California Girls

by Susan Mallery

  Zennie shuddered. “Sex sounds awful right now.”

  “Sadly, it does to me, too. And I’m not pregnant.” She touched Zennie’s arm. “I know I wasn’t on board before, but there’s a very good chance you’re doing the right thing.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I kind of am. I made the statement to be nice, but now I realize I actually mean it. You’re a good person, Zennie. I’m sorry you’re suffering. Now let’s start with the drawers.”

  Zennie grinned. “Could I have a second to enjoy the compliment?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  They each pulled out a drawer and set it on the dining room table. Zennie sorted through half-used pads of paper and a couple dozen pens. There were paper clips, old circulars, playing cards, some batteries and a hair clip in the shape of a butterfly. She found old report cards and sorted them into three piles, then held up a roll of pennies.

  “We’re rich,” she said, waving the roll.

  “Good to know. Oh, look.” Finola passed over an envelope.

  Zennie opened it and saw ticket stubs to a Kelly Clarkson show, along with backstage passes. She turned the tickets over, remembering how much she and Ali had wanted to go to the concert. Zennie had begged and somehow her dad had come through. The three of them had been in the fifth row, dead center. After the show, they’d gone backstage where they’d met Kelly. She’d been sweet, posing for pictures and signing autographs before offering them cupcakes from the crafts table.

  “Don’t start crying,” Finola ordered.

  “Too late.” She held up the tickets. “This was my first concert. Ali’s, too. We got to meet Kelly and the band.” She managed a strangled laugh. “I remember wearing my backstage pass lanyard around my neck for a week until my teacher made me leave it at home. I thought I was so cool and special.”

  “You were both those things.”

  Zennie sniffed. “Don’t be nice to me. It’s dangerous.”

  “Sorry. You were a spoiled little brat who didn’t deserve a backstage pass.”

  Zennie nodded. “Better. Thanks.”

  Finola laughed. “Wow, hormones really are powerful. I had no idea. I have a lot more respect for Mother Nature than I did, let me tell you.”

  “Me, too.”

  They finished with the drawers. Finola went into the kitchen to make them a snack while Zennie sat at the table, fingering the passes.

  She missed her dad. Was this what Ali meant when she talked about Dad not being there for her? Zennie had to admit it sucked.

  She pulled out her phone and took a picture of the tickets and passes, then texted it to him.

  Remember these? What a great night and a great memory. Dad, you’re wrong not to support what I’m doing. I can only help out a friend this way because of how you raised me, so you’re as much to blame. Not talking to me is ridiculous. I’m your favorite—we both know it. So stop acting like this. I’m pregnant and I need my dad.

  There were a couple of seconds of silence, then she saw the three dots that told her he was typing.

  Imogene isn’t talking to me. She’s pissed and let me tell you, it’s hard to fight with someone when you live in a boat. There are no corners to retreat to. While I won’t admit you’re my favorite, you are a terrific daughter. I just hate to see you taking a chance like you are. What if something goes wrong?

  She thought for a second. What if something doesn’t?

  Point taken. I love you, Zennie, and I miss you. You’re right—I should be there for you. But really? A baby?

  She sniffed. Yes, Dad. A baby. Let it go.

  It’s gone. Love you, baby girl. We’ll talk soon.

  She smiled. There were more tears—of course—but these were the happy kind. There were still multiple issues—Gina, her mother, work, telling her coworkers, actually being pregnant for eight more months, delivering the baby, recovering, eating kale—but they were doable, she told herself. Everything was going to be just fine.

  * * *

  Ali spent the first part of her vacation week working on her notes for her conversation with her boss when she returned to the warehouse the following Monday. She wanted facts and figures easily accessible. Once that was done, she had lunch with Finola, helped her mother empty a few cupboards and spent her evenings and nights with Daniel. The man was a god in bed and she didn’t care who knew it.

  On second thought, she did care, which was why she didn’t mention the shift in their relationship to anyone, but she knew and that was enough. Their time together was amazing. He was funny and kind. He always wanted to know what she was thinking. He wanted her with him and he liked her sleeping with him.

  Glen had never wanted to spend the night at her apartment and he hadn’t wanted her staying over with him. Ali hadn’t figured that out until recently. They’d usually had sex at her place and then he left. She wasn’t sure how they were supposed to have transitioned into an actual marriage, she’d thought when she’d put the pieces together. Had Glen expected them to have separate bedrooms or something? Not that she cared—the only significance was that there was another check mark on the list of reasons it was never going to work.

  Thursday morning she headed for the motocross track. She had a lesson that afternoon but she wanted to spend the morning getting more familiar with Daniel’s business. She was meeting him for lunch, but before that, there was much to explore.

  The tracks themselves were open seven days a week, as were the extra trails. The rentals and concession stands were only available on weekends during the winter months. In a few more weeks, they would stay open every day through the summer.

  Ali walked into the huge garage area. Guys with bikes could rent space to do repairs or they could use the on-site mechanics, for a price, of course. There were plenty of tools, a lot of light and advice available.

