today. Too many rude salespeople can fray one's nerves, I
suppose."

She managed a
smile. "Yes," she said. "I was just coming to tell you that
..
well...
I'm finished."

He looked
puzzled. "Finished? Laura, I thought it was going to take days and that we were
going to keep up with each other....remember?"

She looked
around and blinked hard, determined to keep the tears out of her eyes. "I know,
Mr. Greenway, but something's come up so I reduced it to one day. I'm sure
you'll be pleased with the gifts.
If you want to take them in
and look them over."

"Oh, not here,"
he said. "There's no point in hauling them up to the office and then hauling
them back down. Would you mind if we just took them to my house?"

Laura looked at
him for a moment. All she wanted to do was get this over with. No, she didn't
want to go to his house. But she knew she couldn't refuse.

"Sure," she
said. "I can follow you. Is it far?"

"I live out at
The Gables," he said.

She felt herself
cringe, as if the very mention of the community were some sort of omen.

"I know where
that is," she said. "I used to have
..
I mean, I have
clients out there."

He looked at her
again. "Are you sure everything's OK?"

"Yes,
no."
She fidgeted nervously. He was so tall and intimidating, standing there in his
topcoat and scarf. "I'll explain when we get to your house."

"Fine, keep me
in suspense," he said, his voice light, but it did nothing to brighten Laura's
mood.

"You can follow
me," he said, climbing into a Lexus parked on the curb in front of her
well-used Cherokee.

As she drove,
Laura made a quick call to tell Tammy she was going to be even later than
expected. Evan, Tammy said, was fine. Tammy had gotten a Nintendo Game Cube as
an early present from her aunt, and she and Laura's son were playing Mario
Sunshine. Evan had two messages for his mother. The first was, "I love you."
The second was, "Don't rush home."

Laura noticed as
she snapped her phone shut that the year's first snowfall had begun. Just a
dusting was forecasted, but she knew in the morning Evan would scrape together
what he could and thrill himself with the first tiny snowball of the season.

As she sped
along after Max Greenway's car, she noticed the Christmas lights were beginning
to come on in the windows of the houses she passed. It was supposed to be the
most wonderful time of the year, and she felt miserable. Now she was at the
mercy of Max Greenway, who would determine how much worse things would get.

Chapter
Three

Max Greenway's
house was further back in The Gables than the
Tighlman's
was, taking up two huge lots on Egret Road. It was a large, two-story Dutch
colonial covered in old brick, with slate shingles. A pea-gravel circular drive
cut through the well-manicured lawn, upon which sat a sign reading, "Protected
by Greenway Security Systems."