The Spia Family Presses On

by Mary Leo

  Rub a delicate extra virgin olive oil on a baking sheet. Heat oven to 250 degrees. Slowly whip egg white with vanilla until it froths. Enjoy the vanilla bouquet. Set aside and mix the sugar, salt and cinnamon in a deep bowl, or large plastic bag. Set aside. First coat some of the pecans in the egg white mixture, remove and toss them in the sugar mixture. Spread pecans evenly on the baking sheet and roast for one hour, stirring every ten to 15 minutes.

  Remove from oven and place on large platter.

  Remove salad from fridge. Add oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and cheese and toss. Sprinkle five or six or ten warm pecans on top and serve with crusty warm bread, and a flavored sparkling water. This is enough for two. Eat slowly, and enjoy the flavors on your tongue, the snap of each pomegranate seed, and the crunch of sweet pecans. Take your time. Breathe. Stay focused on the food.

  NINE

  Oh, But It Feels So Good

  I was halfway up my stairs when I heard, “Any chance we can continue where we left off?” Leo’s voice came from behind and stopped me cold.

  I turned to see him standing on my bottom step looking as gorgeous as ever. The motion lights over the garage door cast a sultry glow on his face and hair, making him appear even more male than he normally did. There was always something hypnotic about his face in low lights.

  “Don’t you have a girlfriend? A Sharley or Marley or something like that. I can’t always keep up,” I said.

  “I did—Marlina—up until about a month ago. She went back to her fiancé. Besides, we were more friends than lovers.”

  “Smart girl,” I said.

  “Ouch,” he grunted, rubbing his jaw. “But I guess I deserve that.”

  I shrugged. “I need a shower.” Oil oozed from my Uggs with each step. I wondered if they were salvageable.

  He walked up a couple steps. “I can help with that.”

  No doubt he could, more than I wanted to admit. We’d had some of our best sex under running water. “Not tonight. It’s too soon, besides it’s been a really bad day.”

  I turned and walked up a few more steps. He followed right behind me. “You know I can make you relax.”

  I stepped up on my tiny porch knowing that if he came much closer we would be sharing soap suds. “I can’t do this right now,” I told him, heading for my door, hoping he would get the message and back off.

  I was already coming up with excuses to invite him inside my apartment, like I needed to ask him what Dickey was doing on his porch, and why had he lied about it. And more importantly, what had they been arguing about?

  “Then why did you kiss me in the barn?” he asked all soft and sultry-like. I could almost taste his kiss.

  I turned to face him, oil dripping down my left cheek. “I had a brain freeze. A lapse in sanity. A moment of complete confusion. I don’t know. It just happened. You’re reading too much into it.”

  He stepped up on the landing. “I’m reading what you want me to read, that there’s hope for us. I can’t stop thinking about you, Mia.”

  “Me, and half the other women who live in this valley.”

  He gazed down for a moment then looked into my eyes. That’s when I felt the crack in my resolve, a big fat crack that ran right up the center of my soul.

  “You’re right. I was a shit, but I haven’t been serious about another woman since we broke up. The day you walked out, I finally realized what you meant to me, what you mean to me now. I was a fool, Mia. If there’s any chance, any hope . . .”

  I kissed him hard on the lips, completely denying all my apprehensions and months of counseling. I wanted him like I’d never wanted him before. As if I’d been swimming under water holding my breath way too long and surfaced, taking in big gulps of life-sustaining oxygen. As if I would die if I was denied another second.

  I opened my door and we tumbled in still clinging onto each other, stopping long enough for me to set the lock. The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the windows, which gave everything an ethereal glow.

  He helped me out of my sweater and bra, and I helped him out of his shirt. He pulled me in tight against his chest. The sensation of his body on my skin only added to the fire that was already burning through me.

  Our shoes came off next as we made our way to the bathroom. When I slipped out of my jeans and panties he was busy getting the water temperature just right. I hit the light switch for the shower and a red glow filled the room. I kept a red light bulb in the sconce in the ceiling over the shower because I liked the way it made skin look, all smooth and satiny.

