by Molly Harper
“Miranda, what’s wrong?” Collin asked, his brow creased as he pried Sophie loose. She pouted a bit but kept her chest to herself. He pulled me aside, asking quietly, “Is this about Sophie? You have nothing to worry about, she’s just a friend. An old friend from a long time ago. We’ve known each for years. Trust me.”
Where had I heard that before?
Just a friend. Sure, Sophie was just a friend. And then, in a couple of days, I would be treated to exposure to Collin and Sophie’s secret sex life via video chat or text message or some digital media I hadn’t heard of yet. No. I wasn’t doing this again. I would not be subjected to the silly nicknames and accidental boob grazes of “platonic friends.” My next boyfriend was going to be a hermit.
Wait, my current boyfriend was a hermit … and I still had to compete with plastic, breathless Sophie.
Screw it.
I turned to Iris, who seemed to be caught in a permanent wince. “You know what? Iris, I really appreciate the fact that you hired me. And I know my employment is pretty much hanging by a thread. But at this point, I don’t care if you fire me, I quit!” I stalked toward the door, grumbling about vampires and their bullshit. I stopped, turning back to Iris and Ophelia. “I don’t mean to be rude. Ophelia, thank you for the bonus. And thank you for the opportunity, Iris. I really appreciate it. And considering what happened to your car, I won’t blame you for suing me.”
I stomped out the door and down the stairs toward the driveway. Sophie chuffed indignantly and called me too immature to work with the undead community. As the screen door slammed shut, I heard Iris ask, “What about the car?”
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
12
Dick was waiting for me at the end of Ophelia’s driveway, leaning against the side of his car and giving me a sympathetic look.
“How did you know?” I groaned. “Are you psychic, too?”
Dick chuckled. “Nope. But I’ve spent enough time around Ophelia to know how these situations are going to turn out. Can I give you a ride home?”
I nodded, smiling gratefully as he opened the door. “Would you mind if we made a quick stop first?”
“Will you tell me what happened in there?” he asked.
“I’ll think about it,” I grumbled.
Dick didn’t blame me for being pissed about the teddy bear, but he thought that selling counterfeit Snuggies out of his El Camino was a valid business model, so I’m not sure that was support that I needed. He seemed to understand that I needed some cheering up, so he shared Jane’s latest exploits, which included dropping a case of coffee beans on Andrea and wrenching her own front door off its hinges while she was arguing with Dick over stocking “adult paranormal titles.” I was going to have to spend more time with Jane. She may have been the only person on earth who could really understand me.
“Can you keep the engine running?” I asked as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”
Dick frowned, clearly thinking that this was my home. He was probably wondering why I was planning to leave so quickly. “Sure.”
“And can I borrow your cell phone?”
Even more confused, Dick nodded and handed me a late-model smartphone. I played with the features on the walk to the house, until I found the camera function. I pulled the pawn receipt from my pocket as I climbed the steps. I took a deep breath, centering myself before I knocked on the door and dealt with Jason. He answered the door, coiffed and pressed as always, but the confused look on his face was priceless.
He glanced over his shoulder nervously but put his best smile on as he exclaimed, “Hi, sweetheart, you’re—”
I cranked my fist back like a piston and swung at his nose with all of my might, landing a blow that sent Jason tumbling back across the foyer floor. He yelped, landing with a thud, clutching at his spurting nostrils.
I smiled, acidic and sweet. “Enjoy Lisa and her ticklish knees.”
“Bat the hell, Miradah?” he exclaimed, slurring his words through his recently rearranged nasal cavity. “I tink you broke by dose!”
I tossed my pawn receipt at him. “Learn to use your screen lock, you spineless, manipulative mama’s boy!”
And while he was sprawled on the foyer floor, with blood dripping down his nose and my pawn ticket perfectly centered on his dark T-shirt, I whipped out Dick’s cell phone and snapped several pictures. Because this was a moment I wanted to remember.
