Lovebirds

by Lisa Moreau

  Jill approached with a menu. “Table for one?”

  “Yeah. As far away from him as possible.” Emily pointed.

  Jill grinned and led her to the opposite side of the restaurant. With Owen’s big mouth, everyone within a fifty-mile radius knew they were mortal enemies.

  After taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, Emily perused the lunch specials, when she saw mushroom soup recalling Gretchen’s proposal from the day before. It hadn’t been very romantic, but Gretchen wasn’t the mushy type, not that Emily needed hearts and flowers. Fairy-tale romances were for kids. Who wanted to be swept off their feet anyway? That sounded kinda dangerous. Yes, they were the perfect couple, except maybe for the bedroom, but that was Emily’s fault. It wasn’t something she and Gretchen ever discussed, of course―that would be far too embarrassing―but it was abundantly clear that Emily was incapable of having orgasms. Actually, she could have orgasms, but only when alone.

  Chills ran down Emily’s spine at the snap, crackle, and pop directly behind her. She knew that sound all too well. Owen had cracked his knuckles, just one of his many annoying habits.

  “What a rock! You getting hitched?”

  Emily glanced over her shoulder at the life-sized rat with beady pink eyes, long nose, and yellow, crooked buck teeth.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “What’d you say?” Owen walked around the table and tilted his left ear forward.

  Emily rolled her eyes. He always made a point of reminding her about his hearing loss. No matter what he said, it wasn’t her fault.

  “I said that’s none of your business.”

  “What’s that about beeswax?”

  “I didn’t…oh, never mind. What do you want, Owen?”

  “Testy, aren’t we?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what to order,” Emily said as she studied the menu.

  “Who’s a hoarder?”

  Emily closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Still sore about losing out on the blackbird story, I see,” Owen said with a smirk.

  Emily’s eyes popped open, her heart beat wildly. “I didn’t lose out on the story. You stole it!”

  “Such strong words from a pretty little lady.”

  Jill approached Owen from behind. “Would you like some dessert, Mr. Reynolds? We have a nice pecan pie today.”

  “That is my favorite.”

  Funny how Owen had heard every word Jill had said, but when Emily spoke he was suddenly deaf. Jill winked at Emily and led the rat away.

  Emily wasn’t a violent person, but she’d give anything for a rock-hard dinner roll to sling into the back of his meaty head. She’d spent months doing research on the tricolored blackbirds and a week writing an in-depth article, only to have Owen snatch the printed copy off her desk when Cole, Emily’s assistant, wasn’t looking. Cole should have known better than to let Owen into the office when she wasn’t there, but she couldn’t blame him. He was an innocent kid tricked by a bitter old man. Emily had been shocked and appalled when Owen printed her story, word for word, in his magazine.

  She’d reported him to the authorities, but there was no way to prove she’d written the article instead of him. It was his word against hers. Owen’s magazine had gained national attention because of the story and an award from the California Fish and Game Commission. They listed the tricolored blackbird as an endangered species since the extensive research proved that the population had plummeted 64 percent in the past six years. That article could have secured her magazine’s future, but instead, Emily was now facing closure.

  Emily glanced around the café for Jill but spotted Sydney instead. Despite the mix-up yesterday, it was nice to see her. She looked even more beautiful today. Emily signaled Sydney, who stared a full minute before she finally crossed the room.

  “Can I get the Cobb salad?”

  Sydney’s jaw dropped, eyes widening. “Are you kidding?”

  “Uh…no. Am I supposed to order the mushroom soup again?” Emily chuckled.

  “Unbelievable. What sort of sadist are you? You’re sticking the knife in even farther?”

  Emily tilted her head. “What?”

  Sydney’s eyes narrowed into two dark slits. “If this doesn’t beat all. You and your girlfriend didn’t have enough fun crucifying me yesterday?”

  “You’re the one who screwed up. And isn’t crucify a little strong? I know Gretchen was mad, but―”

  “Forget it. I have bigger and better things to deal with than you and your fiancée.” Sydney turned and marched away.

