A black Mercedes SUV pulled up to the curb with a squeak, and the passenger window lowered. “Sunshine, your ride is here,” Mason called. He called me Sunshine since he said I brightened up his day.
Mason Fields was my significant other. I didn’t really like the title, but then, how else could I describe him—my man of the moment? I had struggled with the whole concept of middle-age relationships. What did you call them? Saying we were dating sounded silly. We were just two people who were spending a lot of time together. Mason was divorced and not interested in getting married again. I was on the same page. I’d married Charlie when I was very young and had never really lived on my own. When he died, it had seemed like the time for me to figure out who I was, other than a wife and a mother. And now my life was so busy, I liked having my freedom.
We had both agreed that our relationship had no destination in mind. It was nice to know someone was there who liked to spend time with me, but at the same time made no demands.
“What do you feel like?” he asked when I got in the car. I saw that he was still in his work clothes—a beautifully tailored suit with a silky-soft dress shirt. He leaned over and gave me a hello kiss. “Something far away and exotic?”
“How about someplace close and easy,” I said.
His broad face broke into a grin and, as a joke, he drove alongside the curb for half a block before stopping in front of a Thai place we both liked.
“That works for me,” I said as I got out of the car.
“Sorry about last night,” Mason said as we walked into the restaurant. “Dinner with clients.” Mason was a few inches taller than me and had a solid build. His dark hair was shot through with just enough gray to make him appear experienced and distinguished. No matter how he combed it, a lock always fell free across his forehead, which I thought made him somehow appear earnest and hardworking.
“No problem,” I said. “Remember, we both have our own lives.” I sniffed the air and smelled curry and spices and jasmine rice, and my stomach reminded me I was starving.
We took a table in the back and ordered soup, pad Thai, chicken satay, jasmine rice, and yellow curry. Once the order was in, Mason leaned on his arm and looked at me. “What’s going on with you?” he said.
“Why don’t you tell me about your day first,” I said.
“It was just the same old, same old for me,” he said.
“Really? The same old, same old?” Mason was an attorney whose clients were mostly celebrities who had gotten themselves into trouble. He had a corner office with a view of the ocean on a high floor of a building in Century City. He had said once how every case was different and a challenge. He put up his hands in capitulation with a sigh and urged me to take the floor.
“Okay then. I do have some exciting news,” I said. “The Hookers are going to be famous. That is, if I can pull everything together.” I told him about the show taping at the bookstore and the list of demands I’d gotten and even Adele’s fantasy that she was going to be the host.
“I knew your news was more interesting than mine,” he teased.
The soup arrived in a metal doughnut-shaped receptacle with a flame underneath. I was about to start serving it when I noticed a couple entering the restaurant. I didn’t recognize the man, and it took me a moment to place the woman, since I was seeing her in different surroundings.
“What’s going on?” Mason asked when I stayed frozen in position with the ladle full of soup in one hand and a bowl in the other. He looked over his shoulder to see what had grabbed my attention.
“It’s just somebody I know,” I said. “Her name is Marianne and she’s a Hooker.”
Even though Mason was very familiar with the name of our group, his eyes still widened and he grinned before taking the ladle and bowl out of my hands and starting to serve the soup.
“There’s something about her—none of us can put a finger on it. She’s quiet most of the time, and she comes with another younger woman.” Mason had put a bowl of soup down in front of me, but I was still looking at Marianne. “I ought to go over and say hello.” I got up and walked to the front of the restaurant. I don’t know why I felt I needed to greet her, but I had the impression she didn’t have a lot of social contact and that our yarn group was like some kind of life preserver for her.
She sensed my presence when I stopped next to her table and looked up. Her face seemed to light up, and she grabbed my wrist in her death grasp. “Molly, so you like Thai food, too.” She glanced across the table at her companion. “Molly works at Shedd & Royal and she’s in the crochet group.” She released my wrist and muttered an apology.
“It’s pretty exciting news that we’re all going to be on TV,” I said.
“TV? You’re going to be on TV?” the man said. He gave Marianne a critical glance. “Do you really think that’s such a smart idea?”
Her shoulders dropped, and she looked at him as if he’d just popped her birthday balloon.
As my eye grazed over the table, I noticed a pill container next to Marianne’s water glass. The man tried to be surreptitious as he moved to close the lid and remove it, but all he did was spill the selection of pills all over the table.
“Errol, it’s okay. I can take them later.”
“No, it isn’t,” the man grumbled, and with an annoyed shake of his head, began to gather up the pills. He closed the lid and pushed the container closer to her. I looked at Errol and tried to figure out their relationship. The only thing I knew for sure was that he was the one Connie had had to check with about Marianne joining the group.
I checked his hand and found a wedding ring. Marianne’s ring finger was bare. When I looked at him again, I saw the resemblance between the two. “Are you Marianne’s brother?” I asked.
He nodded and held out his hand. “I’m Errol Freeman.” His expression was wary as he looked at me intently. “And my sister is doing okay in your yarn group?”
I gave him an enthusiastic yes, never making mention of her wobbly-sided scarf. He suddenly turned impatient and waved the server over as he announced that they were ready to order.
