by Brona Mills
‘No problem.’ He chuckles, rubbing his arm.
Good, I hope it hurt.
‘Consider that a permanent reminder,’ he tells me.
I mentally check my wallet to see if I have enough cab fare to get to my dad’s old house near Bel-Air. I have this month’s rent I was going to deposit in the bank, but this could be a make or break moment for us. I hit his arm with the book again. ‘Come on. There’s something I want to show you.’ Out on the street, I hail a passing cab and give the driver my old address in Beverly Hills. I don’t know who needs to see this more, Mike or me.
We scale the wall around the back of the gated community, and I buzz the intercom of my old home to make sure Whore-bride isn’t there. When no one answers the door I take it as an invitation to climb the property wall near the main gates to get a better look at the place. Once we’re perched on the flat brick top, I explain to Mike about the life and home I used to have here.
‘How big is this?’ Mike asks.
‘About fifteen thousand square feet. Six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a game room, media room, cinema room, gym, gourmet kitchen, eight-car garage, yada, yada . . . you get the drift. Oooh, secret kids’ room right there off that corner bedroom.’ I gesture to the right, remembering all the times I used to hide there, pretending to be my dad and making my dolls line up and audition for me. He even bought me my own camcorder when he caught me playing one day. ‘And a pool house out back that is bigger than where we live right now.’ I don’t necessarily want this life back, but I want the security that money brings. Knowing all the bills can get paid at the same time.
I gulp. My next admission might bring tears that I won’t be able to control. ‘I have a child, and there is a good chance I could be homeless one day. I used to worry about manicures and hairstyles and having designer toilet paper in the guest bath.’ I wiggle my fingers in Mike’s face. ‘I have to apply my own nail polish for work.’
‘Imagine.’ He gasps.
I’m glad he gets my humour and doesn’t see me as an ex-rich bitch moaning about the life I lost. ‘It used to be the kind of thing I thought should be illegal. Now I think it’s disgusting that a house this size has one gold digging whore living in it.’
‘Why did they build it with more bathrooms than bedrooms?’
I laugh. I might like this guy as much as David. Maybe not that much, but this is definitely someone I can work with. ‘I don’t know, it’s what they do out here.’ I take Cici’s advice and think about the things my mom does for me, rather than focusing on the negatives. ‘Despite everything that’s gone wrong in my life, my mom’s alarm goes off at six and she looks after Max while I work. At least we have one wage coming in, right?’ I lean back on my hands and bounce my legs off the wall. ‘I wish the evenings weren’t so strained. I get home around eight at night, then the real work begins. She frustrates me sometimes with everything that we’ve been through. I wish she could hold it together a little better.’ Her old habits are sneaking back. She retreats to her room when she gets the chance. She pulls back from contact and conversations. I thought we’d turned a corner, but I guess she’s finding it difficult, especially since we have nothing to show for all the extra work we’re doing. ‘Everyone said it would be hard to raise a kid on your own, but I never realised how endless it is. It’s tiring. And expensive. Everything you need for a kid is so damn expensive, and that’s before we even get to do any of the fun stuff.
‘I’ve reached my limit of struggling. I’ve gotten to the stage right before a little bit of sanity leaks out of your brain. I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck, of telling Max we can’t afford some things in the grocery store.’ I catch the tears before they consume me. ‘I’m twenty-four and I’m just exhausted, Mike.’
He puts his arm around me, but I straighten and push him away. I don’t need comfort. Comfort will make me relax and I’ll succumb to the emotional exhaustion. I don’t need to have someone tell me this will be okay. I need to work.
‘Why did you bring me here?’ he asks.
‘To show you what you could have if you’re willing to do what I tell you. Because I can do this. I can get us to a stage where we don’t need to worry about the price of milk.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I said I can do this.’
‘No, the milk.’
‘It’s just something my dad used to say. Some people worry about the price of milk. Now I know exactly what he means. I can be a damn good agent.’ I take a deep breath. ‘And I’m going to buy this house again. No matter what, I want it back.’
