Helena shook a finger at her. “You are not a good liar, Annie. That is something we must work on if you are going to trick my big bad wolf.”
By the time Annie finally got rid of Helena and sent the Hispanic bombshell on her way, her head was reeling. Helena was definitely a tell-every-graphic-detail kind of gal. Helena had stripped off naked? For urgent sex right there in Rico’s car? In the restaurant parking lot where anyone could have seen them?
Please.
Or maybe Annie just felt that way because her own sex-in-the-car career had ended after her humiliating punch-chuck episode when she was only sixteen years old. She still had occasional nightmares about that coming-of-age experience.
Still shaking her head, Annie was trying to erase Helena’s ever so graphic thrust-by-thrust details from her mind when she walked back into the boardroom. Just as she knew he would, Collin made a beeline in her direction.
With eyebrows raised, he said, “So? What game are you planning to launch next? A “Ho” video game?”
“She isn’t a ho,” Annie said. “I met her at the restaurant last night with Rico.” Annie said this with a straight face, determined to prove Helena wrong about her lying ability.
Collin motioned with his hand to continue. “And?”
“And,” Annie said, “she wants me to help her find a secretarial job.”
There.
How was that for telling a big fat fool-any-wolf whopper?
Collin seemed convinced. “Did you tell her the first order of business would be to get her bad fashion fatality self a new look?”
Fortunately, Annie didn’t have to think up another lie in answer to Collin’s question. The room burst into applause again when Matt walked through the boardroom door.
So this is why J.B. stressed I should hurry back to the office. He should have known the old man had something up his sleeve.
Matt put on his fake smile as he accepted pats on the back and congratulations, trying to work his way across the room to where Annie and Collin were standing. He’d almost made it when J.B. walked into the boardroom and stopped him in a booming voice that always got everyone’s attention.
“Now that both of our rising stars are back, I think a toast is in order,” J.B. said. “Matt. Annie. Grab yourselves a glass of champagne and come stand beside me where everyone can see you.”
They both obeyed the boss’s order.
J.B. directed Matt to his right side and Annie to his left. Then the big man regaled everyone with the amazing responses they were still getting for Joe Video on the City Singles Web site.
Matt chanced a glance at Annie.
She didn’t look happy.
Maybe he should get her alone for a quick pep talk as well as an apology, Matt decided. Boost her morale a little. Remind her what was at stake. Encourage her to stick with the game plan now that they practically had the promise of their promotions locked down tight.
But hell. Who am I kidding? How was he going to boost Annie’s morale when his own promotion was becoming less important every day? Thanks to the overall turmoil the Joe Video project was causing in his life, if anyone needed a morale boost, it was him.
Sometimes life is just one big pain in the ass, Matt thought. The things you thought you wanted most ended up being inconsequential. And the things you told yourself you never wanted kept annoying you like a damn toy poodle humping your ankle.
When J.B. finally finished his center-stage performance, Matt decided taking Annie aside for a private discussion was a necessity. He would give her the pep talk. Right after he apologized for their argument over Rico.
He was just about to ask Annie if she could talk to him for a second in private when J.B. turned to him and said, “We have some strategizing to do, Matt. This project is picking up momentum faster than we anticipated. Staying ahead of the game is our first priority.”
With his arm firmly around Matt’s shoulder, J.B. led him out of the boardroom and down the hall to his private executive office suite.
As soon as Matt and J.B. left the boardroom, Annie walked over to the chair where she’d dumped her purse earlier. She dug out her cell phone. Drat. Still no message from her mother—and it would soon be noon.
She didn’t realize she was frowning until Collin walked up beside her. “Would you stop frowning and at least act like you’re having a good time. This party is being thrown in your honor. Remember?”
“I’m worried about my mother,” Annie told him. “I called her earlier and her secretary said she’d taken the day off.”
“So?”
“So, Bev never takes the day off. Never.”
“Maybe your mother is scoping out another great case like LOOTA,” Collin said.