Marianne seemed to pick up on her brother’s rudeness and apologized for it. “He has a lot of responsibilities,” she said. “And I’m one of them.” She managed to smile at me. Errol grunted in response and then gave their order to the server. I got the message that our visit was over. I reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “See you tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be there,” she said.
* * *
“You look puzzled,” Mason said when I slid back into my seat.
“I just wonder what’s going on. You should have seen the pile of pills she had to take. The guy with her is her brother, and he seemed to be in a hurry. What happened to Connie, the woman who comes to happy hour with her?”
Mason smiled at me. “Everything is a mystery to you.” He pushed the bowl closer to me. “Eat your soup before it gets cold.” He glanced in Marianne’s direction. “Maybe you should just leave it alone,” he said. Then he reconsidered what he’d said. “That’s not going to happen, is it?”
I looked up at him with a guilty smile.
He stared down at his soup and suddenly seemed a little glum.
He was usually full of fun, and I wondered at the serious expression. “What’s the matter, Mason? Is something bothering you?”
He paused for a moment and then looked at me directly. “Do you really want to know?”
“Of course,” I said. “That’s why I asked about your day.”
“I know you think everything just rolls off of me, and people in general think lawyers are just about winning. But I started to think about what I’m winning. I’ve been looking at the clients I represent and thinking, is this what I want my legacy to be? I’ve always joked about getting naughty celebrities off for silly things like driving into a stop sign. But I’m beginning to think of them more as sleazy celebrities and facing that they drove into the stop sign because they w
ere drunk. Do I really want it on my conscience that, through my skill, I’ve gotten people off who actually did what they were accused of? And what if they do whatever it was again? It could be considered my fault.” Then he looked at me with a rueful smile. “Sorry. I guess it’s just middle-age angst.” He sat up straighter. “I promise to be all fun for the rest of dinner and beyond.”
“How shallow do you think I am?” I said. “Do you really believe that as soon as you’re not a barrel of laughs, I’m out the door?”
He grinned. “I hope not.”
Chapter Three
Cosmo was on one side of me when I awoke Wednesday morning. The small black dog was in his usual position, lying on his back with his short feet in the air. Felix preferred to burrow under the covers and cuddle next to my legs. Mr. Kitty slept on a pillow behind my head, and Cat had found an empty space in the crook of my arm and claimed it. I laughed as I pulled free of my menagerie and thought of Mason’s reason for wanting me to spend the night at his place. He’d said he hated to think of me sleeping alone. Ha!
The troops followed me across the house. The sun was streaming in the two big kitchen windows that took up almost the whole wall. The yard was greened up from the winter rains, and the pansies I’d planted in the flower bed outside the window added some color to the mostly succulents that had taken over the raised area. I made myself some coffee and opened the door for all of my furry dependents to go outside. The cats were so used to me stopping them that they looked at me with a question.
“You can go out now,” I said. I gestured with my arm to reinforce the point, and they walked out the door. I grabbed my coffee and followed them outside. It was a little chilly for breakfast in the yard, but the velour robe I had on made it feel just fine.
I kept an eye on the cats. Any sign they were going to jump into the neighbor’s yard, and I’d grab them. And if Cat decided to do some hunting, I’d grab her before the execution.
I’d forgotten that I had the cordless in my pocket, and when it began to ring, I jumped.
I checked the screen and saw that it was Dinah. “Well, hello, Ms. Tease,” I said in a joking voice. “You whisper that you have a problem, and then I never hear from you what it is.”
“Sorry. I got distracted both by the problem, which I will tell you about, and by my students, who have found new ways to drive me crazy.” Dinah taught freshman English at Beasley Community College. She was old-school, and it was a constant battle trying to get her students to write an essay without putting in emojis. They were so used to using a keyboard that they didn’t know how to handwrite and could barely print legibly.
“What is it this time?” I asked.
“It probably wouldn’t bother me so much if I didn’t have the other problem. One of them made a video of her reading her essay and wouldn’t turn in a print version.”
“What’s the other problem, the one that’s really distracting you?” I asked.
She dropped her voice and then laughed at herself, explaining that she was on campus and far away from the perpetrators of the problem. “Commander’s daughter Cassandra made a surprise visit. Well, a surprise to me. He knew she was coming and didn’t tell me. She’s staying with us—for three weeks.”
“I’m guessing it isn’t just the length of her stay that’s the problem,” I said.
“I’ll just say this for now. If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse.” I heard voices around Dinah, and she suddenly said she had to go. “We’ll talk later,” she said, and then was gone.
“Mom,” Samuel said in an exasperated tone, running outside in his pajamas and grabbing Cat as she was about to lunge at a squirrel. “You’re supposed to be watching them.” The purplish-gray cat squirmed in his arms in protest as he took her inside. I found Mr. Kitty lounging in a sunny spot and picked up the big black-and-white cat.
By now I was running behind and had to hurry to get ready for work. I didn’t even have a chance to find out what was going on with my son.
I’d left my car in the parking lot and had just turned the corner onto Ventura Boulevard when I noticed a crowd of people hanging by the entrance to Shedd & Royal. When I got to the fringe of the group, I asked a woman in jogging clothes what was going on.
