The Next Thing on My List

Unfortunately, the whole concept of laser tag eluded me. The room was so dark that I kept getting lost in the maze. The gun didn’ t shoot anything I could see, and I never did catch on to how I was supposed to recharge. They made fun of me later because I’ d been killed and didn’ t even know it. Apparently, I walked around for three rounds already dead-nothing but a ghost pulling the trigger over and over with no effect on anyone.

We parted ways at the laser tag, and I took Deedee home. ‘ Good luck sneaking in without being seen,’ I called as I let her out of the car. ‘ And don’ t let me catch you doing anything good!’

She rolled her eyes.

The phone was ringing when I walked into my apartment, and when I picked it up it was Kip.

‘ Calling to gloat about your victory?’ I asked. ‘ Because I’ m wondering if the term poor sportsmanship rings any sort of bell for you.’

‘ I need to talk to you about Deedee,’ he said, his voice stiff.

‘ Did something happen?’

‘ I could be wrong about this& ‘

‘ Okay& ‘

‘ But I don’ t believe I am. I’ m speaking as a medical doctor who’ s worked with a good number of young women recently, almost exclusively Latina, so I know the body type, and I know what their skin tone usually looks like, and-’

‘ Kip& what?’

‘ I think your Little Sister has a bun in the oven.’

I SPENT THE REST of the weekend fretting. Could Deedee really be pregnant? She was only fourteen! Of course, Kip could be wrong-but what if he was right? I should say something to Rose Morales. There was probably Big Sister-Little Sister protocol I should be following. Not that a situation such as this would be in the handbook. Not that there was a handbook.

But if I talked to Rose and I was wrong, Deedee would never trust me again.

The devil perched on my shoulder told me to pretend Kip had never called. Que será, será and all that. The angel perched on the other shoulder, however-who looked suspiciously like a thin, baby-faced gay man with a goatee and glasses-said I had to do something& fast. The things he’ d noticed-the protruding belly and the discoloring of the skin-were signs she was getting pretty far along. If that was the case, every day mattered if she wanted to um er

‘ Wanted to what?’ I had asked Kip earlier on the phone.

‘ Not have the baby,’ he’ d replied.

‘ Oh.’

‘ All I’ m saying is that-if that’ s what she decides-the sooner the better. The worst thing would be if she missed the time when a doctor would be willing to do it. You don’ t want to know what these girls resort to when they get desperate.’

He was right about that.

I didn’ t want to know.

BY THE TIME I met Martucci on Monday for our six-thirty a.m. run, I was no clearer on what to do than I’ d been every hour on the hour that I’ d woken up the night before.

Yes, it was a crazy time.

Deedee might be pregnant. I was organizing the biggest promotional event of my career. My libido waged its own campaign for me to get in touch with a certain traffic reporter who should hate me but seemed to be indicating otherwise. I had ten items out of twenty left to do on a list that I felt honor-bound to complete in a matter of months.

And I was training for a 5K run three times a week-every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday-with, of all people, Dominic Martucci.

Was it any wonder I was having trouble sleeping?

Originally, I’ d hoped I wouldn’ t need to do anything as drastic as train in order to cross off #5: Run a 5K. There was a race coming up in May in Manhattan Beach that I planned to sign up for. I’ d recently hopped on the treadmill at the gym, assuming it would be a breeze. After one minute of running-not one mile, one minute-I felt as if I were breathing in bricks instead of air. I was gasping and panting and was so exhausted that I nearly let myself get spewed off the end of the treadmill like a doughnut off the assembly line. I clearly wasn’ t going to make it without putting in effort. Knowing nothing about how to prepare for a run, I asked around the office to see if anyone had any tips. To my dismay, the name Martucci kept coming up. As much as I hated to go crawling to him for advice, I asked him anyway. All he said was, ‘ Sure.’

‘ So are there ways I should go about training& or certain shoes that might help?’

‘ Sure,’ he repeated. ‘ I’ ll train you. But I demand one hundred percent commitment. Three days a week. Show up on time and be ready to work. And’ -he yanked a box of Hot Tamales candies from my hands-’ I suggest you cut down on the crap.’

‘ I don’ t need you to-’

‘ How’ s the running going so far?’ he asked, giving me a disparaging once-over.

Not so well. I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. ‘ Why would you help me?’

‘ Let’ s say it’ s nice you’ re doing that list for the girl you ran over.’

‘ You know about the list?’

‘ Everybody knows about the list.’

‘ Hmph. So much for Brie keeping a secret,’ I grumbled.

He gave me a friendly swat on the shoulder. ‘ Sorry I missed the day you went braless.’

So there I was-as I had been the week before-at an outdoor track, doing warm-up exercises. Martucci used the interval training method. I’ d walk briskly for five minutes, then run a minute, walk five minutes, run a minute, and so on, until I collapsed in a heap on the dirt, at which point he’ d pick me up and make me do it again.

I finished the first set of intervals, and Martucci walked next to me as I wheezed and puffed. He wore snug jogging shorts and a racing-style tank shirt that showed off his wiry muscles. ‘ Hot date last night, Parker? You’ re more out of it than usual.’

‘ I’ ve got a lot of my mind. A girl I know might be pregnant.’

What was I doing confiding in Martucci? Susan had been out of town for the weekend, so I must have been desperate to talk to someone. Either that or I was losing brain cells with every lap.

He blew out a breath. ‘ Tough break. But running is one of the best things you can do. When you get to the third trimester, you’ ll need to switch to walking. But it’ s important to stay in shape so you can push when the time-’

‘ It’ s not me,’ I snapped. ‘ It really is a girl I know. I met her as part of the Big Sister program a few months ago. Poor kid’ s only fourteen. What’ s she going to do& I mean, if she is pregnant? My friend who’ s a doctor suspects she might not even know herself-she may be in denial of any symptoms. I can’ t decide: Should I tell her mom? Or the Big Sister coordinator?’

‘ Do you like this kid?’

‘ Yes,’ I said, surprising myself with the sureness of my answer. ‘ Quite a bit.’

‘ Then get one of those home pregnancy kits. Make sure she’ s really up the duff before you go telling everybody. If I was this kid, I’ d want the chance to tell them myself.’

‘ I hate to say this, but you’ re right.’

‘ Buy the kind in the blue box-the one with the picture of a rabbit on it. It says pregnant or not pregnant in words instead of having to figure out dots or lines. Makes it less stressful.’

‘ How is it you’ re such an expert on home pregnancy kits?’

‘ You’ re asking that question of an Italian stallion like myself? The women call me ‘ sperm of thunder.’ I don’ t dare stand too close for fear I may impregnate them with just a whiff of my manhood.’

THE NEXT EVENING, I called Deedee to say I was in the neighborhood and would her mom let her go grab a quick slice of pizza? When I picked her up, no sooner had she shut the car door than I said, ‘ There are two choices for where we can go for pizza. There’ s Mario’ s on Culver. Or there’ s my place, where I have one in the freezer that we can microwave. The advantage of going to my apartment’ -I paused-’ is that I have a home pregnancy kit there, too. In case you need one for any reason.’

She stared at me, saying nothing.

I continued, ‘ Kip had a hunch you might be pregnant.’

Still nothing.

‘ Might you be pregnant?’

She sat back in her seat, closed her eyes, and gave a wet sigh. ‘ I don’ t know.’

Sounded like microwaved pizza to me.

At my apartment, I read the instructions for the pregnancy kit as neutrally as if I were reading off the side of the pizza box instead. ‘ You need help?’ I asked as she headed to the bathroom.

‘ I can pee by myself.’

‘ Sorry. Thought you might want moral support.’

She added apologetically, ‘ You can come in after.’

Four minutes later, the microwave dinged. The pizza sat untouched, however, because the stick was ready.

Deedee’ s hands were in prayer over her face, so I flipped the stick to the side that would show the results.

Pregnant.

Martucci was wrong. I’ d have much preferred pink dots over that word staring straight at us.

Deedee closed her eyes and whispered, ‘ I am so fucked.’

I grabbed her close in a hug. ‘ Everything’ s going to work out fine,’ I assured her. Her body sank against mine. I had to marvel. Just moments ago, I’ d been staring at proof that she was surely a woman, yet she’ d never before seemed so much like a little girl.

Chapter 11

I f Maria Garcia Alvarez wondered why a doctor was telling her that her fourteen-year-old daughter was pregnant instead of hearing it from the girl herself, she didn’ t show it. She seemed as glad to yell at him as at anyone. Kip’ s face remained placid as they faced each other on the couch, their knees touching, while Maria released a torrent in Spanish. Deedee also sat on the couch, sunk deep in the pillows behind her mother, arms crossed.

Of course, all I could do was watch from where I sat in the armchair. I had no idea what was being said. Kip had taught me the Spanish word for pregnant, embarazada (awfully close to ‘ embarrassment,’ which I found interesting), but the words were coming so fast and furious, I couldn’ t catch even that.

I had promised Deedee that I’ d stand by her whatever decision she wanted to make. We’ d talked for an hour before I drove her home. She’ d suspected she was pregnant, she’ d told me. Just didn’ t want to face it. Some simple math-she’ d had sex only once with Carlos after the holiday dance she’ d been allowed to attend-put her at three and a half months pregnant and due early August. Although what she wanted to do was have the baby and put it up for adoption, she said, she doubted that’ s what would happen. I was incredulous: It was more than obvious to me that that was the best plan. The girl was fourteen! She was an honors student who wanted to go to college! When I’ d told her so, she’ d said, her voice flat, ‘ You don’ t get it. We don’ t give up our babies. It just doesn’ t happen.’

So Kip was brought in to help break the news and, possibly, smooth the waters for the idea of adoption. ‘ Maybe your mom will be open to it,’ I’ d told Deedee. ‘ Since she wants you to go to college, too.’ One look at Maria talking to Kip-gesturing wildly with her hands as she continued her rant-made it clear things were going far from smoothly. No wonder Deedee jumped at my offer to help her tell her mom. The woman was terrifying. If my mom acted like that upon finding out I was pregnant, I’ d curl into a ball and cry.

I didn’ t understand a word of what was being said, but I could make a pretty good guess. I had a boyfriend once who watched soap operas on Telemundo-or, more accurately, watched the busty, sexy, scantily clad actresses on the soap operas on Telemundo. He’ d supply the dialogue in English over what they were saying in Spanish. Only he’ d say things like ‘ My breasts are so very large, they barely fit in this halter top’ and ‘ Here is the weapon used to murder Pedro-and while I hand it to you, I will rub my other hand slowly over my body and lick my lips provocatively.’

The show unraveling before me was no less dramatic, although lacking in sex appeal. Maria’ s lines were too numerous to dub, but they clearly centered on insisting that Deedee got herself into this predicament and now it was time to pay the price.

‘ But Mami!’ Deedee cried, although she only whimpered her lines-and let me tell you, she wasn’ t going to have much of a career in the Spanish soaps if she didn’ t kick it up a notch. I had to guess the rest of her lines since they were delivered in Spanish, but based on my earlier conversation with her, it would be along the lines of ‘ It was one mistake! I shouldn’ t have to pay for it forever! The baby shouldn’ t have to suffer! What kind of mother could I be at fourteen years old? I want to finish high school and go to college and be a writer or a doctor and maybe one day a mom-but someday, not now!’

Maria would then shoot her a stormy look. ‘ You should have thought of that before you slept with the dashing Carlos! Do you think I want to be raising another child at this point? I have a job I love! I am the finest blind cook in all of Los Angeles! And now I’ ll be responsible for a grandchild!’

‘ It doesn’ t have to be that way!’ Deedee would plead. ‘ We can find the baby a good home, where she’ ll be loved and cared for! Isn’ t that part of being a parent? Making the hard choices?’

‘ We are a proud people, Deedee, and don’ t you forget that! Family is everything to us! We cannot turn our backs on family even if it means throwing our own hopes and dreams forever out the window!’

‘ Oh, Mami! Please, I only want-’

‘ Ladies, ladies!’ Kip would interject, his voice deep and soulful. ‘ Stop fighting. Isn’ t there enough strife in the world?’

On the drive home, I learned from Kip that even with the language barrier, I wasn’ t that far off the mark-much to my disappointment.

‘ Don’ t be hard on Deedee for not sticking up for herself more,’ he said. ‘ For her, the idea of giving away her baby probably carries more shame than getting pregnant in the first place. What you and I might call the right choice she sees as selfish-even if she wants it, too. It’ s just how it is.’

‘ That’ s so frustrating.’

‘ Anyway, Maria’ s not ruling out adoption entirely& if the parents were relatives or people in the neighborhood that they knew. She agreed to talk to that woman at the Big Sister program to see if she could help her explore options. The burden of raising the child is going to fall largely to her, and she’ s not excited about it. She’ d love to find a loophole. Some way to give the baby a better life without giving away her grandchild.’

‘ But it’ s Deedee’ s life. It should be her decision.’

‘ Technically it is,’ Kip said. ‘ But would you ever want to go up against Maria Garcia Alvarez?’

I shuddered. ‘ Not without boxing gloves and body armor.’

‘ THE WORST PART,’ I said to my mom, tugging on what I hoped was a weed, ‘ is that she wants to do the sensible thing.’

‘ Poor girl. I’ m sure she’ s under so much pressure. Is she going to stay in school?’

‘ She doesn’ t know what she’ s going to do. I suspect she’ s still in shock.’

I’ d stopped at my parents on Sunday to help my mom with the gardening. They had a big party coming up-also the reason my dad needed that frozen shrimp. When I first arrived, I’ d handed him my offering of five bags. He’ d accepted them gratefully and then retreated to the living room to fall asleep in front of a golf tournament on TV.

My mom clipped the leaves off the rosebushes as she asked, ‘ Have you ever been pregnant?’ She said it so nonchalantly, it took me a second to grasp what she’ d said.

‘ Um& don’ t you think you might have noticed?’

‘ I’ m not so naive. You could have gotten an abortion.’

‘ Oh. Well, no,’ I answered. ‘ I’ ve never been pregnant.’

She nodded. ‘ Just curious.’

Now wasn’ t that a touching mother-daughter moment! I was glad she wasn’ t curious whether I’ d ever thought I was pregnant, because then I would have had to say, ‘ Sure, plenty of times.’

Not that I made a habit of having unprotected sex or anything. But even with being single 150 percent more often than with a boyfriend, there were still times when the condom broke. Or I forgot the diaphragm on a camping weekend and decided millions of Catholics couldn’ t be wrong about that rhythm method. Or my period was late for no reason at all, but it was late. The last time I peed on a stick, ‘ yes’ or ‘ no’ on the strip was the latest in technology. And it had been ‘ no,’ as always. Yet leading up to the moment when I knew for sure, I had the opportunity to wonder. What if? Sure, I’ ve always hoped to go about things in the traditional order, and mostly I felt relief. But there was a small part of me that would have been happy. Things would be uncertain: Would we get married? Would I be a single mom? But either way I’ d have a baby& somebody to whom I was the most special person in the world. And all I’ d had to do to put my life on an entirely new trajectory was lie back, spread my legs, and let it happen.

‘ Life is ironic, isn’ t it?’ my mom said, handing me a pile of leaves to stuff in a sack. ‘ Your brother and Charlotte have been trying for years to have a baby and can’ t. This girl has sex once, and poof! She’ s going to be a mother.’

I stopped with my leaf stuffing. That was it! ‘ I can’ t believe this didn’ t occur to me before!’ I exclaimed. ‘ They can adopt Deedee’ s baby! Oh, it’ s perfect. They’ re not strangers, which I know is impor-’

‘ Hate to burst your bubble,’ my mom broke in. ‘ But they’ re not interested. Believe me, I’ ve talked to them plenty about it. They want to have their own. In fact, Charlotte’ s doing those hormone shots right now.’

‘ Darn,’ I said, deflated.

‘ They’ re awful, too, those shots. They make you moody and put on weight. She’ s certainly going about it the hard way.’

‘ Especially that part where she has to have sex with Bob,’ I said, and gave an exaggerated shudder. And isn’ t that just like my brother? I thought. Putting his wife through so much misery so he could pass on his lineage.

‘ Sometimes,’ my mom said, setting down her clippers and using the back of a gloved hand to wipe her hair off her forehead, ‘ I have to wonder what God’ s up to.’

WEDNESDAY LATE AFTERNOON I was making a few last ditch calls to drum up interest in the gas giveaway scheduled for the next day. Phyllis called me from Bigwood’ s office. ‘ What would it mean to you if I said I could guarantee TV coverage for you tomorrow?’ she asked in her fifty-pack-a-day voice.

‘ I’ m not sure I follow,’ I said. ‘ You have media contacts?’

(And if so, I thought bitterly, could you not have coughed them up during the afternoon staff meeting? I’ d tried my best to beef up the ‘ maybes’ I’ d gotten from various news crews, but Lizbeth had simply given a tinkly laugh and said, ‘ When they say maybe, it means no. I suppose I’ ll stop by anyway, just in case.’ )

Phyllis cleared her throat. ‘ I can make things happen.’ Suddenly I understood how Woodward and Bernstein must have felt.

I tried not to get too excited, but TV cameras would be quite the coup. It would show Bigwood that I could pull together a successful promotion. And even though it was certain Lizbeth would hog any opportunity to be in front of the camera, I could at least wander by in the background to fulfill #9 on my list: Get on TV.

‘ That would be great,’ I said, wondering why Phyllis was being so mysterious about the whole thing. ‘ What do you need from me?’

‘ A favor. You’ re a writer, and I’ m not much with words. I need help with a letter.’

‘ Sure. I’ ll come up there right now and-’

‘ Not here.’

Ah. That kind of letter. Somebody was searching for a new job. ‘ How soon do you need it?’