I scampered down the steps and slid into the passenger side. Dick stared at me, wide-eyed, but had a huge grin plastered on his handsome face. “Did I just help you commit a felony?”
“I don’t know, are there important distinctions between misdemeanor and felony assault?” I asked, flexing my sore fingers as we sped away from the apartment complex.
“It seems like there should be,” he mused as I forwarded the cell-phone pictures to my e-mail address.
“Probably better that you don’t know, then.”
Dick was nice enough to drive me to my parents’ house, after assuring him that I wouldn’t be “bitch-slapping” anybody living there. Before I climbed out of the car, I promised that I would come by his place on Silver Ridge Road soon so I could spend some time with Andrea. Dick seemed very keen on persuading her to take a cross-country trip with me, as it could only end in what he called “world-class acts of destruction and stupidity.” He seemed to consider me some sort of vampire extreme-tourism attraction.
The house was quiet as I slipped inside. My parents’ part-time housekeeper, Faye, had left dinner warming in the oven, but I was too tired to consider eating. I flopped onto my bed and pressed my face into the freshly laundered quilt. My childhood bedroom was always ready for me. The furniture was always dusted. It hadn’t changed since I was a senior in high school. The walls were the same shade of Violently Violet.
I needed to take a shower. But I couldn’t seem to find the will to get up. I couldn’t move. I was exhausted, physically, emotionally, financially. I rubbed my face into the quilt and sighed. All that trouble for a stupid toy.
What could I do next? What was the step down from vampire chauffeur? Werewolf walker? Pedicurist for Bigfoot? I would have to Google that in the morning, I told myself. For now, I needed to sleep on a bed that wouldn’t collapse, get sprinkled in broken glass, or attract prickish vampires. I closed my eyes and let exhaustion drag me under.
Someone was touching my face. I was curled into the fetal position on my mattress, and cool fingers stroked down my forehead, along my brows. I leaned into them, mumbling, “Morning, Collin.”
“Who’s Collin?” a warm feminine voice asked.
“Mom?” I lifted my head from the bed and blinked up, my eyes gummy and tired. The scent of my mom’s gardenia perfume washed over me in an oversweet, familiar cloud. I ignored the recoil Mom gave when she took in the smeared makeup and Medusa hair.
She chuckled fondly and kissed my forehead. “Darlin’, what in the world are you wearing?”
My eyes adjusted to the dark room, and I could make out the glint of Mom’s ash-blond bob tucked behind her ears. The streetlamp outside my window reflected off the raw silk of her favorite slate-blue suit. It was one of those classic suits, the kind a woman buys in her thirties and will only give up when it’s ripped from her cold dead hands … or she gains twenty pounds. My mother hadn’t gained an ounce in thirty years. The suit would be perfectly crisp, even after a work day. And although I couldn’t see it clearly, I knew that her face was carefully made up to look professional and mature, as always.
“Hi, baby,” she said, stroking my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home, where you belong. I was so worried about you being out there alone with some vampire.”
“He wasn’t just some vampire, Mom,” I groaned, rubbing my hand over my eyes. “He was a pretty nice guy.”
She sniffed and folded a pair of my discarded socks while I switched on the bedside lamp. I had this strange feeling of déjà vu, as if Mom had come home from work to have one of our come-to-Je
sus midnight chats about why I should focus on passing trigonometry instead of auditioning for the school play.
Again with the sniffing. “Well, I’m just glad you won’t be doing that again.”
I swung my feet to the ground, wincing as my stiff legs cramped in protest. I stripped out of my borrowed dress and slid into my bathrobe. Mom straightened the picture frame I’d bumped on my way in the night before and realigned the participation certificate I’d received from a middle-school soccer team.
“Mom, I never said I wouldn’t be doing it again,” I reminded her. Never mind the fact that I probably wouldn’t be doing it again. I still hadn’t said it. “And you’d be surprised how nice some of them can be, some of the time.”
