Pretty Woman

by Fern Michaels

  One more week to go. One more week of intense training. One more week until it was time to say good-bye. He looked around. He was going to miss this crummy place. He really was.

  Kent’s thoughts took him in another direction as he tried to remember the last time he’d had sex. Even sex wasn’t important these days. He wished he could remember the precise minute when his life had taken a 180-degree turn. Maybe someday when he had nothing better to do, he’d figure it out. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t. Right now, it simply wasn’t important.

  His thoughts were interrupted when a knock sounded on his door. His Italian dinner. He smacked his hands together in glee as he stood up to open the door to accept the white bag with the green-and-red logo. He tipped 15 percent and closed the door.

  Life was looking pretty darn good, he thought, as he spread out his dinner on the small round table in front of his chair. He switched television channels and watched a rerun ofSeinfeld.

  Rosie limped the last quarter mile of her morning run. Her right leg ached, and she didn’t know why. Buddy came to a full stop and barked. Usually, at this point in the run, his mistress increased her speed and shouted to him toGO! He barked again as he waited for the signal that didn’t materialize. He did a wild, dizzy circle, hoping to spur his mistress on, but it didn’t work.

  “I think I pulled a muscle back there somewhere. Probably when I came down on that rock that wasn’t supposed to be there,” Rosie groaned. “I’m doing the best I can, Buddy.” The big dog barked again as he fell in behind her. His snout nudged her on. Rosie started to laugh and couldn’t stop. “It’s not going to work,” she gasped. “This is as fast as I can go.Go!”

  Buddy looked at her as if to say, are you out of your mind? He moved ahead, sat down, and waited. When Rosie caught up to him, he moved again and sat down. It was a pattern he repeated all the way to the house, where he let loose with a bark that raised the hairs on the back of Rosie’s neck. Someone was getting out of a taxi in front of her house. She gaped at the sight.

  “Luna Mae!”

  “It’s me, baby. This is Curly. What’s wrong?”

  Rosie collapsed against the skinny woman, tears blurring her vision as she watched a butterball of a man crouch down to tussle with Buddy. He looked like Santa Claus. “What took you so damn long, Luna Mae?”

  “We missed our flight yesterday. If I recall correctly, I didnot give you my ETA. What I said was, you’ll see me when you see me. Now, what’s wrong?”

  “I think I pulled a muscle. This can’t happen, Luna Mae. The race is the day after tomorrow. You always have the answer for everything. Think! What can I do?”

  “Curly!” It was a declaration, an order, a command. The Santa Claus look-alike with the potbelly looked at both women over the top of his wire-rim glasses. “What can I do for you, darlin’? I’m mighty pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Rosie. Luna Mae does nothing but talk about you.” He extended a chubby hand with a magnificent diamond pinkie ring. Rosie shook it.

  “Rosie pulled a muscle, sweetie. You got any of that liniment you used to smear on Skip and the others when they pulled muscles? If so, haul it out and let’s go to work. My girl is racing the day after tomorrow, and we need her fit and rarin’ to go.”

  To Rosie, she said, “Curly is better than any doctor. He’s got cures for everything. He’ll have you right as rain in no time. Trust me, baby.”

  Rosie hobbled up the steps and inserted the key in the lock. Curly stayed behind to carry up a mountain of designer luggage. “This is atwofer. I just know it,” Rosie muttered as she headed for the kitchen where nine watermelons graced the counter.

  Luna Mae eyed the fruit, and asked, “Are you on a watermelon diet or something?”

  Rosie explained Jack’s theory about the watermelons as Luna Mae doubled over laughing. “Stop laughing, Luna Mae. It works. You’ll see. He looks like Santa,” she said, changing the subject.

  “And he’s rich. He loves every inch of me. He cooks for me. He makes the bed. I do the dishes. He also gives the best back rubs. Did I say he’s rich? He bought Cisco when it was two dollars a share. Thousands and thousands of shares. He has other stuff, too. That ring on his finger, five carats. He kisses me all day long. He sings to me sometimes, and he reads to me in bed when we aren’t doingother things. He just pretended to be poor so people wouldn’t take advantage of his good nature. So, do you like him?”