I call Mike from the boutique phone, a sneaky part of me hopes that David answers instead.
‘Hello.’
I bite my lip to control a grin when I hear the smile behind the hypnotic English accent. The warm, strong smile that made me feel safe the night I became a mother.
‘Stella?’ David asks.
Shit. Why do I forget to speak around him?
‘Eh, hi.’
‘I thought we got disconnected.’
I swear I can hear him smile. ‘Sushi,’ I blurt, then cover my eyes in embarrassment.
‘Did you call to shout random food groups at me, ’cause I gotta say, you would have gotten a better rise out of me if you’d said pizza.’
God, how I hope to get a rise out of him. Stop it, Stella. How old are you? ‘I’m calling to bribe Mike with sushi. Both of you, if you want.’
‘Are there more details to this, or are we going to show up and get hit in the face with raw fish?’
I roll my eyes. Form a coherent sentence, Stella. ‘I need some help clearing out Cici’s garage. I have a lot of my dad’s company files and things I can use to set up a home office, but going through it and packing up the boxes will take a while. Cici is working tomorrow but is lending me her car. Isaac’s going to help too. If Mike’s offer to help me get things set up is still good, I thought I’d swindle him some free sushi. It’s expensive. We’re all broke. Isaac always picks up the tab. I thought the luxury would be a good bribe.’
‘Is Isaac your boyfriend?’
‘He’s Cici’s ex-husband, but he’s around a lot. We’re probably going to fill both of their SUVs. I can pick you guys up.’
‘Okay, we’re in.’
‘Don’t you want to check with Mike first?’
‘Nah, he was being serious when he said he’d help out, so there’s no need. Plus, he’s never had sushi before. It’ll be funny when manners get the better of him and he has to eat a free dinner.’ He chuckles.
‘Oh my god, that’s so mean.’ My gasp turns into a light chuckle.
‘We’re broke. It’ll be the best entertainment since we’ve got out here. Text me the details, Mighty.’
I swallow the lump in my throat as heat passes through my core. ‘Will do.’ I place the phone on the cradle and chew my lip, attempting to curb the smile that’s trying to split my face open.
Cici comes over from the lingerie display grinning. ‘Was that Mike? Is he going to help you?’
‘It was David. They both are.’ I correct her and then realise my mistake.
Her eyebrows rise. ‘Thought so. You were beaming that whole conversation.’
‘I haven’t known him long. I told you.’
‘Long enough, dear.’
‘Long enough for what?’ I squint my eyes. She better not be insinuating I need to get laid, even if I do.
‘Long enough to put a genuine smile back on that pretty face of yours.’ She squeezes my chin, and I swat her hand away. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get Isaac to get the scoop for me.’ She winks.
I glance around the store and then at the clock. ‘Do you think it’s going to pick up before the end of my shift?’
‘Got somewhere to go?’
‘I don’t have a waxing appointment, before you ask.’
She laughs. ‘That’s not even what I was going to ask, but since you got off the phone with Mr Dreamy, and that’s the first thing that popped into your h
ead, maybe you should make one.’
I blow my bangs out of my eyes. ‘I have some things I want to check online before I leave tonight, and I’d hate to be late home to Max again.’
‘Go ahead, dear. If it gets busy, I’m sure I can handle it. I do own the place, you know.’
‘Thank you.’ I take a spare notepad and pen from under the counter. ‘You can dock me the last hour. I really want to get a jump on some things.’
‘Don’t worry about it, girl. I’m happy you’re not fretting about the store being quiet for once. Normally, you’re pacing the door, ready to pull customers in from the street.’
I gape at her. ‘I am so not that bad,’ I squeal.
‘You kind of are.’