Annie groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
LOOTA stood for Lesbians Outraged Over Theater Advertising. It was a class action lawsuit Bev had taken on the previous year, challenging the practice of making moviegoers sit through not only upcoming feature film trailers, but also advertising commercials that the outraged lesbians claimed were prejudice because they were tailored strictly for a heterosexual audience. The local media had made so much fun of the lawsuit that many theaters profited by selling T-shirts at their concession stands that read: LOOTA—The Real Reason Lesbians Are Suing Our Theater.
“Maybe you’re right,” Annie said. “Maybe Bev’s just caught up in another one of her outrageous causes.”
But that thought didn’t keep her from trying both numbers again. When she still only got her mother’s voice mail, she looked at Collin and said, “How bad do you think it would look if I ducked out of here for a little while?”
Collin made a face. “Honestly? I don’t think J.B. would like it.”
But Annie didn’t have to make that risky decision.
Matt suddenly appeared beside her. “J.B. has a few things he wants to go over, Annie, and he wants you to be in on them.”
Crud.
Annie shoved her cell phone back into her purse, hooked the purse strap over her shoulder, and headed for J.B.’s office when Matt motioned for her to follow.
To say this particular TGIF had been one of the most exhausting days of her life didn’t even put a dent in the fatigue Annie felt. She’d passed the exhaustion stage several hours earlier.
Other than a short break for lunch and a quick bathroom break, she’d spent the entire day in J.B.’s office.
Still no message from her mother.
She’d even called Bev’s office again at lunch. Same story from Bev’s secretary. Not a word from Bev all day.
When J.B. finally gave them the go-ahead-and-leave nod at 5 p.m., Annie bolted out of her chair before Matt could say something stupid like they were willing to stay as long as J.B. needed. She quickly thanked J.B. for the party. She thanked him for the incredible support he had given Joe Video from the beginning. Then she excused herself, fumbling for her cell phone before the door to his office even had time to close behind her.
Dammit.
Where in the hell was her mother?
She hurried down the hallway and found Kathy placing the cover over her computer. “Finally,” Kathy said when she looked up. “I was afraid J.B. was going to hold you and Matt hostage all weekend.”
“That makes two of us,” Annie said. “My mother didn’t happen to call, did she, Kathy?” Bev always used Annie’s cell phone number to contact her, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
Kathy shook her head. “No. Sorry.”
But before Annie could escape, Collin called her name and waved for Annie to wait. “A bunch of us are going to the Cabaña Club,” he said, all excited. He grinned and did his signature “jazz-hands” dance. “I just love a group bar party, don’t you? Lars is back from his weeklong coast-to-coast jaunt. He’s going to join us there. He’s so dying to meet you, Annie.”
Annie groaned inwardly. The last thing she was up for was a group bar party. Before she could tell Collin exactly that, he waved to Matt, now sauntering up the hallway in t
heir direction.
“Group bar party at Rico’s Cabaña Club,” Collin announced again. “Paragon’s ready to party hearty, so get your salsa shoes on, big guy.”
Matt never cracked a smile. His answer was a simple “I made other plans.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Kathy said, handing Matt his messages. “Claire Winslow called you all afternoon.”
Collin frowned. “Is she your other plans?”
Matt neither confirmed nor denied Collin’s suspicion.
Collin stuck his nose in the air. “I can’t believe you’d rather spend the evening with a backstabbing bitch like Claire Asslow instead of hanging out with us.”
Matt only grinned. “Be careful, Collin, someone might think you’re jealous for all the wrong reasons.”
Collin rolled his eyes. “Like I’d waste my time on a player like you, even if you were gay.”
Matt blew him a fake kiss, tossed his hand in the air, and started for the door.
Collin looked over at Annie. “Can you believe him?”
At the moment, Annie was too tired to care. “Don’t go ballistic, Mr. Party Hearty, but I’ve been up and running since four a.m. I’m not up for a group bar party, either.”