  “How could I not? He sounds like the perfect man for you. I can see how happy you are. That’s all I want for you, Luna Mae. God, I missed you.” Rosie threw her arms around Luna Mae’s shoulders and hugged her until she screamed for mercy.

  “I missed you, too, baby. As happy as I was, I still missed you. Curly knew that, and it was his idea to come back. We’ll still go off to the races from time to time, but this or wherever you end up living is going to be home for us. We’re going to be your loyal, devoted, family retainers. We both want to dandle your children on our knees. We’ll make good grandparents, Rosie. I promise.”

  Rosie started to cry. Luna Mae crooned to her the way she had in the past. Eventually, she calmed down when Curly dug into one of the designer bags for what Luna Mae called his medical kit. Before she knew what was happening, Curly’s short stubby fingers, which were like tensile steel, probed her leg, digging and rubbing until she thought she would scream. Then, miraculously, an hour into the massage, all the pain disappeared. Curly continued to rub and massage, then instructed her to go into the Jacuzzi and let the jets beat on the sensitive area. “We’ll do this again in a few hours, into the night, and tomorrow, too. By race time, I guarantee you will be one hundred percent.”

  Rosie wanted to hug him to death. She told him so.

  The little round man with the sparkling blue eyes laughed, and said, “Luna Mae now, she doesn’t take kindly to other ladies hugging me. Get along with you. One hour in the Jacuzzi, then back down here for some more liniment.”

  “Yes,sirrr,” Rosie said, saluting smartly as she made her way through the kitchen to the stairs that would take her to the Jacuzzi.

  While Rosie soaked and pulsated, Luna Mae and Curly chattered like two magpies as they unpacked, stowed their luggage, then eyed the watermelons on the counter.

  “I don’t think I’d touch those melons, lovey. They serve a purpose for Miss Rosie, and you don’t want to do anything to upset her. She’s strung real tight. I could tell that the minute I started working on her leg. She kept eyeing those melons. Now, what’s for breakfast, lunch, or brunch?”

  “Good question,” Luna Mae cackled. “What are you making, and it better not be watermelon?”

  Curly kissed the tip of Luna Mae’s nose. “What would you like, darlin’? How does an omelet sound? This refrigerator is rather bare. I can see we have to take a trip to the market.”

  “Just whip up some magic, honey. I’ll make the coffee. Rosie does love her coffee, almost as much as you do. She looks wonderful, doesn’t she? Aside from her injury, she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

  “She’s everything you said she was, darlin’. I like this dog. Very protective. I like that, too. Set the table. Excuse me, please set the table.”

  “For you, sweetie, anything,” Luna Mae said.

  An hour later, the threesome sat down to brunch, Buddy’s plate under the table.

  “This is awesome,” Rosie said as she forked the omelet into her mouth. “You have to make this for Jack. He loves omelets.”

  “It’s the basil and cilantro,” Curly said proudly. “I used to cook on the circuit. I’m really looking forward to meeting your young man.”

  “He’ll be here soon. Downplay my…whatever it is that’s wrong with my leg. He might want to pull me from the race. He can do that, you know.”

  “Only if you allow it,” Curly said.

  “Oh. All right. That makes me feel better. I’m entering that race if I have to crawl. Kent’s racing, too, Luna Mae.”

  Luna Mae’s brow furrowed. She made an u
nladylike sound. “A turtle and a greyhound. There is no comparison.” The old housekeeper’s voice rang with loyalty. Curly patted Rosie’s shoulder. It felt comforting.

  “I’m going to go over to Vickie’s and check on the seniors. You said they’re doing well. Are you still happy with the way things are working out, baby?”

  Rosie reached for the sharp carving knife on the table. She gave a hard whack to one of the melons Curly had placed within her reach. First, though, he’d spread a layer of brown grocery bags to sop up the juice.

  “This is mindless,” Rosie said defensively, as Curly and Luna Mae stared at the speed with which she ripped at the seeds. “I don’t know what it is about doing this, but it does work. See, I’m less jittery about my leg.” To make her point, she wiggled her foot and leg. “Tell the seniors I’ll send over this watermelon when I’m finished.”

