Jackson canted his head as if giving me a point. “Perhaps. But it won’t be today, Ms. Sanchez. And it won’t be you.” The tolerant,
• 100 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
amused look left his face and was replaced with an emotion that chilled me. “Shut the door on your way out.”
He picked up the phone and dialed. I stood there shocked by what I had seen in his eyes. Jealousy was one thing, but hate? Over a book that rightfully belonged to me anyway? I left the door open as I stormed from his ofÞ ce.
Robin was back at the front desk and stopped speaking when I walked by.
I did my best to ignore her and spoke directly to the receptionist.
“Would you let Goody know I’m not feeling well and I’m heading home early?” From the corner of my eye I saw Robin open her mouth as if to speak. I raised a Þ nger and pointed at her without looking at her. “You would be smart not to talk to me right now.” I heard her teeth clack together as I walked away.
v
I was grateful that the MAX wasn’t as crowded as it usually was on a Friday evening. I sat with my eyes closed for a few minutes, and by the time I got off, I had let a lot of my anger go.
I walked faster than usual up the street and then up my drive. As I stuck my key in the door, I heard Pepito yip. Shit, how in the hell had I forgotten to tell Ryan about him? I walked into the house and set my bags on the ß oor. I took a few minutes to pet Pepito’s stomach before I searched for Ryan’s quote. I found it on the kitchen table along with the keys. She wrote in a clear block style. The letters were all uppercase and perfectly spaced.
Mia, your dog looked like he needed more water and food so I fed him. Hope you don’t mind. He’s a sweet little thing.
I glanced down at Pepito. His pink tongue hung between his long front teeth in what I imagined was his version of a grin. “You have a friend over? She couldn’t possibly be talking about you.”
Here is the quote for the work you said you needed, as well as a few other things you may not have known about.
• 101 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
Please let me know if the amount is too much and I can Þ nd different materials. The ones I have listed are of quality and would give you a better Þ nish. Ryan.
Pepito had long since lost interest in me and had high-stepped over to his bowl. I read the rest of the note.
P.S. Your dog was taking out his frustration on a throw pillow when I came in. I cleaned up the mess and tossed it into the trash.
I growled and took what was meant to be a menacing step toward Pepito. Instead of hightailing it up the stairs and under the bed, he turned his back to me as if hiding his bowl from my view. I left him to the rest of his meal and went in search of my own throw pillow to thrash.
v
Saturday morning I awoke to snoring. Not the cute, my nose is stuffy, morning snoring, but the deep man snore that comes with being overly tired or a smoker. I leaned over the bed and looked down at Pepito. He had Þ nally decided to use the box outÞ tted with Brenda’s cashmere sweater rather than sleep under the bed.
“Sweet little thing, huh?” I repeated Ryan’s comment. “I bet she wouldn’t think so if she had to sleep next to that snoring.”
Pepito’s pink tongue crept out to moisten his lips. His stomach rose and fell as he sighed hard. His belly looked like a dark brown mini-football. I ran my Þ nger along it and he lifted his leg. I hesitated, then rubbed him more; a sound similar to a cat’s purr emitted from his throat. Maybe he is a little sweetie, I thought. Pepito raised his head looked at me with angelic innocence, closed his eyes, and sneezed. Dog snot ß ew out of his nose, misting my arm and hand. Both Pepito and I froze. There was a moment in which I honestly considered faking a sneeze of my own just so that I could spit right back on him. But I could see by the way he lay still and tense that he expected retaliation, and I couldn’t get further than the inhale.
Without touching anything, and with my hands out in front of me, I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I could hear
• 102 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
Pepito’s nails clacking on the ß oor as he got up to go downstairs and hopefully out the pet door.
Somewhere between washing my hair and shaving my legs I had decided that it was perfectly acceptable to call Ryan. I managed to dry my hair, get dressed, put some food down for Pepito, and dial Ryan’s number before I realized that someone newly unemployed might not appreciate a phone call so early in the morning. She answered after the Þ rst ring.
