Left turn, p.1
Left Turn, page 1
part #1 of Women of Caprock Series
Contents
Title Full
1. Traveling
2. Conversations on a Plane
3. Friday Night
4. Saturday
5. Sunday
6. Monday
7. Tuesday
8. Wednesday
9. Still Wednesday
10. Thursday
11. Thursday Night
12. Friday Ups and Downs
13. Friday Aftermath
14. Saturday at the Beach
15. Sunday Headed Home
16. Margaritas and Girl Talk
17. Monday Full Throttle
18. Wednesday Dinner
19. Last Day
20. Scheduling Problems
21. Insight
22. New York
23. The Story Breaks
24. Madness
25. Licking Wounds
26. Hope
27. Beginnings
Acknowledgments
Houston, Texas USA
LEFT TURN
Copyright © 2022 by Lancy McCall
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.
Left Turn is a work of fiction. All names, settings, incidents, and dialogue have been invented, and when real places, products, and public figures are mentioned in the story, they are used fictionally and without any claim of endorsement or affiliation. Any resemblance between the characters in the novel and real people is strictly a coincidence.
Contact Info: https://lancymccall.com
Cover Design by: Best Page Forward
ISBN: 978-1-958975-01-5 (paperback) 978-1-958975-00-8 (ebook)
Published by KruizeTech Press | Houston, Texas
Dedicated to my husband, who encouraged me at every turn.
Left turn — an unexpected turn of events.
—Urban Dictionary
Chapter 1
Traveling
Alex closed her laptop and moved away from the presenter’s podium, pleased with the response from the audience. Today was the last day of her company’s annual management conference in London. Caprock Enterprises operated in countries all over the world, and managers from those locations had all gathered this week to discuss next year’s budget and long-term goals for the future. As the attendees stood and mingled, she easily picked out the women present. Only eight of eighty-four. But eight women in the room was more than last year. And, Alex thought, no waiting in line for the restroom was always a plus.
Jackie, the company’s IT director, came up and helped her gather cords. Alex nodded her thanks as the slender woman handed her the last cable. Alex regularly worked with Jackie’s department on projects involving the company’s multiple financial systems, and the two of them had become friendly over the last two years. They’d spent a lot of time together this past week as Jackie had helped her put faces to the names of people she’d worked with via email and conference calls, but had never met in person.
“Right, then. Sounded positive. What do you think?” Jackie’s crisp British accent sounded at odds against the backdrop of the Texas drawls permeating the room. While the people in the room represented numerous countries, almost half were from the U.S. and most of upper management were from Texas. They were in the oilfield industry, after all.
“I’m so happy I finally got to pitch this idea to the management team. I’ve been working on Frank for a solid year. Hearing the same message from you helped push him to act. Thanks for the support.” Alex coiled the cable and stuffed it into her bag.
“Well, you weren’t wrong. IT was struggling to keep up with all the requests coming in from different departments, and your idea of consolidating the handling of these initiatives into one overseeing department would make my life easier.”
When Alex had first joined Caprock, the company had recently been reorganized, and she’d quickly learned that meant it was drastically disorganized. Each division was rushing to get its operations streamlined independently, with no coordination among any of them.
While they’d hired her to integrate the financial systems at the corporate level, her team’s resounding success meant she’d received a growing number of requests to assist with efforts beyond their original purview. With the broader perspective, Alex realized how inefficiently the company had managed its improvement efforts by leaving those activities in the hands of the division managers. They needed something more centralized so they could pool resources and combine efforts.
Luckily, such an animal existed. A project management office would help standardize how the divisions approached managing projects and coordinate efforts across the company. While she’d never worked in a PMO before, she knew several acquaintances who did, and had picked their brains on how they worked. She’d spent the last year researching what it would take to get one started for Caprock and documenting the benefits of doing so.
Alex’s gaze skimmed over the mingling crowd again. “When I received the schedule, I worried about presenting on the last day, but I think the extra time worked in my favor. I pitched the concept here and there throughout the week before hitting them with the formal presentation today. And I’m encouraged by the feedback I just received. They actually paid attention and seemed interested in the idea. So, yeah, I feel pretty good right n—” Alex stopped abruptly as her boss approached.
Frank Lambert, her company’s CFO, had decades of experience and a penchant for speaking only when he had something important to say.
“Ladies.” Frank nodded at Jackie and focused on Alex. “Solid presentation, Alex. Jeff wants you to put together a proposal on this new project office you’re touting. What’s the acronym again?”
Alex froze at the mention of a proposal. Jeff Davis was the CEO of the company and her boss’ boss. Had he just given the green light for her pet project? “It’s called the PMO, short for project management office.”
