Those Red High Heels

• Title Page
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One
  
• Epilogue
  

Those Red

High Heels

______

Katherine May

Those Red High Heels Copyright © 2015 by Katherine May

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13:
978-1511496773

ISBN-10:
1511496770

Book cover design by:
GX – graphicz-x-designs

Edited by: Hot Tree Editing

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my two favorite girlfriends. Without you and our silly outings, I wouldn't be the author I am today.

To my husband, children, and family who encourage me daily, and tell me everything I do is amazing. I love you.

To all the authors and wonderful people who have taught me new ways in the writing world, I truly appreciate you.

Finally, to every woman who has spent an abnormal amount of money on a really cute pair of shoes, it's okay. Sometimes that's exactly what we need.

Chapter One

Have you ever had a morning where you wake up and you know it’s going to be a bad day? Either you find out your coffeemaker went haywire in the middle of the night, the shower ran out of hot water, or you tore your favorite pair of tummy tucking panty hose two minutes before walking out the door? Well, for me it was something much worse.

The smell of poop jolted me out of a most magnificent dream. It wasn’t just any poop smell, but black lab, I-ate-something-inhumanly-gross, exploding diarrhea all over your house, smell. As I pinched my nose shut with my fingers and stepped out into what looked like a massacre of shit, the lovely culprit who redesigned my living room was groaning on her bed with her paw literally over her face.

“Sadie Lou, what in the world?” I moaned and walked over to give her a small pat on the head. She rolled over and let out a deadly dog fart that had me retreating into my small open kitchen. As my eyes roamed around my living room, I took in how bad of shape it was in. Apparently, Sadie didn’t stay in one spot when her exploding poo decided to make its debut, but she ran and twirled all over the living room trying to escape her attacker. I needed back-up, and I was willing to pay.

I looked at the clock and calculated I had exactly forty-five minutes to get a cleaning service called, and Sadie booked at the local vet to make sure she was okay. As I gagged and ran around trying to get ready for work, Sadie continued to moan on her bed and shoot me an “I’m so sorry” dog look.

One hour later, I was walking into work with a quote for $500 and a dog in the kennel being examined. Great. I said hello to our receptionist, who never smiled and gave me an expression as if she ate a yellow sour Warhead, and headed down to my office. I had been working as an entry-level publicist for a local publishing company. I loved the world of publication, just not that particular company. My paycheck was the only reason I hadn’t turned in my resignation.

I had plopped down onto my chair and turned my computer on, getting ready to check my messages, when my phone buzzed inside my purse. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer it was an email from a company I had put my resume in with. If I got this new job, everything in my life would change. It would be a huge move, but I was ready. I could see myself living in New York City and living the life I had always dreamed of. This day seriously had to get better. As I peeked down at my screen, I let out a small breath when I saw it was my friend, Jess. I opened her text and had to reread it five times to be sure I was really seeing what my eyes were telling me.

Jess: ‘Hey girl! I know it’s early and this is the last thing you want to see, but I thought you should know. The break apparently isn’t working.’

I clicked the picture that was attached to her message, and my phone ended up getting the brunt of my frustration when I threw it across my office. My boyfriend, or my once-boyfriend, Greg, was getting a little too friendly with a redheaded bimbo at a local favorite hangout of ours. It was a freaking Wednesday night and he was fondling some underage tramp with fire red hair? Yeah, I would say our break wasn’t working out as well as I had hoped it would. I wanted him to miss me so much that I would end up with a diamond ring on my finger and the love of my life pining over me for eternity. Was that too much to ask?

You see, Greg started out as the perfect boyfriend. He was sweet, gentle, and kind, with a little wild streak that always kept me guessing. He was fun, and a very successful businessman. After a few years and no marriage proposal, I decided to have ‘the talk’ with him and asked him if he was truly happy with me. He had been working late almost every night, and I hardly ever saw him. He had been quite the playboy before we started dating, but I was determined to change him. I guess that was my first mistake.

When he looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I love you, Ems; I’m just not ready to put down roots. I feel like I need some time to think.” I was crushed. I was sure he was going to tell me he was having a moment, but wouldn’t let a girl like me slip away. Wrong.

