Georgia stood in the doorway as she watched Trey face the window, while on the phone.
"Be sure to call me back," she heard Trey tell the person that he was on the phone with. "I'm Trey Clemens, president."
"Oh, shut up, Trey!" Georgia shouted, as she walked into the office and shut the door behind her.
"Let me call you back instead," Trey muttered into the phone, as she watched him put the phone back down on the receiver. "You know, I should have known it was you."
"And why is that, Trey?" Georgia eagerly wanted to know, folding her arms.
"Telling me to 'shut up' seems to be the phrase that you overuse with me," Trey pointed out.
"Well, gee, I wonder why," Georgia nodded her head at him, and she pushed her hair back.
"If Georgia Caldwell were a word in the dictionary, I'm sure that the caption right next to your picture would read: 'Oh, shut up, Trey!'" Trey squawked.
"And if you were in the dictionary, your caption would read: 'Always gives people, particularly Georgia Caldwell, a reason to say, 'Oh, shut up, Trey!'" Georgia retorted.
"Cute, Georgia," Trey told her with a smirk. "Don't you want to know who I was on the phone with?"
"You'd better not say Ms. Hammond or you won't live long enough to get your own caption!" Georgia threatened.
"Darryl Lake," Trey slowly replied.
The name seemed to sink into Georgia's body very slowly, as she tried to control her excitement and shock. "Darryl Lake?" she mouthed. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "What did he say?"
"We have him," Trey told her in a calm tone.
Georgia felt her heart rate increase, and for a brief moment she wanted to cover his ugly face in kisses. "How did you do it?!" she demanded to know. "He didn't even come in for the interview!"
"Oh, I have a way with words," Trey explained. "It was important to you, and it's important to me, too."
Georgia beamed, as she couldn't believe this was actually happening. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, as she leapt over the desk into his arms.
Trey smelt her perfume and shampoo, as she embraced him in complete excitement. "No… thank you."
Georgia let go and stood back. "I can't believe I just did that," she muttered.
"I haven't been embraced like that in ages," Trey noted.
"Well, it won't happen again!" Georgia warned him, as she heard the door open and saw two police officers standing there.
"Georgia Caldwell?" one of the officers asked.
"Yes, that's me," Georgia replied, walking over to the officers. "What did you find?" she asked him, but then realized that they weren't alone. "Let's go to my office… or what's left with it," she told the officers, and then turned her attention back to Trey. "Behave."
"I'll try," Trey skeptically replied. "I always do."
Georgia gave him an optimistic look and then shut the door, and walked with the two police officers back to her office.
"So, did the person who did this leave any clues amid this disaster area?" Georgia wanted to know.
"We checked for fingerprints and there weren't any," one of the officers replied.
"How couldn't there be?" Georgia wanted to know, feeling impatient. "I mean, someone's hands had to do this, and leave a mark!"
"It's most likely that this person was wearing gloves as he did this," one of the officers told her.
"Gloves?" Georgia questioned, uncomfortably.
"Or perhaps just a single glove," one of the officers presumed.
"The only person that I know who wears a single glove is Michael Jackson, and I highly doubt that he's the one to destroy my office," Georgia told them. "No, the people that I associate with don't wear gloves."
"We'll find out who did this one way or another," one of the officers told her. "You're getting married soon, aren't you?"
"News travels fast, doesn't it?" Georgia replied, surprised by his knowledge.
"Officer Burns told us," one of the officers replied. "If you want us to be there to guard the location of your wedding, we will do that."
"I had told Officer Burns that I would let him know, as of right now I suppose it would be in my best interest to have some sort of guard there, but please… try to stay out of the camera's view, okay?" Georgia asked them. "I'd rather not be reminded of this situation every time I look at those unforgettable pictures or video."
"We'll do our best, Ms. Caldwell," one of the officers responded. "We'll keep on this."
"Can I clean this mess up now?" Georgia eagerly wanted to know, hoping that they'd agree.
"Go ahead," one of the officers encouraged. "Whoever did this didn't leave any clues for us… might as well clean it up."
"Thank you, and thank you for your help," Georgia told them. "I know the search has been futile so far but I'm sure the status will change soon."
"Have a good day," one of the officers wished her.
Georgia slightly smiled at them, as she watched them leave. She turned around and knelt down to start picking up the pieces of her disheveled office.
"Need any help with that?" she heard Rachel's voice sound from behind her.
"Oh, Rachel," Georgia acknowledged, slightly startled, as she stood up and turned around. "Would you mind?"
"Not at all," Rachel answered, as she walked in, seeming to observe the disorder. "What a mess. Look at the shattered glass over there."
"I know," Georgia sighed.
"Don't attempt to pick that glass up, you might get cut," Rachel advised her. "Let me get the broom and dustpan. And maybe, I should get my pair of gloves while I'm at it, so I don't get cut, either."
"That would be smart," Georgia replied. "Thanks for helping me out."
"No problem," Rachel told her, sounding genuine. "You're getting married next week. You don't need any cuts or gashes on your finger while James slips that ring on."
"News really does travel fast!" Georgia exclaimed, surprised that yet another person had found about it, as Rachel left to get her belongings.