  She went through the swinging doors into the back where the parts were kept. This was her world, she thought with a smile. Long rows of metal shelves filled with parts for the rentals or for owners doing repairs. Only as she walked around she saw the layout was disorganized at best. Multiple-piece components were not clustered together, and refurbished parts were mingled with new. Some of the closest shelves were dusty from disuse while the parts she knew had to be used nearly every day were in the back. In a word, Daniel’s parts inventory was a mess.

  She walked to a nearby computer and discovered it wasn’t password protected. She got into the inventory system and did a quick printout. After that, she played around and discovered that she could easily change inventory numbers, meaning theft would be a snap.

  “Oh, Daniel,” she murmured. “We so need to have a talk.”

  She took pictures and measurements, then started studying the printout. When he showed up with sandwiches and sodas, she’d taken over a desk in the back and had papers spread out all over.

  “Homework?” he asked, his voice teasing.

  She looked up. “Is it lunchtime already? I’ve been working.”

  “I can see that. Want to tell me about the project?”

  “Give me a second and I’ll meet you in your office.”

  She retreated to the restroom to wash her hands, then grabbed her notes and joined him in his office.

  “You look serious,” he said, sounding more intrigued than annoyed.

  “You have a big inventory problem,” she said as she sat down and stuck a straw in her cup of soda. “No wonder you always need me to rush you parts. Your computers aren’t password protected and anyone can get into your inventory control. For all you know, hundreds of parts are just walking out the door every month. There’s no system for how parts are stored. If I didn’t know better, I would say you simply throw them on whatever shelf is available.”

  He shifted in his chair. “It used to be like that, but I’ve made some improvements.”

&nb
sp; “No, Daniel. I’ve made some improvements.” She shifted her chair to his side of the desk and showed him what she’d been working on.

  “First I listed your parts by sales volume. Like every business, 20 percent of your inventory makes up 80 percent of your business. You need to keep those up front where they can be found and distributed easily.”

  They went through her notes. She talked to him about doing spot checks and making people sign out parts.

  “There are some high-end items that should be locked up.”

  “I trust my guys,” he said.

  She looked into his dark eyes. “Yes, but it’s not just your guys back there. The public can wander around at will. I know you’re losing money from theft. You need to figure out how much.”

  He handed her a sandwich. “Smart and beautiful. I’m one lucky guy. What else would you do differently around here?”

  She gave herself a second to enjoy the compliment. Daniel was always generous with them and she was actually starting to think he might mean what he said.

  “The concession stands need to be fixed up. They’re looking old and tired. A fresh coat of paint would help and maybe some new signage. Nothing fancy. Also, you have a ton of land out here and not all of it is chewed up by the tracks.”

  “Chewed up?”

  “You know what I mean. You have natural wilderness. This is LA. We love the outdoors.”

  “You don’t.”

  She smiled. “I tolerate it. My point is, you’re not making any money from the unused land.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Spend a couple thousand dollars to section off an area, put up some inexpensive fencing and rent it out.”

  His brows drew together in confusion. “For what?”

  “Weddings, parties, corporate retreats.” She felt her eyes widen. “Oh, wow. You should offer corporate bonding exercises. That would be a great way to grow the business. Corporations are always looking for stuff like that for their executive teams. It’s way more interesting to ride a bike than do some trust exercise. And you already have classrooms and decent bathrooms. They could make a day of it.”

  He stared at her. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

  “Not really. I’m just brainstorming. My point is your inventory control sucks and it’s costing you a lot of money. Fix that. Then we can talk about ways to grow the business. I think you could even have weddings up here.”

  “The bikes are loud.”

  “The bikes stop running around six. So all the weddings would start at seven. No biggie.”

  “Ali, you’ve come up with a half dozen ideas in ten minutes. You’re good at this.”

  “Thank you.” She waved her sandwich. “Oh, what about a Christmas village? You know with cute shops and reindeer and Santa.”

  “No Christmas village.”

  She slid onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You say that now, but I’ll bet I can convince you.”

  “You probably can.” He kissed her. “The confidence is very sexy, just so you know.”

  Confident? Her? She nearly laughed out loud only to realize she was feeling kind of confident. Inventory was her thing, so that wasn’t a surprise, but the rest of it had just come to her.

  “You’re good for me,” he said right before he claimed her mouth with his.

  As she kissed him back, she realized he was good for her, too.

  * * *

  Finola told herself she wasn’t going to faint. She’d had a protein drink a couple of hours ago and later tonight there would be actual food. She would be careful, though. After five days of no solid food, she didn’t want to get sick. That would hardly support the image she was presenting to the world.

  She was buffed, spray-tanned and had endured a painful facial that had left her skin glowing. All that was left was for her to finish her makeup, then put on her gown.

  Her mother stood in the doorway to her room. “I’d forgotten what it was like to get dressed up,” she said with a sigh. “So much work, but it’s worth it.” She crossed to the mirror over the dresser and studied herself. “Not that I would look like I used to.”

