Lovebirds

by Lisa Moreau

  They ate in silence for several minutes. Emily was surprised everything tasted so good. She’d probably have indigestion tonight, but it’d be worth it.

  “How long you two been dating?” Fran asked and took a swig of beer.

  Emily and Sydney looked at each other for a split second before vigorously shaking their heads.

  “We’re not a couple,” Emily said. “I have a fiancée. Gretchen. Why would you think we’re together?”

  Fran stuffed a hush puppy into her mouth and chewed. “Well,” she said through a mouthful. “The way you two look at each other reminds me of the way I looked at my Carl.”

  Emily’s cheeks heated. “We don’t look at each other any particular way. I’m marrying Gretchen.”

  “So you said.” Fran cut a piece of steak.

  “Sydney and I are just friends.” Emily looked at Sydney, struck by what looked like sadness brewing in her eyes. Emily pried her gaze away and focused on Fran. “I’m getting married in a few months.”

  Sydney rolled her head back and groaned. “We heard you the first time.”

  Why was Sydney snippy all of a sudden? This conversation was getting way off track.

  Emily put her fork down and looked directly at Fran. “Could we talk about the lovebirds, please? The best way I can help is by seeing them myself.”

  Fran pursed her lips and shook her head. “I dunno…”

  “I won’t know what solutions to suggest without doing so. I can come over tomorrow, if that’s convenient.” Emily crossed her fingers under the table, praying Fran would agree.

  Fran took a sip of beer and looked at Bud, who nodded his approval. Emily made a mental note to thank him later.

  “Well,” Fran said and paused for what seemed like an eternity. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

  Emily wanted to sing and dance and squeal all at the same time. After a week of waiting, she’d finally know for sure if these were the Madagascar lovebirds.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pole 101

  Fran took her straw hat off and scratched her head. “They were right here. See all those half-eaten figs on the ground?” She kicked several pieces of fruit.

  “Are you sure it was this tree?” Emily raised the binoculars hanging around her neck and peered through the lens.

  “Positive. Maybe they moved on to another one since they got their fill here.” Fran looked down a row of fig trees at least a mile long.

  Emily lowered the binoculars and sighed. “That’s possible.”

  “I gotta get back to the house.” Fran looked at her watch.

  “Do you care if I keep looking?”

  Fran narrowed her eyes. “You ain’t gonna steal any of my figs, are you?”

  “Never. I promise.” Emily held up two fingers.

  “Hmm. All right. Don’t get lost out here.”

  Emily scanned the area. “Can I come back tomorrow, too?” When Fran scowled, Emily quickly added, “To take photos. Or keep looking if I don’t find them.”

  “Well…I gotta go to Santa Paula for the day…but I guess I can trust you.” Fran dug into the pocket of her overalls and thrust a key at Emily. “This opens the front gate. Now if anything goes wrong, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  Emily smiled. “Thanks, Fran. I swear I’m only here for the lovebirds.”

  Fran turned to leave and stopped when Emily called out to her.

  “How many trees do you have anyway?”

  Fran yelled over her shoulder. “Eighty-three.”

  Emily never should have asked. How was she supposed to find miniscule birds in all that? And to make matters worse, lovebirds are cavity dwellers. They construct their homes in tree holes. Emily would never spot them unless they were flying around. Luckily, Madagascar lovebirds have extra-large wings in relation to their bodies, so they’d be easy to see when mobile.

  Emily trekked down a gravel path while peering through binoculars and listening for bird calls. This was going to take forever, since she had to investigate each tree thoroughly before moving on. After traipsing up and down rows for at least two hours, she stopped and wiped sweat from her forehead. She should have brought water but didn’t think it’d be this difficult. Fran was supposed to lead her right to the lovebirds. This whole Ojai excursion hadn’t turned out the way Emily had thought it would. She’d already been there over a week and no story yet. Emily gazed up at the sky, streaked with reds and purples. The sun was setting, and her feet were killing her. Plus, she was dying of thirst. Feeling dejected, she headed back to the house.