  Luna Mae looked as dubious as Curly as they continued to watch the succulent fruit find its way into a large earthenware bowl. “I never really liked watermelon,” Luna Mae said to have something to say.

  “I hate it!” Rosie said vehemently. “Are you sure my leg is going to be okay, Curly?”

  “I can almost guarantee it. We won’t be long. You just sit here and wait for us to get back, and we’ll do another treatment.”

  Rosie whacked at the melon again. A spurt of juice spiraled upward and plopped on the floor. Buddy looked at it with disdain. “He hates watermelon, too,” Rosie said. “I’m calm. See, I’m really calm,” Rosie repeated.

  “I can see that,” Luna Mae said tongue-in-cheek as she backed out of the doorway. “We won’t be long.”

  “Take as long as you want. I have eight more melons to go. If I get that far,” she muttered. “I’m usually in a stupor when I finish two.”

  Outside, Curly looked at his beloved and whispered, “You didn’t tell me she had a watermelon fetish.”

  Luna Mae tweaked Curly’s cheek. “That’s because I didn’t know, sweet cheeks. Are you sure her leg is going to be all right to run?”

  “Yes, darlin’, it is going to be fine. We’ll put a pressure bandage on it just to be sure. Stop worrying.”

  Luna Mae dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t want anything to go wrong. Rosie is happier than she’s ever been. I worry about her. She’s like the daughter I never had, so I have a right to worry.”

  “All right, then worry. Come along, dumplin’, show me the way to Rosie’s weed business. Weeds!” he said, throwing his hands in the air. Luna Mae chuckled as she linked her arm through his as they walked around the corner to the old Simmons mansion.

  The seniors heard the footsteps cross the porch and looked up from their work. Mitzi quickly ran to the door to bolt it. “No more watermelon!” her cohorts shouted.

  Vickie reached the door a second before Mitzi. “It’s Luna Mae, and she doesn’t have any watermelon!” Her voice rang with relief as she threw open the door to hug the housekeeper. “Thank God you are empty-handed.”

  Luna Mae didn’t have to ask what she meant as she introduced Curly to Vickie and the seniors.

  An hour later, Luna Mae held up her hands. “Girl, I cannot tell you how impressed I am. I never saw such a tight-knit operation.”

  “We owe it all to the seniors. They love what they’re doing. We even put an ad in AARP magazine. The orders almost killed us, but we managed. They might be doing an article on us next year. There is one small problem, though. If any more watermelon shows up here, they’re quitting! I just dumped the last three batches down the disposal.”

  “Well, Rosie has nine lined up on the counter as we speak. She hurt her leg this morning, and she’s stressed out. Don’t be alarmed, she’s fine, and Curly said she will be able to participate in the race.”

  Alarm washed across Vickie’s face. “Are you sure, Luna Mae? Rosie has worked so hard, trained just about every day for the past three months. Sheneeds to be in that race. Do you think I should go over there and talk to her?”

  “No, Vickie. She might take your visit as a sign that things aren’t as good as Curly said they are. We need to downplay it. She’s got the watermelons.”

  “It is kind of funny, if you think about it,” Vickie laughed.

  “It was hard not to laugh,” Luna Mae giggled. “Hey, if it works, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Darlin’, you are so right,” Curly chirped. “Nice operation you have here, Vickie.”

  “Thanks, Curly. It wasn’t in such good shape before the seniors came. Like I said, they love what they’re doing. We wouldn’t be where we are now if it weren’t for them. We’ve had queries about franchises. I haven’t mentioned it to Rosie because she has enough on her plate at the moment. I plan to talk to her after the race.”

  Vickie hugged the housekeeper again as she walked to the door with them. “Tell Rosie I’ll stop by after I close up. I usually do that anyway, so she won’t think I’m worried about her. You do know Kent’s going to be racing, right?”

  Luna Mae’s face darkened. “She told me. I’m not worried. Our girl looks fit, and I know she can do it. She just has to stay focused. That’s the right term, isn’t it?” the housekeeper fretted.

  “Focusedis the right word, dumplin’. Now, you said something about showing me this fair city. We both need the exercise. It was mighty nice meeting you, Vickie.” He waved at the seniors, who waved back.