She patted my head. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Have you talked to Jason since you got back into town?”
I avoided direct eye contact. “You could say that.”
Mom took my chin in her hands, then glanced down at my bruised knuckles. “So I take it the wedding is off, permanently?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I know you’re disappointed, but really, you should be used to it by now.”
“Oh, don’t be that way, Miranda. I understand why you don’t want to marry Jason, really, I do. It would be too difficult, knowing that he was in love with another woman. Don’t get defensive with me.”
“You’re right.” I sighed. “I’m not being fair to you. I owe it to you to tell you this without my usual sarcasm.” I sat on the bed and looked her straight in the eye as I said, “Mom, I appreciate that you’ve tried to help me find my way over the past year, but I’m not going to work for you anymore.”
I reached into my shoulder bag and pulled out a bank envelope. I pressed it into her hand. “Five thousand dollars. With the interest, I still owe you eight. I’ll have it soon.” Mom spluttered that I didn’t have to pay so much at one time and I should hold on to part of it to invest in my new “dating wardrobe.”
“Mom, no.”
“Miranda, I’m glad you enjoyed this little road trip, but that’s no reason to throw away the progress you’ve made. This was supposed to be an opportunity for you to make up your mind about your relationship with Jason, not to find another field you won’t succeed in.”
“Hey, that’s not fair! I did exactly what I set out to do. I got my client from point A to point B, without … permanent damage. I’m making a rather substantial payment on the loan. That is the very definition of not failing,” I said. “You didn’t even ask me how I did, you just assumed, and I think that’s what hurts me the most.”
“Honey, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“No, Mom, you did,” I protested. “And I honestly don’t think you realize you’re doing it. You put me in the role of the family screw-up, because that way we don’t have to talk about Glenn’s tendency to spend Saturday afternoons at the Booby Hatch. As long as I keep screwing up, nothing else about the family need be called into question. You can pretend we’re all still kids and you’re still in control. You can keep us from getting into too much trouble, from getting hurt. Well, that’s just not the case anymore. I have a plan. I’m making progress. And that does not include working with you and Daddy at the law firm. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, I really am. We both know that me working with you is not a long-term solution. I’m bored out of my skull. If I stay there, I’m going to spend every minute either planning my escape or resenting the hell out of you.
“You’re going to have to accept that I’m going to make my own choices, even if they’re not the choices you’d make for me, even if they could get me into trouble. I’ve got to figure these things out for myself. The last couple of days were really hard. Working with this vampire—I messed up more times than I can count, but I didn’t fail. You always said that success was a learned behavior. Well, I’m learning, and I’m not willing to give it up just yet.”
“Really?”
“I really like the transport job, Mom.”
“But you liked the pastry shop, and the magic act, and the studio.”
“Yes, when I was still in the honeymoon phase, and everything was new and shiny and exciting,” I agreed. “But as soon as things got difficult … or caught fire, I gave up and came home to plan my next adventure. But this time, even when things completely disintegrated and it seemed as if I’d never get home, I was having the time of my life. I think I’ve finally found the thing that I’m good at, and it combines all of the things I learned while doing the things I wasn’t so good at.”
“What?”
I chuckled. “It turns out that to be a good vampire chauffeur, you need the skills of a failed photographer, an understudy yacht mechanic, a well-trained waitress, a taxi driver, and a magician’s assistant.”
“Oh, Miranda.” She sighed, her lip trembling. “I didn’t ever want to make you feel that you’ve failed. And I know I’m hard on you sometimes. It’s just, well, I could always count on you when you were younger; your antics used to keep everything so lively. I was always proud of Glenn, but you were the one who kept your daddy and me talking.”
I snorted. “I’ll bet.”