  What the hell was that about? Emily shook her head and grabbed her cell phone when it rang.

  “Hey, Cole. I’ll be in the office in—”

  “Oh my God! You’re not gonna believe the call I just got.” Cole sounded frantic, from excitement or panic, Emily wasn’t sure.

  “Fran’s Fig Farm in Ojai has a flock of Agapornis canus who are eating her crops, and she wants to know what to do about it. Can you believe it?”

  “Wait a second. Take a deep breath and slow down. Now what’s this about?” Emily couldn’t have heard correctly.

  “Agapornis canus. In Ojai!”

  Emily chuckled. Cole was a nice kid who’d make a damn fine birder one day, but he still had a lot to learn. “Relax and check the Sibley Guide. It’s on the bookcase behind my desk.”

  “I don’t need to check anything,” Cole said, sternly. “I know it’s gray-headed Madagascar lovebirds. And at least twenty of them are eating Fran’s figs.”

  “That’s impossible. They wouldn’t be in Ojai.” Emily paused. “Unless…no, it couldn’t be.”

  “But what if it is?” Cole asked, reading Emily’s mind.

  “What did this Fran person say exactly? Did she describe the birds?” Emily clutched her cell phone.

  “She said some have green backs and wings, gray heads, and black markings on the tail.”

  “Male Madagascar lovebirds,” Emily whispered. “What about the females?”

  “She described them, too. Entirely green with dark-green backs and wings, and lighter gray-colored heads.”

  Emily gasped. “Are we the only ones she called?”

  “I think so. She saw a copy of The Tweet at the grocery store and thought we might know how to stop the birds from eating her fruit. She didn’t sound very happy about the situation.”

  “Call Fran back right now, get the address, and tell her I’ll be in Ojai tomorrow.”

  Tingles rippled up and down Emily’s spine, goose bumps appearing on her arms. This story could save her magazine. Emily disconnected and pulled out her laptop. She needed to book a hotel room quick.

  “What’s in Ojai?”

  Emily whipped around to see Owen standing behind her. Crap. Hopefully, he hadn’t overhead her conversation. The last thing she needed was him acing her out of the story.

  “Geez, Owen. Stop creeping up on me. You’re freaking me out.”

  “It’s a free country.”

  Emily snorted. “Original comeback.”

  “You seem pretty excited about going to the valley.”

  “Aren’t I allowed to take a vacation?” Did that sound convincing?

  “You ordered the crustacean?”

  Emily stared, expressionless. “Have you ever seen shrimp or lobster on the menu? I said vacation.”

  “This darn thing.” Owen fiddled with his hearing aid. “It’s pretty hot there this time of year.”

  Emily connected to a travel site and focused on her laptop. Maybe if she ignored him he’d leave…or not. After a few minutes, she looked up at him again. “Why are you still here?”

  Owen rubbed his stubbly chin. “Seems like an odd time to take off, with your press deadline coming up and all.”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than concern yourself with my life?”

  Owen cracked his knuckles and displayed an evil grin. “You have fun now, you hear?”

  Emily shuddered as he slithered aw
ay. She returned her attention to the laptop and frowned. Her search for Ojai hotels resulted in no availability. That couldn’t be right. The small town wasn’t exactly a hub of activity. Emily logged into another site but with the same results. She even searched surrounding towns with no luck.

  “Are you ready to order?” Jill placed a glass of water on the table.

  “This is crazy,” Emily mumbled to herself.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I need to go to Ojai tomorrow, and all the hotels are booked.”

  “Oh, you won’t find anything right now. A women’s festival is going on. The place will be packed for weeks.”

  Ugh. Emily would sleep in her car if she had to, but a room with electricity and running water would be preferable.

  “If you need a place to stay I have a cabin in Ojai,” Jill said.

  “Really? Could I rent it out?”

  “Sure. I’ll be in Europe for a month and won’t need it. I gotta warn you, though, it’s not very fancy.”

  Relief washed over Emily. “Anything will be fine. Thank you so much, Jill. You’re a lifesaver.” Emily took out her checkbook, scribbled an amount, and handed it to her.