  Fran was standing on her porch leaning on the railing. “From the look on your face I’d say you didn’t have much luck.”

  “You could say that.” Emily sighed.

  “You sure you wanna come back tomorrow? I can call you if I see them again. Maybe they moved on to someone else’s farm.”

  Emily’s stomach knotted. That would be the worst scenario possible. No. They were still here. She could feel it. She’d find those little buggers even if she had to search for a month.

  * * *

  When Emily got back to the cabin, Sydney was sitting in the kitchen eating.

  “Hey, how’d it go?”

  Emily ignored the question, grabbed a bottle of water, and chugged it down without stopping. She slammed the empty bottle down on the bar and drank another full one, wiping her mouth on her sleeve when she was done. Yes, she was thirsty, but all that liquid was more about trying to wash down the lump in her throat. Her emotions were so close to the surface she could easily burst into tears at any moment. That was the last thing she wanted to do in front of Sydney, though, so she swung in the opposite direction and got really angry.

  “You wanna know how it went? I’ll tell you. I spent all afternoon looking for twenty tiny birds in a buttload of fig trees in the ninety-degree heat. I covered maybe five percent of the land and found absolutely nothing.” Emily yelled so loud that even she wanted to cover her ears to muffle the sound.

  Sydney stopped chewing mid-bite and stared.

  “And to top it all off, what Fran said is probably true. The lovebirds most likely migrated to another crop and aren’t even on her farm anymore. I’m never gonna find them. I’ll have to go home, close down my magazine, which is the one thing I love in this world, and get a job I hate.” Emily paused for three full seconds and then burst into tears—wailing, ugly tears. So much for not crying in front of Sydney.

  Sydney dropped her fork and stood, looking frightened and unsure what to do. Finally, she wrapped her arms around Emily and patted her back.

  “I’m sorry,” Emily said with a sob. “I’m getting you all wet.”

  Emily tried to pull away, but Sydney held her even tighter. After a few minutes, she released her hold.

  “Look at me.” Sydney lifted Emily’s chin.

  “No. I look horrible.”

  Sydney grinned. “That’s not even possible.”

  No matter what Sydney said, she must look like a sad, dripping poodle. Normally, Emily didn’t care what other people thought, but for some reason she wanted to look attractive around Sydney. Would it be suspicious if she slipped away to wash her face, apply a little makeup, and then resume their discussion?

  Sydney’s smile dropped and she looked suddenly serious, fire blazing in her eyes. “I promise we’ll find the lovebirds. If they’re not at Fran’s, then we’ll track them down wherever they are. I won’t let you lose your magazine.”

  Emily cried even harder, but for a different reason this time. Everyone in her life wanted her to shut down The Tweet. Most days she felt like a one-woman army, but now she had someone on her side, someone strong and self-assured, someone who wanted her success.

  “Thanks.” Emily wiped her eyes and attempted to compose herself. “I won’t give up. But the longer it takes, the more chance someone has to find out about the lovebirds. I have to publish the story before Owen or anyone else does.”

  “Why worry about something that hasn
’t even happened?”

  “I suppose.” Emily sniffed again.

  “Will Fran let you keep looking for the birds?”

  Emily nodded.

  “Good. We’ll go tomorrow. I’ll be your birding assistant. Just as long as I don’t have to wear a funny hat and anything khaki. I don’t look good in tan.” Sydney displayed a lopsided grin, probably trying to lighten the mood so Emily didn’t open the floodgates again.

  “What about your audition?”

  “It’s not until Sunday. I still have time to practice.”

  “Oh. Right. I’m supposed to help you.”

  The last thing Emily wanted was a pole-dancing lesson, but Sydney needed her assistance, and she wasn’t about to let her down.

  Emily looked at her phone when it rang. “It’s Gretchen. I haven’t talked to her in days. I need to take this.”