‘ I was hoping you could stop by my house after work tonight. I’ m in Culver City-shouldn’ t be too far out of your way.’

‘ Deal.’

‘ You help me out,’ she added before hanging up, ‘ and I’ ll get you all the TV coverage you can stand.’

I REACHED PHYLLIS’ S house a few minutes before six o’ clock and parked on the street. Her car was already there-pulled into her driveway behind a Harley so massive that it more resembled a motor home than a motorcycle. Maybe those Hell’ s Angels rumors were true. I stopped to read the stickers on it to see if it’ d give me any hints, but they were mostly for seemingly ordinary riding clubs. No skulls and crossbones.

Phyllis came up behind me. ‘ Anything on that list of yours about riding a motorcycle?’ she asked.

I turned to give her a wave of greeting and then said, ‘ You know about the list?’

‘ Everybody knows about the list.’

I sighed. ‘ That’ s not on it.’

‘ You ride?’ I shook my head, and she said, ‘ Never?’ as if I’ d admitted I was the world’ s oldest living virgin. ‘ Wait here.’ She disappeared into the garage and came back a minute later with two helmets and a leather jacket, which she tossed to me. ‘ So you don’ t get road rash if we wipe out.’

Road rash? Oh no-I agreed to write, not ride. ‘ Thanks, but we need to get to the letter. I’ m in a bit of a hurry.’

‘ Hogwash,’ she said. ‘ But if you’ re that worried about time, we’ ll talk while we ride.’

Partly because of my newfound spirit of adventure, but more because I was afraid of Phyllis, I obediently straddled the seat behind her. It was like sitting in a La-Z-Boy; it even had a back bar and cushy armrests. The seat beneath me rumbled, and as Phyllis pulled out of her drive, I thought this was how it would feel to ride a speeding rhino, both thrilling and terrifying. When Phyllis yelled, ‘ How is it?’ that’ s what I told her.

‘ Most people say it’ s like an orgasm, but whatever floats your boat.’

‘ So what’ s the deal?’ I hollered over the growl of the engine when we stopped at a red light. ‘ You looking for a new job?’

‘ It’ s not about work. I want to write a letter to my daughter.’

‘ Your daughter?’

The light changed, and she roared forward again. We cruised past the movie studios located there and through old residential neighborhoods that were quaint by L.A. standards-brick-and-adobe houses and leafy trees. Over the course of the ride, Phyllis gave me the full story, letting the intimate details of her life scatter along the streets of the city like candy tossed at a parade. The story wasn’ t anything I hadn’ t seen a dozen times on the Lifetime Channel: Mom and live-in biker boyfriend have baby. They name baby Sunshine. If that alone isn’ t enough to piss her off for life, they proceed to drink too much and do far too many drugs and leave her with friends and relatives and foster care from the time she could barely toddle. Eventually Mom goes into rehab, and biker boyfriend goes God knows where, and the daughter, who by that time prefers to go by the name Sally, has put herself through college and has a nice job as an office manager and maybe a husband and kids, but we’ re not sure, wants to establish a relationship as much as she wants her toenail ripped off at the root, even though Mom has been clean and sober for ten years.

We pulled back into Phyllis’ s driveway. Life is funny, I thought as I hoisted my leg high and over the seat. People are living too much or too little, and I wondered if anyone out there is living the right amount.

‘ You’ re a good rider,’ she said.

‘ All it takes is sitting-I’ m good at that.’

‘ Not true. You’ ve got to lean when I lean. There’ s trust. And anticipation. You’ d be surprised how many people flip out when the bike takes a turn and they throw their body weight the other way.’

Changing the subject to the reason I’ d come over, I asked, ‘ So what do you want to tell Sally in this letter?’

Phyllis pulled off her helmet, and what she said next, she said quietly. ‘ That I know I was a shitty mother.’

‘ Okay.’

‘ And that I’ m sorry I hurt her.’

‘ Well then,’ I said, going to grab a pad of paper and a pen from my car, ‘ let’ s say it.’

Chapter 12

T he alarm woke me at five o’ clock, and as painful as it was, even that was going to be pushing it. I had to be at the gas station in Burbank in an hour. I needed to leap out of bed and jump straight in the shower. Unless I left the conditioner on for only one minute-that’ d buy me two more blissful minutes of slumber& .

I was out the door a little before six, which was later than I’ d hoped. Especially since I still needed to stop at the twenty-four-hour Vons for helium balloons, and-oh, the irony!-I needed gas.

The morning sky was brightening by the time I hit the freeway for Burbank, my Toyota so packed with balloons that if my life were a cartoon, the car would be floating away with me in it.

I scanned radio stations, excited about the day ahead. Martucci and Phyllis were handling the giveaway at the gas station near the airport. Martucci had plenty of experience running promotions, so they’ d be fine on their own. I’ d join Brie and Greg (who, even though he was the designer and didn’ t have a clue what he was doing, was the only other staff member I could get) at the Burbank station. If Phyllis hadn’ t been blowing hot air about her TV media connections, I’ d schmooze reporters while Lizbeth took interviews.

The idea was that we’ d lie in wait until a car with more than one person pulled up to the pumps. Then-wearing our festive T-shirts and carrying balloons-we’ d run up and say, ‘ Thank you for carpooling& we’ re paying for your gas today!’ They’ d cheer wildly, the TV crews would capture the moment on camera, and it would be splayed over TV sets across Southern California.

Each team had a debit card with a thousand dollars on it, which should last most of the morning. I’ d talked with Brie before I left home, and she and Greg were there and ready to go.

I tuned in to K-JAM. Troy had promised to make mention of the promotion several times throughout the morning. True to his word, I heard him report a few traffic snarls, then he added, ‘ And if you’ re carpooling, today could be your lucky day. The good folks at Los Angeles Rideshare might pay for your gas. They’ re at secret locations throughout the city& so watch out!’

What a guy. I felt the free publicity go cha-ching! in my head.

When I picked up my cell phone to let Brie know I was almost there, I noticed I had several messages. Hmm. Must have had it on vibrate.

The first call was from Brie: ‘ We have a problem here. Call me.’

The second call was from Brie: ‘ Shoot. We got a lot of people here. You need to call me.’

The third call was from Brie: ‘ I told you to hold on-June, where the hell are you?’

In fact, every message was from Brie, and her language grew progressively worse with each one. I was still picking up desperate messages from her when my phone vibrated in my hand. ‘ Hello?’

‘ Where you at?’ It was Brie. ‘ I don’ t know what’ s going on here, but we got a mess. There’ s a million people lined up screaming for their free gas.’

What was going on? ‘ I got stuck on the 405,’ I lied, pitiful as it was to do so, ‘ There must be some sort of-’

‘ Well, get your butt here as fast as you can. I don’ t know what to do. It’ s crazy. Everybody’ s saying we owe ‘ em free gas. Traffic’ s blocked on Ventura Boulevard, and some guy told me it’ s backed up to the freeway.’ Away from the phone, she shouted, ‘ Hey, I said hold on.’ Then she was back. ‘ Greg is pumping gas as fast as he can. But people are getting ugly, and we’ re running out of money, so he’ s telling them they can have five bucks’ worth each and that’ s it. Your man Armando is pissed.’

‘ Any TV crews?’ I asked meekly.

‘ Yeah!’ she answered, suddenly excited. ‘ Channel Two is setting up, and the Channel Four truck is trying to get here, but it’ s tough with all the people& Hold on. Lady, I don’ t pump nobody’ s gas& . Yeah?& Well, don’ t make me tell you what you can do with that pump.’

‘ Hold down the fort,’ I urged. ‘ I’ ll be right there.’

I reached Burbank in minutes, and I parked a few blocks away to avoid the traffic backup. From there, balloons in hand-no telling why I grabbed them, probably clinging to the vestiges of the joyous day it was supposed to be-I started to run to the station at a pretty good clip, thanks to the training I’ d been doing with Martucci.

Oh no. Martucci.

He picked up on the second ring. ‘ How’ s it going?’ I huffed, still running, balloons bouncing against one another above me.

‘ Fuckin’ nuts,’ he said. ‘ But it’ s handled. Phyllis made a sign that says ‘ No Free Gas.’ We coned off the entrance, and we’ ve got cops here directing traffic.’

‘ Cops? There are cops?’

‘ They gave us a ticket. The fine’ s eight hundred bones, but at least the crowd’ s under control now.’

‘ I don’ t understand why this is happening& .’

‘ Some guy told me they’ re broadcasting the locations-all the channels. They’ re telling people to grab a friend so they have a carpool and head on down to get in line for their free gas. I’ ve got entire fucking families here. A guy drove over from El Monte-that’ s twenty miles for a damn tank of gas.’

‘ They were supposed to keep it a secret!’

‘ It ain’ t a secret no more, babe.’

As I neared the gas station, cars were lined up so deep that they were nearly stacked on top of one another, and each had more than one person in it. The honking was deafening. The gas station had two islands with four pumps per island-all were busy. News trucks for Channels 2 and 4 and Fox News were parked at odd angles at the periphery of the property and were filming the mayhem. Armando furiously directed traffic in and out of the station.

‘ Hey, lady,’ a man yelled, leaning out of a pickup, ‘ I been waiting for forty-five minutes. Can’ t they pump faster? I’ m late for work!’

Brie sidled up to me. ‘ We don’ t need balloons. Looks like everybody knows it’ s a party.’

‘ This is a disaster,’ I moaned.

‘ Not yet, ‘ cause Lizbeth’ s not here. Then it’ ll be a disaster. But hey,’ she said, ‘ plenty of TV coverage!’ A TV camera pointed at irate customers while a reporter held a microphone to interview them.

‘ How much money do we have left?’

‘ Beats me. Greg took a bunch of candy bars and gum from the snack stand-he’ s handing them out and begging people to go away. I saw him crying at one point. Them artist types are pretty delicate.’

I understood how he felt.

‘ Thanks for handling this, Brie. These people are insane. It’ s only free gas! You’ d figure we were handing out diamonds!’

‘ Folks like to get something for nothing. And don’ t you worry. I’ ve been doing Tae Bo, so nobody better mess with me. But you need to handle it fast. When Greg runs out of candy bars, we could have a riot on our hands.’

‘ Tell you what,’ I said. ‘ Go find something that you can use to make a sign. Write ‘ No Free Gas’ in big letters and then stick it by that tree. And here-’ I handed her the balloons. ‘ Start giving these out to the kids.’

‘ You got it.’

I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket and called Susan, who was still at home getting ready for work. ‘ You need to help me,’ I blurted when she answered. After explaining the situation, I told her to get on the horn-I actually used those words, ‘ get on the horn,’ that’ s how crazed I was-and tell the TV stations to stop broadcasting the locations. The gas giveaway was over.

As was my career, probably, but first things first.

Then I marched over to where the news vans were parked. I was in charge here, and I needed to start acting like it. Crystal Davis, a reporter for Channel 5, stood patting her face with powder. She’ d been with them for about a thousand years; her face was amazingly preserved, and I don’ t think that hair would move in a monsoon. I introduced myself, then quickly said, ‘ You need to tell people to stop coming down.’

‘ Are you the one in charge here?’ she asked.

It wasn’ t easy to admit. ‘ Yes.’

‘ Good. We need an interview. Ready?’

‘ No& um& yes& um& Give me a second.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Lizbeth surveying the situation and appearing-grrr, not angry or panicked, which would have at least preserved my dignity-but utterly delighted. Her face said, Gee, all this fun and it’ s not even my birthday! I hated her with a white hot heat, but only for a second. Then I remembered that as the senior staffer here, it was her job to do the interview. The thought of her having to clean up my mess cheered me immeasurably.

‘ Be right back,’ I told Crystal, and trotted over to my boss. ‘ Lizbeth!’ I said breezily. ‘ Channel Five wants to talk to you about-’

‘ Not a chance.’

‘ But as the-’

‘ I wouldn’ t want to deprive you of your big moment. Lou Bigwood showed all that confidence in you-didn’ t even feel the need to check with me before assigning you the project. Too bad it seems to have gone awry.’

If she wasn’ t going to take the heat for me, I sure wasn’ t going to put up with her insults. I spun on my heel and headed back to Crystal Davis. As I did, I passed Greg, who was working his way down a line of cars, pleading, ‘ Free gas is over. Here’ s a Butterfinger. Please go away.’

‘ I’ m ready. Hit it,’ I said to Crystal.

She faced the camera and said, ‘ We’ re here where a promotion from Los Angeles Rideshare to give away free gas has drawn hundreds of carpoolers eager to get a free tank of gas. With us we have June Parker. June& did you expect this sort of response?’

Every fiber in my being wanted to say, No, you twit& and if I ever get my hands on the moron who leaked the station locations&

Glancing over at Armando breaking up a fight between two motorists at the pumps, I said brightly, ‘ We knew people were angry about high gas prices, but no, we had no idea how much.’

‘ Are these people going to get their free gas?’

I answered with an even brighter smile. I’ m sure I looked like one of those awful clowns they hire to terrorize children at birthday parties. ‘ We’ re doing all we can& but the good news is that anyone who rideshares saves money on gas!’

Before the interview was over, I managed to squeeze in our 800 number, and I did my best to use my body to shield the view of Greg nearly sobbing against a pickup truck. Then I repeated the exercise with Channels 7 and 4, plus two radio news programs and the Los Angeles Times and Press Enterprise. As much as I attempted to put a positive spin on things, the fact that each one then went to talk to disgruntled carpoolers was a bad sign.

The police arrived at nine o’ clock and shut down the station, slapping me with another fine.

Lizbeth had slithered away at some point. I attempted to make it up to Brie and Greg with promises of all the hotcakes and sausages they could possibly consume& my treat, of course.

Armando stepped away from his negotiating with the police long enough to make it clear to me he intended to sue for lost revenue. His crimson bloated face told me that there was no shirt in the world tight enough to placate him this time around.

EVERYBODY KNOWS that the food at Max’ s Grill is lousy and overpriced, which was the reason I chose to go there for lunch with Susan. The less chance I had to bump into someone I knew, the better.

‘ I wish I knew what happened,’ I said, twirling overcooked spaghetti onto my fork. ‘ I don’ t think it was Phyllis. She swears she only had time to call one of her contacts before all hell broke loose.’

Susan sneered at her meal. ‘ I don’ t know why you made me eat here. I tried to order the safest thing. Who can mess up a burger and fries?’ She lifted the top bun. ‘ Ugh. Is that mayonnaise and Thousand Island dressing?’

I continued, ‘ Besides, it wouldn’ t make sense for her to sabotage the event. She was working at a gas station, too, so she’ d be screwing herself. Whereas Lizbeth had nothing to lose and every reason to hope I’ d fail. I’ ll bet she did it.’

Susan held her plate toward me. ‘ Take a look at this. I can’ t tell if that’ s the pickle or the meat. What do you think?’

‘ I made every one of those press calls myself. There’ s no reason it should have gotten so out of hand.’

‘ I mean, it’ s green like a pickle, but it’ s awfully big.’

‘ For crying out loud,’ I snapped, ‘ can we focus here? My job hangs in the balance and you’ re worried about a pickle.’

‘ Sorry.’

‘ And I believe that’ s meat.’

‘ Oh, yech, I was afraid so.’

I’ d spent most of the morning after returning from my apology breakfast with Greg and Brie calling news desks, hoping I’ d get a clue as to what went wrong. How did we go from ‘ Maybe we’ ll send a camera to film you’ to ‘ Hey, carpoolers, head on down for your free gas!’ And for a bunch of people who ask questions for a living, reporters sure are evasive when the shoe’ s on the other foot. The best I managed was a guy at Fox News who thought he remembered seeing a fax at one point-but he didn’ t have it anymore, and he couldn’ t say who made the decision to air the locations. But hey, there’ s no such thing as bad publicity, eh?

‘ At least you handled the interviews well,’ Susan said.

‘ Yeah?’

‘ Definitely. I flipped through the channels, and it was impressive how you managed to put things in a positive light-even if they did make it seem like complete bullshit. I mean, Crystal Davis shows you saying, ‘ We’ re excited to see so many people carpooling,’ and then she switches to some lady in an SUV about to burst a kidney because she’ s mad she has to wait for her free gas. As if she couldn’ t afford to pay for it herself.’

I sighed, and as I watched Susan take a cautious bite of burger, I finally asked the question I didn’ t want to ask. ‘ How bad do you think it is?’

Susan chewed, and I wasn’ t sure if her grimace was due to the food or my question. Being management, she has the inside scoop, and-even though we’ ve always had a ‘ don’ t ask, don’ t tell’ policy between us when it comes to work-I can trust her to be honest with me.

‘ First off, a little perspective: No one died,’ she said finally. ‘ You’ re lucky that Bigwood wasn’ t around-I hear he’ s at a conference in Fresno. So he’ s going to find out about it after the fact. It would have been worse if he’ d seen it as it was happening. Now what’ s done is done, and it’ s a matter of cleaning up the mess. Also, for some reason Phyllis seems to like you.’ And here she looked genuinely perplexed by that. ‘ I overheard her talking to that new receptionist about what a great job you did. Anyway, Bigwood usually listens to her.’

‘ He does what his secretary tells him to?’

‘ For as long as I’ ve known him. She must know where the bodies are buried. So that may help you. On the other hand, all those angry commuters-it didn’ t bode well for the company. And this gas station manager threatening a lawsuit is a problem. I’ m sure they can ward him off, but it could get pricey. What I worry about’ -she paused to wipe her hands on a napkin-’ is that if it starts to get expensive, they’ ll panic. Then they’ ll want a scapegoat.’

‘ Baa-aaah,’ I said.