  “Whoa. You don’t have to pay that much.”

  “Well, I’m not sure how long I’ll be there, and trust me, it’s worth it.”

  Jill paused but then tucked the check into her apron pocket. She wrote something on a pad and handed it to Emily. “Here’s the address. And my email.”

  “What’s this say?” Emily squinted at Jill’s illegible handwriting.

  “Reeves Road. It’s close to Meditation Mount in the hills.”

  “Sounds nice. I’ve never been to Ojai.”

  “You’re in for a treat. It ain’t called California’s Shangri-la for nothing,” Jill said. “It’s not very big, but it’s picturesque and surrounded by the Topa Topa Mountains. It attracts nature lovers, artists, writers, and those new-age hippie types.”

  “I thought it was farmland.”

  “Oh, it is. It’s a growers’ paradise. Citrus, avocado, fig, apples, olives—you name it, it’s there. Ojai is also famous for the pink moment.”

  “What’s that?”

  Jill smirked. “You’ll see. It’s usually a peaceful, serene place, but with the women’s festival going on, there’s no telling what it’ll be like. My cabin is about two miles outside of the hubbub, though, so you should be okay. What are you heading up there for, anyway?”

  “I’m going to Fran’s Fig Farm. Maybe you know where it’s located?”

  Jill shook her head. “Honey, you must have that wrong. You ain’t going there.”

  “Um…yeah, I am. She called The Tweet about needing some help.” Emily didn’t want to mention the Madagascar lovebirds. If the news got out, every birder this side of Texas would be in Ojai.

  “If you’re looking to buy Fran’s figs, you can get those at the farmers’ market out on Highway 150. No one goes to her farm.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Just trust me on this one.” Jill chuckled. “Now, the key is under a potted plant on the porch. Hopefully, the place has everything you need. I’m unplugging while I’m gone, but I’ll try and check my email once or twice.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll be fine. And thanks again.”

  Everything was falling into place. Now all Emily had to do was locate and photograph the Madagascar lovebirds, which shouldn’t be too difficult considering she knew exactly where to find them.

  * * *

  Sydney covered her ears as three police cars raced down Hill Street. She and Monica had lived in the neighborhood for years, but she’d never get used to the ear-splitting sirens. Unfortunately, it was a common occurrence in the crime-ridden area.

  “So then what happened?” Monica asked and followed Sydney into the grocery store.

  “Emily had the gall to give me her order. Can you believe that?”

  Monica snatched a basket and walked to a display of latex condoms. She grabbed two boxes and tossed them into the basket. “Maybe she didn’t know you got fired.”

  “Her girlfriend was the one who told the manager to can me. She knew.” Sydney followed Monica down the chip-and-dip aisle.

  “You’re sure worked up over this woman.” Monica peered at Sydney sideways. “Maybe you have a little crush on her.”

  “I don’t even know her,” Sydney said, irritated.

  Monica stopped. “Ew, look at these weird chip flavors. Cappuccino. White chocolate. Hey, these look yummy.” She grabbed a bag of wasabi ginger. “Is she cute?”

  “I dunno. I didn’t notice.” But Sydney did know. Emily was adorable, with big, brown expressive eyes, a dainty nose, and pouty lips the color of Red Hots, the spicy, cinnamon candy. And she was way nicer than her girlfriend. If Sydney was the type to have crushes, Emily would certainly qualify, but the last thing she wanted was a girlfriend…an engaged girlfriend.

  “Then why are you blushing?”

  Sydney put her hands on her cheeks, embarrassed that they were warm.

  Monica shot her an I-told-you-so smirk. “When was the last time you had a date?”

  “I don’t need a date. Besides, relationships never last.” Just ask Sydney’s mother. She’d been married five times.

  “That’s not true. Look at me and Victor.” Monica grabbed a bottle of Scope.

  “I don’t think two months equates long-lasting. Speaking of which, hot date tonight? Condoms, chips, mouthwash.”

  “No. I’m working.”

