“No, you need to call a dealer and get me a great deal on an SUV with a high safety rating,” she said, walking out of the garage with him.
A few minutes was all it took to get his car ready and load up one Zelda, and off to work they rode in a comfortable silence. At least it was comfortable until he spoke.
“I saw a young man at the house on your porch with you and Michael when I was cutting the grass a few weeks back,” he said.
“Scott, his name is Scott,” she said.
“You seem serious about this Scott. You allowed him to stay over. I would like to meet this young man,” Mr. Bautista said.
Zelda’s head turned slowly, looking at him with an expression on her face of why. After the death of their parents, Mr. Bautista had helped her with homework, attended nearly all of her gymnastic matches as support, and even sat with her on the front porch until Michael came home from work a few times when school had let out early. Ironically, since Grandma Lula was the worst driver on the planet, Mr. Bautista was the backup emergency contact for the school. Each time Zelda had been sick and they called the nice neighbor, he would show up. He always showed up when he was needed. She smiled at him, understanding the fatherly concern for her. The warmth inside emanated from the knowledge that even on her paperwork at the office, if anything should happen to her, Mr. Bautista was also her second point of contact.
“Okay. He will be here in three weeks and we are having a cookout, so come on over,” she said.
“Zelda, you seem different,” he told her, eyeing her suspiciously.
“I feel different. I got my hands on my old dairies, so pretty soon, all of those gaps in my memory are going to open up,” she said, looking out the window. She missed him gripping the steering wheel, much the same way Michael had when she said the word diaries.
“You have kept those for years. I remember, you wrote down everything in them as a child,” he said through taut lips.
“Yes, I hope that I can read what I wrote to get a better understanding of my childhood before I become a mom myself.”
Mr. Bautista hit the brakes, jerking Zelda in the seat. Holding on to the seatbelt which had nearly choked the sin out of her, Mr. Bautista's face showed surprise. “You are expecting a little one?”
“No, not yet. Hopefully in the next year or so,” she said with a smile. “You can let me off here on the corner. I can walk the rest of the way.”
“I will drive you to the front door. Call me if I need to come back for you,” he said, pulling up to the door. He put the car in gear but Zelda grabbed for the door. Mr. Bautista tugged at her arm. “When riding with a gentleman, allow him time to come around and open your door, Zelda.”
“I know, but I am in a hurry,” she said, squinting at him.
“There is always time to do what is proper,” he told her as he exited the driver's side to come around the vehicle to the passenger door.
Laughing, she accepted his hand as he opened the car to help her out. He is such a funny man, always acting like a father hen to me. I would have been really late if he hadn't been home. This morning she was grateful he was there as well.
“Thank you, Poppa Bear,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“Call me if you need a ride home, Zelda,” he called after her. “Better yet, give me your keys so I can check out your car.”
“Sure thing, however, please head home, I will see you later,” she said, waving goodbye to him as Monica Wellman held the door open for her.
“That’s so sweet. You look a lot like your Daddy. He seems so protective and cute, opening the door for you like that,” Monica said. “My Daddy wouldn’t even put his truck in park to drop me off. He would scream, ‘Tuck and roll, gal!’”
It was Monica's words that Zelda heard for the next two hours. You look a lot like your Daddy.
You look a lot like your Daddy.
Thank you, Poppa Bear.
I want to meet this young man.
“Good Lord!” she said, bounding to her feet in the middle of the meeting. Stars danced around her head, her vision blurred, a shot of pain seared through her temples as everything started to go black. Zelda passed out in the middle of the floor.
Chapter 4 – Is She Alright?
Uneasiness.
Unease.
Uneasy.
Each of the emotions crept through Scott Berger as he paced in front of the glass conference doors waiting for Demetri Dukas so he could oil and service his ancient Greek marionettes. The annual trip usually allowed Scott some time on the beach in the Mediterranean, dining on excellent food and a chance to explore a new exhibit at the Athens museum. He would forego all of that today to get to his next stop in Italy, then on to France, and lastly, the UK. After that, he would head home, sleep a night in his own bed, and then be off to Texas to be with Zelda.
Zelda, who wasn’t answering her phone. He’d called three times and no answer. That was unlike her. It didn’t feel right.
“Scott, what is wrong with you, man? You are pacing like a frat boy waiting for the pregnancy results,” Chandler said.
“I have this uneasy feeling, Chandler. I know something is amiss. She’s not answering her phone,” he told his longtime friend and butler.
“Maybe she is in a meeting,” Chandler replied.
“Even if she were, she would at least text me or something.”
“Yes, but you are on another continent, half-way around the world. Did you consider the possibility of lag time on the messages?”
“No, I can feel it. Here, take my phone. Would you please keep trying her until you get her? If she doesn’t answer after the fifth try, call her brother Michael. I have to get started on the dolls,” he said, handing his phone to Chandler.
“Got it, fifth try,” Chandler responded, taking his cell phone.
The lobby of Dukas Industries closely resembled the waiting room of Caligula, with all the gaudy embellishments and furniture as if when not operating in the daytime as a reception area, it served as a whorehouse for the misguided at night. Although Chandler lived in a home which would creep out the most loyal horror enthusiast, this lobby gave him the willies. He stepped outside of the building and tried Zelda’s phone again.