‘ I’ m not saying they’ ll come down on you-and you know I’ ll do what I can to defend you if they do.’

‘ I appreciate that.’

‘ Still, not a bad idea to update your resume.’

Chapter 13

W hen I got to work on Monday, Dr. Death was waiting for me at my cubicle entrance. I shouldn’ t have been surprised.

Martucci had warned me on our morning run that his friend Armando wasn’ t backing down. He was claiming he’ d lost ten thousand dollars and that his gas station’ s reputation had been irreparably besmirched. ‘ I didn’ t know he knew words that big,’ I’ d grumbled, to which Martucci had replied, ‘ He’ s full of shit-if anything, the guy stands to make money. All that publicity. But he’ ll still try to squeeze what he can out of us.’ Apparently, he’ d been particularly offended that we’ d wiped out his snack stand. So I’ d spent most of the weekend fretting, although my fingernail biting wasn’ t limited to the demise of my career. Deedee and I mowed our way through an ice cream the size of an army tank at Coldstones while discussing her options and, to my frustration, getting nowhere. She seemed resigned to giving up her future. By the time Monday rolled around, seeing Dr. Death first thing in the morning was par for the course.

He attempted a smile as I eased past him and asked him in. ‘ I hear you had quite the brouhaha,’ he said with a chuckle. When I looked at him uneasily in response, he cleared his throat and sat in my guest chair.

Too bad for you, I thought. If you’ re going to be the man who fires people, you don’ t get to make jokes. Dr. Death was in his late forties with a medium build, round, soulful eyes, and pancake ears. The overall effect was oddly gentle given his reputation; I hadn’ t been this close to him since the directors’ meeting.

Every muscle in my body held its breath. I’ d never been fired from a job before, but I’ d seen and done enough in my tenure here that I knew it could be brutal. The higher-ups were almost always escorted out immediately-I assume so they couldn’ t steal files or make disparaging phone calls. I hoped at least I’ d be granted a few weeks to get my résumé out there and, more important, continue drawing a paycheck. At my level, what harm could I do? Write a bad brochure? Dangle a participle?

‘ You’ re aware we’ ve received a letter from a lawyer representing a Mr. Armando Bomaritto.’

‘ I heard a rumor to that effect.’

‘ Care to tell me what happened last Thursday?’

Hmm. So he intended to draw blood slowly from the victim. I updated him on everything-from how I’ d planned the events, to the phone calls I’ d made to reporters, to the events of the day itself. ‘ It doesn’ t make sense,’ I admitted. ‘ I made sure everyone I talked to knew not to broadcast the locations.’

‘ No one spoke to reporters but you?’

‘ Just me.’

‘ Did anyone else have access to the list of reporters?’

‘ Lizbeth& she had me turn over a list of who I called at the end of every day.’ A thrill shot through me as soon as the words left my mouth. I’ ve watched plenty of detective shows in my day, and you don’ t have to be Perry Mason to figure out that what I said sounded incriminating. My mind whirled, trying to figure out a way to beef up Lizbeth’ s role. Oh, to look at Dr. Death, doe-eyed and demure, and say, ‘ I’ m sure Lizbeth wouldn’ t sabotage me, even though she was bitter and envious because Bigwood gave me the assignment, which, gosh, now that I say it out loud, sure sounds like quite the motive. But Dr. Death& may I call you Ivan?& do you really think she’ d do such a thing? Do you really believe she’ d call my reporter list and tell them to broadcast the secret locations?’ Tempting as it was, I simply said, ‘ She’ s my supervisor.’

I was going to be classy and leave it at that, but he pushed. ‘ Can you think of any reason your supervisor might follow up on your calls?’

There was no way to whine, ‘ She’ d do anything to screw me,’ without sounding as if I were the sort of person who’ d say such a thing. ‘ She wasn’ t happy with how things were going, if that’ s what you mean.’

His face told me he meant nothing. Dr. Death was a blank slate. ‘ Was there a contract with Mr. Bomaritto?’

‘ He and I had a verbal agreement. He’ d let us use the site. I’ d get him publicity.’ I left out the part about my promising to wear the red shirt.

‘ Hmm,’ he said.

‘ Is that bad?’

‘ Is what bad?’

‘ Not having a contract.’

‘ I’ m merely collecting information at this point, and this has been helpful.’ Dr. Death stood to leave. Relief rolled off me in waves. He hadn’ t yet pointed at me à la Donald Trump and barked, ‘ You’ re fired.’

‘ What happens now?’ I asked.

‘ We’ re preparing a response to Mr. Bomaritto, and Phyllis is at Costco buying snacks to replenish the gas station’ s supply.’

‘ Phyllis had to go-’

‘ We needed coffee,’ he said, waving me off.

‘ Plus they have those good sticky buns,’ I added, which I knew was stupid, but I was nervous. Exactly how close, I wanted to know, was the guillotine blade to my neck?

Although I couldn’ t bring myself to ask the question, he must have seen it oozing from my pores. He said, not unkindly, ‘ We intend to keep this out of the courts. I don’ t know yet what that will require. You’ ll hear from me.’

After he left, I checked my messages. There was one from Phyllis letting me know that she was headed to Costco and did I need anything?

Yes, I thought, a giant tray of sticky buns, a fork, and everybody the hell out of my way.

The other message was from Troy Jones. ‘ June,’ he said, and the rest wasn’ t easy to make out since he kept erupting into laughter. ‘ I gave your gas giveaway a plug, but I see you didn’ t need the extra help& hahahahaha& got the locations from dispatch and I flew overhead and& hahahahaha& it looked like you were starting a junkyard off the 101 freeway& hahahahaha& guess I was the only one who kept your location a secret& hahahahaha& ‘

Good thing he was enjoying himself, because I sure failed to see the humor.

TROY JONES AND I played phone tag all week. It’ s not easy to get hold of a guy who works in the middle of the sky in the morning and doesn’ t return calls all afternoon. And I forgave him for mocking me in his phone message because-as it would happen-I needed a favor. A big one. Troy Jones was now officially part of my plan to be the best gosh-darned employee L.A. Rideshare had ever seen. He was, in fact, my entire plan.

After daily messages back and forth, Troy finally reached me Thursday night at home. It was almost nine o’ clock when my phone rang.

‘ Isn’ t it past your bedtime?’ I asked him. After all, I was about to crawl into bed, and I’ m not the one who got up at three a.m.

‘ I catch up on my sleep in the afternoon.’

Mmm. I pictured him stretched out on his couch. Then I pictured him stretched out on his couch with his shirt off. Even better. I was about to insert myself into the scenario-deciding the on/off status of my own clothing-but I swatted down my hormones.

‘ Anyway,’ I proceeded, all business, ‘ you mentioned before that you’ d be willing to take me along on a traffic report.’

‘ Any time. You name it.’

‘ Well, yes, thanks. But I’ m wondering if I can ask a huge favor. You know how the gas giveaway kind of got out of hand-’

‘ There’ s an understatement,’ he interjected. ‘ They’ re still talking about it at work. A buddy of mine, Ryan, drove down& brought his daughter with him so he’ d be a carpool. He said it took him three hours to get out of the traffic mess, and nobody was getting any gas. I heard there were fistfights.’

‘ Only the one!’ I protested. ‘ The gas station manager broke it up. And speaking of the manager, he’ s suing.’

‘ You’ re kidding, for what?’

‘ Loss of income, pain and suffering. The usual. Since I was more or less in charge, I might get fired. So if you could take my boss up on the ride-along as well, she might cut me slack. Especially if she’ d have a chance to give a pitch for ridesharing on air. I don’ t know if you can do that, or-’

‘ You might get fired over this?’

‘ Quite possibly.’

‘ I had no idea.’ He groaned, ‘ I left you a message laughing.’

‘ Don’ t worry about it.’

‘ You must think I’ m such an ass.’

For a minute there, yes. ‘ Nah.’

‘ Well, the ride-along’ s no problem. There’ s plenty of room for two. I can’ t guarantee you’ ll get on air, though. I’ ll have to run it by the producer. Depends on how bad traffic is, whether or not there’ ll be time. I’ m usually more open on Fridays, so if that works for you& ‘

‘ Sure, Friday’ s perfect.’

We set up a ride-along for the following week. The helicopter he piloted was based at the Van Nuys Airport, a few miles from my parents’ house. ‘ I go up at five,’ he said, ‘ so if the two of you can be there at four-thirty, we’ ll have time to get you situated.’

‘ Four-thirty? As in the morning?’ I gulped. ‘ Hoo boy. Mind if I wear my jammies?’

‘ Wear whatever you want. It’ s radio.’ He paused and then said, ‘ What kind of pajamas?’

My mind flashed to my favorite pajamas. Flannel shorts and a T-shirt with little Snoopys on it. Sexy lady! ‘ I’ ll surprise you,’ I said.

‘ Sounds promising.’

He gave me directions to his hangar in the airport, and when I thanked him again, he said, ‘ Looking forward to it. By the way, you have any problem with heights?’

‘ Nope.’

‘ Speed?’

‘ Fine with it.’

‘ Flips, turns, nosedives, midair stunts?’

‘ How ‘ bout you drop me off before you get to that part? But don’ t rule it out entirely. I’ m sure my boss would love it.’

THE NEXT MORNING, I marched boldly into the office-head held high for the first time since the fiasco. As soon as I could tell Lizbeth about how Troy Jones would be working with us, she’ d sing a different tune about me. She’ d throw her body in front of Dr. Death to preserve my job. Granted, it was only the one ride-along, but there was no need to get into picky details.

Lizbeth was in a closed-door meeting all morning. I was editing my newsletter when I noticed Dr. Death hovering near my cubicle. My heart froze. No& not before I had a chance to spring my surprise on Lizbeth& he couldn’ t. That was the problem with these cubicles. No place to hide. If only I could& Oh, wait& he passed me by. I exhaled a breath. Close call.

When I felt the chill from the air recede, I peeked around the corner. I saw him stop to talk to Brie and then go into Lizbeth’ s office.

I escaped to the deli downstairs to get doughnuts and Diet Coke. There was no way I was going to risk an encounter with Dr. Death before I had a chance to talk to Lizbeth. By the time I checked back to see if he’ d left and if she was available, it was almost noon. Brie sat at her station, thumbing through an Ebony magazine.

‘ Can I see Lizbeth now?’

‘ She’ s gone.’

‘ Damn! I was hoping to catch her so I could-’

She lifted her head. ‘ You didn’ t hear? She’ s gone. Dr. Death fired her an hour ago. Escorted her out the door. He gave her enough time to pack up a couple boxes, and that was it.’

‘ Lizbeth was fired? Lizbeth was fired?’

‘ Tossed out on her skinny behind.’

‘ Why?’

‘ Beats me. Nobody knows. She didn’ t see it coming, I’ ll tell you that. I know she’ s white, but I never seen anybody that white. She looked like a ghost seeing a ghost.’

‘ That’ s unbelievable.’

Lizbeth fired! I couldn’ t get my mind around it. Ding-dong, the witch is dead. I should have been elated, should have been dancing with the Munchkins in the streets. But I stood there, numb with confusion. How could Lizbeth possibly have gotten fired? ‘ It’ s so strange,’ I muttered.

‘ Yeah, and you want to know the saddest part? She took her TV. Now how am I going to watch The Guiding Light? Shoot-and Buzz was about to find out whether Olivia’ s been cheating on him with his evil twin.’

Rumors flew the rest of the day. They ranged from Lizbeth getting fired for sabotaging my gas giveaway (my personal favorite and one I did nothing to squelch) to a lovers’ quarrel between her and Bigwood.

Finally, I couldn’ t stand it any longer and went to find Phyllis. She was close to Bigwood. Maybe she’ d know. Mostly likely she knew. The question was: Would she tell?

‘ Hey, Phyllis,’ I said, peering into her space. It was a windowless room that sat off of Bigwood’ s office. Papers were stacked against every wall and littered her desk. She had a door, though-the only secretary to have one, underscoring her clout. ‘ Got a minute?’

‘ Sure. What’ s up?’

I pointed toward where her office led into Bigwood’ s and mouthed, ‘ Is he in there?’

She shook her head. I shut the door behind me and helped myself to a mini Snickers from a dish on her desk, then took a seat.

‘ First off, I’ m not in here to gossip,’ I said. ‘ I am hoping to get information.’

‘ About& ?’

‘ Why Lizbeth was fired.’

‘ Last I heard, she was embezzling. Or was it that she was discovered trying to use one of those blowup dolls to ride in the carpool lane?’

‘ I’ m serious,’ although I’ d heard that last one myself from Brie minutes earlier. ‘ You may think that this is none of my business, but I am involved. I was in charge of a gas giveaway that went badly. The next thing I know, my boss is being escorted out.’

Phyllis tipped back in her chair, her hands forming a steeple in front of her face. ‘ So are you here to take the blame or the credit?’

‘ It’ s not like that. I’ m not going to fake any love for Lizbeth. She was the worst boss I’ ve ever had. I’ m thrilled that she’ s gone. But Dr. Death& um, I mean Ivan& did a lot of poking into what happened. If Lizbeth messed up my project, I deserve to be told.’

‘ What makes you think I’ d know?’

‘ You know everything.’

‘ Point taken.’ After regarding me a moment longer, she said, ‘ You’ re not hearing this from me. I’ m telling you because I owe you one. Lizbeth was squeaky clean, and so, for the record, were you. As best we can determine, a guy at Fox News took it upon himself to stir things up. The other TV stations followed suit.’

‘ If that’ s the case, why don’ t we say something? We look like fools, and it wasn’ t even our fault!’

‘ Lou’ s chummy with people high up at Fox. They all belong to the same country club. Anyway, the gas station owner wanted blood. We gave him blood. Lizbeth’ s. It was the easiest way to stay out of court.’

‘ That’ s so awful. It wasn’ t even her fault.’

‘ You’ d rather you got canned?’

‘ Of course not.’ I took another Snickers, a question forming. ‘ But why wasn’ t it me? I was in charge of the project. Plus, I’ m the one the gas station manager was so angry with.’

‘ That I don’ t have the answer to. I suspect it may be that Lou sees potential in you& thought you might deserve another shot. And you know, with Lizbeth gone that means there’ s a vacant position now.’

Or in other words, just because I was in the house that landed on Lizbeth didn’ t mean I couldn’ t yank off her ruby slippers.

‘ When are they going to post the position?’ I asked.

‘ Didn’ t you learn anything from the last time you got passed over for the job? That’ s not what Lou’ s about. He doesn’ t put people in management unless he sees that spark in them. Then rules and protocol be damned. They’ re hired on the spot.’

‘ Spark? Come on, Phyllis, who are you kidding? He hires eye candy.’

‘ Is your friend Susan only eye candy? Am I? If you want the job, prove yourself. The braless stunt you pulled was brilliant.’ I felt myself go hot with embarrassment as she continued, oblivious that it hadn’ t been an intentional career move. ‘ That’ s enough to get noticed, but it won’ t close the deal. You’ ve got to deliver the goods.’

‘ Deliver the goods! I am not sleeping with Lou Bigwood!’

She tipped her chair forward so that she landed with a thud and gave me a hard stare. In that moment, I could picture her around the pool hall with the other Hell’ s Angels, talking trash and chugging cigarettes. I wondered if that was why Bigwood kept her around-because he was afraid of her. ‘ Do I strike you as a pimp? I thought you were bright, but you’ re not getting it. Do something. Make it big so it wows the pants off him. And do it soon before he finds a honey who’ s willing to wow him first.’

Chapter 14

M y dad was sitting on the front porch drinking a glass of wine and listening to Roy Orbison on a boom box when Deedee and I walked up carrying our overnight bags.

‘ Lawn’ s looking good, Dad,’ I said, and then I introduced him to Deedee.

He shook her hand hello. ‘ We’ re barbecuing steak for dinner-you like steak?’

‘ Sure. Love it.’

‘ I was afraid you might be one of those vegetarians.’ Then he turned to me, apparently out of small talk. ‘ Your mother’ s inside.’

It was Thursday evening, and the ride-along with Troy was the next morning. I was spending the night at my parents’ house since they lived only a few miles from the Van Nuys Airport. If I had to report in at four-thirty a.m., I was cutting the drive as short as I could. I’ d invited Deedee to join me-it wasn’ t as if Lizbeth needed the seat anymore, and I thought the girl could use a special treat. Even if I had a chance to talk on air, I knew it wouldn’ t be enough to wow Bigwood. But it might, I hoped, get his attention-not to mention cross two items off my list while I was at it.

‘ Honey, I’ m home!’ I shouted as Deedee and I made our way into the kitchen. My mom stood at the counter, chopping vegetables for a salad. Something spicy was cooking, and it smelled divine.

‘ Jeez, you look so much like your mom,’ Deedee said quietly, and I guess on first glance we did-same wild hair, only she wore hers short. And Doris is where I inherited all those curves. I got her chin, too, which is slightly pointed, but thank the Lord I didn’ t get the Delaney nose, which suits my mom but if you ask me is beaky on the rest of her family.

‘ So this is Deedee!’ Mom exclaimed. She set down her knife and marched past me to give Deedee a quick hug. ‘ I’ ve been looking forward to meeting you. June tells me she’ s been having so much fun with you.’

As we set our bags on the floor, my mom asked me, ‘ How was the drive out?’

‘ I took the 405,’ I said. ‘ It was how it always is-a mess.’

She shook her head and then said in a joking voice, ‘ I always say that traffic is like the weather. Everybody talks about it, but nobody does anything.’

‘ I try!’ I protested.

Ignoring me, Mom said to Deedee, ‘ Are you excited about your helicopter ride?’