  Two hours later, Luna Mae and Curly walked into the kitchen, both their jaws dropping at the sight of bowls and bowls of watermelon lined up everywhere. “I’m done for the day!” Rosie said dramatically. “I did four! Do you believe that? Four! Can you take it over to the Simmons mansion for me?”

  “Watch this!” Luna Mae said as she carried one of the earthenware bowls over to the sink, where she dumped it in the disposal and turned on the switch. To Rosie’s horror, she did the same thing with all the other bowls. “The seniors said they were going to quit if you made them eat any more watermelon.”

  “They said they loved it!”

  “You’re their boss. What did you expect them to say?”

  Rosie started to cry. “Damn, I can’t do anything right. Jack said this worked for his mother. It isn’t working for me. I wanted it to work. I needed it to work.”

  “What you need, Rosie, is to sit there and tell me what’s wrong while Curly works on your leg. Take it from the top, baby, and tell me every single thing from the moment I left. I’ll make us some coffee, and it will be like old times.”

  Rosie talked and talked, then she talked some more. When she finally wound down, she looked at Luna Mae with tears streaming down her cheeks. “What if I don’t win, Luna Mae? What if Kent beats me?”

  “If that’s your mind-set, Rosie, you’re doing this for all the wrong reasons. This is all about you. It’s not about Kent or Jack, me or Vickie, it’s about you. Have you looked in the mirror lately, baby? You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful because you’re happy, and you’re in love. Do you think winning a race is going to change that? It isn’t. So what if Kent or someone else wins the race. So what? It’s all about giving it your best. Your best, Rosie. There can only be one winner. That doesn’t mean the rest are losers. They aren’t. You’re only a loser if you think like a loser.”

  “That’s what Jack said,” Rosie hiccuped. “I need to win, Luna Mae. For me. Not for Jack, or in spite of Kent or anyone else. For me. I understand everything you just said, truly I do. This is my own personal battle, and I need to win it. Did they really say they would quit if I sent more watermelon over?”

  Luna Mae looked at Curly. “She sounds like a winner to me. What’s she sound like to you, sweet cheeks? Yes, they now hate watermelon. How does your leg feel?”

  “Wonderful!”

  “All right, young lady, get upstairs and into that Jacuzzi. One hour. We’ll clean up the kitchen and toss these melons.”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you. Don’t tell Jack, though.”

  “Baby, we wouldn’t think of it. Scoot!”

&n
bsp; 20

  Rosie stared at the dark ceiling. Why in the world had she thought she’d be able to slip into bed and actually sleep? With the race just hours away, she was wired so tight she felt like she was going to explode. She rolled over, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and walked to the rocker. There was no moonlight, no stars to be seen through the sheer curtains. On the late-night news the weatherman had predicted a light drizzle that was to start around midnight. She’d shivered when he’d droned on, saying the temperature was going to be unseasonably cool at fifty degrees for the next four days. In his short monologue, he’d used the term,freaky weather three times. “Perfect Thanksgiving weather,” he’d chortled when the cameraman moved the southeast map to show viewers where it was already snowing in New England.Freaky was definitely the right term to use.

  Seven more hours!

  She was just too damn jittery. That was her bottom line.

  What if she failed?

  What if she disappointed…herself?

  Worse yet, what if she made a fool of herself?

  What if? What if? What if?

  Rosie stood up and reached across the back of the chair for her robe. She might as well go downstairs and have some coffee and orange juice. Buddy got up, stretched, then padded over to her chair. He watched as his mistress lifted up the cushion to look down at the Wonderball ticket. In the end, after her house had been ransacked, she’d replaced the ticket under the cushion. It had turned out to be the safest hiding place in the house. Monday morning she was driving to Atlanta to turn in the ticket. In her mind, she likened Monday morning to the first day of her new life. As she crept down the steps, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was being premature in her thinking.

  Rosie pushed the swinging door that led from the dining room to the kitchen. She was stunned to see both Luna Mae and Curly sitting at the table eating breakfast. “Are you up early, or haven’t you gone to bed yet?” she asked as she made her way to the coffeepot.