by Tara Mills
“I think that’s the least of their problems,” Tanya said soberly.
“You’re right. Oh, my god, do you see that?”
“Really bad boob job.”
“Sure, that looks real—not!”
Both women laughed, too uncomfortable to mention what they weren’t discussing.
“Here we go,” Tanya said flipping through the pages and finding the goodies. “Couples doing the deed.”
“Did you have to say it like that? I can almost hear that cheesy seventies music now,” Sabrina said with a revolted giggle. “How’s it go—brown chicken brown cow?”
Tanya burst out laughing. “That’s awesome. Okay, here we are. See, he’s already semi-hard, but you kind of get an idea of what he’d look like here.”
Sabrina looked, though she blushed furiously. “Well, that’s not so bad,” she admitted after careful consideration.
Tanya nodded thoughtfully. “That’s how they all look until they’re snipped. Definitely doable.” She turned the page. “You know, all stretched out like that you can’t even tell.”
She flipped to the next page, and they both gasped and leaned forward. This was the money shot, up close and personal and about to take the plunge, so to speak.
“Oh…my…god,” Sabrina gasped, “I’d be doing the crab walk backwards if I saw that thing coming at me.”
Tanya’s voice trembled slightly. “I know. Perspective is everything. You can’t really get a good idea of his size from the earlier pictures, but this one—oh, man.”
Sabrina hid behind her hand. “I can’t look. That’s not normal.”
“Chill out. He’s not coming after you with that thing. Jeez.”
Sabrina started laughing and closed the magazine, sliding it away from her with the very tips of her fingers. “I’m so creeped out right now, you can’t imagine. That was seriously disturbing.”
“But it answered your question.”
“No, it didn’t. It just gave me more of them. I wish I could put all this behind me, but I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”
“I know—you really want to see Jackson’s ride now, don’t you?”
“It’s a matter of simple curiosity, that’s all,” Sabrina said, picking at the edge of the desk.
“Yeah, I’m convinced.” Tanya snorted and rolled her eyes. “You want his big luscious unit. You just don’t want it to be the size of a flipping tree trunk.”
“Guess what,” Sabrina said suddenly.
“What?”
“I’m sending you home.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, I just need a little distance right now.”
“I understand. So I can really go home?”
“Go. Let Trace know he can call me if he needs help.”
“Done.”
Sabrina waved Tanya off with a great deal of relief. She wanted to cope with her hot flashes by herself, and she didn’t need anyone giving her crap about it.
Chapter 13
Emma stood back with a grin and watched Sabrina show off her fancy footwork with the soccer ball. Keeping a straight face was challenging enough for the poor kid, but when Sabrina attempted a Cruyff turn, dragging the ball backwards with the bottom of her foot, she just about tripped herself. Giving in to the giggles, Emma darted in and stole the ball away before her aunt embarrassed herself further. It was a humanitarian impulse.
“Hey!” Sabrina yelled and took off in pursuit, her hands flailing like pompons at the ends of her wrists.
With her longer stride, she easily caught up with the girl, but it was pretty obvious who had the superior skills, because the only way Sabrina could get the ball back was by resorting to unsportsmanlike conduct. She hip-chucked Emma, then lost total control of the ball and sent it bouncing out of bounds and across the running path, where it rolled right under a jogger’s feet and sent him face first onto the gravel path.
Sabrina had a bad premonition about this. “You go get it,” she said to Emma.
Emma stared at her. “You’re the one who lost the ball and tripped him.”
“I’ll give you five dollars—ten—and I’ll buy you Dairy Queen. Just please, please go get the ball?”
“Ten and a hot fudge sundae.”
“Done.”
****
Jackson came to his feet and brushed the embedded grit from his knees and palms. He tested his ankle carefully as he watched the little girl running toward him. Then he took a closer look at her and was hit with a sickening déjà vu. Oh, hell, it was Sabrina’s mini-me. There was no question of her parentage.
“You’re a little shorter today,” he said with a wry smile.
“Huh?” There was a bewildered look on her face as she walked over.
“Nothing. So is your mother here?”
“You know my mom?”
He snorted in amusement. “I believe I do.”
“No. She’s working late tonight, so I’m hanging out with my aunt.” She pointed up the hillside at…no one. “Huh,” the girl said, clearly perplexed. “Anyway, sorry about tripping you. It was an accident.”
“It always is,” he said ruefully. “Tell your mom I said hello.”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t worry, she’ll know.”
****
Emma stared after him as he jogged off, then shrugged her little shoulders and dribbled the ball back up the field.
Sabrina peeked out from behind a tree. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah. He was weird.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Did he look mad?”
“No, he was laughing.”
“Hmm, that is weird, even for him.” Shrugging it off, Sabrina dashed out and stole the ball back, but it was a short victory.
They brought their ice cream back to the apartment and ate it for dinner, then had a cheese pizza delivered later for dessert. Both Emma and Sabrina dressed in princess pink pajamas and reenacted Sabrina’s little fantasy of having her niece all to herself for a full night.
