“I think the pickup was stolen. I’m going to take an Uber back.” One that will cost me a fortune. “Just wanted to let you know I’ll be later than usual. You might have to feed dinner if I don’t get back in time. I’ll do night check.”
I hang up and glance around, accepting the utter disaster this day has turned into. Lunch was a total bust. I’m not even sure the damage can be fixed and now this. My phone blows-up. The ringtone is the Commodores’ Brick House which tells me Mona’s calling me back.
“Oh, sweetie. Don’t you worry about that old truck. I’m sending someone to pick you up so don’t get an Uber. Where are you?”
What would I do without Mona? Just hearing her voice makes the tears bubble up again. “Westfall Mall on a bench in front of Chico’s.”
Exactly forty minutes later, the rumble of a familiar car raises the fine hairs on the back of my neck and goosebumps cover my forearms. I glance up from the Mother Goose IG account––where I’ve spent the time being productive, answering DMs from patrons and followers––and see the Cobra slowly roll around the corner.
It’s like someone dumped a bucket of relief over my head. That’s the good part. The bad part is that seeing Shane knocks the legs out from under whatever was holding me together. Tears well up again.
He pulls up to the curb a few feet from where I’m sitting and looks at me, window down, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Need a ride?”
A tear sneaks down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away with my finger, pretending I got something in my eye. By the set of his mouth, I can tell he doesn’t buy it.
“Get in, Blue.”
I do just that, gather my things and walk around the front of the car to the passenger side. Then I slip into the soft leather seat and tip my head back on the headrest, hoping it keeps the rest of the tears pooling on my lids from falling.
The car smells like Shane, a subtle blend of leather, sandalwood, and pine. It makes me think of my mother’s scent. I still have a hard time walking down the body care aisle at Whole Foods because of the scent of patchouli. She’s forever ruined that aisle, and that scent, for me.
“What happened?” He’s watching me, the car still in park when all I want to do is leave this place and never come back. I want to go back home and see my animals.
“Mona’s pickup was stolen.”
“Before that.”
Another tear falls and I wipe it away with the heel of my palm. “My mother happened. Can we get out of here, please?”
He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb. “I’m gonna stop at the police station first and file a report. That alright?”
A police report. Of course. I nod. “Thank you,” I manage to get out without full-tilt crying. “Thank you for coming to get me and…” I suck in a breath. “Thank you for helping me clean up this mess.”
“No need to thank me, shirina.”
“What is that? Why do you keep calling me that?”
“It’s Pashto. I served two tours in Afghanistan.”
He doesn’t continue and I doubt I can get any more out of him by pushing. For a writer, he’s infuriatingly chintzy with his words.
He pulls into the police station parking lot ten minutes later and tells me to lock the doors as he gets out. Not long after that, he comes out of the building holding a stack of papers.
“Mind if we make one more stop?”
I shake my head. I don’t care if he keeps driving until we fall off the ends of the earth. I’m on shaky ground and can’t get my bearings. All that’s keeping me from losing it is his quiet company.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks. I can feel his soft rasp on the back of my neck and a shiver ripples over my skin.
“Anything.”
“Mona doesn’t drive?”
This gets a reluctant smile out of me. He makes the most innocuous questions sound sexy. “I thought you were going to ask me something personal. I’m only telling you this because she doesn’t hide it. Mona’s legally blind in one eye and her vision isn’t great in the other. It’s one of the reasons she hired me.”
“You two are close,” he says as a statement of fact.
“Very close…” I don’t know where I’d be without Mona. Rudderless. Lost for sure. “She’s more of a mother to me than mine has ever been. I would stay with her even if she wasn’t paying me.” The Cobra turns onto Pacific Coast Highway, Santa Monica Bay glistening on my left, and we head north. “Where are we going?”
“My place. I need to pick something up.”
Ten minutes later, we pull down a dirt driveway and keep going until land meets air. A silver Airstream trailer sits on a bluff overlooking the coast, next to it a couple of lawn chairs and a card table.
“This is your place? It’s beautiful.” A view worth millions, no doubt.
“I bought the land when I signed my first contract and never got around to building. I’m away too much… so this works for me.”
He parks and we both get out. The breeze blowing my hair back feels good. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, fill my lungs with sea air and push out all the residual anger at my mother. It’s my fault. My father was right. She is who she is and expecting her to change is insanity.
“What happened with your mother?”
I look over my shoulder to find Shane watching me closely, his dark brown eyes turning amber in the sunlight.
“My mother’s getting married again. She’s in town to ask my father for a divorce, and to see her new stepdaughter… she’s thirteen and goes to boarding school here.
“I guess I was hoping for her to be different. To come to her senses and turn into the mother I always wanted her to be. But people can’t change their nature, can they?”
Hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans, he walks up next to me and stares ahead at the sinking sun.
“No. I don’t think they can,” he murmurs in a resigned tone. I can’t help but wonder if he’s speaking about himself, or someone he loves.
“Grizzly bears like to roam,” comes out of my mouth without permission.
His brow wrinkles in confusion. “What?”
“Never mind… We should head back. I have to feed dinner.”
Looking down at me, he searches my face and nods. “Let me grab my laptop.”
While he disappears into the trailer, I glance around, drifting over to the lawn chair. I take a seat and stare at the horizon. Something about this place feels familiar to me. Homey, almost.
My gaze cuts left and I spot a paperback with the cover ripped off on the other lawn chair. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I reach for it and my suspicion is confirmed. My beloved copy of Simply freaking Sinful.
I pick it up and clutch it to my chest, whipping around in the chair. Shane is in the doorway of the trailer with a laptop tucked under his arm and a guilty expression on his face.
“You dirty, rotten, filthy liar!” I shout, standing. I’m not sure whether to be pissed or embarrassed, but somehow I end up laughing. I’ve been thoroughly played.
A grin splits his face. “You never asked me whether I had it.”
“You knew what I was looking for and you said nothing!” I charge up and he backpedals inside. I go to smack him with the book and he catches my arm in his free hand, the rough pads of his fingers wrapping gently against the fine skin on the inside of my wrist. My vitals spike; my pulse racing like I just ran a marathon, my breathing shallow as we stare at each other.