  When Sydney backed away, Emily tugged her arm. “You don’t have to leave. Finish your dinner.”

  Sydney sat at the bar and resumed eating. Emily wiped her eyes, which was pointless since Gretchen couldn’t see her over the phone, and cleared her throat.

  “Hey, Gretchen,” Emily said, trying to sound peppy.

  “Why haven’t you been taking my calls? What’s wrong? You sound like you have a cold.”

  “It’s just allergies. Lots of sagebrush here.” Emily looked at Sydney and shrugged.

  “How’s it going? Did you get on that woman’s farm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well? Did you find the birds?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re coming home?”

  “I need to keep looking. They’re here somewhere. They couldn’t have gone far.”

  Silence.

  “Gretchen? You still there?”

  “You don’t want to get married, do you?”

  “Of course I want to get married.” Emily gazed at Sydney. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  More silence.

  Finally, Gretchen said, “I found a buyer.”

  “For what?” Emily wasn’t selling anything.

  “For The Tweet. I wasn’t looking, but an interested party just landed in my lap.”

  Emily felt like someone had reached inside her chest and squeezed her heart. Not for a moment did she believe that Gretchen didn’t seek someone out. She’d been trying to get Emily to sell the magazine since she started it.

  “It’s a backup plan if you don’t find the lovebirds,” Gretchen said. “We need to think about our future. After we get married we’ll want to buy a house. We talked about something in Beverly Hills, and we can’t do that on your current salary.”

  All the blood in Emily’s body rushed to her head. Normally, she’d agree, but for some reason this conversation had her fuming.

  “For your information, I’d rather be happy doing something I love, even if it doesn’t make a lot of money, than be stuck at a job I hate. You’ve never supported my dream. From day one you’ve been against this, and I was foolish enough to allow you and our parents to make me agree to a two-year time limit on something I love.”

  “Whoa. Where’s this coming from?”

  “Look. I’m sorry if I’m coming on strong, but it’s how I feel. I think we should have a serious talk about our future when I get back. Let’s not do this over the phone.”

  “Fine. I’d rather not talk to you when you’re being unreasonable anyway. Good-bye.”

  Emily couldn’t blame Gretchen for being angry. She was the one changing the rules. They’d agreed on what their life together would look like and the fate of The Tweet years ago, but for some reason none of that sat well with Emily anymore.

  “Wow,” Sydney said. “I’m proud of you. What brought that on?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess a combination of Gretchen finding a buyer for my magazine and…you.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “You don’t put up with shit. You’re going after your dream job, and you won’t let anything stand in your way. You’d never allow anyone to plan your future for you. My parents have been doing that my entire life. I never even wanted to go to college and major in business. Christ, I’m even engaged to the woman they set me up with. It’s high time I live by my own rules.”

  Sydney jumped off the stool and looked like she was about to hug Emily but instead gave her a high-five. “That’s what I’m talking about! Does this mean you’re not getting married?”

  “What? No. Of course I’m marrying Gretchen. We’re…it’s all set.” Emily was going to say they were perfect for each other, but for some reason the words stuck in her throat.

  “Right.” Sydney’s shoulders slumped.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to stand up for what I want. And you know what I want to do right now? I want a God-damn pole-dancing lesson from the best fucking instructor in the state.”

  Sydney looked shocked. “Really?”

  Emily resolutely nodded. They locked arms, then marched into the living room and up the stairs.

  “So you curse now?” Sydney asked, peering out of the corner of her eye.

  “Damn right,” Emily said, feeling like she could conquer the world.

  * * *

  By the time Emily changed and walked down the hall toward the bedroom, her confidence had waned about 80 percent. More than anything, she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Sydney or show how terribly out of shape she was. Not that Emily was trying to impress Sydney…well, okay, maybe she was.