They started to talk about the morning to come-a safe topic. I’ d primed my parents ahead of time. No talking about the baby. In fact, no talking about any babies or baby-related topics. As far as they were concerned, there was no baby. Deedee was six months along, and her belly was starting to pop. She was back in the oversize clothes, however, so you couldn’ t tell. She said she hadn’ t told anyone at school and, so far, nobody’ d guessed.

Deedee, my dad, and I helped carry the food out to the dining room table and took our seats. Dinner was soup, salad, ‘ Oprah’ oven fries, and steak from my dad’ s grill. My mom had set the table with tikithemed place mats and dishes. The cutlery had palm tree designs, and the water glasses were painted with hula girls.

Dinners at my parents’ house had gotten progressively more elaborate since my father retired. He’ d always been relegated to the grill, over which he is lord and master. But in the past couple of years, he’ s tried his hand at a bit of experimenting in the kitchen-a salad here, a pasta dish there. Mom must’ ve felt threatened, because suddenly she was adding sauces and trotting out new recipes the likes of which we’ d never seen before and saying things like ‘ Martin, this salad you made is delicious. Hey, did you guys know that a baboon can make a salad? They can! I saw it on the Discovery Channel!’ Dad was edging into what had always been my mother’ s domain, and enjoying a good meal as I do, I wasn’ t above fueling the competition.

‘ Dad, those steaks sure smell good!’ I effused as my mom carried in bowls of soup and set them in front of us. ‘ Mmm, and Mom, is this soup homemade?’

My dad poked at his bowl. ‘ What is this?’

‘ In honor of Deedee’ s Mexican heritage, I made taco soup.’ My mom gave Deedee a smile and said, ‘ Now I know it’ s not a traditional recipe, but I thought it would be silly of me to try to make a dish that you probably get at home every day, only better and more authentic. A friend of mine got the recipe at her Weight Watchers meeting, and& ‘

I have no idea what she said after that because my brain was buzzing as if bees had set up shop in there. Did she say taco soup? The taco soup?

I was about to ask what was in it when I tuned back in to hear my mom say, ‘ And truthfully, it’ s nothing but opening a bunch of cans.’

Deedee dug in. ‘ If weawwy goog,’ she said, her mouth full of hot soup.

‘ Gracias, señorita,’ my mom said, showing off that she had about as vast a command of the Spanish language as I do.

I regarded the soup as if it were a murder weapon, which it sort of was. Then I thought, What the hell, I’ m starving, and it smells delicious. I took a spoonful and blew on it before tasting it. Okay, it was pretty good. Weawwy goog, in fact, I thought, scooping up more. Why not? It wasn’ t as if the soup had been driving the car.

‘ Do you enjoy school?’ my mom asked Deedee.

‘ It’ s okay.’

‘ June tells me you’ re an honors student. Good for you! So, do you have a boyfriend at school?’

Deedee poured ketchup over her oven fries, looking as if she’ d like to crawl under the table. ‘ Not really.’

I shot my mom a look. What was she doing? Had I not made it clear there would be no talk of babies, and didn’ t the fact that Deedee was pregnant imply that there was, in fact, a boy in the picture, at least at one point?

My mom barreled ahead, pretending not to notice the daggers I was shooting at her. ‘ You will. You’ ll have lots of them, that’ s for certain. You’ re such a pretty girl.’

Deedee seemed increasingly uncomfortable, so in an effort to get my mom off whatever oddball track she was on, I said to Deedee, ‘ She’ s right, you are& but don’ t put too much stake on anything my mom says. She used to think that I was cute when I was your age, too.’

‘ You were cute!’ my mom insisted.

Dad gave a chortle. ‘ Didn’ t she have those braces? And the eye patch?’

‘ It’ s not my fault I had a lazy eye! And it was only for a few months!’

Deedee cheered instantly. ‘ An eye patch? Serious?!’ And she made an arrrgh noise like a pirate-as if I hadn’ t heard that every second of every day that I wore it. ‘ Got any pictures?’

‘ Sorry. There are no pictures of me because I was so ugly& and the second child. If you want to see my brother, however, we have about a million photos of him.’ Then I patted the back of my head to remind her of the neglect I’ d suffered.

‘ Don’ t you listen to her, Deedee,’ my mom said. ‘ She may have had an& awkward phase for a while there, but that’ s exactly my point. By the time she reached high school, she’ d blossomed. Truly, it’ s the best time of your life. I can’ t wait for you to get out there and experience it all. With your brains and beauty, I’ ll bet you have big things ahead of you.’

Ah. So that’ s what she was doing. I’ d been baffled at first, until I realized that this was Doris Parker’ s one-woman public service announcement to try to convince Deedee to give the baby up for adoption. Not so subtle, but an A for effort.

Deedee responded by putting her attention to sawing at her steak, to the point where my dad said, obviously annoyed, ‘ Hey now, you ought to be able to cut that with a fork.’

Dessert was rhubarb pie and ice cream served on the back patio to the sounds of the bug zapper killing flies and my father’ s complaints that the Bloomingdales next door recently landscaped with low-water plants-cactus and rock gardens-instead of grass. ‘ Can you believe it? What do they think this is, Death Valley? They ever hear of a water hose? Next thing you know, they’ re going to be installing one of those solar panels.’

‘ Your parents are a riot,’ Deedee said as I showed her to my brother’ s old room, where she’ d be sleeping. It was only nine o’ clock, but since the alarm would go off at three a.m. we were both eager for an early turn-in.

‘ They sure liked you,’ I said. ‘ I wouldn’ t be surprised if they’ re downstairs right now adding you to the will.’ Then I left to shower, not daring to leave it for the morning in case I overslept. It was quarter to ten by the time I’ d blown-dry my hair, and I’ d already done the finger-counting thing and realized the most sleep I could hope for was five hours. Ugh-how did Troy Jones do this every night? Before going to bed, I noticed a light on in Deedee’ s room. I gave a knock and went in. She was under the covers, still in her big shirt, reading one of my brother’ s old comic books. ‘ I can’ t fall asleep this early,’ she said.

‘ I can. I have a remarkable gift for slumber. It’ s waking up on time that I’ m worried about.’

‘ Me too. I set the alarm.’

‘ Good-between the both of us, one should manage to roll out of bed.’ I sat on the edge of her bed. ‘ You need a lullaby?’ I started to sing, ‘ Gitchy gitchy ya ya da da& ‘

She set down the comic. ‘ You told your mom that I’ m pregnant.’ I attempted to put on an innocent face, but she said, ‘ I’ m not stupid.’

‘ Sorry. She’ s my mom. I couldn’ t not tell her.’

‘ At least she was nice about it. My mom screams at me all the time. I’ ll bet yours never yells at you.’

‘ In defense of your mom, I’ m a bit old for that.’

‘ But when you were a kid, I’ ll bet your parents didn’ t yell.’

I thought about it. ‘ Probably not much. We Parkers aren’ t big yellers, but that doesn’ t mean they didn’ t come down on me if I deserved it.’

She snorted. ‘ Yeah, right. What’ d you ever do wrong?’

‘ Plenty.’

‘ Forget it. You’ re too goody-goody. I bet you never did anything bad your whole life.’

‘ Sure I have!’

‘ Like what? What’ s the worst thing you ever did?’

Maybe it was the taco soup or the thought that I’ d be seeing Troy Jones in mere hours, but Marissa was on my mind, and before I even thought about it, I said, ‘ I killed someone.’

‘ I mean serious.’

I’ d regretted it as soon as I said it, so I tried instead to come up with some other crime I’ d committed to appease her. Unfortunately, sneaking into the spiked punch and puking at Kathy Berz’ s graduation party was the best I could do, and it seemed downright charming compared with killing someone. I sputtered and stammered until Deedee said, ‘ Shit, you did kill somebody!’

‘ Nah, I was-’

‘ Bullcrap-don’ t take it back now. You did.’

I sighed. ‘ You’ re right, I did. It was an accident.’ I turned my attention to picking a loose thread from the comforter. ‘ Only it was my fault, so I don’ t know if ‘ accident’ is the right word.’ I told her about giving Marissa a ride and the car crash. At Deedee’ s urging, I went into the details: from the dresser toppling off the truck, to how I’ d veered, to my first ride in an ambulance. Of course, I didn’ t mention that Marissa was Troy’ s sister or anything about the list. The last thing I wanted was for Deedee to suspect she was part of it.

‘ So how did she die?’ Deedee asked when I’ d finished. I gave her a blank stare, and she said, ‘ I know it was a car crash, and the dresser falling, but what exactly killed her?’ She said it without a shred of pity or empathy. She wasn’ t being ghoulish, either. It was simply information she wanted that I hadn’ t adequately provided.

‘ She wasn’ t wearing a seat belt, so when the car rolled, she got tossed.’

‘ Like through the window?’

And here was the strange thing: I felt as if I could finally say it. The details of that night that I’ d kept from Susan, my boyfriend Robert, my parents& everyone. It had always been my fear of their kindness. That their sympathy would have been more than I could bear. All I’ d admitted to them was that Marissa died when the car rolled-as far as they knew, that was it. ‘ The windshield,’ I told Deedee matter-of-factly. ‘ She crashed through the windshield.’

‘ She got cut to death?’

‘ No. As I understand it, she died because my car& ‘ I took a breath before continuing, ‘ It landed on her.’

‘ On what part of her?’

‘ I don’ t know-all of her, I suppose.’

‘ Gross. What’ d you do?’

‘ Nothing,’ I answered, yanking the last of the stray thread from the comforter. ‘ I did nothing.’

Granted, I’ d been pinned by the air bag with a banged head and no clue about where Marissa was. But really, all I’ d done was hang there. Twiddling my thumbs. Singing la-de-da. Waiting to be rescued while the entire time I crushed Marissa Jones to death. The worst part: At no point did the police or hospital staff comfort me with ‘ She died quickly.’ They always say that, and in its absence, I was left to assume that the opposite must be true.

I stood to leave. ‘ Well, it’ s late, I’ m going to sleep,’ I said as I clicked off the light, and out of habit I repeated what my mom said to me every night even when I’ d been too old for her to tuck me in. ‘ Sweet dreams.’

THE ALARM SOUNDED, and I smacked it off. Ugh. I felt nauseated from sleepiness. Three a.m. Why didn’ t I pull an all-nighter? At least I’ d already be up instead of having to wake up.

After dragging myself out of bed, I dressed in the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt that I’ d left out. I yanked my hair into a ponytail, then went to check on Deedee, who sat on the edge of her bed looking as if she’ d been pulled from the dustbin and set there. ‘ It’ s the middle of the friggin’ night,’ she groaned. She wore the same clothes she’ d slept in and-after throwing on her tennis shoes-pronounced herself ready. Then she crawled under the covers and told me to wake her up again when it was time to go.

Pride forced me to make at least a cursory attempt at makeup. My eyes were slits, so I tried as best I could with mascara and eye shadow. Later, when the puffiness receded, I’ d get to see if my aim was on the mark or if I wound up resembling Bette Davis in All About Eve. Whatever. If Troy was hoping for foxy ride-along companions, he needed to switch to the afternoon drive-time shift.

The Van Nuys Airport was small and catered to commuter planes and helicopters. Deedee and I made it there a few minutes early and easily found Troy’ s hangar. He was there already, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, drinking coffee and looking over some papers. Outside the hangar we passed a bright yellow helicopter with ‘ K-JAM-Getting L.A. Jammin’ ‘ emblazoned on its side.

‘ Morning, ladies!’ Troy called when we approached.

‘ Morning implies sunlight,’ I replied grouchily. ‘ This is not morning.’

‘ So,’ he said, clapping his hands together, ‘ let me show you around. How about I start with the coffeepot?’

He showed us the operation there. His circumstance was unusual, he explained, because most traffic reporters worked for a traffic reporting service-he was an independent who worked directly for the radio station. K-JAM was the top-rated morning show. That’ s why Lizbeth had been drooling to get on air.

‘ You ever meet Fat Boy?’ Deedee asked Troy, referring to K-JAM’ s morning DJ, who-at least based on the billboards I’ d seen around town-had earned his nickname legitimately. He was about four hundred pounds of pure wacky Latino, and in the billboards he wore thick glasses, a hat, and nothing else but a Speedo.

‘ Sure. I’ ll be on air with him this morning, but we won’ t see him. He’ s at the radio station.’

‘ Fat Boy’ s so funny,’ Deedee said. ‘ I like it when he calls people pretending to be a old lady.’

‘ You listen to K-JAM?’ he asked her.

‘ Yeah, while I get ready for school.’

‘ So what’ s your opinion of my traffic reports?’ he asked her, leading us toward the helicopter.

She gave it some thought, then said, ‘ You could be funnier. Crack jokes. You do a good job talking about the traffic, I guess. I can’ t be sure since I don’ t drive yet.’ She grinned at him. ‘ For all I know, you make it up-there’ s not any traffic at all.’

‘ So you’ re on to me already.’

A stocky man sporting a baseball cap and a beard came over holding a doughnut bag. Troy introduced him as his co-pilot, Dickie Ruiz. ‘ Dickie and I need to go over a few things. You might want to hit the ladies’ room,’ Troy suggested. ‘ You won’ t have another chance for a couple of hours.’ Deedee and I must have looked panicked, because he said, ‘ I can make an emergency stop if you need it.’

‘ I gotta pee every ten seconds these days,’ Deedee whispered as we made our way to the bathroom.

‘ How are you feeling?’ I asked. ‘ You going to be up for this?’

‘ Oh yeah. This is the coolest thing I’ ve ever done.’

We met back up at the helicopter a few minutes later. Troy said, ‘ Good news, June. We’ re down a sponsor, so I’ ll have a chance to throw you a couple questions in the seven o’ clock hour. Anything you want me to focus on?’

While I was trying to decide, Deedee said, ‘ Ask her what’ s her favorite song.’

‘ Thanks,’ I said, ‘ but it needs to be more about ridesharing. Maybe you could ask about the new rail line to downtown?’

‘ Boooooring,’ Deedee said.

Troy said he’ d see what he could do to keep things lively and then opened a door to the helicopter. ‘ Ready?’ he asked. He and Dickie helped us climb in back, where there was just enough room for Deedee and me to sit comfortably.

‘ Where are the parachutes?’ I asked as I buckled in. ‘ Does my tray table serve as a flotation device?’ I was babbling because my belly was starting to do nervous flips. I’ d never been in a helicopter, and even though I’ m not afraid of flying, I wasn’ t sure what to expect. Plus I’ d be talking live on the radio, so it was a double whammy of nerves. I felt I had a lot riding on this, knowing Lizbeth’ s position was open.

Troy fiddled with some controls, and Dickie handed Deedee and me headsets-the huge kind that fit like earmuffs. Each one had a thin microphone that pulled forward. ‘ Once he starts those chopper blades, it’ s going to get loud in here. You’ ll need these to hear what’ s happening on the radio station. Use the mikes to talk to us here in the chopper-it’ s easier than shouting. June, we’ ve powered the mike on yours so you can talk on air, too.’ He smiled. ‘ Do I need to remind you of the words you can’ t say on the radio?’

‘ No, that’ s okay.’

‘ I wanna hear them!’ Deedee said.

‘ Fuck’ s a no-no,’ Dickie replied. ‘ You can’ t say fuck.’

‘ What about shit?’ Deedee asked. ‘ Because I swear that sometimes they bleep it out, but there are other times-’

‘ Shit’ s not allowed,’ Troy cut in. ‘ But you’ re right, it sneaks through once in a while. And June, feel free to talk all you want about how incredibly good-looking I am. There’ s no ban on words like stud& sexy& godlike& ‘

‘ Egomaniac,’ Dickie added, passing his bag of doughnuts back to us. ‘ It kills him that he’ s stuck in radio and the ladies don’ t get to see that pretty face of his.’

We dove into the doughnuts until Troy gave us a one-minute warning; then we got ourselves ready. When he kicked the helicopter into gear, the sound of whirling blades was deafening, even to us inside with the doors closed. ‘ I always thought that was fake!’ I shouted. ‘ That you sat in a studio and played a tape!’

Dickie answered by pointing to his ears and mouthing, ‘ Headphones.’

‘ Oh, right.’ Deedee and I scrambled to pull on our headphones, and I adjusted my microphone.

Troy asked, ‘ Can you hear me?’

Deedee nodded. I gave a thumbs-up.

‘ Here we go,’ he said, and the helicopter lifted. It hovered for a moment and then flew up and forward. My insides did a dip, and Deedee gave an excited whoop.

‘ Everybody okay back there?’ Troy asked.

Deedee nodded again. I gave another thumbs-up.

I could hear Troy chuckle in my headphones. ‘ You guys can talk,’ he said. ‘ I’ ll give you plenty of warning when we switch over to on air. And Deedee, you don’ t need to worry. Only June’ s mike goes live.’

Did he have to say the word live? Arrrgh, as I’ d have said in my eye patch days. The doughnut danced in my stomach.

There’ s nothing to be scared about, I told myself. It wasn’ t as if Troy would ask me tough, probing questions. I could handle this, especially after living through the gas giveaway debacle. My brain seemed to be buying the pep talk. My digestive system remained doubtful.

I forced myself to concentrate on the view while I listened to the radio station, which was playing that Black Eyed Peas song that, now that I’ d heard it, would be stuck in my head all day. The night sky was taking on a grayer hue, and it looked as if the sun were considering making an appearance. (And I didn’ t for a second forget this was a twofer for the list: both #10, Ride in a helicopter, and #18, Watch a sunrise.)

Our flight had started in the Valley, and within minutes we were making our way over the hill. I’ d flown in planes over Los Angeles plenty of times, but this was close enough that I could make out the sights. Dodger Stadium& the Getty Museum& the mansions along Mullholland Drive. Even the 405 Freeway seemed lovely, winding as it did up the hill, dotted with the headlights of early morning commuters.