“Hello,” a male voice said.
“I am sorry. I was trying to reach Ms. Fitzsimmons,” Chandler said, the British accent immediately recognized by Michael.
“Hey man, this is Michael. She must have left her bag in my car yesterday. I just heard some chiming. Wait, why are you calling my sister? Is everything okay with Scott?”
“Yes, it is. He was unable to reach Ms. Fitzsimmons and Mr. Berger was concerned. He has a feeling,” he told Michael.
“A feeling. I just bet he did. As far as I know, all is well. She just didn’t have her phone so...wait a second,” he said as his phone vibrated in his pocket. The caller ID was from the main line at Zelda’s office.
His heart began to thud in his chest as he answered his cell. His blood pumping muscle nearly stopped when the voice on the line said his sister had fainted. Not stopping to think, he stuck the key in the ignition, pointed the nose towards Zelda’s office, and started driving.
“Hello! Michael! Michael?” He heard a voice. Chandler was all but forgotten on the line as he fumbled with his sister’s phone, trying to keep his eye on the road, his heart out of his mouth and fear out of his driving.
“I’m here, Chandler,” he said putting the phone on speaker.
“Is Ms. Fitzsimmons unwell?”
“I don’t know. I’m heading that way now. Let me call you back,” he said, hanging up the phone.
Michael barreled into the parking lot of Hobbyist Magazine offices on two wheels. The car barely came to a stop as he threw the gear shaft into park, jumping from the driver’s seat and running into the building. A lady in a pink wind breaker yelled at him because he’d left the door open on his vehicle. He didn’t care. Zelda had fainted. It was too much. The dairies, the truth, the ugliness of their
lives. She was too fragile. His worse fear was manifesting itself and she was falling apart.
The elevator was taking too long, so he bounded the stairs at full speed, landing on the fourth floor barely winded, running to her office. He entered the door to find her sitting behind her desk, flushed, but in one piece.
“Mike, what are you doing here?”
Relief covered him as he ran to her side, nearly yanking her out of the chair into is arms. He squeezed her so tightly, she began gasping for air. Her legs flailed as she tried to break free of his grasp.
“Scott couldn’t reach you. Your phone...in my car...your bag...Chandler called, then your office called. Oh God, Zelda, are you okay?”
“I’m fine if you let me go so I can breathe,’” she said softly.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, putting her down. “Are you all right? I was told you fainted.”
Zelda didn’t want to tell him what she’d pieced together. Instead she lied, “I skipped breakfast or lunch, one of the two. I’m just tired from my travels, didn’t sleep well last night, you know.”
“I know. If it is too much, let’s talk about it,” he said, holding her hands. Michael was good in that way. He listened. He understood, but he also hid things from her.
“Wait, you said Scott called?”
“Yeah, he said something felt off.”
“You have my phone?”
“You left your bag in my car yesterday. I just happened to drive it this morning because I didn’t fuel up my truck. Chandler called...you need to call them back,” he said, touching her cheek. “Zelda are you sure you are okay?”
“I just got light-headed, that’s all. Yesterday with Grandma, the diaries, and then my car didn’t start this morning, and Mr. Bautista brought me to work,” she said.
“Come on, I will give you a ride home.”
“Thanks. Did you bring my phone so I can call Scott?”
“In my car,” he said, waving to Zelda’s boss as he escorted her to the elevator. “I appreciate the call.”
“No problem,” Nathan said to him.
IN THE CAR, SHE RETURNED the call to Scott, who came out of the meeting with his client to speak with her.
Scott exhaled in relief at the sound of her voice, “Zelda, I got a weird vibe I hope everything is okay?”
“It’s not,” she said.
“Baby, can you talk about it?”
“No, the sun is still shining,” she said softly, hoping he picked up on her being in the car with Michael.
“You are not alone?’
“Scott Berger, I swear, you are possibly one of the most brilliant men I know,” she said flatly, looking over at her brother.
“I can’t come to you, but I could send you a ticket to meet me in France this weekend. How does dinner in Paris sound?”
“That sounds amazing, but I can’t, Scott. I need to trudge through the sludge and deal with some issues on the home front,” she said to him. It was the way she said it that raised the hairs on his chest, neck, and arms.
“You sound like you are in trouble,” he whispered in the line.
“Only my sanity.”
“I’m sending in a backup until I can get there,” he said.
“I am fine, Scott,” she lied.
“No. I can hear it. Backup shall be there tomorrow. I will see what I can do to get there sooner. I love you, Zelda,” he said.
“I love you, too, but who is this backup? I don’t need a backup.”
“Didn’t you say your other two friends were jack holes and deserted you?”
“Yes,” she mumbled in the line.
“Okay then, I am sending backup. Talk to you soon. I have to run,” he told her, clicking off the line. His attention turned to Chandler. “Please call Carolyn, Chandler and have her get Pip on a plane to Houston first thing in the morning.”
“You are sending Pip to Zelda’s?” Chandler asked in shock.