  Steam began to fill the room adding to the intensity of the moment. I unfastened the button on his pants and pulled down the zipper. He’d already gone hard, and I held my breath as I waited for him to step out of his pants and underwear.

  Now, fully naked we stepped under the hot water and for a moment we stood apart, taking in each other’s bodies. Leo had always liked to get a good, long, delicious look at me before we made love. It heightened his arousal, and drove me wild with anticipation.

  We took it slow then, carefully washing each other. I soaped his chest and arms, but he stopped me from going any further.

  He spun me around and began my wash by lathering my hair first, and rinsing it, then he slowly moved down my body while standing close behind me using his hands to gently spread the soap, lingering on my breasts and between my legs. The sensations were impossible. I’d forgotten just how amazing his touch could be. Little shivers racked my body and it took all the willpower I had to allow him to continue. God, how I missed this man inside me. How I missed his lovemaking.

  I turned to continue my wash of him, but again he stopped me. “Next time,” he said and moved in closer. He pressed me against the wall, and lifted me into position while holding onto my butt. I wrapped a leg around him and he entered me as the warm water ran down both our bodies. I shivered, nearing climax before he even began his rhythm. When he shuddered with his own pleasure I joined him, only this time I came so hard that I collapsed onto him, completely and delightfully exhausted.

  Ten minutes later we luxuriated on opposite sides of my extra deep whirlpool tub. I had added olive oil and essence of lavender to the water, lit a few candles, while the jazz group Four Play softly entertained us in the background.

  Then right when I should have been feeling perfectly content, reality snuck in to change the mood.

  I hated when that happened.

  “You know this can’t work between us,” I said. “We’re two different people. Besides, I don’t drink anymore, and don’t want to start up again. Having a winemaker for a boyfriend doesn’t exactly help my cause.”

  His legs brushed mine. “Can’t we just take this one date at a time? No commitment.”

  “See, that’s where I get all messed up. No commitment means other people, and other people means I’ll get jealous, and when I get jealous because I’ve fallen for you again, I’ll start drinking and if I start drinking again, well, it’s enough to give me a headache, especially with everything else going on.”

  “Mia, I’m telling you I’m not like that anymore. You have to trust me on this.”

  The real problem was I couldn’t trust myself, but at the moment, I felt too content to argue. I simply wanted to go to bed.

  Alone.

  But before I sent him on his contented way with the possibility of us coupling up again, I needed to ask him about what I saw that afternoon out on his porch. Our future rested on his answer. “So, what’s up with you and Dickey?”

  His forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what was the argument about?”

  “Excuse me?”

  His eyes darted to the candle. The man was giving off lie signals right and left. Didn’t he realize what he was doing?

  “Come on. Come clean about this. I was passing the vineyard today and I saw you and Dickey out on your porch, arguing.”

  He stared at me for a moment, as if he had to think about his
answer. A stalling tactic he’d used before.

  “I don’t know who you saw out there, but it wasn’t me. I’ve been in meetings all day and as far as Dickey being at my place, I never saw the man.”

  “You’re lying,” I told him.

  He smiled, and gazed down at the bubbly water. I expected our usual argument, but instead he said, “As pleasant as this has been, I need to go now.”

  He stood and I watched the water infused with oil glide down his perfect body. He grabbed a towel, dried off, picked up his clothes and left the room.

  This was a new tactic on his part: lying combined with complete avoidance. I wondered how long he would keep this new game up.

  I stood and stepped out of the tub, drying off with a plush white towel, my body all smooth from the oil. I pulled on my flannel jammies with the giant red flowers and padded out to the living room.

  “Tell you what,” he said, now dressed except for a shirt. Just the sight of that chest made me want to start all over again, despite his illusive behavior, but instead I bravely walked past him to the door and unlocked it. “I’ll see you at the Martini Madness ball and you can either talk to me or not. Either way, I won’t regret what just happened, but if you want a relationship, you’ll have to start believing me. We’ll take it slow. You can build up your trust. This is your game now, kitten. You can play it however you want to. If you want to. ‘Cause it’s not looking too promising at the moment.”