Troy turned to us. ‘ What do you think?’

‘ Who’ d have thought traffic could be so pretty?’ I said.

‘ Well, if you find this traffic pretty,’ Dickie remarked, ‘ wait until rush hour hits. It’ s a freakin’ work of art.’

Deedee pressed her face against the window. ‘ This is so awesome. Nobody’ s gonna believe me when I tell them.’

Troy did the first few traffic reports, and as he’ d warned me, the radio feed shut off in my headphones. I could hear Troy’ s voice, but Fat Boy’ s responses were dead air. Troy put on his ‘ radio guy’ voice-huskier and more enthusiastic than how he usually sounded. So far, traffic was moving smoothly, and it sounded odd to hear only one side of their banter. At one point, Troy said, ‘ I don’ t know, Fat Boy, it’ s been a while since I’ ve looked that closely at a monkey,’ leaving me to wonder what could have prompted that sort of response.

We buzzed past the Hollywood sign as the sky changed from gray to orange. The letters looked every bit their forty-feet height from this vantage point. ‘ Thought this might be a nice view for the sunrise,’ Troy said to me, the only acknowledgment he’ d made of the list.

Then the helicopter veered left, and Troy said, ‘ I’ m heading to check on the 101-I’ m getting word of a crash there. June, I’ ll probably bring you in on the next go-round.’

‘ Sounds good!’ I chirped.

Barf.

I tried to quell my nerves, restricting myself to happy, ridesharing thoughts. Plug the 800 number& plug the 800 number&

Whatever you do, don’ t swear& and definitely don’ t say fuck. Fuck, now I have it in my head& it’ s like that Black Eyed Peas song, and I won’ t be able to get it out! Oh, shit& I mean, fuck& Oh no, I’ ll be spewing cusswords as if I have Tourette’ s and-

‘ All right, we’ re good to go,’ Troy said. ‘ I’ ll start with the traffic news. From there, June, I’ ll intro you and then toss you a question or two.’

‘ Make them easy,’ I said queasily.

He turned his head briefly. ‘ Nothing but softballs, baby.’ Looking back at his control panel, he said, ‘ Now, it’ ll be the same as before. You’ ll hear my voice in your headset. You’ ll hear yourself, too. And I’ ll be able to hear Fat Boy, but you won’ t. Don’ t worry-he knows to only let me cue you. Got it?’

‘ Got it.’

The radio sounds disappeared, and I again heard Troy’ s voice describing a traffic tie-up on the 101, the 405 at the Sepulveda Pass, and the sluggish 90 past Riverside. Then he continued, ‘ If you’ re getting tired of traffic, I’ ve got with me here in the K-JAM JetCopter a lady who can tell us about how to avoid the mess& June Parker with Los Angeles Rideshare.’

Here it came. My heart thumped. My stomach growled from nerves so loudly that I was afraid it could be heard over the helicopter blades.

He continued, ‘ So, June, what would you say to somebody who’ s sitting alone in their car right now, wishing they were anywhere but on the freeway?’

‘ Well, Troy,’ I said, and as soon as I said it, Dickie whipped around to face me, his expression a complete panic.

‘ We’ ve got dead air!’ he hissed. ‘ I can’ t hear you!’

Not knowing what to do, I continued, ‘ I’ d tell them-’

But Troy’ s voice cut me off. ‘ I mean, besides get out and walk. Heh, heh. Right, Fat Boy?’

‘ What the f-’ Deedee began, but stopped short. I could hear her voice in my headset. She figured it out at the same time the rest of us did. Her mike was on, and mine wasn’ t.

Dickie picked up the wires leading from the controls to us. We must have switched the headsets when we took them off to eat the doughnuts. I froze with panic: What should I do? Troy put a finger in the air to say, Wait& and then he said, ‘ That’ s a good point you’ re making there, Fat Boy.’

With that, Deedee sat up straight and bleated into her microphone, ‘ June here! You know what, Troy? I always say that traffic is a lot like the weather. Everybody talks about it, but nobody does anything.’

Troy didn’ t miss a beat. ‘ So true. And what should they do?’

‘ For starters,’ she said, her eyes wide with excitement as she continued, ‘ they should carpool. I mean, if they’ re lucky enough to have a car. Especially since gas is, like, a million dollars a gallon.’

‘ Remind me not to go to the same gas station you do,’ Troy joked. I was a wreck, but he seemed to be taking it in stride. Dickie reached back and gave Deedee’ s arm an encouraging squeeze.

‘ Bus,’ I mouthed to her.

‘ And if they don’ t got a car,’ she continued, ‘ then they can take the bus. Shoot, my mom is blind, so she’ s gotta ride the bus everywhere, and she does fine.’

‘ Good for her,’ Troy said.

I’ d reached into my purse and grabbed a pen, and I quickly wrote the company’ s 800 number on the back of the doughnut bag and held it in front of Deedee.

‘ Yeah, so I don’ t want to hear nobody complaining that they can’ t do it. If she can ride the bus and she can’ t even see, then somebody who’ s got everything going on ought to be able to do it, too.’

‘ I can’ t tell you how glad I am that you came to share that with us today, June,’ Troy said. He could hardly hold back his grin. He was enjoying this!

‘ You’ re welcome,’ Deedee said proudly. ‘ Oh, and if they got any questions, they need to call 1-800-RIDESHARE. Which is more than seven numbers, but I guess it works okay anyway.’

Troy wound up the report, thanked the sponsors, and then the radio came back in my headset again.

‘ Deedee, that was great!’ Troy exclaimed. ‘ You’ re a natural.’

Dickie slapped her leg in congratulation.

I tried to sound enthusiastic when I said, ‘ You did better than I would have.’

‘ Can I do another one?’ she asked eagerly.

Dickie shook his head. ‘ Let’ s not press our luck.’

‘ Shoot. I wanted to give a shout-out to my girlfriend Rebecca.’

To round out the tour, Troy whipped along the beach, deserted save for a few surfers at this early hour, and over the giant Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica pier.

After we landed and climbed out of the helicopter, it was all I could do not to kneel and kiss the ground. Good old terra firma! Fun as it had started out, I’ d never been so glad to have something over with. The people of Los Angeles now thought my mother was blind and that I’ d use double negatives, but that wasn’ t even the problem.

I’ d blown it. Again.

In the moment that we realized my microphone wasn’ t working, it was Deedee who’ d stepped up with a plan. Left to me, it would have been the longest silence in radio history. Only after the fact did I realize I could have simply leaned over and talked into her microphone until we had a second to switch headsets.

I moped and tried to appear as if I weren’ t, as the others seemed amped from the ride.

‘ Besides being on the radio, the best part was seeing that car accident,’ Deedee chattered on. ‘ They looked like toy cars. And that one was totally upside down. It was so awesome.’

‘ You know what’ s interesting,’ Dickie told her, ‘ is that most traffic reporters don’ t use the term accident. You’ ll notice they call it a ‘ crash’ or a ‘ smash-up.’ Saying ‘ accident’ makes it sound as if it can’ t be helped.’

‘ I never thought of it that way,’ Deedee remarked.

As he spoke, I’ d exhaled a breath but seemed to have forgotten how to draw it back in. Then everything started to collide inside me. The taco soup& my talk with Deedee the night before& seeing Troy Jones and not having enough sleep and eating only sugar for breakfast and blowing the interview and Deedee was pregnant and why didn’ t I just talk into her microphone and all that coffee and there’ s no such thing as an accident because they’ re crashes and smash-ups but not accidents because somebody must be at fault and the worst, worst, worst part of all& Troy’ s glance sliding over to me because he’ d heard what Dickie said, too. And in his eyes I saw the one thing I couldn’ t take-the thing that was as good as pouring lighter fluid on the smoldering fire of my emotions. I saw pity.

‘ Pardon me, I need to& ‘ I gestured toward outside, as if there were important errands I’ d remembered I needed to handle. I hurried out, and as soon as I was beyond where they could see me, I ran the rest of the way to the side of the building.

Then I threw my back up against the wall, and the waterworks began.

My chest heaved to gasp air. Tears hurled themselves from my eyes as I let loose racking, heaving sob after sob. I knew the noise I was making-I’ d heard it before when I’ d visited San Francisco’ s Pier 39, where dozens of sea lions played on the docks. In my case, it was a bark of awful, confused misery. It was Laura Petrie on The Dick Van Dyke Show when she used to cry in her falsetto, ‘ Oh, Rob!’ It was the girl screaming in a slasher film. It was a Mack truck’ s brakes squealing on the freeway. It was ugly and undignified, and I couldn’ t make myself stop.

I felt hands on my shoulders. Troy scooted me down so I was sitting-flat against the wall, hugging my knees. Then he moved my arms and spread my legs apart. He pushed gently on my back so my head dropped down between my knees. ‘ Breathe,’ he directed. ‘ Take a slow breath in, then let it out.’

‘ I& I& I& caaaaan’ t& huh a huh& ‘

‘ Shhh. Deep breath in.’ And he breathed in deeply and then exhaled to demonstrate. ‘ Come on, do it with me.’

And in between snorting out sobs, I managed to get in a few breaths, then a few more; then after a while I was breathing in synch with Troy and, frankly, feeling foolish there with my head between my knees.

His hand rubbing my back was nice, though. I was also A-okay with the way he sat next to me, his body grazing mine.

As I lifted my head, and before he could get full view of the damage, I used the underside of my shirt to wipe my face. It emerged soaked with mascara, tears, snot, and heaven knew what else.

Troy had stopped rubbing my back and shifted so he could see me better. (And what a view I’ m sure it was!) ‘ Dickie didn’ t mean anything by it. It wasn’ t about you.’

I shrugged my answer.

‘ He doesn’ t know about the accident. And hey, see that? I said ‘ accident.’ Because that’ s what it was.’

At this point, because my eyes were puffy and I’ m sure my nose was red, so basically I had nothing to lose, I said simply, ‘ Why are you so nice to me?’ It was both a question and an accusation.

‘ Why wouldn’ t I be?’

‘ Do I need to state the obvious? Because if I do, then this-’ I made a gesture toward my eyes-’ could start up again.’

‘ Please don’ t do that.’

‘ The fact is, I was driving. You have every right to blame me for’ -and there was no way to say it without saying it-’ your sister’ s death. You should hate me. I find it hard to understand why you don’ t seem to. You’ re either a saint or& well, saint’ s pretty much my only idea.’

‘ Excuse me while I go call the news desk, because that’ s the first time anyone’ s ever called me that.’

‘ I’ m serious.’

‘ I know. All I can tell you is that I get plenty angry about what happened. But not at you. Trust me, if I ever get my hands on the bastard who couldn’ t tie a dresser down to a truck& and then didn’ t stop& ‘ He shook his head. ‘ You don’ t want to be there. As far as I’ m concerned, you didn’ t do anything wrong. You survived, and I wish my sister had, too. That’ s it.’

I nodded, missing the warmth of his hand on my back. As much as I’ d enjoyed the comfort, however, I knew there was something that I needed even more: the truth. I’ d been running from it for a long time, and now it was time to face it. ‘ Troy, I want you to answer a question for me, and I want you to answer it honestly.’

‘ Okay.’

‘ Promise?’

‘ Sure.’ His brows pulled together in curiosity. ‘ I promise.’

‘ When your sister died, was it& right away? Like instantly? Or& ‘ I let my question trail off.

I saw his Adam’ s apple jump. His mouth opened and then shut again. What seemed to be a lifetime passed, and at last he said, ‘ Yeah. They said it was instant.’

He was truly the worst liar I’ d ever seen.

I had my answer. Only it wasn’ t the one I’ d wanted. The weight I’ d hoped to have lifted gave an evil chuckle from its perch on my shoulders.

Troy got himself up from the ground and then extended an arm to help me up.

‘ That was quite a radio interview Deedee did, huh? She’ s a pistol.’ He was obviously trying to change the subject, interject levity into the moment. What the heck, I’ d play along. I clasped his hand and let myself be pulled to my feet.

‘ Yeah, and I can’ t believe you,’ I said, forcing mirth into my voice. ‘ Egging her on like you did.’

‘ Gotta go with the flow. And hey,’ Troy said, giving a playful tug at my pants, ‘ what’ s up with the jeans?’

‘ There’ s nothing wrong with jeans. You’ re wearing them. Remember& radio and all that?’

‘ I’ m disappointed, that’ s all. I was specifically promised pajamas.’

‘ You’ re not missing much,’ I assured him, brushing at my bottom. ‘ My pajamas are no big thrill. Half the time I wind up just wearing underwear to bed.’

As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I winced with embarrassment.

Troy gave a low chuckle. ‘ I was disappointed before. Now I’ m devastated.’

Chapter 15

M y parents didn’ t argue often. But when they did, my brother and I had an uncanny ability to choose these times while their equilibrium was off to ask for things. A later bedtime. Pizza delivery. The combination to the liquor cabinet. It was risky. You could get your head snapped off. Yet there was also the chance that you’ d get a ‘ yes’ that you’ d never, ever get otherwise. We didn’ t even have to hear the fight or know for a fact it had happened-it was as if we could smell the vulnerability. I can’ t even say it was deliberate, at least on my part. It was pure childhood instinct that drove us to pounce when the prey was weakened.

It was the same sort of instinct, I’ ll assume, behind Deedee saying to me now-as I was still reeling from the news that Marissa’ s accident had in fact been the worst-case scenario-’ I’ ve been thinking.’

‘ That explains that smoke coming from your brain,’ I quipped.

I was driving her to school after the ride-along with Troy, and we’ d gotten mired in the rush-hour traffic that had looked so lovely from the sky. It was butt-ugly down here. I was stuck behind a huge truck with a naked woman silhouette on the mud flaps and a ‘ My Kid Can Beat Up Your Honor Student’ bumper sticker. Somebody nearby hadn’ t passed smog inspection because I was choking on fumes. My car had moved about a foot and a half in the past hour.

‘ I’ m pretty sure I got somebody who can adopt the baby.’

‘ Deedee, that’ s wonderful!’ I exclaimed, and the words kept gushing out. ‘ I can’ t believe you didn’ t tell me before this! Is your mom okay with it? Oh my gosh, I’ m so excited for you! Who is it? Did you find relatives?’

‘ Sort of related,’ she said.

‘ Yeah?’

‘ A sister.’

I looked over at her in utter confusion. ‘ A sister? You never told me you had a sister.’

‘ A big sister.’

‘ Wha-? Huh-? You have a big sister? How is that-?’ And then it struck me.

Ho no. Was she out of her mind?

‘ Tell me you’ re not referring to me.’

‘ Why not?!’ she challenged. ‘ It’ d be perfect! You could be the mom-and we’ d all hang out together and do stuff.’

‘ But Deedee-’

‘ You want a baby. You said so yourself.’

‘ I meant more someday.’

‘ I’ m not due till August.’

I gave a sigh.

‘ You don’ t exactly have all the time in the world,’ she said ominously.

‘ Do you know something I don’ t know? Because I was planning on sticking around for a while.’

‘ You know what I mean.’

‘ I can see why the idea would appeal to you. And I’ m flattered, I am. But if you haven’ t noticed, I’ m single. Wouldn’ t you rather the baby go to a married couple?’

‘ I don’ t know any married couples. I know you.’

‘ There are agencies where they’ d introduce you to people who-’

‘ That’ s not gonna work. You know that. My mom is never gonna let the baby go to just anybody. And I don’ t want that for her anyway. How do I know how some stranger’ s gonna treat her? That she’ s not gonna get smacked around or put down all the time? Or worse?’

‘ Her?’ I asked. ‘ Did you-’

‘ It’ s a girl.’

‘ Congratulations,’ I said; then I added gently, ‘ Believe me, the idea of adopting the baby is very tempting. But sweetie, your mom’ s never going to go for this.’

‘ Yeah, she is. We already talked about it.’

‘ You did?’

‘ I mean, it was my idea. Even way back when I only thought I might be pregnant. After you and Kip came over, me and my mom talked about it. And then last night, spending that time with your family, I knew for sure.’

I blew out a breath.

‘ I don’ t have much family,’ she said. ‘ Mami’ s is mostly in Mexico. I don’ t even know my dad. And you’ d be an awesome mom. Plus you got that big place with a pool. The baby would have grandparents living close by. And I’ d be, like, her big sister.’

Traffic started to clear-there’ d been backup due to a crash& a smash-up& whatever you want to call it. As I got close to where the accident happened, I slowed to rubberneck. I waited all this time, I might as well get my show. Not much to see. Fender bender; no injuries as far as I could tell. All this to watch two people exchange insurance information.

We picked up speed, and I fiddled with the air vents, trying to get a breeze going. ‘ It doesn’ t bother you that I’ m not married?’

‘ Might be even better. You’ ll give the baby more love that way. You don’ t have anybody else. All you got is each other.’

‘ What if I get married?’

Deedee made a sound like ‘ Heh.’

‘ It could happen!’

‘ Ah, that’ d be okay. You wouldn’ t marry a guy who didn’ t want a baby, too. You know, I think Dickie liked you.’

‘ Dickie?’

‘ He was totally flirting with you.’

‘ You don’ t mean Troy?’

The girl must be brighter than I gave her credit for. ‘ Why, do you like Troy?’ she asked sweetly.

‘ No! I thought you might have the names mixed up. I assumed Troy because you met him before& at the beach.’

She started to singsong, ‘ You really liiiiike him& ‘

‘ Shut up.’

‘ You think he’ s seeeeexy& ‘

‘ This car is still going slow enough. I can shove you out and probably not even get a ticket for it.’

