By Appointment Only Read online

  BY APPOINTMENT ONLY

  LISA EUGENE

  Copyright 2016 Lisa Eugene

  Published by Dakota Press

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely unintentional and co-incidental.

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  Thank you.

  Thanks to all the readers, bloggers, and people in the book world who's supported me. Thank you for allowing me to take you on this journey.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Other Books By Lisa Eugene

  CHAPTER ONE

  The small, shabby diner was bursting at the seams, noise filling the air like the hum of angry bees. Scooping up a stack of dirty dishes, I hurried from the dining room. Not minding my step, I snagged my toe on the edge of a chair. Pain sliced up my leg, sharp and unapologetic. Shifting quickly, I was thankful I didn’t land on my ass in a sea of broken dishes.

  I turned to see if Marie, my ornery boss, had witnessed my near wipeout. She had. The witch was standing by the door to the kitchen, giving me the evil eye. She was probably still pissed I’d come in late this morning.

  Gladys, an older waitress, stood behind the counter, angrily stabbing at a computer she despised. She was old school. If she could chisel her food orders into a slab of stone, she would gladly do so rather than wrestle with technology. She turned to me as I hobbled over.

  “What the hell is going on today? We’ve got more customers than the methadone clinic down the street.”I cut a glance to the far side of the room where Marie was now visually feasting on the cramped diners.

  “She looks pleased,” I noted, unloading the dishes and pulling off my left sneaker and sock to inspect my pulsing foot.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she sprinkled crack on the pancakes just to keep ’em coming.”

  I stole another glance in my boss’ direction. With the disposition of a Rottweiler and a face to match, she always looked like someone pissed in her porridge. She was a sadist who enjoyed inflicting punishment on her staff, and if I weren’t desperate for this job, I would’ve hit the road a long time ago.

  Leaning on the counter, I massaged my aching toe. A line of blue had already sneaked beneath the nail.

  Gladys looked down, bunching up her face. “That looks awful. You should ice it.”

  “I don’t have time for that. Marie will blow a fuse if I stop for even a minute.”

  “Maybe you can stick some ice in your shoe,” Gladys suggested, impatiently banging on the side of the frozen computer. “You’ll be on your feet for a while. Mine are already killing me.”

  Guilt clenched my stomach. Gladys had covered for me this morning. She was close to sixty with bad feet. If it wasn’t her bunion aching, it was some kind of corn or turnip. It seemed her feet grew more crop than a vegetable farm.

  I was twenty-six and used to hustling, but trying to get out of my apartment today had been a nightmare. My eight-year-old, autistic daughter, Emmy, had launched into a screaming episode. When that happened, it was difficult even for me to convince her to do anything else but take up residence in a corner and exercise her vocal cords. Eventually I’d managed to quiet her, dress her, and escape from our apartment before my asshole neighbors could start banging down my door. After dropping Emmy off at her new school, I’d rushed to work.

  “How’s Emmy doing in that fancy new school?” Gladys asked as though reading my thoughts.“She likes it,” I replied, although with Emmy it was sometimes hard to tell. The prestigious, special needs school only took ten students from the hundreds of low-income families who applied. It was mostly a private institution for the wealthy.

  Emmy had transferred to Rutherford Academy a few months ago, and it was a considerable step up from the deplorable government program she’d previously attended. We’d endured exhaustive interviews and microscopic scrutiny, but in the end, she’d been accepted.

  The facilities at the school were top notch and the teachers had years of special education training in ABA and RDI therapy. The curriculum included enrichment programs in art, dance, pottery, and music tailored to each child’s abilities. For a kid like Emmy with sensory issues, it was a godsend.

  “I’m glad. You went through hell to get her in that school,” Gladys credited, massaging a knot from her back.

  “Take a break,” I insisted, watching her pinched face.

  “You were here late last night. You must be beat yourself. You sure?”

  I nodded, giving her a little nudge. “Go. You’ve covered me plenty. Thanks for this morning.” I nodded toward the register. “Besides I don’t think it likes you.”

  Untying her grease-spotted apron, Gladys rolled her eyes. “Ditto. I’m just gonna sneak out for a smoke. If Marie asks, I’m in the potty. I don’t need her docking me.”

  “Got it.”

  Surveying the room again, I was relieved to see no sign of my boss. Located in a seedy part of lower Manhattan, the diner attracted dubious clientele. Last week two customers skipped out without paying. Since then, Marie had been maniacal, behaving as if the incident had been the staff’s fault and doling out punishments at the slightest infraction.

  “I don’t pay you to stand around!” Marie’s gritty voice hissed from behind me, jerking me into motion.