  He gave my pajamas the once over, grinned, slipped on his shirt and opened the door. He leaned over and brushed my lips with a gentle kiss. It was just enough to make me crave him even more.

  I watched Leo amble down the stairs before I slipped into my marshmallow-soft bed, covered my head with my white down blanket and told myself not to think of the man or I’d never fall asleep. The man was a continual menace to my otherwise comfortable life. And what made it even worse, he was hiding something from me about Dickey.

  What was that all about?

  Normally, I had no problem coping with my temporary celibacy and lack of alcohol. I’d come to look at it as a phase I was going through. That one day I would be enjoying men and wine again only in a sane way. At least that’s what my last shrink said. For some reason, I wasn’t seeing the vision in my future.

  Especially after tonight.

  The man’s lack of an answer to my question just proved that I was incapable of getting the truth out of him. The very fact that I didn’t push him on it was due to my complete lack of courage when it came to Leo. But why would he not answer me? What was he hiding? In the past, he would toss me some elaborate lie, but this time he said nothing. That was clearly more disturbing considering I was asking about a missing murder victim.

  I turned on my side, fluffed my pillow, shifted my legs to a more comfortable fetal position, stared through my curtainless window at the night sky filled with stars, and forced myself to think of my favorite sleep inducer—uses for olive oil:

  It preserves and cleans cutting boards. It’s great to push back cuticles, and it softens the rough spots on your feet. It’s a great suntan oil. It can sooth my chapped lips. A few drops will suffocate a tick. It works as a mosquito repellant, not to mention the great effect it has on dry skin in general. Olive oil has been known to lower blood pressure. It decreases blood sugar levels, helps prevent calcium loss and promotes cellular growth. Olive oil sooths sunburn pain, or is that vinegar? Anyway, it will help with a bee sting, and it will relieve my sore throat when I warm it and . . .

  I was asleep before I could think of cleaning solutions.

  I kept hearing a bird chirping off in the distance. Wait, not a bird exactly, more like a cat with laryngitis. No, it was definitely a bird. A sick bird. I opened my eyes a little and realized morning had erupted, and for the first time in months, I had slept right through the night.

  Slowly the bird sound became stronger, along with a faint scent of blackberries. I tilted my head to get a better whiff, but the scent had been so faint that I couldn’t really smell it anymore.

  As my mind began to clear out of the night’s fog, making love to Leo in the shower flashed up on my memory screen. I smiled and snuggled down under the covers while facing the window, realizing my lover was in bed with me. I rolled over to give him a luscious wake-up kiss when Lisa jumped up and dashed out of my bed. I moved away, suddenly remembering that Leo never crawled in bed with me, Lisa had, and thank God I was wearing my best flannel pajamas. I didn’t remember exactly how I ended up in my pajamas, but that was beside the point.

  The bird I’d heard was Lisa’s now-working miracle phone.

  “Hello,” she cooed into the phone, sensual excitement skipping off of each syllable. I figured whoever was on the other end of the call must be thinking that Lisa was thrilled to hear from them. Little did they know she was simply thrilled that her phone seemed to be working, despite its oil bath.

  She giggled, a high-pitched girly giggle. What was that all about? Was a working phone that exciting to her?

  She whispered something I didn’t catch, giggled a bit more, ended the call and fell back on the bed next to me, grinning up at the ceiling. And not just any old grin, this was more in the category of gleeful grinning, the kind that eventually causes cheek aches.

  “At least your phone is working,” I said, looking over at her, watching for any tells that she might know about Leo coming up to my apartment last night. I couldn’t see any. If she did know, it was only a matter of time before she’d let me have it, with both barrels.

  “I bet you’re happy about that,” I offered, wanting her to volunteer who was on the other end of that call.

