Then You Happened
Sandi Lynn
Then You Happened
Copyright © 2014 Sandi Lynn
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Cover It Designs
Photography by Kelsey Kukal-Keeton @ K. Keeton Designs
Models: Tessi Le’Anne & Nathan Weller
Editing by B.Z. Hercules
Dedication
Then You Happened is dedicated to all of my die hard romance fans! Thank you for taking a chance and reading something new from me. I’ve stepped outside the box to hopefully give you some laughter and fun!
XOXO
Quotes
“Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world.” ~ Marilyn Monroe
“Clothes are like a good meal, a good movie, and great pieces of music.” ~ Michael Kors
“A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous.” ~ Coco Chanel
Table of Contents
Dedication
Quotes
Prologue
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
The Upside of Love
About The Author
Playlist
Prologue
Do you remember when you played with your Barbies as a child? You had a beautiful, blonde-haired Barbie doll that you dressed in the most elegant dress because Ken, the hottest male doll ever made, was coming to pick her up and take her to the most magnificent ball. She’d be up in her room, in the townhouse, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. While butterflies stirred, Barbie would be all giddy with excitement for her date with Ken. The doorbell rang and Barbie would take the elevator down to find Ken, who was looking hot and sexy in his black tuxedo. He would lean in closer for a kiss and whisper in her ear, “Barbie, I’m going to marry you and buy you a dream house where the two of us can raise a happy family.”
Barbie would smile at Ken as she jumped up and down in excitement, but still waited for that ring on her finger. She would hook her arm in his and off they would go to the ball.
Once they arrived, Barbie would look around and thank Ken for bringing her to such a glamourous event. She would feel like the luckiest Barbie on Earth to be on the arm of the most handsome male of them all. Barbie was a queen and Ken was her king.
All would go well until Teresa Barbie showed up at the ball with her long, silky, black hair and eyes like a cat. Her skin glowing with a luminous tan as she strutted her little body in her silvery, short, glittered dress past my king. I watched as his head turned and the smile on his face grew wide.
“Excuse me, Barbie. I’m going to get us some drinks from the bar.”
He walked away and I noticed he approached Teresa. Tears filled my eyes as I watched them talk and laugh. He grabbed her hand and off they went. My king, stolen by another woman. I ran back to my townhouse, as my world was now shattered. The love of my life. My king. My Ken, dumped me for another Barbie. My life would never be the same.
And that was where it all began. Somehow, we knew, even as children who played innocently with Barbies, that men would ultimately betray us and fill our hearts with promises they never intended to keep, leaving us alone and wondering what the other Barbie had that we didn’t.
What’s the moral of this story, you ask? It’s simple. Men suck, Barbies suck, and there’s no such thing as true love. Does life go on? Sure it does, but with plenty of tequila. This is my story.
Chapter 1
Sierra
I stirred when I heard my phone beep and I opened my eyes. The smell of his cologne first thing in the morning was nauseating. I rolled out from under his arm and picked up my phone, which I left sitting on his nightstand last night. Shit, I thought as I read a text message from Kirsty.
“Where the hell are you? I’m at your house, sitting on your unslept bed. Did you forget about the meeting you have this morning with the Dickson Brothers? They already aren’t fond of you. This is your last chance.”
“I didn’t forget. Get out my black pinstripe pant suit and my black lace push-up bra. You know, the one with the extra lift? I’ll be home soon.”
“Look what I found!” Royce said as he held up the leather strap.
“Good times,” I said as I gave a fake smile and put on my bra.
He got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. “Grab a cup of coffee on your way out. My maid bought some to-go cups,” he said as he peed with the door open.
I rolled my eyes at his generosity and pulled on my skirt. I grabbed my purse and put on my sunglasses. “I’m out of here, Royce. Thanks for last night.”
“Have a good day, Sierra. We’ll talk soon. Last night was fun,” he yelled as I walked out the door.
James, my driver, was waiting for me at the curb. “Good morning, Sierra,” he said as I took the cup of coffee he held in his hand.
“Morning.”
James had been driving me and my father around for the last five years. He was accustomed to me and my behaviors. The thing I loved about him was that he didn’t judge me, unlike my mother, Delia. He knew my patterns and he knew my men. Shit, he knew my secrets. He was there for me during the toughest times in my life and he got me.
“Tough night, Sierra?” he asked.
I yawned before I took a sip of my coffee. “Isn’t it always, James?”
He cocked a smile and pulled up to my house located in Hollywood Hills. As he reached his hand out the window and punched in the three-digit code to the gate, I watched as Kirsty came running out of the house with her hands up in the air.