“Puh-leeze,” Collin scoffed. “It’s Friday night and you’ll slide into your second-wind zone as soon as you get out of this office. So stop whining. You can ride with me.”
When Collin was in party mode Annie knew there was no point in arguing. But there was something she had to do first. “Okay, I’ll go. But I’ll catch up with you guys at the Cabaña Club later. The first thing I need to do is find my suddenly missing mother.”
CHAPTER 11
By the time Annie reached Ponce de Leon Avenue, she found that second-wind zone Collin had mentioned, where your energy snaps back and you decide you aren’t as tired as you thought you were. Or maybe her sudden burst of energy stemmed from the fact that she was quickly going from concerned to flat-out angry.
It was obvious she was being ignored by her mother.
And Annie didn’t like it.
She didn’t necessarily talk to her mother every day. On occasion they’d even gone several weeks without talking to each other. But Bev was a faithful every-other-second message checker. Annie knew Bev was fully aware she’d been trying to reach her all day. For some reason her mother was not interested in returning Annie’s call.
Which took Annie right back to being concerned.
After all, Bev would soon turn fifty. And she smoked. Although Annie had finally stopped nagging her about it. Bev’s insolent outlook was: eat right, stay fit, die anyway.
“You have your vice, I have mine,” Bev always reminded her, referring to Annie’s “dipshit addiction,” as Bev not-so-politely phrased it.
Thinking about dipshits pushed the dipshit who was idiotic enough to date Claire Winslow right back to the front of Annie’s mind.
Maybe she would head for the Cabaña Club after she gave Bev a good lecture, Annie decided. Hook up with Collin and the rest of the group. Even if it meant putting up with the other dipshit who had been causing her grief. Having to pretend she knew nothing about Rico’s big Hollywood dreams wouldn’t be easy, but it would certainly beat going home to an empty apartment where all she had to think about was what acrobatic position Matt and Claire were trying at the moment.
Yes, she would definitely go to the Cabaña Club.
She’d probably need a stiff drink after she had it out with Bev for ignoring her all day.
Annie made a right turn into Druid Hills, one of Atlanta’s first planned suburban communities. The city sprawl had the area completely surrounded now, but wise Druid Hills residents had fought hard to preserve their space, protect their parks, and keep the hungry city from gobbling up the charm and the seclusion of the place they called home.
She had grown up in this subdivision. In the very house her mother was living in now, as had Bev. A charming old brick colonial that was slightly larger than some of the other residences, but not nearly as large as most. Her grandfather Long had purchased the house shortly after he returned home from Korea a decorated war hero.
Annie had always found it both tragic and ironic that her grandfather had survived a war, only to be killed a few years later in a freak on-the-job accident at the Southern Railway. His military pension and the generous railroad settlement had provided an adequate living for her widowed grandmother to raise her baby daughter alone. At least in the financial realm of things.
That both she and her mother had grown up without a father, however, was a fact Annie had pondered often. Was not having a father the main reason Bev had gravitated toward a much older man like esteemed Professor Thaddeus Dick? Also, was Collin’s theory correct—that Annie kept hoping to fill the father-void by searching for her own Mr. Right who could provide her with the family life she’d never had the pleasure of knowing?
The parallel in her and Bev’s lives didn’t end there.
Annie’s deceased genteel Southern grandmother had been just as disappointed with a radical feminist daughter like Bev as Bev had been with a Cinderellaesque daughter like Annie who was constantly looking for a Prince Charming to make her life complete.
Annie often wondered what her own daughter would be like—if she were ever lucky enough to have a daughter of her own. Conventional like her? Or radical like Bev? The radical possibility made her shudder as she pulled into her mother’s driveway.
She turned off the engine and hopped out of the car, briefly considering walking to the back of the house to see if her mother’s Volvo was parked in the garage. Until she heard the stereo blaring from inside the house.
At last, the mystery was solved.