****
Jackson showered and changed back into his work clothes. Going upstairs he ran into Van in the studio.
“She has a kid,” he told Van bluntly and headed for his office.
Van followed him. “Sabrina?”
“Yes, Sabrina. She’s got a kid. About yea high,” he held out his hand, “and the spitting image of her mother. And you want to know something else?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“She’s got the same affliction.”
Van frowned. “I’m not following.”
“I was running along Chesterfield Park when a soccer ball came rolling out of nowhere and tripped me up. It wiped me out, Van.” Jackson held up his scuffed palms for emphasis. “That’s nothing. You should see my knees.”
Van laughed. “No fucking way!”
Jackson gave him an emphatic nod.
“Go on.”
“So I’m getting back to my feet, and I look up and see this little girl running over in a cute little yellow uniform, and I gaped.”
“You gaped?”
“I gaped because she’s the spitting image of her mother.”
“So you said. What’d you do?”
“I asked if her mom was around. She said she was working late. I told her to tell her mother hello from me.”
“Is that it?”
“Pretty much. What am I supposed to make of all this?”
“Hell if I know,” Van said, shaking his head in wonder.
“I don’t like this. I go out of my way to avoid the woman and she still manages to get to me.”
“Maybe you were onto something when you joked about updating your resume.”
Jackson dropped heavily into his chair and groaned. “The thing is, I love it here. I do. My family is here, I love my apartment, I love my job, and I even have a tender spot for my crew. That woman is not going to force me out. I’ve got enough pressure behind me right now as it is without her adding to it.
”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Good question. The thing that kills me is I know she doesn’t do this stuff on purpose. It’s pretty tough to demand a stop to it when it’s always accidental. She’s a curse.”
Van smiled sympathetically.
Jackson rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands. “She’s giving me a headache.” He dropped his arms heavily and looked up. “Don’t you think being a single parent is something that should have been disclosed up front last week?”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. It just feels dishonest by omission.”
“You have a problem with single mothers?”
“Not necessarily, but I’d sure like to know in advance, that’s all. How about you?”
“Tawny has two girls.”
“She does?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Four and six years old—the cutest little things.”
“Huh.”
“Now what?”
“I don’t know. I’m at a loss. It’s like she’s got me in her tractor beam and I’m hitting reverse just as hard as I can, burning out my engines, and getting sucked into her vortex of terror anyway.”
“I meant, shouldn’t we get the show together?”
Jackson shook himself. “Oh, right. Yeah, what have you got for me?”
****
That night Jackson walked into his apartment and tossed his blazer over the back of the couch. He headed right for his little bar. Considering his options carefully, he poured himself a scotch, neat. He brought it into the bedroom with him and stripped out of his slacks, finally taking another look at his leg. Damn. What had started as a simple skinned knee was now an angry oozing abrasion. The little skin the gravel left behind was no doubt stuck to the inside of his pant leg. How many times did he tug the fabric away from that sticky mess tonight? Too many. It stung like a son of a bitch.
He wasn’t pleased as he paced into the bathroom for his medical kit. Jackson limped out several minutes later and shrugged out of his shirt and into his robe. Retrieving his scotch from the bedside table, he went back to the living room. He stooped for the remote and turned on the television as he sank into the comfortable sofa.
“No, no, uh-uh,” he said running through the endless channels and still finding garbage. He finally left it on CNN and took a drink.
Too wired to sleep right after work and disinterested in the nightlife that beckoned his younger colleagues, Jackson was left with this, sitting alone in a quiet apartment with the television on for company. What a sad state of affairs. Maybe he should have people in? He snorted at that idea—at this hour? Knowing his neighbors, that would be a tragic mistake. Everyone else seemed to have your typical nine-to-five existence. He was the anomaly.
Maybe he should reconsider a woman in his life. He sighed. Was this really the right time to be thinking along those lines? His job was up in the air, and then there were the limitations his schedule naturally put on pursuing a relationship. What woman would put up with his hours?
Was he willing to share his space with someone, even part-time? That was a big question. He wasn’t sure. As loathe as he was to admit it, he hadn’t minded having Sabrina here. He’d liked the idea of her in his bed. He’d liked looking at her in his bed, if he was going to be completely honest here. He’d liked hopping in the shower after she was finished and picking up the soap and scrubby that she’d used right before him. It was intimate in a non-contact sort of way. Strange.
He hadn’t even minded her messing up his paper or making herself comfortable in the kitchen. It felt good to see to someone else’s needs for a change. He liked wondering what she’d like to eat as he set out a coffee mug for her and left headache tablets next to it, just in case.
Well, it wouldn’t actually be Sabrina, that was for damn sure. But maybe her invasion of his private domain could qualify as a test of sorts, to gauge how he handled having another person around. Maybe he should revisit the realm of dating and give it a shot. Was there ever going to be a perfect time? Not likely.
