by Janet Dailey
No time to even get rid of the body. Rebecca had a serious situation going on. She ran into the bathroom with the wrench and hurried over to the tub. The water was already leaking over the edge. Rebecca swiped every sweet-smelling designer towel from the shelves and spread them on the floor to absorb the oncoming flood. She grasped the wrench and attacked the knobs with everything she had. From the living room, her cell phone began to ring. Her hand kept slipping, forcing her to constantly readjust, but finally she was able to get a tiny bit of movement out of one knob. The water decreased, although it did not stop, and not only was her entire front wet, but so were most of the towels protecting the floor. She could feel the water swishing around her ankles. Even if it stopped now, it was already a disaster. Bubbles lay atop the surface of the towels like alien creatures dropping in to check out the landscape. Rebecca let out a loud yell as she took the wrench and whacked the knobs as hard as she could. She drew her hand back for another blow and knocked over the bubble bath. It flew out of the rack, landed on the one spot of tile not protected by the towels, and smashed apart, splattering shards of glass and amber liquid far and wide. She really wanted to hit something now, but she still had the damn knobs to deal with. Please God, please God, please God, I’ll do anything.
Her phone was ringing again. With the panic of a woman lifting a car off her trapped children, Rebecca went after the knobs for the zillionth time. The left one began to scream, then finally she felt it move, and then it was shut off. By the time she got the other knob to turn as well, Rebecca felt as though she’d been battered in a storm at sea.
There was an inch of water on the floor and all the towels were soaked. The doorbell rang. Obviously someone had heard the pounding, and the smashing, and her screams. Her nightgown was still in her bedroom, and she couldn’t wrap a towel around herself because they were all soaked. Rebecca swiped the robe off the back of the door and put it on. It was way too small for her. She tried adjusting the tie, but instead it flicked out like a whip and caught the tip of the wine bottle. Rebecca lunged for the bottle, but as she grabbed it, it slipped out, splashing wine on Mae Lin’s beautiful white robe. Then the flaming tree of candles tipped over. Orange flames licked at the creamy white tiles. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Rebecca said aloud. She lunged for the wet towels and soon smothered the fire, but long black scorch marks streaked the tiles and the towels, candle wax lay in wet clumps all over the floor, and a burning smell lingered. To hell with it.
Rebecca drank straight out of the bottle as she headed for the door. She was about to call out Who is it? when she heard the sound of a key in the lock and the door began to open. Rebecca was too shocked to move. Even more so when a gorgeous petite Asian woman with long wavy hair and eyelashes that could wink at you from a football field away burst in. She wasn’t alone. Behind her was Grant Dodge.
Rebecca knew she should say something, but she was too stunned to move. Mae Lin took it all in with a series of quick glances.
“Oh my God,” she said. “What’s burning? Why is there water on my floor?”
Rebecca glanced down. Water from the bathroom was winding its way out into the living room, spreading like a river.
“Mae Lin? I’m Rebecca.” She offered her hand for a shake. The woman ignored her and stormed into the bathroom.
“My towels! The floor!” She noticed everything in rapid succession. The wine, the candles, the standing water, the full tub. But the worst was the broken bottle of bubble bath. Mae Lin swiped up the dragonfly lid and screamed, “This was the last gift my mother ever gave me!”
“Oh my God,” Rebecca said. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Before she died,” Mae Lin said, in case Rebecca hadn’t quite grasped this.
Rebecca launched into a rambling explanation. She’d never taken a bath in here before, the knobs were stuck, she had to get a wrench, she had to kill a mouse. Rebecca didn’t think Mae Lin was listening until she mentioned the little rodent.
“A mouse?” Her eyes were huge saucers, her mouth open. Then she ran for the kitchen. Rebecca, who hadn’t dared look at Grant up until now, slowly lifted her eyes. He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, watching her. She thought she was going to cry.
“Yikes,” he said. Then he gave her a little wink. “She’ll calm down.”
“Everything happened just the way I said.”
