“Wow, that’s really forgiving of you. Thank you!”
Then a thought occurred to Sam. It would be nice if she had at least one woman in the office on her side. “I have one request in exchange for this vase that’s worth more than our salaries combined.”
“A new hairstyle? I can definitely help you with that.”
“No, my hair’s fine.” Sam absentmindedly fluffed her short ‘do that was growing out and did actually need a trim. “If I ever need a favor from you in the future, will you help me out? Friend to friend?”
Friend to friend was a stretch for all the gossip Betty passed around at Sam’s expense, but Sam was giving her a priceless vase, so the least Betty could offer was short-term friendship.
“You have a deal.”
Betty’s bronzed cheeks blushed. Most likely with embarrassment that she had judged Sam so harshly. For what, Betty couldn’t even remember. No one liked Mouthy Mel—a nickname acquired from years of foul-mouthed venom he spat at any woman who rejected him. While Malicious Mel was more fitting, no one could manage to whisper it without drawing Mel’s attention as he thought he overheard them calling him Luscious Mel, and considered it an invitation to flirt. It was a true wonder that any woman in the office would side with him.
“I never would have taken you for the kind of girl to lure a man like Thomas Cook, but some people surprise you,” Mr. Getty muttered under his breath.
The phone rang, interrupting the gathering. “Go for Getty,” Mr. Getty answered, then shooed Sam and Betty off.
Sam left his office carrying the roses into the bullpen and found Mel circling her desk like a vulture. He paused just long enough to gawk at the bouquet.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” he said.
Word had spread fast through Mr. Getty’s open office door that Sam broke a huge story. “Thanks. But according to Mr. Getty, mum’s the word.”
“Every person in this office already knows, Samantha.”
“About the ledger?” Sam would be sure to tell Mr. Getty that she was not the one who mentioned it. She knew how to keep her lips sealed, not that she had any friends to tell anyway.
“No, I’m talking about you sleeping with Mr. Getty. It finally paid off, huh?”
“Why would you think that?” Just imagining Mr. Getty naked and caressing her made her stomach churn.
“You got the column. My column. And I overheard something about a raise? How else could you have stolen it from me if you weren’t blackmailing the boss?”
That would explain the looks Sam got from all the women in the bullpen. Sam should have known Mel wouldn’t come bearing congratulations without cruelty. He could have given Miss Posey a run for her money in the passive-aggressive Olympics. But the fact was, Mel was the self-absorbed type who would never come to terms with the real reason his column Tell Mel needed to be euthanized.
Tell Mel’s last words of advice spoke everything about its author that one needed to know, and it was the exact reason Sam desperately wanted to overthrow the modern notion that women had no valuable advice to give:
Q: Dear Tell Mel,
I desperately need your advice. The other morning, as I was heading home after driving my children to school, my car got a flat tire. My best friend lives only a couple houses away from where I had pulled over, so I walked there and noticed my husband’s car parked in her driveway. When I knocked, no one answered, but I could hear them from the other side of the door. They were clearly having sex—she even screamed his name!
My husband and I have two children and have been married for fifteen years, but he refuses to acknowledge what he did or go to marriage counseling with me to restore what’s broken.
Please help!
Horny-Husband Hater
A: Dear Horny-Husband Hater,
Luckily what’s broken can always be fixed.
In order to replace a flat tire, you need to first loosen the lug nuts on the tire, then find the car jack, which you should always have handy in your trunk. Once you jack up the car, remove the lug nuts and slide the flat tire off. Your spare tire should be in the Continental tire kit on the back of the car, attached to the trunk above the bumper.
Simply remove the cover and spare tire, attach the new tire, and replace the lug nuts. Once this is done, you may lower the car jack and off you go! If all else fails, have your husband show you how to do it so that you might never find yourself in this predicament again.
Good luck!
Tell Mel
Women’s House Magazine
