What She Really Wants for Christmas. Debbi Rawlins
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Liza cringed. With dread, she took a step back and squinted into Rick’s apartment. He was still out cold. However, Freedom heard her mom’s whistle and came bounding up the stairs.
“Hi, Liza.” The eight-year-old tomboy was covered with dirt. She pulled off her red ball cap and dust flew everywhere.
“Time for dinner?” she asked her mom, her hopeful blue eyes going to the bag.
“Liza bought us burgers.”
“Yahoo. Fries, too?”
Liza unlocked her apartment door. “They would’ve gotten cold.”
“The hamburgers are cold, too,” Freedom said, with perfect logic.
“That’s true,” Mary Ellen said, her slight frown accentuating the scar paralleling her lower lip.
Sighing, Liza led them inside and went straight to the microwave. Eating cold French fries wasn’t the same thing, but Liza didn’t want to get into it with them. She wanted them to eat and leave. In fact, she should’ve given them the food to take back to their own apartment, but she had a soft spot for Mary Ellen and her daughter.
As pitiful as Liza’s place was with its chipped paint and stained, olive-green carpet, the other two managed to live in a cheaper, cramped studio apartment. Mary Ellen still ended up two months behind on the rent since her welfare checks didn’t quite cover all their expenses. With her pronounced limp, she’d had trouble finding a job that would support the two of them. Liza had never asked her about the bum leg, but she had a bad feeling about it.
She finished nuking the burgers and Mary Ellen had already put napkins on the small table. It was only big enough for two, so Freedom sat on her mother’s good knee. She quickly wolfed down her burger, and eyed a second one. Liza pushed it across to her, wishing she’d bought more than five sandwiches. When Mary Ellen finished hers, Liza offered her the last one.
“What about Rick?”
Amazing how just the mention of him could knot her stomach and send the hair straight up off the back of her neck. “What about him?”
“Isn’t he eating?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
Mary Ellen regarded her quizzically. “Why do you stay with him?”
“I’m not with him.” Liza grabbed the used wrappers and crumpled them as she got to her feet. She’d seen the curious looks Mary Ellen had given her on the unfortunate occasions when Rick was drunk and he’d yelled from the door of his apartment as Liza was trying to slip quietly down the stairs. But she didn’t intend to discuss her problems with Mary Ellen. Or anyone else.
“Why do you live next door to him, then?” the other woman asked.
Liza disposed of the wrappers, using the time to compose herself. Anyone else and she would have told them it was none of their damn business, but having to look into Mary Ellen’s perpetually sad eyes, Liza just couldn’t do it.
“It’s complicated,” she said finally.
“That means you don’t want to talk about it, huh?” the little girl mumbled, her mouth full.
“Freedom,” Mary Ellen admonished her. “This is grown-up talk. You be quiet.”
Liza hid a smile. Poor kid was going to grow up to be like her. Smart-mouthed and always in trouble.
“You went to college, didn’t you?” Mary Ellen asked.
Liza slowly nodded, not liking the conversation.
“You’re so pretty and smart and I don’t understand why you’d be living in a dump like this.”
Right. Real smart. So smart that she’d put herself in a position to be blackmailed. “Look,” Liza said in a tight voice, casting a brief glance at Freedom, who’d turned to licking her fingers instead of listening to the conversation. “I don’t think you want to start a question-and-answer session.”
Mary Ellen looked grimly down at her weather-roughened hands. “No,” she said quietly, and then cleared her throat and rose from the table. “Freedom, come on. We need to be going. Thanks for dinner, Liza.” She pulled her daughter along with her, keeping her face toward the door.
“See you later.” Liza stayed in the small open kitchen and watched them go. She probably should’ve made nice. Mary Ellen hadn’t meant anything bad by what she’d said. The woman seemed to have such a lonely life, likely she only wanted to talk.
But Liza didn’t have it in her. Not today. Everything had gone wrong. After being decisive all of her life, she’d become as stable as a palm tree in a hurricane. She should never have allowed the blackmail to get this far, but she’d panicked and everything had spiraled out of control before she knew what had happened. Winning the lawsuit would save her ass, if she could only keep her act together.
She walked to the love seat and sank down, careful to avoid the bad spring in the center. God, was this headache ever going away? She leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her head in her hands. She needed a couple of aspirin. But that meant leaving to get them. No way. She was staying right where she was to enjoy the peace and quiet while Rick was passed out.
Going to the station had been a bad idea. She’d known it before she’d gotten in the car. But that was the sort of stupid irrational behavior she couldn’t seem to control anymore. Even though she’d never made it out of her car. Thanks to Evan Gann. People didn’t know how to mind their own damn business.
If she’d gotten into the studio, she might have learned whether another settlement was being considered. The last offer they’d made, Rick had flatly refused. Although since she’d pumped Zach Hass, the new guy, for information, everyone named in the lawsuit had probably been warned not to talk to her. For all she knew, security wouldn’t even have let her inside. Unless…
She abruptly brought her head up.
Evan Gann. He could get her inside. No one could stop her if she was going to see him. Damn it. Why hadn’t she taken his phone number? Grudgingly she pushed to her feet, and got her cell phone. She hoped like hell his number was listed.
2
A T THREE FORTY- FIVE Evan took a few minutes away from the set and called his office and then his answering service. Because of the consulting job, he only saw patients three days a week, but inevitably, on the rare occasion that he wanted some personal time, there’d be an emergency that would consume the rest of his day. Fortunately, this afternoon he was free to see Liza.
What a shock it had been when she’d called last night. As a result he’d been on edge all day. It seemed as if every shot had gone wrong and there’d been so many retakes that he was afraid he wouldn’t be done when she arrived at four fifteen. He’d finally had to pull the assistant director aside and tell her that he was going to be out of here by four, no matter what.
The truth was, his concentration wasn’t what it should be anyway. He didn’t get why Liza had decided to see him. No sign she’d been interested yesterday. So why the sudden change of heart? And why did she want to meet him at the studio? Strange that she’d want to show her face here at all.
Even stranger that he was still interested in her. Especially this time of the year. Ever since medical school and the Angela debacle, he had no use for the holidays. So what was it about Liza? He couldn’t quite grasp the attraction. Had to be something chemical. Pheromones, maybe. Or maybe that he was a sucker for a crying woman. He had an annoying urge to rescue them.
He checked his watch and saw that the AD had noticed. She gave him a small nod and he didn’t think twice before grabbing his jacket and heading off the set. He was early but he kept an electric razor in his car’s glove box. He could barely make it through the day without dark stubble covering his chin.
He’d made it halfway through