  Emily rounded the corner and suddenly stopped in the doorway, like she’d just bumped into an invisible wall. Sydney looked amazing. Emily had seen her scantily dressed before, but this outfit was even more enticing. She wore high-rising purple and black Lycra shorts that displayed smooth, round hips flowing into incredibly toned legs and a matching bikini top, which showed much more than Emily should be gawking at. Luckily, Sydney was busy adjusting bolts on the pole, unaware that Emily was drooling. She needed to get her act together. Friends weren’t supposed to slobber over each other.

  Sydney glanced toward the door and did a double take. She stood upright and scanned Emily up and down, obviously suppressing laughter.

  “What?” Emily looked at her perfectly acceptable outfit of gray sweatpants and matching long-sleeve shirt. What was the problem? Everyone knew sweats were for working out.

  “What’s with the outfit?” Sydney bit her lower lip.

  “This is what I exercise in.” Emily raised her chin and pranced into the room.

  Sydney chuckled. “Maybe if you’re doing chair aerobics in an old folks’ home.”

  Emily’s face heated. She wasn’t sure if it was from Sydney’s comment or the fact that fleece was awfully hot.

  “That will not work for pole dancing,” Sydney said resolutely.

  “Well, I’m not wearing that!” Emily pointed at Sydney.

  Sydney took several steps forward, which were several steps too close considering she was practically naked. Just the thought of Sydney being naked made Emily even hotter.

  “You need skin contact with the pole to safely do moves,” Sydney said, her tone surprisingly soft. “I know being so exposed is a vulnerable feeling, but that’s the essence of pole dancing. It’s about letting go, trusting yourself, and taking ownership of your body.”

  “That’s an area I’ve never particularly felt confident in.”

  “I know, but maybe it’s time to change that.”

  Sweat dripped down Emily’s back, and she stared into deep-blue eyes. Maybe Sydney knew what she was talking about. As scary as it was, perhaps Emily needed to let go for a change and get in touch with her physical side.

  “Okay. I’ll give it a go. Plus, I’m sweating like a pig in this thing.” Emily tugged at her shirt and fanned herself.

  “Great.” Sydney opened a drawer, grabbed something, and tossed it at Emily. “Wear these booty shorts.”

  Emily held up the material with two fingers. She’d had shorts bigger than that when she
was seven. “Booty shorts? Let me guess how they got their name.”

  Sydney ignored Emily’s scowl and said, “Do you have a sports bra under that sweater?”

  “It’s a sweatshirt, not a sweater.” Emily peeked down her shirt. “Yeah, but you’re not suggesting…”

  Sydney tilted her head. “I thought you said you’d give this a real try.”

  “You’re right. But you can’t think we’re the same size.” Emily eyed the shorts.

  Sydney sighed, looking irritated. “You talk like you’re fifty pounds bigger than you really are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you lost weight years ago, but you still have an overweight mentality. You’re the perfect size and shape, Emily. Now yell when you’re done changing. I’ll be right outside.” Sydney walked out and closed the door.

  While Emily stripped, she wondered what she’d gotten herself into. She wanted to help Sydney practice for her audition, but this was way out of her comfort zone. She stuck both legs into the shorts and struggled to shimmy them up and over her hips. They were snug, but surprisingly they fit. She stood in front of a full-length mirror and attempted to pull the hem of the shorts down, but they didn’t budge. She turned sideways and examined her backside. Yep. Those were definitely booty shorts, considering her rear end was hanging out.

  “You done yet?” Sydney yelled through the door.

  “I suppose. You can come in.”

  When Sydney opened the door, her eyes opened wide. “Wow. You look hot. Those shorts fit you perfectly.”

  Seriously? Emily had never looked hot before in her life. The compliment seemed sincere, though, so she checked herself out in the mirror again. Even though she was showing almost as much skin as a newborn, she actually didn’t look half-bad. Maybe Sydney was right after all and Emily wasn’t the size of a small cottage.

  “So you ready?” Sydney was much too peppy considering what they were about to do.

  “Let’s get this over with.” When Sydney shot Emily a stern look, she added, “I mean, let’s have fun!” and forced a fake smile.