‘ You want to kiiiiiiss him& ‘

I snipped, ‘ Can we change the subject?’

‘ Fine. You gonna adopt my kid or not?’

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

‘ I need time to mull it over. This is a lot.’

Deedee nodded, whereas I was utterly shocked by what I’ d just said. I’ d mull it? Surely the answer needed to be a swift and simple no. Yet, as soon as Deedee proposed the idea of me being a mom, all I could think about were those few minutes of waiting for a pregnancy test result. The same mix of yes and no stirred inside me. I wasn’ t yet willing to open my eyes and look at the results-especially since this time it was up to me what answer appeared. Instead, against all logic, I’ d just given Deedee a maybe.

‘ Just don’ t take too long deciding,’ she said. ‘ If you don’ t do it, I gotta start buying baby stuff. And sign myself up for independent study. And those guys said they were going to get me a student internship at the radio station in the fall. I can’ t do it if I got to worry about a kid, so I’ ll need to call them and tell them no.’

Sensing my chance to divert Deedee from the topic of adopting her baby, I said, ‘ Oh, an internship? That’ s great! You must have really impressed them. What sorts of things would you be doing?’

‘ Nothing if I got me a baby to take care of,’ she said dully.

So much for diverting her attention.

After I dropped Deedee off at school, that Mariah Carey song ‘ Hero’ came on the radio. When it got to the part about how I’ ll finally see the truth-that a hero lies in me-I felt a catch in my throat. It wasn’ t a full-on sob. I prefer to save that sort of thing for where people can see me, apparently. This was more a quick bubble of emotion. A hint at the roller coaster to come.

When I finally got to work, Susan was the only one who noticed it wasn’ t me on K-JAM. Everyone else told me, Good job! Way to go! Phyllis popped her head into my cubicle to say, ‘ It’ s a start.’

My mom had left a message. ‘ Why are you going on the radio saying I’ m blind? I understand if you want to give carpooling a heartwarming angle. But couldn’ t you have made your father blind? He doesn’ t have to go to work and face people.’ Then she sighed. ‘ Ah well, maybe I’ ll get one of those handicapped spots now.’

FOR THE NEXT WEEK, the only thing I could think about was adopting Deedee’ s baby.

It wasn’ t as if I didn’ t have other things to occupy my mind. Work was a madhouse. I had to pick up the slack for Lizbeth’ s being gone, even though there was no talk yet of (me) replacing her. Plus, it was near the end of the fiscal year, so those projects I’ d procrastinated on had come back to haunt me.

But my world went on autopilot, and I had one thing on my mind. For the first time, I could relate to that annoying way that women get so consumed about pregnancy and babies. In fact, I now offer my profound and immediate apologies to every woman behind whose back I made gagging motions when our conversation managed to again focus only on baby clothes, bassinettes, and spit-up.

Out of nowhere, I’ d become obsessed with babies. Even when I was running errands one day, my car steered itself to a Babies R Us-or, as I’ ve called it any other time I’ ve had to go there to buy a shower present, Downtown Hell. But this time I meandered the aisles, gushing over the tiny outfits. Mentally picturing how I’ d turn my spare room into a nursery.

That was, I scolded myself, if I adopted the baby.

But that was crazy. Of course it was crazy!

Wasn’ t it?

Suddenly I was noticing babies everywhere. I couldn’ t get enough of them. I found myself cooing at them. Asking their mothers how old they were. Did they sleep through the night? Were they on solids yet? ‘ Mind if I give ‘ em a hold?’

I’ d gone to a park a few days before and had a conversation with a mom with two toddlers. I told her about the baby I was going to adopt as if it were fact and not speculation. And I liked the way it sounded coming out of my mouth. My baby will be here in August. I’ m making all sorts of plans for my baby. Of course, then the woman went and wrecked it all by saying, ‘ Your husband must be thrilled.’ To save face, I had to say, ‘ Yes, my partner is beside herself.’ She piped down pretty quickly after that.

A chance like this would never come along again, that was for sure. It felt as if I’ d won millions of dollars in the lottery and I was studying the ticket, deciding whether or not to cash it in. On the plus side, I’ d be rich. On the down side, I’ d never know if a potential suitor loved me for me or for my money.

Hell, who was I kidding? I’ d take the cash.

The idea of a baby, however, was much trickier.

One thing was certain: I needed to think things through on my own before I opened debate to the floor. Sure, getting input from friends and family would help me sort things out. That was, if I had a different group of friends and family. In my case, it was guaranteed I’ d be bombarded with opinions. Better to know where I stood and then see if the winds of public opinion could topple me.

Having recently discovered that lists can be quite helpful in setting one’ s life on a new course, I pulled out a pencil and piece of paper and made a list of my own.

Reasons to Adopt the Baby

1. There is a baby who needs a mother

2. I would be awesome mom-would never yell at child and would feed her organic vegetables and hardly ever doughnuts

3. Am 34

4. Almost 35

5. May be only chance to be a mom

6. Could cross off #3: Change someone’ s life in bold strokes

7. Taking action = getting what you want from life, i.e., Alison Freeman *1

Reasons Not to Adopt the Baby

1. Being a single mom perhaps not all it’ s cracked up to be

2. I want a baby, but do I want a baby now?

3. Could I love baby that wasn’ t ‘ mine’ ?

4. Possibility of suddenly meeting man of dreams, having fairytale wedding, and starting own family with own biological children sooner than expected, i.e., Alison Freeman *2

As soon as I wrote the pros and cons, I dismissed #3 under Reasons Not to Adopt the Baby. Of course I’ d love the baby. Look at Angelina Jolie. Would anyone ever believe that a woman who wore a vial of blood around her neck could form a maternal bond so deeply and so quickly? Yet she can’ t seem to collect enough of the little tykes. Love wasn’ t the issue.

There were decidedly more yeas than nays on the list. But that alone wasn’ t enough to tip the scales. What was the weight of each argument? Was there any one that trumped them all? Was there a deal breaker in there? I couldn’ t be sure. Perhaps I could call my old friend Linda who’ d done the boyfriend spreadsheet for me to see if she could whip up a logical calculation determining what I should do now.

I sighed and tossed aside the list. This was not a decision I’ d make logically.

It would be an act of the heart.

Whatever I chose to do-to adopt or not to adopt-my life would be forever altered. This could be my chance to make up for everything I’ d ever let slide.

Then again, it could be the biggest mistake I’ d ever make.

‘ SO AM I CRAZY for considering it?’ I asked Martucci on our Monday morning run. I was running a nine-minute mile at this point. More important, what I was doing resembled running, versus the walking with spurts of gasping and collapsing I’ d started out doing. Without a bathroom scale I didn’ t know if I’ d dropped any weight, but my skinny clothes were fitting better. That was a hopeful sign.

‘ Sounds as if you’ ve more than considered it. Sounds like you’ ve made up your mind. And it’ s great you’ re going to adopt this kid. Being a parent is the best thing that can happen to a person.’

I’ d learned enough about Martucci from running with him to know that he didn’ t have children himself. Or a wife, for that matter. Not sure about the girlfriend-I preferred to remain ignorant. ‘ What do you know about kids?’

‘ With these Italian genes? I’ ve got thirteen nieces and nephews. Two more in the oven as we speak. My brother in Pittsburgh’ s got a wife that pops them out like toaster pastries.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘ Okay, let’ s move it. Sixty seconds of sprinting& go!’

I hurled myself around the track. The 5K race was in two weeks. I wasn’ t going to win it, but thanks to my training, I wouldn’ t make a fool of myself, either. After the minute, which felt like an hour, I slowed to a jog again. ‘ You plan to have any of your own?’ I asked, huffing. ‘ Kids?’

‘ Someday. I’ m in no hurry. God favors us men. We can spread our seed even when we need a gallon of Viagra to get it up. A woman in her thirties, though& I’ ll bet your clock’ s ticking like a bomb.’

‘ It wasn’ t before. I mean, I knew I wanted kids. But I was never panicked about it. Now all of a sudden I am.’

He mulled it over and then said, ‘ Makes perfect sense. It’ s like how sometimes you don’ t feel hungry. But you go by a fast-food place and smell the food. Next thing you know, you’ re starved. It’ s not that you didn’ t need food before. You just didn’ t know how hungry you were until food came along.’

‘ Exactly!’ Who knew Martucci was so wise? ‘ But why is it,’ I asked him, ‘ you think I’ ve made up my mind?’

‘ You told me point-blank when you got here that you were going to adopt a kid in a couple months.’

I stopped in my tracks. ‘ I did?’

Martucci circled back around and stood jogging in place in front of me. ‘ Yeah.’

‘ Just like that? I said it?’

He reminded me of the conversation, and he was right. I’ d said it. Popped out of my mouth. I’ m going to adopt a kid in a few months. It hadn’ t been ‘ I might’ or ‘ Maybe I will.’ I’ d said, ‘ I’ m going to.’ That was when I realized. It wasn’ t a decision of the mind. Or even of the heart.

It was pure gut.

And my gut said yes.

Yes, yes, yes!

‘ Oh, my God!’ I said. ‘ I’ m going to be a mother!’

‘ Congratulations.’

‘ Thanks.’ My mind swirled with endorphins and excitement. Even my elbows felt buzzy. Oh, I knew there was still much to do before anything was 100 percent certain. I’ d need to get a lawyer that specialized in this sort of thing, or at the very least download legal forms off the Internet. I’ d have to sit down with Deedee and her mom to work out the kinks. But there was no doubt in my mind, or in my belly, anyway: I’ d do what it took to make it happen.

‘ So what’ s your family say about this?’ Martucci asked.

‘ I haven’ t told them. I haven’ t told anybody.’

‘ I’ m the first to know?’

‘ Guess so.’

‘ Parker, I’ m honored.’ He grabbed me and engulfed me in a hug. I cringed as sweat poured off him, running down my neck and soaking through my clothes. Although, I reminded myself, I was about to be a mom (!), so I’ d need to get used to dealing with bodily fluids as bad as or worse than this. ‘ I had no idea you thought so much of me,’ Martucci said, releasing me from the hug.

I used my shirt to wipe up his sweat. ‘ Are you kidding? You’ re my jogging buddy.’

No need to hurt his feelings. Martucci had been easy to tell. He was the flagpole I’ d run it up, confident that he’ d salute. I suspected the other people in my life might not be quite so easy to win over.

Chapter 16

#3 Change someone’ s life

#5 Run a 5K

#7 Make Buddy Fitch pay

#15 Mom and Grandma to see Wayne Newton

#16 Get a massage

#19 Show my brother how grateful I am for him

#20 Make a big donation to charity

With seven weeks left until Marissa’ s birthday, I called an emergency meeting at the Brass Monkey. A bar near work famous for its happy hour, it was also the scene of the crime, where I’ d kissed the busboy months prior. Although today must’ ve been his day off. Or he’ d quit, tired of sexual harassment from the customers. Maybe he’ d spotted me and was hiding in the back. At any rate, I didn’ t see him.

I’ d gathered the troops-Susan, Brie, and Martucci-promising I’ d buy all the two-dollar margaritas they could suck down. Because I needed help. Desperately.

The cold, hard truth: I was getting scared. Marissa had started the list with two items crossed off. I’ d completed eleven. Seven remained. Although I’ m no math genius, even I could see that I had to pick up the pace if I was to succeed. And, true to form, I’ d left the hardest for last. Sure, I could rally. But with so much of my focus now on adopting the baby, I feared I might not.

It was karaoke night, so once again the place was hopping. And for the record, there wasn’ t enough tequila in my drink, and perhaps in the world, to make me sing karaoke. I gave a prayer of thanks to Marissa on a daily basis that she hadn’ t put that on her list. Nonetheless, the singing served as a lively backdrop, and who doesn’ t enjoy hearing ‘ I Will Survive’ being bludgeoned by two drunk Japanese ladies?

The four of us sat at a corner table, shoveling chips into our mouths and poring over the list. I clarify: not the list itself. To avoid the risk that drinks might get spilled on the original list, I’ d written the remaining tasks on a separate piece of paper. Marissa’ s list had become like the Declaration of Independence-a priceless document to be protected in a glass box (or in this case, my wallet) until such time as it was ready to be presented and toured about to the masses.

‘ We know what you’ re going to do to change someone’ s life.’ Martucci beamed, riding high on the fact that he was the first to know about the adoption.

‘ I can’ t believe you’ re gonna have a kid,’ Brie added.

Susan’ s fingers tapped on the list. ‘ Although a backup plan might be a good idea& in case the adoption doesn’ t go through.’

‘ It’ ll go through,’ I said with more confidence than I felt.

Two weeks ago, after my revelation to Martucci, I’ d hired a lawyer. There were so many factors to work out that I hadn’ t thought about, such as paying for hospital extras, the birth father’ s rights, and so on. But so far, so good. Deedee started crying when I told her I was going to adopt the baby-that was, after having Kip call her mother to make sure Maria was okay with the plan. On the couple of visits I’ d had with Deedee since then, she’ d chattered endlessly about how it was going to be so cool when she and I were both big sisters.

Although the adoption smacked strangely of a business deal at this point, I knew it would feel real the moment I held the baby in my arms. Still, I was trying to stay on the down low in case everything fell through. I hadn’ t even mentioned it to my parents. It was hard enough to keep my own emotions from spiraling out of control-it’ d be cruel to tell them they were going to be grandparents only to snatch it away.

Of the handful of people I’ d told so far, the only negative reaction was from Susan, which didn’ t surprise me. She kept asking, ‘ But why?’ so many times that I started to wonder if I were actually talking to her five-year-old sons. About the hundredth time she’ d said, ‘ I never got the feeling that a baby was that important to you,’ I’ d turned to her and snapped, ‘ That’ s because it never felt possible before. I also don’ t walk around talking about how I want to sleep with Orlando Bloom, but believe me: The day he shows up wearing nothing but a towel and asking me if I’ ll rub lotion on his back, the answer, for the record, is, Hell, yes.’

‘ A backup plan’ s not a bad idea,’ Martucci said, shaking me from my thoughts. ‘ In case you fail at changing this girl’ s life. What else could you do?’

We sat silent. A beefy guy in a cowboy hat sang that country song about living like you were dying. A good choice since he was in fact dying onstage.

‘ Money,’ Brie said. ‘ I always say, ‘ Money changes everything.’ ‘

‘ Cyndi Lauper said it first,’ I joked, only to meet a table of blank stares. ‘ It was a song! Don’ t make me go get that karaoke list and prove it!’

Martucci smacked the table excitedly. ‘ Lottery tickets! You buy a hundred lottery tickets and hand them out to people you know. One of them hits, and boom, you’ ve changed that person’ s life.’

‘ Ooh, that’ s a good one,’ Brie said, and then turned to me. ‘ I got Lotto numbers I play, so ask me before you buy mine. I always play my age, my birthday, the number of guys I’ ve had sex with-’

‘ Lotto numbers only go up to forty-six,’ Martucci said, and chortled.

‘ I know. That’ s why I got to split it up.’

‘ It’ s settled, then. Even though I’ m certain that the adoption will work out’ -here I narrowed my eyes at Susan as if daring her to challenge me-’ the Lotto is the backup plan. So that’ s one down, six to go. Moving things along& ‘

‘ What’ s your rush? You may as well enjoy your nights out while you can,’ Susan purred. ‘ It’ s the last you’ ll have of them for a long while. That’ s how it is when you have kids.’

I scowled at her. ‘ You’ re out. You have kids.’

‘ They’ re home with my husband. Do you have one of those?’

Ouch.

My expression must have shown the sting because she said, ‘ I’ m sorry. That was out of line. I’ m worried about you, that’ s all. Being a single mother isn’ t easy-believe me, I know plenty of them. But I’ ll play nice. I promise.’

‘ All’ s forgiven,’ I replied, and I meant it. For every bit of haranguing Susan was giving me, I knew she’ d also be the first to help me when the time came. Lord knew I’ d need plenty of baby-sitting.

‘ Next: Run a 5K,’ Martucci read from the list. ‘ That will be handled this weekend, you stud muffin.’

‘ Martucci’ s running with me,’ I told Brie and Susan. ‘ Anyone is welcome to join us. Brie& you run?’

‘ Depends.’ She shoved a chip in her mouth. ‘ Somebody chasing me?’

‘ I’ ll take that as a no.’

Susan promised to bring Chase and the boys to cheer for me, and then it was on to one of the more troublesome on the list: #7, Make Buddy Fitch pay.

I reported to them how Sebastian had recently called me with an update. His private investigator had searched the United States and found three guys named Buddy Fitch. There was a sixty-eight-year-old retiree in Florida, a thirty-seven-year-old autoworker in Michigan, and a forty-four-year-old in Texas, currently unemployed. That was it. Sebastian explained that it had been particularly challenging, with Buddy being a common nickname. For all we know, he’ d said, Buddy could’ ve been a special name between him and Marissa. It might be a dead end. Crossing my fingers for luck, I’ d called the Buddys. I’ d told each one that I believed he knew a Marissa Jones and that he might want to know she’ d passed away recently. And I’ d turned up nothing.

‘ They claimed they’ d never heard of her,’ I moped.

‘ You should’ ve said she left them something in her will,’ Brie said. ‘ I bet that’ d jog their memories.’

My heart sank. ‘ That would have been perfect! Like those police stings where they bring in a bunch of criminals and tell them they’ ve won a prize. I blew it! Now I’ m no further than when I started.’

‘ Not necessarily,’ Martucci said. ‘ The list says, Make Buddy Fitch pay. It doesn’ t say which Buddy Fitch. So choose one of them and do something vengeful. I vote for the autoworker. Can’ t pick on a retiree or some guy out of a job. That’ d be low.’