Kirsty and I were the same age and we met back in college when we were roommates. Delia was appalled that I actually stayed in a dorm freshman year because the Adams were better than that. I wanted the rounded freshman college experience of living on campus, even if it was just for a year. I hated every minute of it and my dad refused to let me move because he said that it would be good for me to see the other side of life. After my freshman year, my dad moved me into an upscale apartment and I moved Kirsty in with me. She became like a second daughter to him. Not only was she my assistant, but she was also my best friend. She grew up in a small town in Missouri and attended UCLA on a full-ride scholarship for business. She was incredibly smart and she tried to her best to keep me gro
unded. She had a thing for James and I’m pretty sure he had a thing for her. Who wouldn’t love her five-eight stature and size two waist? Not to mention her gorgeous long, brown, wavy hair and big brown eyes. She was one of the funniest and sweetest people I knew and I loved her more than the world. When my father passed away two years ago, and I took over as CEO of Adams Advertising, I brought Kirsty on as my assistant. She already kept my life in order, so why not pay her for it? As for her and James, there was a twelve-year gap in age between them. She was thirty and he was forty-two. She didn’t see anything wrong with it. I did because my parents were twelve years apart and it didn’t turn out well.
My parents, Carl and Delia Adams, divorced when I was nine years old. They shared joint custody of me because my dad wouldn’t have it any other way. I was his little angel and the only angel in his life. He got my mom pregnant at the age of eighteen and they thought they were doing the right thing by getting married. Obviously, it wasn’t, because they always fought. During my weeks with him, he would make me come to the office to sit and observe. He always told me that Adams Advertising, one of the largest advertising agencies in the world, was going to be mine someday and he wanted to make sure I was ready for it. I learned the ropes, the tricks, the lingo, and then attended UCLA, where I graduated with a Master’s degree. As soon as I graduated, I became his right hand.
He was diagnosed with prostate cancer at the age of fifty-two and lost his battle four years later. I became the CEO of Adams Advertising when I was just twenty-eight years old and had been running it for almost two years. It was tough being a young corporate woman where nobody wanted to take you seriously. That was why I devoted my life to my career and my company. There were other reasons, but I’ll get into that later.
“It’s about time? Do you see what time it is?” Kirsty snapped.
“Yes, I do,” I said as James helped me out of the limo. “Are my clothes ready?”
“Of course they’re ready. All laid out nicely on the bed, waiting for you to change into them.”
I walked into the house, set my coffee on the counter in the kitchen, and said hello to Rosa, my maid.
“Good morning, Sierra.”
“Morning, Rosa. Toast a half of bagel for me please, light cream cheese. I’ll grab it on my way out.”
“No problem, senorita.”
I walked upstairs and opened my bedroom door. There, lying on the bed, was my pinstripe black suit and my push-up bra. Kirsty followed behind and sat on the bed while I changed.
“So, how many last night?” she asked.
I turned to her and smiled as I threw my shirt at her and put on my push-up bra. “Three.”
“Damn. The only orgasms I’ve had lately were compliments of moi.”
I laughed as I slipped on my jacket and buttoned the only button there was, exposing the lace on my bra and the enticing cleavage it created. I twisted up my long, blonde hair with a clip and turned to Kirsty. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I pictured George Clooney fucking me in order to achieve them.”
She giggled. “You have the most perfect tits. I wish I had tits like you. All I have are these size B cups,” she said as she looked down and pushed them together through her top.
“Get a boob job?” I smiled as I put my feet into my black Jimmy Choos with the four-inch heels.
“I just might.”
“Bullshit. You’re too scared,” I said as I left the room and she followed behind.
“True. But then maybe James would notice me more.”
I sighed. “Give it up, Kirsty. He’s too old for you.”
“Only by twelve years. When you’re our age, that doesn’t matter anymore.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bagel and briefcase from Rosa, and headed to the car. James opened the door for me and I slid in while Kirsty got in on the other side.
“We’re going to be late,” she said.
“We’ll be fine,” I replied as I pulled out my phone. “Hmm. I have a text message from Don. He wants to meet up tonight. Apparently, there’s a new art gallery opening and he wants me to attend it with him.”
“I don’t like him,” Kirsty said.
“You don’t like any of the guys I know.”
“True. But he creeps me out. He has those creepy eyes. You know; like a child molester’s.”
I smacked her on the arm. “He does not. He’s a good guy. Rich, successful, and a no-strings type of playboy.”
“Child molester,” she said as she shook her head.
Chapter 2
The Dickson brothers were exactly what part of their last name was: dicks. They were twins and owned an acne treatment line called “Zip, Zap, and Away.” Did the shit work? Hell if I know. I didn’t care if it did or didn’t. My job was to make sure they were happy with the advertising jingle my company came up with. Apparently, they weren’t and that was why this urgent meeting was called.