Frankie sat back in the chair that stood in front of Mr. Markson's desk, with a smile, as she watched him look over the story that she had just verbally told him about Savannah not being Grant's biological father.
"This story is absolute genius!" Mr. Markson raved, his eyes still seeming to be fixed over his notes.
"Well, it's only the truth," Frankie affirmed. "Well… most of it. You did say I could stretch the truth, Mr. Markson. Didn't you?"
"My slogan is: 'Scandal sells,'" Mr. Markson reminded her. "I wish we could print this in tomorrow's edition."
"No!" Frankie immediately exclaimed, standing up. "That has to be printed in next Saturday's edition!"
"What's so damned important about next Saturday?!" Mr. Markson demanded to know.
"It's just important… to me," Frankie softly replied, looking down at Mr. Markson with pleading eyes.
"Oh, well, all right," Mr. Markson grumbled, seeming to give in to her request. "I've waited almost twenty years for a story like this... I suppose I could wait another week. Let me tell you something, Wanda, it's going to be mighty hard to see this resting on my dresser at home for another week, knowing that I could have had this print before anyone else!"
"I assure you that no one else has this exclusive story," Frankie assured him. "Now, what do I get out of this? ...Just a little handshake and a fond farewell, or do I get a little bonus for giving you such an article?"
"I'm anticipating next Saturday's edition to be one of the most top-selling days of this paper in it's history," Mr. Markson noted. "I'll tell you what: let's see how many copies it sells, and then we'll work out your bonus from there."
Frankie extended her hand, and tilted her head with a smile. "It's a deal," she agreed, shaking his hand, before turning to walk away.
"I just want you to know that I'll be mighty tempted to print this before then!" Mr. Markson shouted.
"Lock it away in a safe or something!" Frankie shouted back, as she left the office.
Later that evening, Georgia put the last dish that she had just dried in the cabinet, and swung the towel in the drawer, before walking into the living room and sitting down next to James on the couch.
"Thanks for helping me with the dishes tonight," Georgia gracefully told him.
"It's like a system," James pointed out. "I wash. You dry. We can even change off where you wash, and I dry."
"How about you wash AND dry?" Georgia asked, eagerly hoping that he'd agree. "I'd like that system!"
"Georgia," James simply said, in a warning tone.
Georgia pouted with a slight smile. "All right," she agreed. "I think it'll work out the way you pointed out."
"We'll see how long it lasts," James chuckled. "I still can't believe that there was no evidence found at all in your office."
"I saw the shocked look on your face when I told you," Georgia noted, remembering what happened. "I thought you were going to spit out your mashed potatoes."
"I nearly did," James informed her. "Did the officers say anything else?"
"Not really," Georgia replied. "Just that they'll stand guard at our wedding."
"I still say it's better than looking over our shoulders every five minutes," James mentioned. "I think it's great that the invitations are all done."
"Yes, they are!" Georgia exclaimed. "I hope we didn't miss anybody," she hoped, as the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," James volunteered.
Vivian stood outside the penthouse, as she waited for someone to answer the door. After a few seconds, James appeared.
"Hello!" Vivian cheerily greeted.
"Vivian, didn't almost get apprehended this time?" she heard Georgia's voice ask, as she saw her walk up.
Vivian laughed. "Of course not, darling," she replied, matter-of-factly. "Those two guards know my name, and that'll never happen again."
"You mean, they know your number!" James corrected her.
Vivian smiled as she looked at James and adjusted his shirt button. "Don't you look handsome?" she observed, turning back to Georgia. "And you look lovely, too, Georgia. Not much longer until that big day in my backyard next Saturday."
"Yes, it's rapidly approaching," Georgia noted.
"Is there anything that you'd like to me to do?" Vivian offered. "I mean, I know you must have a lot on your plates. I am willing to help," she added. 'Now that I secured my seat at the wedding,' she mumbled in her head.
"As a matter of fact, there is," Georgia replied, as Vivian watched her run off into the other room.
"James, your fiancée seems very on the ball," Vivian observed. "I like that."
"She'll keep me on my toes," James informed her.
"Here you are," Vivian heard Georgia's voice reenter the room, holding some envelopes.
"And what do you want me to do with those?" Vivian wanted to know.
"Could you mail these for me tomorrow?" Georgia wanted to know, as Vivian took the envelopes from Georgia.
"Certainly," Vivian replied. "Oh, these are the invitations," she noticed, as she began to thumb through the envelopes, seeing names such as: Grant, Marietta, Bob, Lalie, Kevin, Savannah, Ryan, Frankie, Phil, Trey, among others. She coughed, as she didn't see her name within the pile. "Georgia, dear, you seem to have forgotten one very important invitation."
"No, I don't believe I did," Georgia replied, as Vivian saw James and Georgia exchange puzzled glances. "Who did I miss, Vivian?"
Vivian forced a laugh. "Well, me, darling."
"Mom," James softly spoke. "You didn't think that just because the wedding is in your backyard, that you're automatically invited. Did you?"
Vivian felt her stomach do a complete turn, as she tried to comprehend James' question. "I'm sorry, what?" she tugged at her ear, hoping that she had heard him wrong, as her blood pressure rose.
Chapter 23
Non-Nsync Fiction
I'll Never Stop {Fiction}
Email Tracia