Susan was appalled. ‘ And arbitrarily playing a trick on someone because he happens to have the right name isn’ t?’

‘ Susan’ s right,’ I said reluctantly.

‘ It doesn’ t have to be real mean,’ Brie suggested. ‘ You could do something a little mean. Like short-sheet his bed.’

‘ Right. I’ m going to fly to Michigan to short-sheet a guy’ s bed.’

She shrugged. ‘ All I know is that I’ d hate it. Gotta stretch my legs at night. Otherwise they cramp up.’

‘ We’ ll back-burner this one, I guess.’ I sighed. ‘ Sebastian told me his PIs would keep working on it. Plus I contacted Troy Jones to see if he’ d ask around one more time. Somebody Marissa knew must be able to tell us who this guy is. Which now brings us to number fifteen on the list. I have to take Mom and Grandma to see Wayne Newton in Las Vegas.’

‘ Your mom and grandma or hers?’ Brie asked.

‘ Hers.’

Susan’ s brows furrowed. ‘ Are you sure Wayne Newton is in Vegas?’

‘ He has a regular gig there,’ Martucci answered, and then opened his eyes wide in protest. ‘ Don’ t all of you smirk at me. It’ s common knowledge.’

‘ It is,’ I agreed. ‘ There are tickets still available for his weekend shows during the next few months.’

Brie guffawed. ‘ That’ s a shocker.’

‘ And,’ I continued, ‘ at my request, Troy checked with his mom and grandma. They’ re going to make themselves available for whatever date works for me. He says they’ re quite excited.’

‘ Really?’ Susan asked. ‘ I realize they’ re grateful you’ re doing the list. But I can’ t imagine how they must feel& losing a child. Nothing could be worse. Aren’ t you worried that it’ s going to be& ‘ Her voice trailed off, searching for the right word.

‘ Weird?’ I supplied. ‘ Uncomfortable? Potentially the worst, most miserable trip to Vegas in the history of my trips to Vegas, and that includes the time somebody stole my purse and I got a sunburn so bad my eyelids swelled shut? Yes. I am worried about that. Thank you for reminding me.’

I had no clue how I’ d pull it off. I’ d met them only once, at the funeral, and I’ d spoken as few words as possible. According to Troy, this list was such a bright light for them. How could any trip to Las Vegas possibly measure up to their expectations? Especially a trip on my budget.

I started to outline my idea-that I’ d drive the Joneses to Vegas, we’ d see the show, stay the night, and come back the next morning-when Martucci cut me off. ‘ You can’ t do it half-assed. From what you’ re talking about, they probably had more fun at the funeral. This needs to be a party. Keep ‘ em busy and keep ‘ em drunk.’

‘ A party? I don’ t know if I have what it takes to pull off something so-’

‘ Of course you don’ t,’ he agreed. ‘ I’ ve got it covered. I know a fellow at the Flamingo.’

‘ Is this like your friend who runs the gas station?’ I asked. ‘ The one who’ s suing us?’

Susan shook her head. ‘ He dropped the lawsuit. Bigwood wouldn’ t go into details. I don’ t know if the guy realized he didn’ t have a case. Or maybe he was satisfied that an employee was let go. Either way, it’ s a done deal. No lawsuit.’

I hadn’ t realized how the lawsuit had still been nagging at me until I felt my body release the worry. It was over. Nobody else much seemed to care. It was as if the threat had never even happened, save for the fact that Lizbeth got fired.

‘ So as I was saying,’ Martucci continued, ‘ I’ ll tell my buddy we might give away free trips to Las Vegas as part of a rideshare contest, and we’ re on a reconnaissance mission to check it out. He’ ll comp us rooms. Shit, Vegas this time of year? It’ s so damn hot they’ re giving away hotel stays in cereal boxes to get people out there.’

‘ We?’ I asked. ‘ We are on recon mission?’

‘ I’ ll drive the Rideshare Mobile. There’ s plenty of room for the mom and grandma, too.’ He sat back triumphantly. ‘ And there you have it, Parker. A party.’

‘ I’ m in,’ Brie said. ‘ I’ m good with moms and grandmas.’

Susan gave me a pleading look. It said, Don’ t make me go, please don’ t make me go. Susan hates everything about Vegas-the noise, the buffets, the smoking. She doesn’ t understand why people would pump a hundred dollars in a slot machine and get nothing when they could use that money to buy nicer shoes. The shows are tacky. Everyone wanders around drunk. In other words, everything I love about the town. But is she a friend or what? Because even though she’ d rather eat the margarita glass she was holding, she’ d go if I wanted her to. I did want her help, but nobody likes a wet blanket in Vegas.

‘ Martucci,’ I said, ‘ that sounds fantastic. And Susan, you’ re excused-you don’ t have to go.’

Her exhale of relief nearly blew me from the table. I picked up the list again. ‘ Las Vegas also takes care of a couple of these others. Number sixteen: Get a massage. Easy enough. And number twenty: Make a big donation to charity. I’ ll simply win a fortune at roulette and then give it away.’

Martucci and Brie nodded in agreement, but Susan cried, ‘ You can’ t count on that! Do you have any idea the odds of winning?’

‘ Thirty-five to one on a straight-up bet,’ Martucci answered.

She threw up her hands. ‘ Whatever.’

‘ I guess that’ s it,’ I announced. ‘ I want to thank you guys for coming and for your-’

Brie grabbed the paper from me. ‘ What about this one? Number nineteen. Says, Show my brother how grateful I am for him.’

‘ Huh?’ I tried to make my face go blank.

‘ Your brother or her brother?’ Martucci asked.

I slumped down in my seat. ‘ My brother.’

‘ I keep forgetting you have a brother,’ Susan said. ‘ Isn’ t that terrible?’

‘ What-is he an asshole or something?’ Brie asked.

‘ He’ s fine. It’ s only that ‘ grateful’ is such a strong word.’

‘ So what are you going to do?’ Susan asked.

‘ I’ ve got that fund-raiser party at my parents’ house in a couple weeks.’ I paused to look at Susan. ‘ You and Chase are coming, right?’

‘ I wouldn’ t miss your dad’ s shrimp cocktail for the world.’

‘ My brother and his wife, Charlotte, will be there, too. So my idea was& ‘ I hesitated because it was so weak. ‘ That I’ d write a letter and tell him what a good brother he was. Give it to him there. Even if I have to make stuff up.’ I braced myself, waiting for the mockery.

‘ That’ s nice.’

‘ Yeah.’

‘ I’ d love to get a letter like that.’

‘ You really think so?’ I asked.

‘ You know what’ d be good,’ Brie added. ‘ Put a picture of the two of you together in it. Maybe from when you were kids. You got a nice picture?’

My mind flashed to a photo my mom kept framed on the mantel. In it, Bob and I are babies-I’ m lying on my side on the floor, and he’ s making an expression of surprise. My mom said he used to do that to me when I’ d first learned how to sit. He’ d tip me over and then pretend it was an accident.

‘ I’ m not sure about the picture,’ I said.

As I tucked the wet, salsa-stained list in my purse-good thing I hadn’ t brought out the original-a baritone voice so deep that it nearly vibrated my chair said behind me, ‘ Pardon me‘

I turned around to see a man the size of a tank and the color of hot coffee who was flashing a smile so striking that it was making other parts of me vibrate& until I realized that the killer grin was aimed at Brie. ‘ There’ s been a terrible mistake,’ he said smoothly. ‘ I’ ll have to talk to the bar owner. Because how could they be so foolish as to hide such a lovely lady away in a corner?’

‘ Crying shame, ain’ t it?’ Brie agreed.

He held up a karaoke list book. ‘ Perhaps& a duet?’

She grabbed her purse and slid off her chair. Then she took his hand and walked away without so much as a glance good-bye.

‘ I’ d better get going, too,’ Susan said. ‘ You want a ride?’

We left Martucci to cheer Brie on, both of us blinking from the sunlight when we walked outside. It’ d been so dark in the bar, it was easy to forget it was only six o’ clock.

As we walked to the car, Susan said, ‘ I can’ t believe you’ re going to Las Vegas with Martucci. He’ s so’ -she wrinkled her nose-’ smarmy. And what’ s with that little ponytail?’

‘ Rattail.’

‘ It looks like a caterpillar crawling up his neck.’

‘ Aw, Martucci’ s not so bad once you get to know him,’ I said. ‘ He’ s just rough around the edges.’

Chapter 17

M artucci twisted, hands on his waist, warming up for the run. The morning of the 5K race was cool, with a gray, heavy sky that we at the beach call haze but anywhere else they’ d call drizzle. ‘ Here we are. Together again. Can’ t get enough of me, can you, Parker.’

‘ You consume my every waking thought,’ I replied, pulling my leg behind me to stretch my thigh muscle.

‘ Damn. Not in the dreams yet. It’ ll happen& only a matter of time.’

I’ d worn a tank top, stretchy shorts, and a sports bra so industrial that it could hold the lid on a boiling pot. Martucci was in a similar outfit-only minus the bra and with a terrycloth band around his head. Later, when the sun peeked through the gloom I’ d be glad not to be overdressed, but for now I had shivers and goose bumps all over. Or maybe that was the thought of Martucci showing up in my dreams.

Hundreds of people stretched and jogged in place around us. The race was due to start in fifteen minutes. It would begin at the pier in Manhattan Beach and then proceed through town-a town, I noticed on the drive over, that was much hillier than I’ d remembered. I hadn’ t encountered anyone from my cheering section yet, but they’ d promised to be there, standing near the finish line so we could go to breakfast after the race. Not only was Susan bringing her family, but Kip and Sebastian were coming, stopping to pick up Deedee on the way.

‘ By the way, we’ re set for Vegas,’ Martucci said. ‘ I scored rooms at the Flamingo.’

‘ Oh, good!’

‘ Last weekend in June. Friday and Saturday night. My contact there coughed up three rooms. I figure that’ s a room for me, one for you and Brie to share, and one for Mom and Grandma.’

‘ Perfect.’

‘ Damn shame I couldn’ t swing getting you your own room-you about to be a mother and all. You need to find a stud and have a last fling.’

‘ Forget it. There will be no flinging.’

‘ I don’ t know& from what I hear, babies suck up a lot of your energy. It could be a long time before you get any action. Maybe months.’

Months? Ha! ‘ I once went three years without sex,’ I said.

I might as well have slapped him. His eyes welled up. ‘ My God. How did you stand it?’ His hand grasped my shoulder as he said earnestly, ‘ We’ re friends, and I want you to understand that I’ m here for you. And that I’ m not above a mercy fuck.’

‘ Thanks. I can’ t tell you how much I appreciate the offer. But I’ m going to Vegas for one reason and one reason only: to get things done on the list. Anything else is-’

Before I could finish, a kid bumped into Martucci and sent him stumbling into me. ‘ Watch it, buddy!’ he snapped.

‘ Dude, it was an accident.’ The kid appeared to be about ten years old, with red hair, wiry limbs, and wall-to-wall freckles on his face. ‘ You okay?’

‘ He’ s fine,’ I said. ‘ He didn’ t mean to yell.’

‘ Yes, I did,’ Martucci snarled. ‘ Crap. My ankle’ s twisted.’ He sat on the ground to examine his ankle, and the boy bent over him. Above the race number he wore on his back he’ d written in thick marker ‘ Flash.’

‘ Flash?’ I asked. ‘ What’ s with that?’

He turned to me with a smile. ‘ That’ s what my dad calls me. ‘ Cause I’ m so fast.’

Martucci motioned to the boy to help him up. ‘ I saw a guy selling sodas by the pier. I’ m going to see if he has ice.’

‘ I’ ll go,’ the boy said, and he was off, as they say, in a flash. Minutes later, he returned with cupfuls of ice and paper towels. We wrapped Martucci’ s ankle.

‘ Is it a sprain?’ I asked. ‘ Should we hop you to a medic?’

‘ It’ ll be fine, but I’ ll need to keep off it,’ he said to me. ‘ Afraid you’ re on your own for the race.’

‘ On my own?’ Hands on hips, I gazed bleakly up at the hills. ‘ Boy, I wished we’ d trained on hills.’

‘ You never ran hills?’ Flash asked.

‘ Not a one. Not so much as an incline. Plus, I’ m used to this guy barking orders at me,’ I said, tipping my head toward Martucci.

‘ What’ s your time?’ the boy asked.

‘ I’ m running a nine-minute mile.’

He nodded, considering it. ‘ Be right back.’

The race organizers started lining people up to start, so I did my final stretches. Martucci coached me from the curb. ‘ Keep your pace. When you get to a hill, you’ re naturally going to slow down. Don’ t let it intimidate you. And nothing flashy, Parker. You just want to make it to the finish line.’

‘ Got it.’

He held out a fist to me. When I stared at him, perplexed, he said, ‘ You’ re supposed to tap my hand with yours. Like ‘ rock’ in rock-paper-scissors. It’ s a jock thing.’

Jeez, what happened to plain, old-fashioned high-fives? I did it, then left to line up in my spot. People jockeyed for position around me, even though this was a community event and not a hard-core race. Trying to ignore everyone, I jogged in place, waiting for the pop gun to signal ‘ go,’ when the boy came up next to me.

‘ Hey, Flash,’ I greeted him. ‘ What’ s up?’

‘ Don’ t jog so hard right now. Move back and forth a little bit or you’ ll wear yourself out.’ I did what he suggested, and he said, ‘ My dad said it’ s all right if I run with you.’

‘ Thanks, but you don’ t have to do that. I don’ t want to slow you down or-’

‘ I injured your trainer. It’ s only fair.’

With that, the gun sounded and we were off. Instantly, it was as if everyone were running through a sieve. The fast ones slipped through to the front, and the rest of us found our places slogging along at our own paces.

We started along the Strand, the boardwalk that runs adjacent to the sand, with the ocean to our left and multimillion-dollar homes to our right. A light breeze blew off the water, and my body kicked effortlessly into gear. My training was paying off. I tried to make conversation with Flash, but he put a stop to that, saying, ‘ Lady, if you can talk, you’ re not running hard enough.’

I’ ll be darned-he was a mini Martucci.

A mile later, we turned up a street to run past shops and restaurants and-yum! I smelled pancakes! One more turn and, ‘ Oh no, look at that hill-it’ s a wall!’

‘ You can do it,’ Flash assured me. ‘ Go like this-’ He showed me how to lean forward a bit. ‘ And then follow my pace.’

‘ Isn’ t there supposed to be special equipment for mountain climbing?’ I huffed irritably. Ow. Ugh. Arrrrgh. Errrrgh. ‘ Don’ t you get-’

‘ Don’ t talk,’ he admonished. ‘ Run.’

Muscles arguing and protesting all the way, I made it to the top. Flash high-fived me without breaking stride. ‘ I knew you had it in you!’

That was the steepest hill, and after that the run was cake. The route wound us around so we ended not far from where we began. Yards from the finish line, I heard my name being screamed, along with catcalls and various inspirations such as ‘ Work it, honey!’ and ‘ You go, girl!’ I gave a victory wave to my pep squad and then, heart pumping, crossed the finish line. Twenty-nine minutes. Not bad, considering the hills.

There were plenty of runners doing their postrun stretch-for all I knew, a few were already home eating bon-bons. But I’ d made it, and not even in last place. Not even close to last. It was especially sweet since I’ d never successfully done anything athletic before in my life. My sports history was tragic. Like in fourth grade when my brother talked me into signing up for softball, where it turned out that the only skill I learned was the art of the deal. I’ d negotiate with the pitcher, the shortstop, and the third baseman as I ran out to left field, briefing them on the ways they were to cover for me should the ball come my way. But nobody had to cover for me today. I was officially a jock.

My cheering squad came over as I ruffled Flash’ s hair. ‘ Thanks for the help, Coach. I couldn’ t have done it without you.’

‘ Yes, you could,’ he said, his freckled face serious. ‘ You can do anything. I believe in you. Remember that.’

‘ Okay, then,’ I said, not knowing quite what to make of him. I had to marvel as I watched him jog back to his dad. How did these children come into my life all of a sudden? Where had they been? Were they always there and just hiding?

A towel hit me in the head. ‘ Nice job, champ,’ Martucci said.

‘ Why, thank you.’

After that, Susan, Chase, and the twins, Martucci, Kip, Sebastian, Deedee, and I all went to breakfast at Uncle Bill’ s, the pancake house I’ d passed during the race. Sitting at the table, I couldn’ t help but smile at the ragtag crew I’ d assembled over the past few months. C.J. spilled the syrup onto Joey’ s lap. Kip kept eating off Sebastian’ s plate. Susan started absently cutting her husband’ s pancakes before Martucci pointed out what she was doing, and we spent the next ten minutes making fun of her.

But it was Deedee who brought down the house when she blurted, ‘ Shhh, hold on,’ and then grabbed my hand to place it on her belly.

And there it was. The baby kicking.

It was as if the room and its noises and people disappeared and the only thing that I could see or hear or smell or taste buzzed up through my fingertips.

This wasn’ t a business deal anymore.

This was a child.

And I’ d never before been so close to holding her.

Chapter 18

Y ou sound like a jealous wife,’ Phyllis teased. ‘ Are you going to start checking his collars for lipstick?’

I’ d spotted Lou Bigwood getting into the elevator with a woman. A beautiful woman. She was the third I’ d seen him with that week. Naturally, I sprinted to Phyllis’ s office to get the story. Why I bothered I didn’ t know. All she’ d tell me was the woman’ s name and company. I could’ ve gotten that reading the sign-in sheet at the reception desk-which I’ d already done.

‘ Is he interviewing people for Lizbeth’ s job?’ I asked.

‘ No.’