****
Because it was Jackson’s day off, he invited his mom over for lunch so they could have their talk in private. He honestly didn’t know how she would handle the news, and he wanted to make her as comfortable as possible. She arrived right on time.
Jackson opened the door to her and leaned down for a peck on the cheek.
“What’s this big news?” she asked excitedly, trying to see into the apartment around him.
“Come in,” he said with a chuckle and tugged her purse off her arm as she went peering into the kitchen.
“Smells good. Someone joining us?”
“No, it’s just us.”
“Oh,” she said, obviously disappointed, but that didn’t last. “Another time, I suppose.”
“Mom, what’s on your mind?” Silly question. He had a pretty good hunch.
“Well, you finally met someone, right? I thought you were going to introduce us today, but she probably has to work. You do have strange hours.”
“Glass of wine?” he asked, walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator, ready for something himself.
“You don’t have more of that white I like, do you?”
“I bought it especially for you.” He went into an upper cabinet and brought down two delicate wine glasses.
While he pulled the cork she looked under the lid of the wok on the stove. “What’s this? It smells wonderful.”
“Just a light chicken stir-fry.” He handed her a glass.
“Is it ready?”
“I take it you are?”
“I only had half a grapefruit this morning. I’m starved.”
“Let’s eat.”
She barely had time to praise her first bite before she was goading Jackson into telling her his big news.
“Who said it was big?”
“You don’t ask me over for a chat unless it’s something important. I inferred.”
Jackson blotted his mouth and took a bracing swallow of wine first.
“Mom…”—god, he hated having to tell her this—“Kelli’s pregnant.”
To his shock, his mom laughed with delight. “Serves her right,” she said finally, forking another bite into her mouth.
“What?” he asked, still trying to process her odd reaction.
“The little home wrecker is going to find out just what she bought herself.” She popped a little floret of broccoli into her mouth and nodded her head. “Still, I expected that when I finally got the baby news it would be coming from you or your brother, not your father. At his age? Honestly!”
“Dad’s cool with it.”
“Sure he is, until there are diapers to change and he has to start acting—” She laughed. “I was going to say ‘his age,’ but what I really meant was your age.”
“Nothing on the horizon for me.”
“Don’t worry, you have time,” she said, patting his hand.
****
As soon as his mom was out the door, Jackson went back to the kitchen and leaned against the counter with the phone in his hand. It was time to call his brother.
“Rob? It’s me. She just left. Yeah, I told her. Get this—she laughed. Cut it out. I’m not yanking your chain. She really laughed. I know. It was bizarre. Sure, when? I’ll see you when you get here.”
****
Rob went right for the kitchen, the instant the door opened, and started sniffing around for food. “Anything left?”
“In the fridge.”
He pulled open the right-side door and looked for a container.
“Lower shelf,” Jackson said, pointing.
“Ah.” Rob grabbed the container and a bottle of beer and shut the fridge. He peeled off the cover and popped the leftover Chinese into the microwave. Once he’d set the timer, he turned toward Jackson and twisted the top off his beer. He didn’t speak until after taking a nice long tug of suds.
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“Okay,” he said, coming up for air. “What did she say?”
Jackson waved him over to the table and they each grabbed a chair.
“When I told Mom that Kelli was pregnant, she laughed, said it serves the little home wrecker right and now she’ll find out what she bought herself, or something to that effect.”
“Interesting,” Rob said, thoughtfully.
“What do you make of it?”
“You can’t guess?”
“You’re the psychiatrist. Enlighten me.”
“Well, we know there was no love lost between Mom and Dad the last several years of their marriage.”
“Agreed. Go on.”
“But no matter how often Dad strayed, he always came back—until Kelli. Mom didn’t lose face or status among her friends because of her philandering husband. If anything, they were more understanding and supportive, but once Kelli pulled the longsuffering rug out from under Mom’s respectable heels, she moved out of the sympathetic light and into the ‘can’t hold her man’ category.” The microwave dinged and Rob jumped up.
Jackson stared after him. “Are you telling me that Mom didn’t mind all the cheating?”
Rob came back with the container, set it on the table, and shoveled a forkful into his mouth. His eyes widened and he sucked in a hasty breath. “Hot,” he gasped, then went back for another bite, more carefully this time. “This is good. You made this?”
“Yes. Will you go on, please?”
“I’d like the recipe.”
“I’ll get it for you before you leave. Now get on with it.”
“Where was I?”
“Longsuffering wife to can’t hold her man,” Jackson said impatiently.
“Right. Like I said, none of the other women mattered enough to change the situation, so it was tolerable, and Mom created her normal out of it. She had her home, security, and friends. But Kelli changed all that. She didn’t just take Mom’s husband—not a big loss anyway, as we all know—but she changed Mom’s status in every sense of the word: marital, social, and financial. If that wasn’t enough of a slap in the face, Dad marrying Kelli as soon as the ink was dry on the divorce had to sting like hell.”
“No doubt.”
“Jack, everything shifted for Mom, including her identity, when Dad finally cared enough for someone else to move on.”