“I had no idea that you were still here, that you took the apartment—” They were interrupted by a piercing scream. Rebecca and Grant ran into the kitchen. Mae Lin was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, rocking the dead mouse in the palm of her delicate hands.
“You probably shouldn’t be touching that,” Rebecca said.
“That?” Mae Lin shrieked. “That has a name!”
Please tell me it isn’t Mickey.
“Louis,” Mae Lin cried. “You killed Louis!”
“It—he—startled me. I just reacted.”
“You murdered him. You murdered Louis Armstrong.”
“Mae Lin, enough,” Grant said.
Mae Lin gracefully uncurled her pretty legs and stood. She shoved the mouse at Grant. “I painted his nails,” she said. “Do you see?”
Rebecca leaned in. Sure enough, there was a spot of red on his little toenails.
“Mae Lin, please. Why don’t you put Louis on the balcony for now, and I’ll pour you a drink.” To Rebecca’s astonishment, Mae Lin followed Grant’s suggestion, although she did so while raving out loud about the dangers of renting your apartment to a total psycho off the street.
“She’s not a psycho off the street . . .” Grant said. “Exactly. Rebecca and I go way back.”
“Say what?” Mae Lin said.
“Grant is the one who gave me your phone number.”
Mae Lin gave Grant what could only be described as a death stare before turning back to Rebecca. “I don’t care if you were raised by Mother-freaking-Teresa and Elvis is your best friend. I want you out.”
“What are you even doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home early?” Rebecca was hardly in a position to be defensive, but she couldn’t help it.
“I’ve been calling the house for days and days and days,” Mae Lin said. She hung her head to the side as if she couldn’t make the effort to keep it up.
“My cell?” Rebecca said.
“No, the home phone,” Mae Lin said.
“I wouldn’t answer your phone,” Rebecca said.
“Oh, but you’ll destroy the rest of my home and murder my beloved pets?”
Rebecca glanced around before answering, wondering what other pets were in store. Grant handed Mae Lin a glass of Scotch.
“More wine?” he asked Rebecca with a glance at her robe.
“Is that my robe?” Mae Lin screeched. “With wine stains?”
Mae Lin stepped uncomfortably close to Rebecca and stuck out her neck. “Here,” she said, pointing to it. “Why don’t you just slit it and get it over with?”
“I’ll change instead,” Rebecca said. She ran into the bedroom and slammed the door.
“I’d say change in the bathroom,” Mae Lin yelled through the door, “but there’s no room in there what with Noah and his ark.”
Funny.
“Except he’s short a mouse!”
Chapter Eleven
Rebecca came out of the room wearing her own nightgown and robe, fully prepared to offer Mae Lin compensation for all the damages. She wasn’t quite sure how to make up for Louis or the dead mother’s bubble bath, but at least it would be a start. But when she came back out, Mae Lin and Grant seemed to be in an intense conversation on the balcony. That’s when Rebecca noticed the luggage by the door. There sat two matching leopard-print suitcases on wheels and a beat-up gym bag. The gym bag must belong to Grant . . . Had he come to spend the night? Were he and Mae Lin lovers? She was certainly beautiful, if you liked your women with a stinging bite. But would Grant have actually done that? Would he have sent her to live with his
girlfriend?
Well, why not? What did she think? She would come to town and he would fall magically in love with her and there would be no other women in his life? You had better get a grip, Rebecca told herself. You’re here for Miles, nothing else. Besides, she didn’t know anything about the man. She didn’t back then, and she certainly didn’t now. Rebecca quietly stood at the entrance to the balcony until Mae Lin and Grant looked up.
“I can write you a check for damages,” Rebecca said. “And leave as soon as I find a new place.”
“Make it out to cash,” Mae Lin said. “And write ‘I’m pathetic and sorry’ in the subject line.”
“Mae Lin,” Grant said.
Mae Lin rolled her eyes, then threw her head back and cackled. “Grant has fought for your honor,” she said dramatically. “I’ve decided to spare your head.”
“Thank you?” Rebecca said. She didn’t try to hide her sarcasm; she had a little bite in her as well. Besides, Rebecca was the one without a place to live. Mae Lin was supposed to be gone for an entire year.