  She nodded then turned toward me, scrunching her pillow under her head, tugging on the covers, grinning. Apparently, Lisa was in a good mood.

  “What? Tell me,” I begged. “Did your publisher call with a million dollar deal? Are you going to be on Oprah? Are they making a movie out of one of your books? Tell me.”

  She giggled again. I scrunched my pillow under my head and faced her, joining in on her contagious laughter.

  It had been a long time since Lisa and I shared a bed. When we were little we’d have sleepovers all summer long. We’d never get any sleep, way too much to talk and laugh about in those days. We had endless conversations, and when we weren’t talking about someone or something, Lisa would make up stories, long lavish stories about kids living on other planets or kids with special powers. I couldn’t count how many times I fell asleep listening to her lulling voice telling me about Zoey the goddess warrior, or Princess Omni, the last female demon slayer on Ozark, a planet on the other side of the universe.

  “It was Nick,” she said. “But you’re not going to like what he said.”

  My chest instantly tightened as reality came rushing in.

  “Oh God! What did he say? No. Don’t tell me. I can’t take any bad news. I mean, what if Dickey pops up somewhere and Nick still has that gun. I bet you anything he already ran a ballistic check on it. This could get really ugly.”

  I sat up, turned slightly and looked at her. Her expression hadn’t changed. Something was up, and it couldn’t be bad. “Why are you still smiling? This has to be good. Right? Okay. You can tell me. We don’t have any secrets.”

  Lie. No way could I tell her about Leo and me. Her expression changed. She stopped giggling, but the smile still clung to her lips. “Okay. So it’s not good news. Those were nervous giggles, right? Like when we were caught smoking in the locker-room and Sister Marian Joseph made us stay after school and wait for our mothers to come and fetch us so she could personally tell them of our evil deeds. You kept laughing that day, too. Did Nick find Dickey? He ran ballistics and the bullet matches the gun and he’s on his way over to pick up my mom or me or all three of us. I knew this was going to happen. I should have never let him take that weapon. We’re in for it now. We could spend the rest of our lives in jail. You won’t care. You’ll just write more books: Surviving Prison or Surviving Bad Girls. M
om will adjust, she adjusts to anything. But me? I’ll die in jail, all that tasteless food, and confinement, not to mention those bad-ass biker chicks. I never could get along with biker women. You may as well just shoot me right now, because I’ll die if I go to jail.”

  I flopped down on the bed, exhausted by my own outburst.

  “Are you done ranting?” she asked.

  I nodded and braced for the worst.

  She stared at me for a moment longer, the smile never leaving her face.

  “This isn’t funny. Jail time is serious business. Just ask my family.”

  “You’re overreacting. Take a deep breath. Relax. Close your eyes for a minute. Wait to hear what I have to say before you decide we’re jail bait.”

  I did as I was told, but there was still a little part of my mind that saw us in bright orange jumpsuits lifting weights out in a cement courtyard alongside buffed, mean-looking women with tattoos that said Eat Me!

  When I opened my eyes, she was still smiling.

  I thought I’d go with it and take a different approach. “You’re smiling so I’m going to assume it’s good news. Nick’s coming over with the gun. He believes your ridiculous story about research and wants to drive you to a firing range for target practice.”

  She shook her head.

  “Whaaa-aat?” I whined. “Tell me before my head explodes.”

  “Okay. But I know you’ll hate it, especially after all that’s happened. I just can’t help myself. I tried, honest, but this is bigger than my willpower, and you know how strong my willpower is.”

  This was true. I was the binge drinker. Lisa was the designated driver.

  “Just tell me!”

  She let out a breath. “Nick asked me to the Martini Madness Ball tomorrow tonight.”

  “Get out. You wouldn’t go with him, right? Or would you?”

  I didn’t quite know how to react to this news.

  “Last night, while you were taking a shower to get rid of all that oil, Nick helped me clean up my car, and I helped him clean off his shoes. Anyway, one thing led to another and, well, he’s a total babe, so I gave him my phone number.”