  Shit!

  I gingerly pulled on my sock and shoved my foot back into my sneaker. Limping to the sink, I washed my hands while Marie’s gaze bore a hole into my back. Body odor and cheap perfume hit my nose with a nauseating stink. Usually I could smell Marie before she pounced, but I’d been distracted by my aching toe.

  “Table eight needs cleaning up.” Marie scowled as I dried my hands. “Get your worthless ass moving!”

  My anger boiled at her words, but I bit my lip to hold my tongue. I was already a month behind on my rent and couldn’t afford to lose this job. I was barely making ends meet on my crappy salary. Marie had just seen me with my hands all over my sweaty foot and dirty sneaker. You’d think she’d be happy I’d thought to wash my
hands before returning to serve customers their food. But Marie didn’t give a shit. I’d learned early in life that nobody really gave a shit about anyone other than themselves. Why would Marie be any different?

  “And where the hell is Gladys?”

  “She had to go pee,” I answered, slipping away before I could be interrogated. “She’ll be out in a sec.”

  Ignoring the ache in my toe, I dropped off the guest check, refilled coffees, and looked in on Gladys’ tables. Picking up an order at the counter, I heard the distant ring of my cell phone.

  A faint ribbon of music wove through the din of the crowd, and I recognized the familiar ringtone of “Ooh Child, Things are Gonna Get Easier,” by The Five Stairsteps. That song was laced into the fabric of my life. More than once, the upbeat croon had served as fuel for my burnt out, beat up engine. Although lately, I was having more and more trouble believing in the soulful lyrics.

  Personal calls were prohibited. Marie had a strict policy. I kept my cell concealed under the bar counter, far out of sight. With an autistic child, I had to be accessible in case of an emergency. That was something Marie didn’t understand and it was just my luck to have her hovering nearby. A deep frown wrinkled the woman’s face as she searched for the source of the noise.

  “Shit!” I hissed under my breath. I’ll have to deal with Marie later. Scooting behind the bar, I headed her off, snatching my phone from its hiding spot.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Marie snapped. “You have customers.”

  I looked down, heart racing when I saw it was Emmy’s school. They rarely called. Worried, I slid a finger across the screen.

  “I’m sorry, Marie. I have to take this.”

  “You know the rules. No personal calls.” A deep frown bisected her wrinkly forehead.

  In no mood for a lecture, I put the phone to my ear and gave Marie my back. “Hello?”

  “Is this Ms. Carmichael?”

  The formal male voice caused the hair on the back of my neck to stiffen. I moved through the door to the kitchen, Marie falling into step behind me.

  “Emmy is safe and unhurt.”

  The words served to ease some of the tension from my shoulders, but I was still confused as to why they were calling.

  “I’m Mr. Clancy, the chief administrator at Rutherford Academy,” he continued.

  I remembered him from the admission interviews. He was a small, weaselly man with beady eyes that snubbed you through thick, round glasses. He’d been especially harsh during the interview process, interrogating Emmy and me like we were street scum undeserving of such an opportunity.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Marie cut in front of me, her face scratched with angry, dark lines, reminding me of a rabid canine.

  “No personal calls. It’s way too busy,” she fumed. “Get your ass back to work!”“Ms. Carmichael, there’s been an incident,” Mr. Clancy continued.

  My breath stalled, body slipping into silence as I ignored the woman in front of me.

  “Emily has been extremely disruptive. She’s been screaming for the last half hour and none of the staff can get her to calm down.”

  “She’s had screaming episodes before and I’ve never gotten a call. I left specific instructions on how to handle her when she’s like this. Just be patient with her and eventually she’ll stop.”

  “Yes, but unfortunately she’s been distraught for quite some time. It’s taking too long. She’s difficult to control and combative. She bit one of my staff members. This is simply not acceptable. We need you to pick her up.”

  My mind spun, whirling towards outrage. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Emmy was never combative. If anything she was docile, a calm, gentle spirit. Something must’ve happened.

  “Get the fuck back to work, now, or you’ll be sorry,” Marie warned through clenched teeth.

  I blew out an exasperated breath and walked into the food pantry, letting the door slam shut behind me. Marie’s muted threats pounded the wood from the other side, but my mind was on my daughter.

  “That’s ridiculous!” I seethed into the phone. “She’s never combative.”

  “You have to pick her up, ma’am. Today’s not a good day. She’s too disruptive. We may have to reconsider this situation. I can’t spare the staff she requires.”

  What is he saying? The school was an institution of distinction, specifically for children with disabilities. They should be equipped to handle an eight-year-old having a screaming episode. There was no way in hell Marie would let me leave work to pick up Emmy. A persistent knock rattled the pantry door, forcing me deeper into the small room. My annoyance surged and I tightened my grip on the phone.