“Funny,” Mae Lin said, sliding her eyes from Grant to Rebecca as if she were the queen and they had both just betrayed her. “I work at Rebecca’s and I live with a Rebecca.”
“Well, not for long,” Rebecca said. “Live, that is. I’ll start looking for a place tomorrow.”
Mae Lin fluttered her eyelashes dramatically and threw out her arms. “I told you I’d spare your head. What more do you want?”
“You’ll have to excuse Mae Lin,” Grant said. “It seems she left her heart in San Francisco.”
With those words, Mae Lin was off again, ranting about some scumbag music club producer who, Rebecca gathered, was behind Mae Lin’s early departure.
“He didn’t even want us to drink on the job. I’m like, hello! I’m a singer. In a nightclub!”
Rebecca suppressed a little smile. Mae Lin was stressing about every third word in her sentences and bouncing her pretty head when she spoke. She sounded part drill sergeant, part cheerleader, and of course a lot diva nightclub singer. Rebecca was actually starting to like her. From a distance. As if she were a tiger in a zoo. Suddenly, Rebecca felt someone’s gaze on her. When she looked over, Grant was openly staring at her. She quickly averted her eyes, then regretted it. She didn’t want him to think she was nervous around him. She didn’t want him to see her cheeks heat up.
“Any-har-har,” Mae Lin said, propelling herself into an upright position, and leaning dramatically over the balcony rail. “You can’t leave. I just got fired. I’m broke and you signed a sublease agreement.”
Actually, Rebecca hadn’t signed a thing. They talked about it, but Mae Lin never did get around to sending it. Rebecca didn’t see the point of mentioning it, at least until she had another place to stay.
“We’ll split the rent in three,” Mae Lin continued, marching back into the living room. Rebecca reluctantly followed, and Grant quickly joined them.
“Split the rent in three?” Rebecca said.
“Never mind,” Grant said.
“Grant is staying here, too!” Mae Lin said. “His girlfriend kicked him out.”
This time Rebecca had no qualms about looking at Grant. Jealousy flared in Rebecca. He never mentioned a girlfriend. Then again, she never mentioned a son.
“Mae Lin, I’m not going to stay here,” Grant said.
“We already agreed,” Mae Lin countered.
“That’s before I knew about your roommate,” Grant said. Was it Rebecca’s imagination, or did he stress the word roommate?
Mae Lin turned to Rebecca with a grin that almost devoured her petite face. “Grant had a big scandal with his girlfriend after the grand opening of his club. And I missed it!”
Rebecca didn’t remember seeing another woman with Grant at the club. Then again, she was kind of busy falling over the balcony and into his arms.
“She doesn’t want to hear this,” Grant said.
“Oh, but I do,” Rebecca said. She flopped down on the couch, crossed her legs, and smiled at Grant before turning her attention back to Mae Lin.
“A woman crashed through the balcony and into his arms,” Mae Lin said, throwing both her hands over her heart and cocking her head like an old-fashioned damsel in distress.
“Wow,” Rebecca said. “It was a good thing he was there.”
“That’s not the wow part,” Mae Lin said. “It wasn’t just any woman. It was the love of his life.”
“Mae Lin!” Grant said.
“Like a ghost from the past, whoosh, into his arms. Later his girlfriend, who couldn’t attend opening night because she was too busy—”
“She was dancing,” Grant said. “She’s a ballet dancer.”
Terrific, Rebecca thought. A ballet dancer. Must be very flexible.
“Later his girlfriend heard Grant talking to his best friend. Telling him how he knew the woman who fell on him. She was the one that got away. The woman of his dreams! The one who took his virginity. The best sex he ever had!” Mae Lin hit Grant playfully on the shoulder. “Some people just don’t know when to shut up, right, Rebecca?”
“You’ve got that right,” Rebecca said.
“I’m exhausted,” Mae Lin said. She got up and grabbed a liquor bottle from her cabinet. “I’m going to bed.”