“No, when we were worrying about you, we hardly noticed that we worked too many hours and hadn’t had any real time together since our honeymoon. And when you grew up and started all of these wild adventures, I suppose I grasped onto that as something we could fuss over together. And when we got you to come home, and you were working for us …”
“You worried about me full-time?” I suggested dryly.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like a failure. Really. I was just so used to keeping my eye on you that it became a habit.”
“That is extremely unhealthy, Mom. And close supervision doesn’t mean I won’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m starting to see that, considering Glenn’s Booby Hatch issue.” She sniffed, swiping at her eyes. “So when do you go back to work?”
“I don’t know, but I may have just quit.”
“Well, that’s a first for you.”
I gnawed on my lips. “I know. But I’m going to keep at it. Even if I don’t work for Iris again, I’m going to stay in this field. I really like working with vampires.”
“Tell me what he was like.”
“Who?”
She smirked, pushing my hair back from my face. “The man who has you standing still for more than five minutes altogether.”
“I’ve been asleep for the last sixteen hours, Mom.”
“Don’t be obtuse, sweetheart,” she griped. “You have intentionally avoided talking about your client every time I’ve asked about him. And I don’t believe it’s because of some silly confidentiality agreement you signed for Iris. Now, tell me about Mr. Sutherland.”
“He was … contrary. He wanted things done exactly his way, or he became all stern and cranky. He gave me sixteen pages of rules and requirements before we even left his driveway.”
“And you always do so well with rules and requirements.”
“I drove him nuts from the moment the engine started. But eventually, I think he liked it. And Lord, I liked doing it, just because it made him break out of his stuffy persona and smile.”
“A good smile?” Mom asked, teasing.
I nodded.
“So why are you here instead of out there with him?”
“He—I just—it …” I sighed. “It wouldn’t have worked out. Like you said, he wasn’t my type.”
“That’s a silly reason. Your type usually looks like some of the clients coming through our offices. In fact, some of your boyfriends have been clients at our offices.”
“Easy,” I told her in a warning tone. “Don’t backtrack on this touching moment.”
She tilted her head, and once again, I was grateful that I’d never been on the receiving end of Mom’s questions on the witness stand. “If you saw him again, what would you do?”
I grumbled into my pillow but eventually admitted, “Jump him.”
/> Mom sighed, clapping a hand over her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t share these things with me.”
“I know. That’s part of the reason I do it.”
I stayed up for most of the night, telling my mom about my adventures on the road with Collin. She couldn’t believe what I’d put up with, what I’d put myself through, just to keep a job. But I think it served to convince her of how badly I wanted to avoid coming back to Jason. She agreed that Collin sounded like just the sort of frustrating, fascinating man I deserved, and she spent the rest of the night trying to persuade me to contact him before he left town.
After unburdening my soul, I slept for at least ten hours. I plugged my iPod into the alarm clock and put my “Sleepy/Spa” playlist on repeat. I woke up with a slick of drool dried to my cheek and my hair in wild disarray. I stumbled out of my room, whacking my shoulder on the doorjamb on my way to the bathroom.
A full moon shone down on my parents’ yard. I went into the bathroom and splashed some cool water on my face. I peeled my hair back from my face with a headband and stumbled down the stairs.
“Mom, can we arrange an intravenous coffee system?” I mumbled, plodding down the steps.
I heard my mother’s tinkling laughter from downstairs. I hadn’t heard her laugh like that since Glenn’s wedding. It took all I had not to turn on my heel and clomp right back up the stairs. I would not be caught in one of my mother’s meetings, whether it was with members of the church bazaar committee or a potential date or employer for me. The last one resulted in our not speaking for days because I dumped a glass of iced tea over Leonard “Wandering Hands” Burton’s head.
“Miranda, is that you?” Mom called. “We have a guest, honey. Come on down.”
I was wearing a sleeveless flannel nightgown my brother had given me last Christmas. It was lavender, with pink kittens on it. Circa 1989 LA Gear slouchy socks completed the look. “Um, I’m not exactly dressed for company right now, Mom.”