Above the boutique, in the office that is slowly being taken over by excess stock, I tap on the desk until the computer connects to the Internet. In the search engine box, I type the name of the books I checked out of the library the first time DD disappeared on me. Each search brings up some variation of ghosts and paranormal activity. I click into a few, but nothing matches what happened to me. After an hour of searching paranormal lights and people who disappear into thin air, my fingers are sore from scrolling and reading the first few pages of websites. I need to catch the bus, or I’ll be late home. There are two more websites on this page. I’ll skim those and then run to the bus stop.
The next one I click in has a picture at the top of the site that catches my attention. It’s a panoramic full-length picture, stretching from one end of the page to the other, with some universal stars or glows around the edge. In the centre is a large, blinding light, which softens around the edges.
My heart beats fast. It’s not exactly what DD looked like when the bright light showed up and stole him from me, but it’s the closest representation I’ve seen. I scroll down and read book titles with subject matters that mean very little to me: disruption of time, perceptions of universal reality, changing your history.
I hover over the ‘Contact Us’ link at the bottom, then click. I’m redirected to another page that pops open an email enquiry box. What the hell am I going to say? The email address is for e.bennett@ucla. At the bottom of the page is an address to the Physics and Astronomy building on campus, right here in LA. I jot down the details and click back to the welcome page. Professor Ethan Bennett and his son Liam Bennett are listed as the website’s administrators. I sink back in the chair. I think I just found a lead. I tear the page off the notepad, haul ass down the stairs, and run the whole way to the bus stop.
David slides our lunch wrappers to the edge of Cici’s desk and stacks a pile of scripts and reference books in front of me. Cici’s office is spacious. The half now claimed by me is becoming a well-organised work space.
‘You don’t need to help me with this.’
‘I’m not helping you, I’m helping Mike.’ He folds down an empty packing box and stacks it with the others by the door.
‘You already helped clear my dad’s things out of Cici’s garage. Trust me, the manual labour was enough.’ I tried my best to ignore him yesterday while they were packing, but he totally busted me checking him out when he was lifting some of the heavy boxes. The way his biceps flexed under the weight of the files was hypnotic. I had to leave the room when he caught me staring.
I straighten my back. I never thought I’d have lower-back problems at this age, but I guess labour and looking after a baby, then a toddler, then a three-year-old energy ball can do that to you.
‘It’s okay. I need a break from research anyway. My head was getting too full.’
‘Can a head get too full?’
He chuckles. ‘Sometimes. Mostly, I think you need a break to let all the new information settle neatly in your brain. Usually I run or work out at the gym. Otherwise, important stuff might get knocked out of the way.’
‘Important stuff like?’
‘Speaking in coherent sentences.’ He grins. ‘Ever been so wiped out that your words get all jumbled, and you don’t even have the energy to laugh at yourself?’
I smile. ‘Yes. They call that baby brain.’
‘Ha, well, I’m suffering from baby brain.’
‘College too much for you?’ I ask. ‘Maybe you should see about dropping some subjects or settling in before you decide on your major.’
‘I’ve already finished my degree. I’m completing a fellowship here.’
‘What? How old are you?’
‘Twenty-one, same as Mike. University works differently in the UK, and since my grades were high, I managed to continue my fellowship here. I have a thesis outlined, and I even got funding for an assistant next semester. That’s why my head hurts. I want to get everything exactly where I want it before the funding kicks in. I don’t want to waste Liam’s time and energy on basics I can set up myself.’
I sit on the edge of one of the sturdier packing boxes. ‘Holy shit. What are you studying?’
He dips his head and tries to hide his grin. ‘The research title is Proving Unbalanced Time. It’s about missing time caused by leap seconds in atomic clocks. It’s basically physics, but I’m furthering some initial research Ethan Bennett started in the early ’90s on the theories and probabilities of bending our own perceptions of reality and allowing changes to be made in our previous decisions, manifesting itself physically in our time reality. His son Liam is the one funded to assist me.’
‘Change your history,’ I recall from the website.