  That explained the black lace tights, see-through beaded mini-dress, and leather boots. Normally, wearing an outfit like that outside of the club would be trashy, but in their neighborhood it was the norm. Sydney shuddered at the memory of donning that getup for five long years.

  “What were you doing at the café anyway?” Monica surveyed the wine and snatched a bottle.

  “Picking up my last paycheck. Not that it amounted to much. It’ll barely pay my gas to Ojai.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so hot to teach a bunch of Beverly Hills bitches when you could be making big bucks at the club.”

  Sydney didn’t bother trying to explain. Monica wouldn’t understand since she actually enjoyed baring it all for sleazy guys. Sydney would be forever grateful to Monica for teaching her pole dancing, but she was growing out of the friendship. There had to be more to life than living in a run-down apartment in the worst part of town, struggling to pay bills, and working at jobs she hated.

  “Why don’t you just teach private lessons?” Monica asked.

  “The clients aren’t steady enough. I need a full-time job.”

  “What about Robin’s studio? She’s been trying to hire you.”

  “PoleCat? No way.” Sydney huffed. “I wish she’d stop calling me about it.”

  “You’ve never even been there. Maybe it’s nice.”

  “It’s in South Central LA. How nice could it be?”

  Monica stopped in the middle of an aisle and put her hands on her hips. “Well, excuse me. When did you get so high and mighty? Need I remind you that’s where we live.”

  “I just…I want something better.”

  Monica took two pizzas out of the freezer and put them in the basket. “So, where are you gonna stay in Ojai if you’re broke?”

  “Well…” Sydney glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “Jill, a waitress at the Little Bird, has a cabin there.”

  “Oh yeah? She’s letting you use it?”

  “Yes. She just doesn’t know it.” Sydney smirked.

  Monica stopped in her tracks. “You’re gonna break in?”

  Sydney put her hand over Monica’s mouth. “Geez, just tell everyone in the store, will ya? Maybe there’s a cop in aisle three who didn’t hear you. It’s not breaking in per se. It’s more like…borrowing.”

  “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Monica chuckled and slapped Sydney on the back. “There’s that seventeen-year-old badass girl I remember.”r />
  For some reason, that crack didn’t sit well with Sydney. She’d like to think she’d matured the past eight years. Okay, so she should probably call Jill and ask her permission, but what if she said no? Technically, it was breaking and entering, but it wasn’t like it was a felony. She wasn’t going to steal anything. Jill would be in Europe for a month and wouldn’t know anything about it. Ignorance is bliss, right?

  “So when’s the audition?” Monica placed her items on the counter and didn’t bat an eye when the checkout guy ogled her cleavage.

  “In a couple of weeks, but I’m driving up there tomorrow. I can practice my routine and…well…get other stuff done.” Sydney was tempted to tell Monica about the one thing that could prevent her from auditioning but changed her mind. No one needed to know about her private business.

  They both jumped when two booming gunshots rang out.

  “Whoa. That one was too close for comfort.” Sydney craned her neck and peered outside.

  “Probably the Tongan Crip,” Monica said, referring to one of the many LA street gangs.

  Sydney ducked when more shots were fired. She glanced at the checker, who hadn’t so much as flinched, his eyes still glued to Monica’s breasts.

  Ugh. She needed to get out of this neighborhood…and fast.

  Chapter Four

  Meet the Parents

  Emily frowned when her doorbell rang. Who could that be? She had way too much to do before leaving for Ojai in the morning. She didn’t have time for company. She opened the door, surprised to see Gretchen standing there, looking like she was dressed for the Academy Awards.

  Oh God. What did I forget?

  “Aren’t you ready?” Gretchen pushed past Emily and eyed the suitcases and birding equipment. “What’s all this for?”

  “I was about to call you.” Great. Lie to your girlfriend.

  “What’s going on?” Gretchen placed her silver handbag on the counter. She was awfully dressed up. Hopefully Emily hadn’t overlooked an anniversary or birthday.

  Emily grabbed Gretchen’s hand, guided her to the sofa, moved the spotting scope and binoculars aside, and said, “You’re gonna wanna sit for this.”