Her mother was lost in one of her crusading briefs again, oblivious to the fact that Pavarotti was belting out some aria loud enough to threaten a disturbing-the-peace call from one of the neighbors.
Marching up the cobblestone path, Annie skirted the three steps leading up to the brick front porch stoop. She used her own key to open the door, knowing Bev would never hear the bell above the ridiculously loud music. Once inside the house, she intended to make a left turn straight into the library that served as Bev’s office, but she caught a glimpse of something reddish gold from the corner of her eye.
Annie stopped dead still and looked to the right, peering into her grandmother’s never-used parlor. Her grandmother’s Queen Anne sofa was positioned with its back to Annie, facing the parlor’s brick fireplace. That’s when fear reached out and grabbed Annie’s heart with an ice-cold fist.
Her mother’s head was thrown back against the sofa.
Lifeless.
Her reddish gold hair cascading almost to the floor.
“Mother!” Annie screamed.
Sheer terror propelled her forward.
And sheer terror stopped Annie short when a head suddenly popped out from beneath Bev’s long tie-dyed billowing gauze skirt.
This startled opera star was not Pavarotti!
Annie’s hand flew to her mouth in horror.
She started slowly backing up as Bev and her interrupted guest both jumped to their feet, obviously as surprised and embarrassed as Annie was herself.
Oh. God. Oh. God. Oh. God.
Annie turned and ran.
By the time she reached her car, Bev was hurrying down the path behind her. “Annie! You wait right there.”
Bev’s angry tone caused Annie to whirl around, ready for battle. “Don’t you dare act like you’re the one who has the reason to be angry, Mother.”
Bev crossed her arms stubbornly. “I have every reason to be angry,” she fumed. “Do you think I would ever invade your privacy like that?”
Annie threw her hands up in the air. “Well ex-cuse me! Tell me, Mother. When in my twenty-nine years of life have I ever had a reason to think my all-men-are-scum feminist mother needed that kind of privacy?”
When Bev didn’t answer, Annie said, “If you’d bothered to call me back and confess yo
u’d dropped out of the Feminist Majority and started seeing a man half your age, I wouldn’t have freaked out and rushed over to see if you were lying dead from a heart attack or stroke.”
Bev’s eyes narrowed. “Umberto is not half my age. He’s thirty-seven. And I resent you implying that I have anything to confess. Even to you.”
When Annie didn’t answer, Bev said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back the exact minute you thought I should. I’ve been out of town all day. Umberto asked me to take a day trip with him to Valdosta to pick up a truckload of rose bushes. The white teacup is a new hybrid breed Umberto’s really excited about.”
“Just not the ‘bush’ Umberto was really excited about when I showed up!”
Oh God. Did I really say that out loud?
Bev’s beet red face gave Annie her answer.
“I think you’d better leave, Annie. Before this gets ugly.”
Annie lifted her chin indignantly. “It got ugly about three minutes ago, Mother.”
She opened her car door, slammed it, turned on the ignition, and roared backwards out of the driveway. She left Bev there with an angry scowl on her still flushed face. But Annie only made it a few blocks away before she pulled over to the curb and stopped the car.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
She pounded on the steering wheel with both fists.
Was her life turning into some kind of sadistic test? Were the let’s-turn-Annie-into-a-raving-lunatic gods determined to rip everything she thought was true into nothing but shreds of her own self-fabricated lies?
Was there any truth in the world?
It was bad enough having to admit being adored, even if it had only been pretend adoration, had literally bored her to tears. But now she was going to have to swallow another bitter lie from a woman who had shamed her all her life for being a hopeless maleaholic?
Annie was beginning to think even gravity was a myth. Maybe what kept her sucked facedown in the dirt was only Mother Earth herself, doing so for nothing more than pure idle amusement.
God, she just couldn’t believe it.
Her mother? Now an ex-feminist? Getting it on with a man thirteen years her junior and known around Atlanta as the freaking singing gardener?
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