His face splits into a grin. ‘Spot on, Mighty. Basically I’m studying time travel. For real. In a fully funded science department at a highly respected university. It’s every geek kid’s dream come true. Well, my geek kid dream.’
Holy fuck. I swallow hard. Forget finding a lead. I just hit jackpot. ‘You’re going to time travel?’ The epiphany clears the confusion and worries of the past three years of my life.
He narrows his eyes. ‘You have a lot of faith in me. No, I’m going to put together a great argument about how one day, for one person, under the right circumstances, it might be theoretically possible. Then, I’m going to see if I, or someone . . . can work out if it can be harnessed and controlled. I’ve made some pretty good progress in a short amount of time. I have a good source of raw data to tap from. There’s just some time restraints on the source.’ He sighs.
‘You don’t need to be quick. It’s time travel, right? It doesn’t matter when it gets figured out.’
David brays a full belly laugh before forcing his face straight. ‘Are you a time travel geek, Stella?’
I ignore his jibe. ‘But if you ever figured it out, would you do it? Travel through time to change something in the past—in someone’s life?’
‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it like that. I look at it from an outside perspective, a facilitator rather than a participant. I’m not even sure it’s controllable, like if you can choose a person or a specific time to go to. What about you?’ He leans forward. ‘If you had the opportunity, what would you change?’
‘I have a lot of regrets in my life, but I wouldn’t change them. The interference would be too much. How would you ever know what things were okay to influence?’
‘You mean the ripple effect? I know. Change something small, and all hell could break loose somewhere else. But there has to be a flip side, like an opportunity to save someone or make things better. What if you don’t change things? How do we know they won’t be better? You think your life is better even with your mistakes?’
‘I have Max. Everything I ever did wrong in life gave me him.’
‘That’s what I’m working on. How can we tell what is meant to be? What are the things we can change without affecting the bigger picture in individuals’ lives or the overall course of the universe? Some people should only know certain things about their future. Too much information for the wrong person at the wrong time can have devastating effects.’
‘Humph, who would have thought? Hot and smart.’
David raises his eyeb
rows.
I jump from the packing box like my ass is on fire. ‘I mean, hanging around with Mike and looking like that.’ I raise my arm up and down in front of him. ‘The two of you together turn heads. Everyone is going to assume you’re an actor too—or a model or something.’
‘Well, I’m getting all the compliments today, aren’t I?’
‘Actually, that was an insult.’ Like hell it was. He’s hot, and he knows it. I don’t want to be another girl who inflates his ego.
‘How is that an insult?’ He leans over the desk.
‘Because a good guy—one as smart as you—should be getting compliments on being exactly that. Good guys don’t always have to finish last, you know.’
He smiles wider now. ‘You think I’m a good guy?’
‘You’re going to a lot of trouble to help your friend. And you’re going to a lot of trouble to help me help your friend. You’ve spent a lot of time with me over the past few days, and you’ve not made me feel uncomfortable or hit on me.’ I don’t know why I want him to think I prefer him not to hit on me. ‘Well, not in a creepy way.’
‘Duly noted. If I’m ever to hit on you, I’ll make sure it’s uncreepy.’
I stretch over the desk, getting close to his face. ‘That’s not even a word, smartass.’
‘Oh, I like it when you call me that.’ He chuckles.
‘Why? Girls usually take one look at your abs and ignore the rest you have to offer?’ I tease.
His smile falls a little. ‘Pretty much.’ He recovers his grin. ‘They’re pretty awesome abs, although now I know you’ve been paying way more attention to all the lifting and carrying I was doing yesterday.’ He pops a cold french-fry in his mouth and gathers up the wrappers.
‘I have to start work.’ I turn away from him and head for the stairs.
‘I’ll walk you out. Call me tomorrow if you need any more help.’ He follows. When we reach the bottom, he places his hand on my arm before I go through the curtains. ‘Hey, I’m going to take a risk here and ask you out on a date.’