“Right. Let’s use this opportunity to demonstrate the formal process we’re advocating. While we’re at it, use one of those project start-up documents you always tell me we should be using to get the ball rolling.”
Her eyes gleamed and she couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her face. This was it. All that hard work was about to pay off. “When does he want the proposal by?” Alex asked.
“Yesterday, of course.” Frank’s grin flashed, then disappeared. “We’ve missed the first pass for the budget, so if you get the proposal done quickly—and everything sounds reasonable—we still may be able to stick it in before the final pass.”
Wait, what? Alex plopped into the chair behind her. “Holy sh—” She caught herself. “You mean this year’s budget? As in, get it up and running by January… like in three months?” Her elation faded as reality sank in. “I’m not sure I can pull all the numbers together before the final budget deadline.”
“I have faith in you. You’ve been researching this for a while now. I’m sure you have more pieced together than you realize.” Someone called his name from across the room, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Anyway, get with me early next week and we’ll outline some rough ideas.” He gave them a casual wave as he turned to go. “See you back in Houston.”
“I don’t know why you worried so much.” Jackie smirked down at Alex, her tone droll. “Instead of hiding away in your hotel room last night refining your presentation, you could have been getting to know that chap at the bar… the one who couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He was very disappointed when you left early.”
Alex snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I ever have time for nonsense like that.” She dismissed the memory of the guy trying to buy their drinks last night. Determined to focus on the present, Alex hopped up from the chair and stashed the rest of her stuff in her computer bag.
“Oh my gawd.” Alex grimaced as she drew out the last word. Her Texas upbringing popped up at weird times. “I never expected them to approve it for this year. I was aiming for next year. I’ve got a ton of work to do. Geez, I’ll have to start as soon as I get on the plane,” she said as she glanced at her watch. “Speaking of, I better get goin’ or I’ll miss my flight. Catch you later, Jackie. Thank you so much for your help this week.”
“No worries. Safe travels.”
Thirty minutes later, as Alex jotted notes in her binder, her phone vibrated and the sound of “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons filled the taxi’s interior. Her mother’s name glared at her from the screen. Alex debated answering the call, but didn’t want to lose her train of thought. It wasn’t that she had issues with her mom, but the woman lived in a different world from Alex. She was probably calling to discuss a new recipe or something the neighbors did. Those conversations were great for lazy Sunday afternoons, but right now, Alex was focused on work.
Alex dismissed the call and made a note to call her mother later. Realizing she was going to have to adjust her plans for the upcoming holidays to accommodate this last-minute change, she marked the reminder with a big asterisk. Her mom would be disappointed when she didn’t come home. Again.
Alex winced and turned her thoughts back to the PMO. In her head, she did a little happy dance. It’s finally happening, she thought. If she and her team could pull the numbers together and get it approved, she could be in charge of one of the most influential departments in the company next year. Accomplishing that before her thirtieth birthday would ma ke the victory even sweeter.
As the cab approached the unloading lane at the airport, Alex gathered her papers, organized them into her bag, and prepared to disembark.
Years ago, Fin’s agent had recommended the Heathrow VIP service and the privacy it granted him when flying out of London. His route this morning had been a series of handovers from one check-in point to another. The driver who’d picked him up at his hotel, the escort at the VIP drop-off point who’d led him to the VIP area, and the staff who’d made sure he was comfortable. He sipped his drink while the lounge butler reviewed his documents and performed the security screening within the luxury suite, a perk provided for those who used the service.
He needed to thank Addie again for this travel tip. The use of private hallways to walk through the airport, thereby avoiding the press, was a gift he appreciated every time. Thanks to social media and the propensity of fans to post live when they encountered him in public, the paparazzi seemed to have instant access to him. While he appreciated the fans, the constant threat of media hounds—who seemed to increasingly ignore personal boundaries—stressed him out more and more each year. Every time he started a new film, he wondered if this would be the one to break him and turn him into a hermit who hid away from the world.
Fin dreaded the long flight to Houston, but was excited about an upcoming break in the schedule following this weekend’s activities. The pause was unusual on a promotional tour—something to do with the director’s family—and Fin intended to take full advantage of the downtime. His first priority was rest and relaxation. He wanted a vacation and was determined to play tourist while in Texas. And while he was resting, he planned to dive into a manuscript forwarded to him by a friend. He and Addie had often discussed partnering together on a project over the years, and this might be the opportunity. But he needed to vet it first before presenting it to her.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he smiled when he read his agent’s name on the screen. “How do ye always ken when I’m thinking of ye, lassie?” he asked as he answered the call. His Scottish brogue had lightened over the years of working abroad, but tended to show up when he was relaxed.