“Yep. If anyone can cheer up a darkened spirit, it’s that ball of energetic crazy. She and Zelda hit it off pretty well and she owes my lady a favor. Here is her chance to repay it,” Scott said to him, heading back in the room. “If not, it is going to make for an interesting story when I get to Texas.”
Chapter 5 – Pip. Pip? Oh Hey!
Zelda lay flat on her back staring up at the ceiling. It was Tuesday, her day off. Today she planned to lie in bed until about 11, order a pizza, pull up some porn, pleasure herself, and then watch her favorite shows that she missed last week when she was at Scott’s. In less than five days, her life had changed dramatically. In the corner sat four boxes filled with more life changes.
I am not opening those today.
I am not opening those this week.
I just may not open those ever.
The way I’m feeling, I may not get out of this bed ever.
Mr. Bautista. Could he be my father? It’s in those diaries. I know the truth is in those diaries. If I don’t open the boxes, I can go on about my life, never the wiser. My brother had my brain washed so I couldn’t remember things in order to protect me. Scott is sending a backup to keep me company as if I need to be babysat.
“Why does everyone think I am so fucking fragile?” She yelled at the ceiling.
The doorbell rang as Zelda turned her head to look at the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed since her self-monologue of planning her day began. Slowly, she threw back the covers, ensuring she had on more than a tee shirt and some panties before sharing some well-chosen words with the interloper of her peace. Her legs felt as if they were loaded down in lead pellets as she took measured steps to the front door. Her throat was raspy, her head hurt, and she needed a very a large cup of coffee.
As she rounded the corner, the large picture window which overlooked the front porch held a shadow. A shadow with stupid pigtails protruding from the sides of her head.
“Seriously, Scott?” she grumbled as she turned off the alarm, then opened the door.
Pip stood on the porch covered in all smiles as she took in the neighborhood, the large front porch with rocking chairs, and the pretty flowers. When the front door opened her smile became even larger, showing off both rows of her teeth.
“What’s up girlfriend?” she asked Zelda.
“Scott said he was sending backup. I never thought in a million years it would you,” Zelda said, moving out of the way.
“He said you were going through something rough and you could use some girl time, so viola, I’m here and girl, it’s time!” Pip said, dragging her overnight case behind her
“Time for what?”
“To get down, get real, and get some fun in those bones. I have a small wad of money, I need a new wardrobe, makeup, and loads more to go with these new boobs and new bod. I am ready for me a long-term relationship, a fiancé, and to settle down and have me some babies,” she said cheerfully. “Hey, you have a really nice house.”
“Thanks,” Zelda mumbled.
“Scott said today was your day off and that you slept in, watched movies, ordered pizza, that kind of thing. If it is okay with you, maybe I could make you some dinner, bake my famous Snickerdoodles, be a good friend to you for the next two weeks,” she said.
“Two weeks! Scott said you were staying for two weeks?”
“Even half-awake, you are so pretty, but you need a shower,” Pip said with a smile. “Where can I unload my stuff? I am starving, and which way to the kitchen so I can make us some salads to go with that pizza pie?”
Zelda was completely outdone, but between preparing for Vegas and everything else that was going on, it would help to have someone neutral to talk to. Heck, it would be nice to have someone to talk to other than Michael.
“I don’t live alone, Pip. My brother lives here, too, so if you making anything, take into consideration there are three of us,” she said, running her fingers through her hair.
“Ooooh! I am cooking for a man? Forget the cookies! This calls for cake,” she said, grinning. “Where am I going to
get comfy?”
“To the left, which is my side of the house. There is a guest room, but we have to share the bathroom. My brother lives on the right side and he is particular about his space. Stay out of his space, Pip,” she said.
“Is your brother cute?”
“Judge for yourself,” she said, pointing at the photo on the wall of her and Michael.
“Dang that man just made my little Pippi nearly spit! Please tell me he is single and hetero and has a job and isn’t an A-hole,” Pip said.
“As far as I know he is single, he’s not an A-hole, and he has a job,” Zelda said, moving to the kitchen to order her weekly pizza.
“You didn’t say if he was heterosexual.”
“He is all man,” Zelda said.
Pip’s eyebrows raised high. “I guess I need to go work on that cake then and some dinner for your brother. A man wants a little something when he comes home from a hard day’s work.”
“I thought you came here to be with me, for some girl time and all of that,” she said solemnly.
“And I will, Zelda. I am going to take really good care of you,” she said with a wink. “Then, I’m going to take really good care of him if he needs it.”
“What happened to the cute little guy you met at the Vent Conference?”
Pip frowned, “That guy was a full-fledged, certified, puckered little A-hole. He also liked men and that jerk didn’t have a job. Would you believe he also had a boyfriend and a girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Yep! He was at least honest enough to tell me up front before I slept with him,” Pip said.
“He told you all of that and you still slept with him, Pip?”
“Oh, goodness no. I am still as horny as the dick is long, but I do have standards,” Pip said with a grin.
It was a strange feeling of comfort to have the odd woman in her home. As different as they were, Pip’s energy was a spirit lifter. If there was anything she needed right now more than Scott, it was a good spirit lifter.
A Saucy Sunday (The Zelda Diaries Book 4) Page 3