A Pinch of Cool. Mary Leo
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a not-so-friendly handshake. He took it, but as soon as he did, she slipped her hand out and turned to walk up the driveway.
There will be no hand-holding this time, buddy.
“Let me help you with your bags,” he said as he pulled the handle up on the largest suitcase.
“No thanks,” she insisted, almost ripping it out of his hand. She wanted to do everything herself from now on. She was home now and didn’t need him for anything. Ever! “I’ve got it. It was so nice seeing you again. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime…in the next twenty years.”
She walked up the driveway hoping that he’d start his engine and drive away, but he didn’t. She turned around and waved. Maybe he didn’t get the hint. He always was a little slow at the uptake. “So, bye then. Have a safe trip up to Gold Country.”
She turned around again. This time she headed straight for the side door, opened it with her key and pulled her suitcase inside. She turned one more time as she stood in the doorway and waved. But he just stood there, waving back, all full of smiles.
She closed the door, locked it and gave it a few pats as if that was her final statement on the subject.
“And to think for a moment there, I thought he was cute. Must have been temporary insanity.”
Mya left everything by the kitchen door and walked into her mother’s ridiculously large and totally upscale English Tudor house.
“Anybody here?” she yelled. “I’m home.”
Home. There’s no place like home.
It didn’t matter that her mother wasn’t there, nor Grammy, nor Franko. What Mya really needed was a shower and a bed.
She made her way through the kitchen, decorated with walnut cabinetry and large Mexican tiles on the floor. Nothing had changed in the last ten years and Mya liked it that way. When she walked through the traditional dining room and up the wooden staircase to her old bedroom, she took comfort in knowing that no matter what went on in the outside world, her mother’s house was always the same.
Mya gently knocked on her grandmother’s bedroom door just to make sure she wasn’t there. Grammy’s hearing wasn’t as good as it used to be, so Mya thought she’d give her another holler. But Grammy didn’t answer.
Then she found her old room down at the end of the hall. It looked exactly like the day she’d left it, two years ago. She was absolutely thrilled to be in her own room.
Mya fell across her queen-size bed with its light green silk comforter. Absolute serenity overtook her as she spread out and enjoyed the luxury of not having that monster dog breathing in her ear. Her room smelled of lilacs and roses.
How marvelous.
Mya rolled herself up inside her comforter and fell asleep, or did she?
There was that damn bark again, only this time it came from somewhere inside the house.
3
MYA MUST HAVE JUMPED three feet off the bed when she heard that bark. At first she thought she’d dreamed it, but when she heard it again, she knew the animal was close by. Which meant, of course, that Eric was somewhere close by. Was there no rest for the weary? No port in the storm? No time to recover? She rolled over and pulled the blankets up over her head.
“Honey, I thought you’d never wake up,” Rita Strano announced. She sat on the bed next to Mya and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Mya rolled over and stared up at her mother’s always beautiful face.
Her mother’s eyes widened and an eyebrow shot up. “What the heck happened? Are you all right?”
A shot of adrenaline raced through Mya’s veins. “What do you mean?”
“Do you feel okay? You look rather…awful.” Her mother took in a sharp breath. “Were you in an accident?”
Mya yawned and stretched. Her jaw ached and her right hip hurt. How odd, she thought. “Define accident.”
“Don’t kid. Do you hurt anywhere? You look like something the dog dragged in.”
Mya smiled. Her bottom lip stung. “He did.” She was beginning to get somewhat worried over all the aches and pains.
“I don’t understand,” Rita grumbled, shaking her head.
Mya scooted out of bed thinking she needed to get a good look at herself in her bathroom mirror. She didn’t remember being in an actual accident, but then she’d read that if the accident’s really bad, a person can’t remember it. Like your brain saves you from the trauma or something. Okay, but she didn’t have any deep pain anywhere. Not really. Her lip hurt, and her hip was sore, and her ankle was a little stiff, and maybe her jaw felt a little weird, but nothing major. No headache. No nausea. No acid indigestion…no wait, she never got that. What was her mother talking about?
When Mya glanced in the mirror, she had no choice but to let out a short burst of a scream at the woman staring back at her.
Her mother came running in. “What’s the matter?”
Not only was Mya’s hair full of dried dog saliva and some kind of unrecognizable yellow substance, but her right cheek was slightly bruised, her bottom lip was swollen and her pretty floral dress was torn and just plain filthy.
“This is all your fault, Mom. You sent that…that disaster-on-wheels to pick me up from the airport. Are you trying to punish me for something?” Mya examined her bruised cheek and swollen lip in the mirror. She couldn’t believe there could be so much damage from one little fall. All right, maybe two falls. Then she remembered jumping into the back of the van, and the creepy yellow stuff, and how she had hit her face on the camera case.
“Of course not. I sent a comfy black limo to fetch you.” She hesitated for a moment. “Or did I tell Franko to order the limo?” She paused and thought for a second. “Yes. That was it. I got really busy with a Spanish blackberry torte and asked Franko to send over the limo. Oh, my! Did something go wrong with the limo driver? Did he attack you? You can’t trust anybody these days.”
“I wish the limo driver had attacked me. At least I would’ve been inside a clean car rather than a vile, stinking hell-on-wheels. It was Eric.”
“Eric attacked you?” She sat down on the closed toilet seat. “Who knew? And he was such a nice little boy. It’s that devil mother of his. I always knew she was a bad influence on that boy. We’ll send him to jail for the rest of his miserable life.”
Her mother was spinning out of control. Mya had to put a stop to it, or the police would be raiding Eric’s van at any moment…which, considering all he had put her through, might not be a bad idea. “Mom. Everything’s fine. Relax. It was nothing like that. Eric never touched me, well, except for a hug, which was way too long, by the way.”
She abruptly stopped staring at herself in the mirror. The yellow stuff was like glue in her hair and she had to get it out of there. “I have to take a shower this instant or I’ll explode.”
“That’s my girl. You need a good outlook on all of this. We’ll work it out, later, at dinner. I’m sure whatever happened between you two can be resolved.”
“Does this mean he’s coming to dinner?”
“Of course he is. He’s like a son to me.”
“A minute ago you were ready to put him in jail.”
“But now I’m not. See, it’s already working out.”
Mya pulled her dress up over her head and threw it on the white tile floor. Her mother picked it up. “Should I keep this as evidence, or should I burn it?”
Thoughts of a trial with Eric and her stained dress swirled around in Mya’s head. A long trial, with Calista Flockhart as her lawyer, and Lucy Liu as the judge. They’d fine him