Chapter 13
“You got more flowers,” Gladys greeted Celia when she returned from lunch on the Thursday after her interview with Natasha.
Celia groaned and walked into her office, closing the door behind her. She looked at the large arrangement on her desk. This time it was Gerber daisies. It was another gift from Bart, who had sent her something nearly every day since the gala. After reading the note, Celia picked up the large pink vase and walked back out of her office.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Celia asked her assistant. “My office isn’t a greenhouse!”
“I’ll keep them out here if you want,” Gladys replied. “I love daisies.”
“Thank you,” Celia said, placing them on the corner of the desk. “I’m going to have to put a stop to this.”
“He is very persistent, isn’t he?”
“That’s an understatement. I feel like I’m in junior high school. What grown man does this?”
“Not my ex-husband, that’s for sure,” Gladys laughed. “But you’re right. It is excessive.”
“I never should have gone to that gala. Just dinner, my ass,” Celia grumbled. “He just put himself in the definite no category.”
“What?” Gladys asked.
“Never mind. I better go ahead and deal with this.”
Once she was back in her office, Celia took out her phone. There were several messages from Bart, a couple she had answered but most she had ignored. He called on Wednesday night and left a message. Celia was hoping he would give up, but that wasn’t going to happen. Celia dialed his number and braced herself.
“Hey Babe—Celia,” Bart answered on the first ring. “You’ve had a busy week! How are you?”
“I’m good,” Celia answered. “Thank you for the flowers. You didn’t have to.”
“You deserve to be spoiled,” Bart said. “You looked so beautiful Saturday night. The only thing I could think of to compete with that was endless flowers.”
“It’s thoughtful, Bart, but it’s too much. I really can’t accept any more. I thought we agreed that Saturday night was just dinner.”
“We had such a good time,” Bart continued as if he hadn’t heard. “We clicked all night. And the way you danced with me, I could tell the spark was still there.”
“No Bart, it’s not,” Celia said firmly. “Look, I’m glad we cleared the air. I’m glad we had an enjoyable evening. But this isn’t going anywhere. It’s done.”
There was silence on the other end. “Celia, you’re my friend...”
“I thought we could be,” she said. “But friends don’t send flowers every other day and send endless text messages. We can’t be friends. I’m sorry. You need to stop calling me.”
“Is it the rent-a-cop?” Bart’s voice was quiet, but Celia could hear the anger.
“What are you talking about?”
“The tall security guy you had that intimate little conversation with on our date.”
“Intimate conversation? Do you mean Keith? We just said hello. You were right there.”
“How did you even meet him? Traffic court?” Bart scoffed.
“No, I... It’s none of your business. You need to back off.”
“Did you screw him like you did that other guy?”
Celia stood up and willed herself to remain calm. “Listen. This is done. You will not contact me again. You will not come near me. I am making this plain. Stay away.”
“You don’t get to control me, slut.”
“Goodbye, Bart,” Celia swiped to end the call. It felt surprisingly unsatisfying. Sometimes Celia missed the catharsis of slamming down a receiver. “What a psycho,” Celia muttered. She gathered the flowers in her office and walked past Gladys. At the end of the hall, Celia dumped them into a large garbage can.
“Everything okay?” Gladys asked when she returned.
“Sudden allergies,” Celia said. She sat down and blocked Bart’s number. Hopefully, this would be the end of it.
She spent the afternoon transcribing her interviews with Natasha, trying to put Bart out of her mind. As she listened to the actress’s story about Paul again, she felt sympathy. Bart was just a determined suitor, not a dime store reporter, and Celia would love it if he ran off the road. In fact, if she saw him right now, she might run over him herself. While it was on her mind, she contacted the phone company and arranged to have her landline disconnected. She should have done it ages ago.
Gladys managed to intercept everyone who wanted to see Celia throughout the afternoon; it was one of the things Celia loved about her. Even John wasn’t permitted an audience. By the time 6:00 arrived, she was ready to finish things up and soak in a hot bath at home. After she unplugged her phone.
Chapter 14
Celia read her notes as she handed the corrections officer her purse, sunglasses, and briefcase. After spreading her arms so that she could be checked for weapons, she nodded to the clerk behind the glass and followed Keith through the heavy doors and down the hallway. Checking the batteries on her recorder, Celia listened absently to Keith’s small talk, commenting during the proper pauses. The inmates either ignored her, slept, or made half-hearted attempts at getting her attention. She had been there so often by now that no one gave her much notice anymore.
Natasha was brushing her hair when Celia walked into the interview room. She nodded to Celia but didn’t stop, taking her hair layer by layer because the brush was too soft to go through her thick tresses. Natasha had complained about it numerous times, but a real brush was “too dangerous,” she always said with a roll of her eyes. Celia set up the recorder and opened her thick folder, and then she just read her notes, giving Natasha time to finish brushing. They had an hour. Sometimes Natasha talked the whole time; sometimes she did other things until she felt like talking, and Celia had learned not to be impatient.
“So,” Natasha said, taking the seat across from Celia. “How’s Bart?”
Celia chuckled. She wasn’t sure when her social life had become part of their conversations, but Natasha was very interested in the men