Rebecca was just about to do the same: shut herself in the bedroom and away from Grant. The love of his life? Did he really say it? Did he really mean it? He certainly didn’t look comfortable now, standing by the door with his hands shoved in his pockets, softly kicking his duffel bag. But before Rebecca could escape, Mae Lin sprinted into her bedroom, yelling, “My bed, my bed, my bed, my bed. How I’ve missed you so.” She jumped on it and spread out like she was making snow angels.
Rebecca got up from the couch and stood in the doorway of Mae Lin’s bedroom, not sure what to do. Was Mae Lin really going to sleep in the bed that Rebecca had been sleeping in? Mae Lin lifted her head. “There are pillows and blankets in the closet out there. Shut the door! And be quiet out there!”
Rebecca shut the door and turned to Grant. He was still kicking his duffel bag. “Quiet as a mouse,” he said, looking at Rebecca.
The comment took her by surprise and she burst out laughing. Grant stopped kicking his bag and grinned. A few moments of silence fell as they considered each other.
“Should I go?” Grant said. “I can sleep at the club.”
The living room had two sofas facing each other.
“It’s late,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
She went to the closet, grabbed sheets and blankets, and pretended the father of her son wasn’t standing just a few feet away. He hurried over to help her carry them to the couches, and Rebecca was surprised when he began making them up. A man who makes his own bed. He could have taught their son a thing or two. As much as she loved Miles, even she had to admit he was one of the messiest kids she’d ever seen. He was perfectly happy to coexist with clutter. As she watched Grant tuck the sheets into the edges of the sofa, she realized he didn’t get that from his father. What traits were just Miles’s? Or did Grant come from a long line of messy men and it just skipped a generation? It wasn’t just time with his paternal family that she’d robbed Miles of, it was vital information. What about health? Didn’t he have a right to know all the risks and benefits of being a Dodge? Of course he did.
“Grant,” Rebecca started to say.
“I owe you an apology,” Grant interrupted. “I overreacted that day.”
“You think?” Rebecca said. She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but it just flew out of her mouth.
Instead of taking offense, Grant just laughed. It was a nice, deep laugh. “We had an incident—actually an ordeal—with Megan last year. She got involved with an older boy.”
“You mentioned it,” Rebecca said.
“I don’t want to go into all the details right now, but it was quite honestly the worst year of my life.”
“I’m so sorry.”
&nbs
p; “When I found out you weren’t much older at the time we . . . than Megan . . . the things I said about that boy . . . the hatred . . . the minute you said you were sixteen, I just—locked up. I was just like that asshole kid that wouldn’t leave Megan alone.”
Rebecca crossed over to Grant but stopped short of touching him. “No, you weren’t,” she said. “I was the seducer.”
Grant chuckled again. “You weren’t exactly shy,” he agreed.
“A hundred horses couldn’t have stopped me,” Rebecca said. Silence fell as they stared at each other. The only light coming into the room was provided by outside streetlights. She was suddenly very aware of her nightgown, and his eyes on her body.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “It’s astonishing.”
This time it was Rebecca’s turn to laugh.
“I sound melodramatic, do I?” Grant said.
“A bit.”
“It’s just that I’ve imagined this—seeing you again—but I always figured—I mean, it was likely that—”
“I was old, fat, and bald?”
“Bald? Uh—maybe the first two, but not bald.”
“Right. That was how I imagined you.” This time they both laughed. “Sometimes I pictured you homeless, too. Playing your trumpet for booze.”
“That’s not far from the truth.”
“Don’t be modest. You’re the owner of a hot new club.”
“That experienced a near tragedy on opening night. And something of a miracle, too,” he added shyly.
“That was entirely my fault. And your waitress’s. She ignored the rope.”
“For some reason she thought you were Megan’s mom,” Grant said. “She kept saying she couldn’t turn away the mother of my child.”
This was it. This was her opening. “I am—” Rebecca started to say. But she never got the chance to finish. Grant was in front of her, reaching for her, and he planted his lips on hers before she could say another word. Slowly, she yielded to him. Desire crashing over her like a powerful wave, she clung to him as their kiss deepened. Just as suddenly, Grant pulled away.