The next day I packed up and moved into a small one bedroom apartment with a month-to-month lease. Greg and I still talked almost every day, and I really thought things were looking up. Well, I guess they were. It just didn’t involve me. Damn men. I was done. Who needed a man anyway? I mean look at all these single Hollywood actors. I could do this.

I was about to get up and retrieve my phone when my door flew open and my boss, David the dick, walked into my office. David was a very decent looking man, but was one of the biggest douche bags I had ever met in real life. Everyone felt the same way, except no one was brave enough to set him in his place. He never was in a serious relationship, and even made sure to have some new young arm candy every week to keep up his facade of a ladies’ man. What really made me angry was how he always made everyone feel like they were the size of a thumb tack. He talked horribly rude to everyone in our office, and it was about time someone stood up to him.

“Emma, do you have a minute?” he asked sternly and motioned for me to follow him.

I jumped out of my chair, retrieved my phone, and hightailed it out of my office to follow him. David was a prick, but he usually let me do my own thing. He hardly ever personally came down to my office, so I was hoping this was a good sign. I should have known better, especially with the smell of Sadie’s poop lingering in my nostrils.

I followed David down the hall, past our snotty receptionist, who shot me a nasty smirk, and went straight into David’s office. He motioned for me to sit down in a chair across from his desk, and walked over to lean against a mahogany side table.

David stood there and stared at me for a few very uncomfortable seconds before he finally said, “Emma, I have tried to be patient with you, and I know you turn out excellent work, but being late is unacceptable.”

What? I was seriously fifteen minutes late and I had a damn good excuse. “I’m sorry, I - ”

He put his hand up to stop me and cleared his throat. “I know; there usually is a good reason.”

“What are you talking about? I am hardly ever late. I’m usually fif - ” Again, he put up his hand, stopping me mid-sentence. I was five-seconds away from standing up and slapping the shit out of his perfectly shaven face.

“Emma, please don’t make this any harder on me than it already is. I know you’ve heard some rumors that we aren’t doing very well these days, and we’re having to downsize.” I took a deep breath. Now I knew why I was brought in here. I looked back up at my soon to be ex-boss and crossed my arms across my chest. I called bullshit about this being hard. I knew he loved firing people. David coughed into his hand, and then continued. “Anyway, I am sorry to do this, but because you are the newest member of our team, I am going to have to let you go. We don’t need your services anymore.”

This wasn’t just a bad day; it was a terrible, horrible, shitty, no good, very bad day. I needed to find that Alexander kid and give him a high-five. I worked my ass off for this company. I put in extra hours, and turned out good numbers. I was on my way to a major raise, and now I was being let go. I looked over at my boss and saw him flash the quickest smile, and I saw red. I stood up and squared my shoulders to him. “You know what, David, you’re an ass, and it’s okay, because everyone knows. The only person that doesn’t know, is you.”

As I turned and headed for the exit, I peeked back over my shoulder and mentally took a snapshot of David with a dumbfounded look plastered across his face. Take that and shove it, David.

Twenty minutes later and one medium-box filled with crap, I was out the door and never looked back. In a way I was kind of relieved this had happened. The panic of not having a job hadn’t settled in yet, so I was living on the high of telling David off. I wished I could have recorded it and sent it to some of my coworkers. They would have paid a pretty penny to see that. I was going to miss most of the people I worked with, but I knew I’d still see them around the city here and there.

When I was almost to my car, I chucked my box of stuff into the dumpster that was to the left of my car in the parking garage. I don’t know why I’d bothered packing most of it up, but I decided when I did start a new job, I didn’t want any of my old work stuff tainting my new life. I looked down into the trash that held memories of the past two years, and a picture of Greg and me was lying on top. I reached in and snatched the frame, removed the picture, and threw the glass back into the trash. I ripped the photo in half, laughing when I crumpled up Greg’s face and threw it back in the garbage, where it belonged. This was a really great picture of me, and I was keeping it. I mean, how many amazing hair days do you have? I slipped the picture into my purse and gave it a little pat.