“I don’t know. I saw a crowd and thought something exciting must be happening. So far, it just seems like a lot of standing around.” She took a last look and started to sprint away.
I pushed my way into the heart of the clump of people. I gathered from the abundance of camera equipment and their slightly scroungy appearance that they were paparazzi. I grabbed a guy with a wild head of black hair and a graphic T-shirt that had an image of some rock musician and asked him what was going on.
“Nothing right now,” he said in an annoying smart-aleck tone.
“You’re all here for something. You know I’m the assistant manager of the bookstore, and I could make you move, claiming you’re blocking the exit.”
“Assistant manager, huh,” he said, giving me an assessing look. “You probably have the power to let me come inside. I could sure use a cup of something super-caffeinated.”
“Tell me what’s up and I’ll think it over,” I said.
Just then, a huge black Escalade pulled up to the curb. The driver’s door opened and a woman got out and walked around the SUV to the curb. Seeming oblivious to the gathered crowd, she opened the back door and helped a girl and boy out. They looked to be around three and weren’t as oblivious to the crowd as their mother—or at least that’s who I assumed she was. The kids both waved and smiled until the woman turned. “Can’t I have privacy anywhere?” she said in an annoyed tone.
My paparazzi buddy snorted. “Sure, honey, we buy that you’re annoyed to see us.” He turned to me. “The so-called tip that she was going to be here and had some big news probably came from her publicist, or maybe even from Rory directly.”
I looked at the woman again and tried to place her. Her auburn hair was cut short and tousled, and she was dressed in what I’d call mom clothes—leggings with a long tunic and cloth slip-on shoes. The photographers grabbed some shots of her, and she stopped acting annoyed and began to play to the crowd. When she yelled out “Dance Break!” and started to gyrate, I suddenly knew who she was. Rory Graham had played a teen in an ensemble cast on a TV drama. She had been well into her twenties when the show ended, and nothing had clicked for her after that until she turned herself into a personality and created her signature Dance Break. I hadn’t really followed her career, but it seemed to me that she had made the rounds of game shows that had celebrity panels, along with doing a couple of reality shows with her husband, showing off what an adoring couple they were. She was a master of keeping herself in the public eye. I hadn’t realized she was a Tarzanian until now.
When she stopped dancing, she acted as if she was reacting to a question from the crowd, though I hadn’t heard anybody say anything.
“I’m here to bring my little ones to story time,” she said.
The guy next to me rolled his eyes and then called out to her that he’d heard she had some big announcement about her career.
She stopped and turned so they could get a good shot of her. “Yes, I’m going to be hosting my own show on the Craftee Channel. Creating With Crochet. In fact, we’ll be filming the premiere episode here at Shedd & Royal Books and More.”
I hoped no one was looking, because my mouth had fallen open, and I looked around to see if Adele was anywhere within earshot. Well, there went her fantasy of hosting.
One of the paparazzi opened the door for her, and Rory walked inside holding hands with her kids. The guy next to me turned to me. “Can I follow her inside?”
“You can get that coffee you wanted, but no photos.” I went in and rushed after her, but before I could catch up with her, she was already at the entrance to the kids’ department.
For once I was glad that Adele had a whole setup of membership cards and lists for checking in the kids and that Rory was too
busy dealing with it to have a chance to bring up her latest career move or call out for one of her Dance Breaks. I don’t think Adele even recognized her.
Most of the parents went to the café while the kids were with Adele, but Rory walked to the middle of the main area of the bookstore and glanced around. I followed her, and she turned abruptly, almost bumping into me. “Do you work here?” she asked, then didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m sure you know who I am. I understand you have a yarn department and you have a group that does something with yarn.” She left it hanging for my response.
“You must mean the Tarzana Hookers. Yes, we have what we call a happy-hour gathering from five to six most weekday evenings.” I gestured toward the back of the store.
“Oh, goodie,” she said, then she leaned against one of the display tables. “I noticed that you said we. Does that mean you’re part of the group?” she asked, and I nodded.
“I have kind of a situation,” she said, dropping her voice. “I’m going to be hosting a yarn show. In fact, the premiere episode is going to film here. I might have, well,… overrepresented my skills just a bit,” she said, biting her lip.
“How much did you overrepresent them?” I asked. “What exactly do you know?”
“I know that you use yarn and pointy things,” she said, speaking even lower. “I was hoping that your group could give me a speed course on how to make scarves and things. So I could appear on top of things, you know, when I do the show.”
I wanted to put my face in my hands, thinking of how Adele would react to knowing that not only was Rory getting the hosting job, but she wanted us to teach her how to crochet. But I couldn’t say no. How could they tape the first show with a host who didn’t know how to crochet? Finally, I took a deep breath and suggested she come back at five.
Now the problem was how to break the news to Adele.
* * *
“Why are you pacing?” Dinah said when she came into the yarn department that night. I hadn’t realized that was what I was doing, but now that my friend brought it up, I looked down and saw that I was walking back and forth by the long dark wood table where we all would be gathering.
Hooks Can Be Deceiving Page 3