“Hello?”
“Ryan? Hi, it’s Mia.” I took her silence for confusion. “Mia Sanchez?”
“I know. I was just surprised. I guess I didn’t expect to hear from you until Monday, if at all.”
“No, I wanted to call you last night, but I was too tired.” The truth was, I was too nervous. I went on before I could lose my nerve. “I want you to start the work as soon as possible. Could we meet to discuss it?
I know it’s Saturday, but…”
“That’s Þ ne.”
“Great, how about the Japanese place near Nordstrom at one?”
She hesitated, but agreed. I said good-bye and hung up before she could change her mind.
I spent most of the morning either contemplating a drive to Krispy Kreme or feeling sick to my stomach. 12:50 brought the guilt, 12:52
brought the anger caused by the guilt, and by 12:55 I was calling myself all kinds of fool. The kiss could be explained away. A moment’s indiscretion, even temporary insanity. But now I was going out of my way to continue the contact when I should be avoiding her.
My qualms ended the moment I spotted her waiting in front of the restaurant. She looked downright edible in her jeans, starched white shirt, and leather jacket. Our eyes locked; she looked away Þ rst.
“Hi, have you been waiting long?” I asked.
“No, not long.”
We stood, not looking at each other, for a few more seconds before I felt like I had to say something since it was my idea to meet. “Are you hungry, should we go in? This place is pretty good.”
I half expected her to turn me down based on the frown on her face.
When she said sure and opened the door for me, I was hard-pressed not to show my surprise.
• 103 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
I had chosen to wear the black suit that I had picked out some time ago. To my surprise, it didn’t feel quite as tight as the Þ rst time I’d worn it. I hoped Ryan didn’t hear the swishing of hose as I walked. I waved to the lady behind the counter and headed to my normal table.
“I come here a lot.”
“I Þ gured.”
“This table okay?”
Ryan nodded and I glanced up to order green tea. “So anyway, here’s the extra key back.”
Ryan took the key and put it in her jacket pocket as if I had just handed her a vial of cocaine. The tea arrived and we busied ourselves drinking it. I picked up the menu even though I always got the same thing, tempura. I felt awkward around her now, nothing like the night she took me to Mrs. Margolis’s.
“How are you feeling today?”
“You mean about not having a job?” Ryan shrugged. “I’ve had a job since I was Þ fteen years old. It’s hard. I’ll get another one, though, and thanks to you, I’m not without work. Things will be Þ ne.”
“I really am sorry.”
Ryan suddenly covered my hand with hers. “Would you stop apologizing? None of this is your fault. I’ll admit, I was furious at Þ rst, but never with you. Okay?”
The waiter appeared at our table, and Ryan moved her hand away.
I pretended to consider other entrees before ordering my usual. “What are you going to have, Ryan?”
I could tell by the way she ß ushed when our eyes met that she had been studying me, not her menu.
“What would you recommend? I’m not really that hungry.”
“When�
�s the last time you ate?”
She blinked before answering. “Yesterday at lunch.”
Before all hell broke loose. “How about we share, then? I never Þ nish mine.”
“That’s Þ ne.” Ryan handed her menu to the waiter and he walked away. “You might be taking most of it home with you. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“No problem.” She was starting to look as uncomfortable as I felt.
“So, I guess we should get down to business. I’d like you to start as soon as possible, so I thought—”
• 104 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
“Mia, there’s something I need to say Þ rst. I want to work on your house, but…”
“But?”
“But I don’t want what happened after we left Mrs. Margolis’s to happen again.”
I looked down because I didn’t want her to see how her words affected me.
“Okay. Can you tell me why?”
“Can you tell me where your girlfriend was the other day?”
I was too stunned to answer.