“Humph,” she snorted. “If that were true, we would never hang up. I bring the spice to your life.”
He laughed. Lately, she was the only one who could make him laugh, this woman he thought of as a big sister. “Aye, that’s likely true.” He pictured her sitting in her LA office, her doe-like brown eyes concentrating on her computer screen and her wavy dark hair tucked behind the ear where she held the phone. And behind her, her latest lover rubbing her shoulders. Addie was never without company, and Los Angeles was full of young, virile men eager to knock about with a powerful Hollywood agent.
“How was the VIP service? Still top-notch?”
“That’s exactly what I had on my mind. This is the best travel tip I’ve ever received. All those years wearing disguises and dashing in late to avoid the paparazzi… what a waste. I wish I’d found it earlier. And why don’t all airports have this kind of service?”
“Hmm… We’ve requested this service in your last two contracts. I’m going to add it as a standard perk going forward. I don’t know why we didn’t do that earlier.”
“Thanks, love. How’s your day going? How’s Los Angeles?”
“Oh, the usual… spoiled, whiny clients who need their egos stroked. I wish I could find more like you, low on the melodrama and never causing trouble. You got any more family members interested in acting?” She laughed at her own joke.
Fin snorted at the notion of his brother trying to act his way out of anything as he noticed the lounge butler motioning to him. “Looks like it’s time to go, lass. I’ll let you know when I land in Houston. Cheers, love.”
“Yep,” Addie said as he disconnected and stood.
“Mr. McAlister,” the man said, his name tag identifying him as George. He nodded to the buttoned-up woman standing next to him, “Helen will escort you to your flight. And thank you again for using our service.”
“Thank you, George. Have a good one,” Fin replied as he followed the austere Helen down a corridor marked “Departures.” She led him outside, where a chauffeur loaded his belongings into a luxury sedan intended to take him straight to the plane.
Fin sighed, relieved that even this part of the journey through the airport protected him from being recognized and fawned over. The problem wasn’t the fans, he reflected again, but the relentless reporters and paparazzi who made him crazy. The fans he could handle. They were only interested in interacting with him, not invading his private life and turning things upside down.
After exiting the car, Helen led him up a stairwell and through a door near his flight’s gate. His step lightened at the upcoming vacation. All he had to do was survive the transatlantic flight and show up for a couple of meet-and-greets, then he was free to disappear. Hopefully, he’d be seated beside a Luddite who didn’t follow social media or have a clue who he was.
Alex settled in to her first-class seat, a perk provided by her company for long flights like this one. At five feet, nine inches tall, she needed every bit of leg room she could get. She was athletic and slim, but had broad shoulders for a woman. Planes became crowded when sitting next to men in the habit of taking up all the space. The wide, roomy seats in first class meant she wouldn’t have to explain proper etiquette to someone hogging the armrest or spreading his legs into her personal space.
Alex opened her laptop, eager to work on the proposal for the new PMO. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she outlined the budget items she needed to pull together. She paused and reminded herself to appreciate this moment. Alex leaned back and closed her eyes, relishing that her dream project was finally getting some traction, and giving a nod of thanks to the universe for spacious seats on ten-hour flights.
“Excuse me, miss?” A deep, soft-spoken voice with a lovely Scottish accent caressed her ear. “That is my seat.”
Alex’s eyes sprang open as she replied, “Oh, I’m sorry… Am I in the wrong one?”
As she reached for her phone to double-check her ticket, he lifted his hand and responded, “No, you’re fine. I didnae want to startle you when I stepped into the window seat. You looked comfortable and… maybe asleep.”
Alex laughed as she swung her legs to the side, allowing the man room to move past her into the seat next to her. As he sat and made himself comfortable, she took in his fashionable attire. Her first impression had been that he fit the cliche of “tall, dark, and handsome,” but as Alex swept her gaze over him, absorbing more details, she realized she had missed something vital. He was famous. Very famous. Her traveling companion for the next ten hours was none other than Scottish actor and Hollywood’s latest A-list leading man, Finley McAlister.
Chapter 2
Conversations on a Plane
As the flight attendants gave the safety review, Alex considered how she should handle sitting with someone so famous. Just ignore him? Start up a conversation? Should she acknowledge she recognized him? Deciding to approach it the way she did every time she traveled, she pulled out the safety card and followed along, leaving it to her fellow passenger to set the ground rules. If he wanted privacy, she would give it to him. As fascinated as she was sitting next to a celebrity, she did have an urgent proposal she needed to put together.
Once the plane left the ground, the flight attendant brought their drinks. Alex had given her order earlier, but hadn’t seen when the actor had done so. Possibly they already had his preferences on file. She was ignorant of all things related to celebrities.