“Morning, Sasha,” I said as I took the cup of coffee she had waiting for me in her hand.
“Morning, Sierra. The Dicks, I mean, Dickson Brothers are waiting for you and they’re pissed you’re late.”
I sighed and put on my fake smile as I entered my plush office.
“Good morning, Brad and Tim. You gentlemen are looking spiffy this morning.”
“You’re late, Sierra. How many times do we have to tell you that our time is precious?” they both said in sync. Weirdos. Plain weirdos.
“I’m sorry, but the LA traffic was brutal this morning. I can’t help traffic. I wish I could,” I said as I sat down behind my desk. “Now, what’s going on with your account?”
“It’s shit,” Brad and Tim said together.
I looked at them with knitted eyebrows. “Do either one of you ever speak alone?”
They both looked at me and leaned back in their chairs. Kirsty was sitting in a chair across the room, holding up her pinky finger. I did everything in my power not to burst out into laughter.
“If you can’t handle this account, then we will find someone who can,” Tim said.
“Hold up, guys. You’ve been with Adams Advertising for what, three years now?”
“Yes.”
“We made it work then and we’ll make it work now.”
“Your father made it work, Sierra.” Brad scowled.
Sexist pigs. That was what they were. I folded my hands and brought them up to my chin. “Let me call Terry and bring him up here.” I smiled as I picked up the phone. I picked up the sketches with the slogans from my desk and looked at them. My face twisted as I read the slogans.
“I think they’re catchy,” I said as I got up from my chair and walked over to them. I looked at Kirsty as she sat there, pushing up her tits. I walked over to Brad first and handed him the first sketch. I bent over, making sure my cleavage was all up in his face.
“Zip, Zap, Away; your zits aren’t going to stay,” I read as I pointed to the slogan. “See; that’s catchy. I would totally buy your product and so will every acne-ridden teenager in America.”
I walked over to Tim and did the same, making sure he got a full view of my cleavage. “As you can see here, there’s a happy teenager looking at herself in the mirror. So what do you both think?”
“They’re absolutely beautiful.”
“Excuse me?” I said as I stood up straight.
Both of them came back to reality with looks of horror on their faces. Brad cleared his throat.
“We mean that the sketches are beautiful.”
“Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” I smiled as pushed my shoulders back and walked to my desk.
Terry knocked on the door and then poked his head in. “You called for me, Sierra?”
“Come in, Terry. It seems that Brad and Tim aren’t happy with the slogan for Zip, Zap, Away.
“Really? We all thought it was great,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter what you think, Terry. It’s what our clients think and they think it sucks.” I got up from my desk and held
my pen in my hand. I walked over in front of Tim and Brad and dropped it between them.
“Oh dear. Excuse me,” I said as I bent down and picked it up. Instead of standing back up, I knelt down with my arms on their chairs so when they looked at me, all they could see were my tits. “So, I’ll have Terry come up with something else.”
“Umm. No need,” they both said together. “We’ve decided we like it.”
“Fabulous, gentlemen.” I smiled.
They got up from their seats and I shook their hands. “See; I knew we wouldn’t disappoint you.”
“No, you certainly have not!” They smiled before walking out of the office.
Kirsty walked over and high-fived me. “Brilliant!”
“They’re pigs.” I laughed.
“That may be true, but they’re pigs who you made very happy and gave them something to jack off to.” Kirsty smiled.
I sighed as I opened the small closet in my office and took out a cami. I slipped it on over my bra and sat down behind my desk. Kirsty left to go do assistant work and I picked up my phone and sent a text message to Don.
“Hey, I’d love to go to that art gallery opening tonight. I’ll meet you there around eight?”
“Hey, gorgeous. Sounds good. After the opening, we can grab a bite to eat and then head over to my place so I can fuck you senseless. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” I lied.
I only dated rich men who wore expensive suits, drank the finest wine, left big tips, and who were as fucked up as I was where relationships were concerned. No relationships, no strings, and no bullshit. It was the easiest way to avoid heartbreak. I don’t think there’s any other pain in the world that hurts as bad as heartache. I’d had my share. Besides turning two of my ex-boyfriends gay, the man I thought was the love of my life left Los Angeles to go on a trip and never came back. Since then, I rarely went out. I buried myself in my work and occasionally, okay, more than occasionally, had sex with the businessmen that were in my own powerful world. I was a huge fan of art, so attending the opening of a new art gallery was enticing to me. Don wasn’t all that bad in bed, even though he called himself “the king.” As long as I pictured George Clooney, I was good to go. If I ever had to step into reality and focus on the guys that were fucking me, I’d probably join the convent. I was happy in my little sex world with George, and nothing or no one was going to change that.