Ryan was busy scratching a line in the table cloth with her short Þ ngernail. “No, on second thought, don’t tell me. Even if you weren’t in a relationship, it wouldn’t change things. I’m in no position to—”
She looked up at me then, her eyes candid, honest. Any sexually charged looks that had passed between us were either gone now or had been a Þ gment of my imagination. “I can Þ x your house. I’d like to do the work. But that’s it, nothing more. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said.
When the food came I busied myself dipping my tempura in the sweet sauce, while Ryan, true to her word, ate very little and spoke even less. By the time we went our separate ways my emotions were so conß icted that I felt like crying. Deep down I knew she was right.
Neither of us was in any position to explore a new relationship. But knowing it to be true didn’t make it feel any less painful.
• 105 •
• 106 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
CHAPTER TEN
Ho, there, Mia.”
Mr. Gentry could talk the ears off a jackrabbit, and if he had been privy to the look on my face, he would have been as offended as he probably had been when he realized two lesbians had moved onto his street. But he was standing behind me and I was not six feet from my front door. I wiped the exasperation from my expression before I turned around.
“That girl of yours is here at eight o’clock on the dot every morning,” he said. “Leaves right at Þ ve o’clock too. She any good?”
I was about to tell him that Ryan wasn’t my girl, but I realized that Mr. Gentry was just being sexist, not assuming a relationship where there was none. I was trying to Þ gure out how to reply when he tapped at his hip.
“I’m not as young as I once was,” he continued, sounding slightly miffed, “and there’s some things around the house that I’d like Þ xed up.”
“Oh, yeah. She’s very good. Makes sure to pick good materials.”
“Good materials are important,” he said. “My father was a carpenter, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Yup. In my younger days I wouldn’t think to have anyone do work in my house.” He looked so sad I considered revising my opinion of him. “My father would be Þ t to be tied if he knew I had a woman in my house Þ xing things.”
I stiffened. “There are lots of handy men in the phone book…”
“Nah, I like your girl’s work ethic. My log says she’s been
• 107 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
working on your house for the last four days. She gets here right on time even though you wouldn’t know if she was late or not. I make sure she doesn’t see me, just in case she ever knocks off early, but she never does.”
“Mr. Gentry, as much as I appreciate knowing that Ryan puts in a full day’s work here, I don’t pay her by the hour. She can come and go as she pleases. You don’t need to spy on her.”
He looked offended. “I wasn’t spying. What with all of the breakins and everything, I’m part of the neighborhood watch. I’m the only one that don’t work, so I—”
“What break-ins?”
Now Mr. Gentry looked exasperated. “Don’t you read the paper?
Hell, we even stuffed ß yers in everyone’s mailbox.” He walked, stiff legged, over to my mailbox, opened the ß ap, and pulled out a mass of papers and envelopes. I would have been amazed at his audacity if I hadn’t been so embarrassed by the fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I had checked it. Note to self: talk to Ryan about putting a mail slot in the door.
“If you’re going to leave your mail in the box like that you should put a lock on it. Gima Samisen across the way there has had her identity stolen four times this year.” Mr. Gentry held a ß yer up to my face and I obediently scanned it. “I noticed your girl because she was a stranger. I almost called the cops. She had a toolbox when she came, but she went in with a key so I Þ gured I’d just watch to make sure she didn’t take anything out when she left.”
“Thank you so much for looking out for my place. Says here the burglaries started a couple months ago. I had no idea.”
Mr. Gentry nodded. “Yeah, two houses were hit just last week.
We thought it was some kids at Þ rst because it was in the daytime. But one of the fellas on the next street over came home while his place was being hit, and the guy punched him while trying to get away. Broke his nose. That’s why I Þ gured your girl was okay. No woman could deliver a blow like that.”
The comment made me want to prove him wrong. I held up the ß yer instead. “Thanks for this.”
“Just be careful. Wouldn’t want that guy to Þ gure out you’re a single woman living alone.”