  Finola put her hands on her mom’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You look great.” She paused. “Mom, are you dating?”

  Mary Jo met her gaze in the mirror. “My goodness, no. Dating. At my age.”

  “You’re in your fifties. You could live to ninety. Are you sure you want to be alone all that time?”

  “I’m not alone. I have my girls and my friends.” She sighed. “Besides, love is complicated.”

  Finola smiled. “It is, but sex can be easy.”

  “Finola Louise!”

  “Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t miss it. Find some nice man and take him for a test drive. You know what they say. Use it or lose it.”

  They were still laughing when Zennie arrived. Finola saw that her sister had actually put on mascara and used hair product so her short cut was spiky. She carried a dress in a plastic garment bag.

  Zennie and Mary Jo looked at each other for a second. Finola felt the rising tension in the room.

  “Mom.”

  Finola willed her mother to try to let it go.

  “How are you feeling?” Mary Jo asked. “I never had morning sickness when I was pregnant, but I was an emotional mess. Show me a kitten and I would cry for hours.”

  Zennie laughed. “That’s what I’m dealing with, too. Everything is drama and I can’t handle it.”

  “Wait until your boobs start hurting. It goes away in a few weeks but until then, it’s like knives.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  They smiled at each other and Finola relaxed. While they chatted, she wrestled her way into shapewear, then slid on the Rachel Gilbert black-and-silver sequined gown. The sucker weighed several pounds, but she didn’t care. It was gorgeous and suited her. She wanted to make an entrance and photograph well—nothing else mattered.

  “You look great,” Zennie said, stripping off her clothes and stepping into the bridesmaid dress she’d bought for Ali’s wedding.

  Of course the simple, inexpensive gown looked stunning on her. Oh, to be that tall, that fit and that genetically blessed, Finola thought with only a tiny bit of rancor.

  While Mary Jo zipped up the dress, Finola handed her sister a small navy evening bag. They’d just stepped into their shoes when the doorbell rang.

  While Mary Jo greeted the driver, Finola checked that she had everything, then she and her sister stepped into the limo.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she said as they pulled away from the curb. “The station is a big sponsor of the charity so I couldn’t get out of going but I really didn’t want to face the hordes alone.”

  “Happy to help,” Zennie told her. “It’s not my idea of fun but lately I’m feeling unsettled and out of sorts, so this is a nice distraction.”

  Finola studied her. “No regrets?”

  “The occasional surprise, but no regrets.”

  Impulsively, Finola squeezed her hand. “I’m glad.”

  It didn’t take long to get to The Beverly Hills Hotel. They waited in a line of limos before reaching the red carpet. Zennie stared at the crowd of photographers.

  “I wasn’t expecting this. What should I do?”

  “Smile and head inside. I’ll be right beside you.”

  “What if I trip?”

  “Then you’ll be on the news.”

  Zennie grinned. “Good to know.”

  They made it inside without mishap. Finola led the way to the registration area where she checked them in. The night was a fairly traditional event with cocktails and a silent auction followed by dinner and a live auction. She was at one of the station’s three tables where she would be surrounded by people she knew and trusted. Zennie w
ould sit on one side of her and she’d arranged for Rochelle to sit on the other. But first she had to get through the cocktail party.

  She linked arms with her sister. “Ready?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure for what, but okay. Let’s do it.”

  They walked into the huge ballroom. There were dozens of pairs of photographs of children on the walls. The picture on the left showed a sick, sad child while the one on the right showed the same kid, but healthy and happy. Everywhere banners proclaimed You can make miracles.

  As they made their way to the bar, they passed too many people Finola knew. Women stopped her with a concerned expression.

  “How are you?” a tall redhead asked. “Really, Finola. How are you?”

  Finola smiled. “I’m doing great, Maddie. How are you?”

  “I just feel so awful. Everything was so public. You really didn’t know at all?”

  Finola stepped back. “We’re parched. Let’s talk later, all right? Right now a vodka martini is calling my name.”

  Maddie nodded sadly, as if concerned.

  “She seems nice,” Zennie offered.

  “She’s a heartless bitch who hates my guts.”

  “She hides it well.”

  They reached the bar. Zennie ordered a club soda. Finola did the same.

  “What happened to the vodka martini?” Zennie asked, sounding confused.

  “I haven’t eaten in five days. I’d get sick. I’ll have some wine with dinner.”

  “Five days?” Her sister stared at her. “So you could look good here?”

  “Absolutely. Everyone wants to know how I’m doing. If there’s any sign of weakness I’ll be ostracized and that’s a best-case scenario.”

  Zennie looked around at all the well-dressed people in the ballroom. “So why do you do it?”

  “I love my job and it’s worth it to endure this so I can show up at work on Monday and love my job again.”

  They wandered around the silent auction. Zennie started to bid on martial arts lessons from a celebrity instructor only to realize the opening bid was five thousand dollars. She tucked her bag under her arm.