  “Well then you find staff! Rutherford is supposed to be one of the best schools in the country for children like Emmy. What you’re telling me is nonsense!”

  “Emily attacked a staff member. She bit—”

  “That’s bullshit! I don’t believe that! Someone probably put their hand in her face! She doesn’t like to be touched when she’s upset. I told the school that.”

  “Please calm down, Ms. Carmichael.”

  He expects me to calm down? What irked me most of all was the frost in his tone, his utter lack of concern.

  “We’ll expect you within the hour.”

  The phone went silent. Shit!

  I ran a hand across the back of my neck, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. Quickly, I pulled up my mother’s number. When she answered, I rushed out, “Mom, I need you to pick up Emmy from school. Please . . .”

  There was noise in the background, the muted drone of a car radio.

  “Is Emmy okay?”

  “She’s fine. It’s just that she’s having a screaming episode and the school is freaking out. They want me to pick her up.”

  “Why can’t they handle her? Isn’t that what they’re trained to do?”

  I could picture my mom’s face, see her dark eyes crinkling with worry.

  “Something must be going on they’re not telling me about. They said she bit a staff member.”

  “That’s ridiculous. She’s a doll.”

  “I’m at work and can’t leave. My boss is having a conniption. Can you pick her up, please?”

  Mom exhaled a long breath. “I wish I could, but I’m taking your aunt to the doctor. We’re on our way now. Her blood sugar is through the roof.” Her soft voice followed a weighty pause. “Dani, you’re running yourself ragged. Maybe this is too much for you to handle.”

  My stomach plummeted. My mother had always done nothing but support me. To hear her say I may be in over my head crushed something inside me.

  “Dani?” Mom whispered, knowing I’d been wounded. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m just thinking of you.”

  “I know.”

  “I wish I could help, but I can’t this time.”

  Blinking hard, I pushed away the hopelessness swamping me. I signed off with her and dialed my best friend, Wanda. The call went to voicemail and I cursed roughly, the harsh sound circling the small room.

  Centering my thoughts, I pulled up my ex-husband’s number.

  “What?” His voice drawled lazily on the other end. I rolled my eyes. The bastard was probably still in bed. It was almost 11:00 a.m.

  “Steven, I need you to pick up Emmy. Something happened at school.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Steven.” I took another breath and softened my voice. Silently I gritted my teeth, trying to keep from exploding. Having to call him, to ask him for anything, truly galled me, but he was my last resort. “Please. I’m at work and I can’t leave.”

  “Can’t do it.”

  The whisper of a woman’s voice trickled through the phone. My anger gathered like a wind storm.

  What the fuck? “Do I ever ask you for anything? You owe me years of child support! You never do shit for me or your daughter. You spend your money up your nose and on your hos—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Steven was w
ide-awake now, his voice laced with the spiteful venom I was used to. “I told you years ago I wasn’t dealing with this shit! You should do yourself a favor and put her in a group home instead of laying this shit on me.”

  I clenched my jaw tight, my anger turning into something else entirely—bitter regret. Anguish washed through my heart. What had I ever seen in this man? I’d been young and foolish. Very, very foolish. Back then, I’d believed fairy tales could come true. Now I knew they only ended in nightmares.

  “You’re a complete waste of a human being. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

  I’d get nowhere with him. Even the threat of legal action didn’t stir him anymore. He knew I had no money to hire a lawyer. The advocate assigned to me at family court had been useless. He’d simply eaten away at my time and crushed my fragile hope. I turned to face the noise still coming through the door, now louder and more frantic as it swelled to a commotion. “I’m coming!” I yelled, hoping to placate my extremely irate boss.

  Straightening my spine, I steadied my resolve and pulled open the door. I had no choice. I had to go.

  Enraged, Marie stood in front of me. She was a round, red ball of rage.

  “You get your sorry ass back to work, right now. Who the fuck do you think you are?” she growled. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  I met her gaze, trying to slow my racing heart. Desperation lashed at me, sloping my shoulders and beating down my spirit. Maybe there was a kernel of compassion buried somewhere inside Marie. After all, the woman had two children of her own.

  “Marie, I have to leave. I have to pick up Emmy.”

  “What?” Her entire face flashed bright like a bulb.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely, untying my apron as I stepped past her. “I hate to do this, but I have no one else.”

  I hated that my voice cracked, hated that I felt hopeless and… scared. I had rent to pay. I had car payments and doctor’s bills. And as discounted as Emmys tuition was, it was still a burden.