I thanked Mr. Gentry again and escaped as fast as I could. I was already well past the time I had told Ryan I would be home. My key
• 108 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
was in the doorknob when I realized what Mr. Gentry had said about me being a single woman living alone. He was extremely nosy and he lived next door, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that he Þ gured out that Brenda hadn’t been living here. But was that what I was now? A single woman living alone? Could years as a couple be wiped away in less than a month’s absence? Shouldn’t I feel something other than a low-grade confusion?
The moment I opened the door, Pepito was there scampering wildly.
I was about to call out to Ryan when I heard her speaking. I frowned, not completely certain I liked the idea of Ryan bringing people into my house. I followed Pepito and the sound of Ryan’s voice to the den. The door was open and Ryan was sitting on the ß oor with a cell phone to her ear. The ravaged walls and the piles of wallpaper on the ß oor were proof that Ryan was working hard. Not that I needed any.
She scooped Pepito up with one hand and set him on her lap. He snuggled down as if it were something he did all the time. Almost as if jealousy made noise, he glanced back toward the door and his mouth opened in what I could have sworn was a taunting grin.
“I know, Mother, and I am working. I’ll send you money as soon as there’s something to send.”
I backed away from the door; I didn’t want Ryan to think I was listening in on her phone call.
“I’ll try to Þ nd a cheaper place. Maybe a room instead of an apartment, but it might take me some time. I’ll send you something by the end of the week. I know. I will. I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.
Half the time I don’t even know where he sleeps. I thought Aunt Lynne was looking in on you every day?”
Ryan went quiet for a long moment and then said. “Mother, I should let you get some sleep.” I looked at my watch. If Ryan’s mother was in Texas, that would mean it was six p.m. And she was getting some sleep?
I returned to the front door, opened it, and after a few seconds, shut it again. Ryan walked out of the living room with Pepito by her side. I slipped off
my heels and let my briefcase slide to the ß oor. Pepito let out a loud, piercing bark and I looked at him quickly to make sure he wasn’t preparing himself to do something icky and embarrassing.
“Give me time to talk to her, Pepito,” Ryan said. Her fathomless eyes sparkled as she looked from Pepito to me. “I was wondering if you would mind if I took him for a walk. He seems a little depressed.”
• 109 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“He does?” I frowned. Now that I thought about it, Pepito had been a little more mopey than usual. I thought he was still mooning after Brenda or just vibing off me. “You think something’s wrong with him? Should I take him to the veterinarian?” Pepito stopped prancing around us and stared up at me his eyes squinted in suspicion. He didn’t know the words “no, don’t” or “bad boy,” but he knew the word
“veterinarian.”
“No, he just spends a lot of time inside, so he’s happy when he can get some fresh air.”
“He goes out in the backyard all the time.”
Ryan smiled. “Not the same.” Brenda used to take him out for a walk almost every day. It never occurred to me that I should do the same. I must have looked sheepish because she became serious. “I’m not putting you down or anything. I’ve just always had dogs. They all act like that.”
“Is it obvious that I’m not a dog person?”
“A little.”
I stiß ed a sigh and articulated an irrational impulse. “I’ll come with you.” I looked down at my dark suit, hose, and bare feet. I was deÞ nitely dressed inappropriately for walking the dog. “Mm, it’ll only take a minute to change.”
Ryan, to her credit, only hesitated for a split second. “Sure. I had a few other things to do before I was going to take him, anyway.”
“Great, I’ll see you in a few.” I hurried to my room, telling myself that it wasn’t because I was afraid that she would change her mind. But the truth was I damn near ran out of the den. All so I could walk around the block with an ugly little dog and a woman with a voice like warm honey. Damn, I had no right to feel as good as I did.
It took twenty minutes to track down a pair of jeans that Þ t and a cotton top. Another ten to Þ nd shoes that I could walk in and that also went well with jeans. I refreshed my makeup and was on my way out of the bedroom when I caught sight of myself in the mirror above my dresser. If I stood far enough away I could get a head-to-shin view of myself, which was reason enough to avoid looking into it on most days.
Such a Pretty Face Page 12