I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. That had been too easy. ‘ Now let me put it another way: Could one of these women possibly be given Lizbeth’ s job?’

‘ Yes.’

I flailed my arms. ‘ So he is interviewing, then!’

‘ No. Lou doesn’ t interview.’

Talking to Phyllis was like going down the rabbit hole. Nothing quite made sense, yet everything was clear. I needed to make my move soon.

Whatever it might be. I still hadn’ t a clue what might impress the boss into giving me the promotion I so richly deserved. ‘ How long do you figure I have?’ I asked, bracing myself for another of Phyllis’ s noncommittal answers.

‘ Hard to say.’

‘ Suppose there’ s a gun to your head. Then what would you guess?’

‘ Three weeks.’

‘ Really? That fast?’

‘ No, but there’ s a gun to my head. I’ ll say anything.’

I had Phyllis schedule me for a meeting with Bigwood a few weeks away-a Friday afternoon before he was due to go out of town for a conference. It was vital that I get to him before he left. He’ d met Lizbeth at a conference. I couldn’ t risk a repeat performance. Even though I had plenty on my plate already, I’ d never forgive myself if I let him hire another little lovely-someone with that mix of aggression and beauty that seemed to draw him-while I sat by and did nothing.

My phone was ringing when I got back to my cubicle. I picked it up, and it was Troy. As soon as I heard him say hello, I felt my lips turn up and my IQ involuntarily drop. Yes, the crush was in full effect. Getting worse, in fact. Troy had been acting as go-between to help me work out a plan for Vegas with his mom and grandma. We’ d exchanged brief, polite phone messages rather than actual calls so far, but they were enough to send my blood pulsing.

The trip to Las Vegas was set for the last weekend in June, and he’ d said his mom and grandma were looking forward to it. In fact, everything seemed so tied together, I was surprised to hear from him now.

Unless something was wrong. Maybe they’ d changed their minds.

I gnawed on a fingernail. ‘ What’ s up?’

‘ Oh, it’ s you,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘ I expected your voice mail.’

‘ I can take a message for me if you’ d prefer.’

‘ The real thing’ s much better.’ We exchanged the usual how are yous; then he said, ‘ I’ m calling to offer my services if you think you might need me in Vegas.’

Services? ‘ What-escort?’

‘ Actually, yes. If you need help with Mom and Gran, I’ d be glad to do what I can.’ Then he added hurriedly, ‘ Of course, I’ d get myself up there& book my own room.’

I found myself saying, Of course, come on up. The more the merrier. But concerned by what might be underlying his offer, I added, ‘ Are you sure your mom and grandma are comfortable with this trip? Because it’ s not worth doing it for the list if it’ s going to make them-’

‘ They’ re excited, I promise, although I’ d be lying if I said there won’ t be sad moments for them. That’ s why I thought it might be good if I was there. Just in case.’

In case what? Susan’ s comment about how losing a child was the worst possible thing she could imagine floated back to me. Was this too much to ask of a grieving mom? I had no way of knowing if he was being honest about their being up for the trip, but I decided to trust him. ‘ Okay,’ I said. ‘ But you don’ t have to go up on your own. You can ride with us. We’ re leaving Friday at three.’

‘ I appreciate the offer, but I’ ve got a meeting that afternoon,’ he said. ‘ I’ ll ride the bike up, so I’ ll probably get there before you anyway.’

‘ Yeah? You believe that your motorcycle can take our Rideshare Mobile?’

‘ You don’ t really call it that, do you?’

‘ Sure do. It’ s a thirty-foot motor home with the words painted on the side in giant letters. I hope your mom and grandma have a high tolerance for embarrassment.’

‘ They’ re Wayne Newton fans-of course they do. And yes, I can beat you there. I’ ll get to ride around traffic. You’ ll be stuck in it.’

‘ Ah, but you’ re forgetting that we can use the carpool lane.’

As soon as I said it, it struck me. I must have gasped because he said, ‘ Everything okay?’

‘ You’ re a genius.’

‘ Thank you for noticing. Any reason in particular you’ re telling me now?’

‘ You gave me a great idea for work.’

‘ Just now?’

‘ Yeah, and it might get good media. There’ s even a chance this one won’ t cause rioting in the streets.’

‘ That’ s too bad,’ he said. ‘ I’ ve come to expect exciting things to happen when you’ re around.’

FRIDAY NIGHT, I sat in my apartment, reeling with frustration. I’ d spent hours rummaging through photo albums and yearbooks, only to come up empty-handed. The next day was my parents’ party, where I’ d give my brother the letter showing him how grateful I was for him. I ought to be able to come up with one tender moment to reminisce about, but I couldn’ t.

Dear Bob:

I’ m writing to express my gratitude for the time that you and your friends decided it would be ‘ funny’ to pin my junior year homecoming date against the wall and ask him what his intentions were with me. Hilarious!

Love,

June

P.S. It was especially amusing because, although he and I only went to the dance as friends, I believe he may have wet himself.

Dear Bob:

I can’ t thank you enough for keeping a photo of me wearing my eye patch in your wallet and showing it around as often as possible. How many girls have a brother who carries a photo of them? I’ m flattered and, it goes without saying, grateful.

Shiver me timbers,

June

Dear Bob:

Please accept my most humble gratitude for the people you brought into my life-especially all the girls who pretended to be my friends, only to spend the entire time fawning over you once they got to the house. Your popularity and magnetism remain an inspiration.

Yours in family and friendship,

June

Dear Bob:

Words cannot express my appreciation for my recent weekend visit to your home, during which you took off for a golf outing the second I arrived. It was a great chance for Charlotte and me to bond. She cooked delicious meals, and we went shopping and watched movies together and did girl stuff, even though, at least according to birth records, you are my actual relative.

Warmest regards from your sister,

June

Dear Bob:

How on earth did you ever get Charlotte to marry you? She’ s so genuine and warm, and I like her a lot. Did you blackmail her?

June

‘ HELLO?’ My mom sounded wary when she answered the phone.

‘ What’ s wrong?’ I asked. ‘ Did I catch you at a bad time?’

‘ Oh, it’ s you, honey. No, it’ s fine. I thought you were somebody calling to cancel. This is always the point when guests start pooping out. The Kolesars just called to say they’ re going up north. Your father and I have been holding this party the exact same weekend for ten years, and they RSVPed a month ago.’

‘ I’ ll be there,’ I assured her.

‘ Well, then that’ s one for certain. Hope you’ re hungry.’

The party was the annual fund-raiser for a scholarship my dad helped start in memory of his best friend, George Ku, a teacher who died of cancer. It’ s fifty bucks a head and all the food and drinks you can stuff down. It usually draws a crowd of a hundred or so. I was feeling guilty because normally I’ d help out with the chopping and dicing and whatnot-I’ m not much of a cook, but I make a fine scullery maid. But I’ d been avoiding my parents as of late, tempted to blurt that I was going to adopt Deedee’ s baby but not wanting to say anything until it was certain.

‘ I know you’ re busy,’ I said, ‘ but can I run something by you?’

‘ Sure. I’ m spinning the lettuce. I can do that and talk at the same time.’

‘ I’ m working on the letter for Bob that I told you about. And I’ m having trouble coming up with memories to share.’

‘ Tell me what you have so far.’

‘ ‘ Dear Bob.’ ‘

Silence.

‘ That’ s it?’

‘ I was hoping you could fill in the blanks.’

She sighed. ‘ Was I such a horrible mother? How could you not have a single happy memory from your childhood?’

‘ I have plenty of happy memories. Remember that time we went to New York and realized that we’ d accidentally left Bob home alone? And then we& Oh, wait& that was a movie.’

‘ You love your brother!’ she insisted.

‘ Sure I love him. He’ s my brother. Only there are times I don’ t particularly like him.’

‘ Bob was a wonderful brother to you.’

My hands were poised at my computer keyboard. ‘ In what way,’ I asked cagily, ‘ would you say he was a wonderful brother? And try to speak in complete sentences.’

‘ Oh, for Pete’ s sake. Okay. How about when he signed you up for softball?’

‘ That was one of the worst experiences in my life!’

‘ I thought it was sweet how he went to all your games.’

‘ He went to my games?’

‘ Didn’ t miss a one. It wasn’ t his fault you were terrible. No offense. I’ m only going by what you told me.’

My fingers typed away: Bob, I’ ll never forget seeing your face there in the stands, cheering me on.& ‘ What else you got?’

‘ Oh, hold on.’ She shouted away from the phone. ‘ Martin! The water’ s boiling!’ Then back: ‘ Let’ s see& there were so many things. You always put on those cute plays for us& charged a dollar admission. And how about that time we saw the movie The Birds? He walked you home from school every day for a week because you had this crazy idea that you were going to get attacked.’

‘ That movie was terrifying!’ As I typed, Bob, you’ ve always been my protector, I made a mental note to never let my child watch such a scary film. What were my parents thinking?

‘ Goodness& Oh, hang on again, the pan’ s boiling over.’ The phone was set down, and I heard clattering and shouting to my dad about whether or not he wanted the stove turned off.

When she finally came back, I said, ‘ Sounds like you have things to handle there. I’ ll let you go.’

‘ I do need to run to the store again.’ There was a pause, and then she said, ‘ But sweetie? Give your brother a chance. I know he wasn’ t always overly affectionate when you were growing up. He could be a bit of a pill. But the two of you had your moments. You were always watching TV or playing games or listening to those albums. You know, he’ s changed over the years. You should see him with Charlotte. He dotes on her, treats her like a queen. I don’ t know, maybe he needed to grow up. And-now, don’ t be mad at me for saying this-but maybe you don’ t always give him a fair shake.’

After hanging up, I went back to typing the letter, wishing I’ d set out to show my gratitude to my brother in an easier way-like baking him a pan of brownies or offering to wash his car. Still, I managed to scrape together a few reasons I was grateful to have him as a brother. Turned out Sebastian Forbes wasn’ t the only one around here who could write fiction.

MRS. MANKOWSKI waved a shrimp in the air. ‘ If I were going to die tomorrow, I’ d go skydiving.’

‘ Good heavens!’ my dad replied, clearly horrified. ‘ I’ d much rather die in my sleep.’

My mom had to explain, ‘ Martin, I believe she meant before she died.’

The list was the talk of the annual Ku party. I’ d been there since two o’ clock, and in that time I’ d learned more than I ever wanted to know about my parents’ friends’ unfulfilled dreams. Lots of skydiving, traveling, scuba diving, ballroom dancing, and novel writing has gone undone, I’ ll tell you that. Poor old Mrs. Gorman said she wanted to learn a foreign language, and her husband-who’ d taken to finishing her sentences because she kept forgetting what she was going to say-snorted, ‘ Why don’ t you start with English?’

As soon as I saw my brother’ s wife, Charlotte, I was glad I hadn’ t brought up the adoption yet. She was easily thirty pounds heavier than I’ d seen her last. More than that, she looked dour and bloated. Her normally heart-shaped face seemed to have tipped upside down, and her blond hair hung limp and dull. I’ ve heard those hormone shots are miserable. If you’ re going through that and are, to date, still childless, I’ m assuming babies in general are a sore subject. I’ d called Susan before the party and told her to remind Chase that the subject was off-limits. I knew he got the message, because as soon as he walked in, he caught my eye and pantomimed turning a key at his lips.

After a few hours, the party had dwindled to immediate family, Susan and Chase, and a few assorted neighbors. The sun was going down, and the blazing Valley heat was finally ebbing. My parents had fans and misters going all day-it’ d been a scorcher. We sat on lawn chairs in a circle on the patio, that lazy party-almost-over feeling setting in.

I took a swig of my light beer, my beverage of choice for the day. My dad makes a killer mai tai, but I don’ t go near them. Those babies sneak up on you. ‘ I don’ t get the attraction to skydiving,’ I said. ‘ Knowing me, I’ d leap into midair and then realize I forgot to wear my parachute. Or I’ d be wearing my parachute, but I wouldn’ t even have fun because I’ d be so worried about pulling my cord on time.’

Susan-who apparently didn’ t get the memo about the mai tais-slurred, ‘ As shoon ash the boysh are grown, I’ m gonna shkydive. Ish my life’ sh dream.’ Chase caught my eye and winked. The wink said, Bet I’ m going to get booty tonight-and it’ s not even a holiday.

‘ How about you, Bob?’ my mom asked. ‘ What would be on your list?’

‘ Hard to say. At this point in my life, I don’ t worry about those sorts of things. I’ ve got Charlotte, a great house, a solid job& I don’ t need to ‘ do’ things to feel fulfilled.’

Hello-was that my brother who said that? It looked like my brother. Same brown, short-cropped hair, same Delaney nose, same teen idol dimples. It was starting to make sense why Charlotte couldn’ t get pregnant-aliens had obviously kidnapped my brother and were wearing his body as a disguise.

My mom shot me a look. See?

Charlotte beamed. ‘ Can you believe this guy?’

Susan lifted her mai tai to take a sip but missed her mouth. ‘ That’ sh beautiful, Bob. Jush beautiful.’

‘ That’ s what I’ m always trying to tell my brother,’ my dad chimed in. ‘ He’ s always boasting about how his kids did this and that& one’ s a doctor& one’ s a big la-de-da producer. And I think, What a blowhard. My kids won’ t wind up doing a damn important thing in their lives! They won’ t save anybody’ s life! Won’ t write a novel! Hell, my daughter’ s pushing forty and she’ s not even married!’

‘ I’ m thirty-four!’ I sputtered.

‘ And you know what?’ he continued. ‘ That’ s because we Parkers know what life’ s about. It’ s about being with your friends, drinking and having a good meal, listening to Roy Orbison on the stereo. It’ s not about your silly doctorates and your 4.0 grade-point averages.’

He lifted his glass in a toast in the fading light, and we all did the same, with me wishing my father could learn a new form of bragging.

‘ Well, I’ m glad there are only six things left to do,’ I said, bringing the discussion back to the list. ‘ Then I can go back to being the same lovable loser I used to be.’

Mrs. Mankowski preened at me. ‘ So is there anything on the list about finding a husband?’

‘ Tick tock!’ Mr. Mankowski felt compelled to add.

And to think I used to go over every summer and help those people make jelly.

‘ June will get married when she meets the right guy,’ my brother (or so he appeared to be) said.

‘ Thirty-four is nothing,’ Charlotte agreed. ‘ And these things can happen so quickly. I’ ll bet one day she’ ll call out of the blue and surprise us. Tell us she’ s in love and getting married.’

Just as I was wondering if I could sneak into the house and add an addendum to the gratitude letter I planned to give my brother before he left, Susan waved her mai tai around drunkenly and said, ‘ Acshtually, June doesh have a big shurprishe!’

A chorus of ‘ What!?’ ‘ Tell us!’ ‘ Surprise!?’ rang up from the group.

I was going to kill her. ‘ I don’ t know what she’ s talking about,’ I said, trying to make a face that said, Who you going to believe: me or the drunk?

‘ I’ ll bet you met a fellow!’ Mrs. Mankowski cried. There was my answer.

‘ Ish a biiiiiiig shurprise.’

‘ You’ ll have to excuse my wife,’ Chase said. ‘ She tends to hallucinate when she drinks.’

Mrs. Mankowski improved her guess. ‘ She met a fellow and she’ s engaged!’

‘ The shuprishe ishn’ t a guy. Iish a giiiiiiirl.’

Chase shushed Susan. My father paled. ‘ Oh dear.’ There was much clearing of throats.

‘ Ish time you told everbody. The happy day is almosht here!’

‘ Is that legal now?’ Mr. Mankowski asked.

Susan was so going to pay for this. I was going to reserve a spot in hell for her where it’ s Las Vegas 24/7.

‘ I’ m not a lesbian, okay?’ I snapped. ‘ The surprise is not that I’ m gay.’

‘ Oh, thank goodness,’ my dad whimpered. ‘ How would I ever face my brother?’

My mom elbowed him. ‘ We would have loved you anyway, honey.’

‘ So, what is the surprise?’ Bob asked.

Out of fear that Susan would blurt it out anyway, I said, ‘ It’ s not final, so that’ s why I didn’ t want to say anything. But when Deedee has her baby in August-’

‘ Deedee’ s her Little Shishter,’ Susan provided helpfully.

‘ As I was saying, when she has the baby, I’ m going to adopt it.’

If silence has a sound, then it became very, very loud at that moment.

Susan broke the quiet. ‘ June’ sh gonna be a mommy!’

‘ By yourself?’ Mrs. Mankowski asked.

‘ Yeah. The girl’ s only fourteen, and she was going to raise the baby herself otherwise. And I’ ve always wanted children, so it seemed& ‘ I let my voice trail off. I don’ t know what reaction I was expecting, but this wasn’ t it.

My mom rubbed her forehead. ‘ I don’ t even know what to say.’

‘ Congrashulations! Thash what you shay!’

‘ We’ ve caused enough damage. We’ ll be going now,’ Chase said, hefting Susan up. He nodded to my parents. ‘ Thanks for the party.’

‘ Yesh. Shank you very mush.’

Charlotte jumped to her feet. ‘ Congratulations,’ she managed to whisper through the tears that were starting. ‘ That’ s wonderful news.’ She turned and ran into the house. Bob followed her.

It got quiet again, and then my dad said, ‘ You’ re not adopting this baby with another woman, are you?’

I didn’ t dignify his question with an answer and instead went to check on Bob and Charlotte. When I got inside the house, Bob was wheeling a bag from his old bedroom.

‘ You’ re leaving?’ I asked.

‘ Yeah. Charlotte’ s in the car.’

‘ Bob, I’ m sorry. I didn’ t want to say anything today.’

‘ Don’ t worry about it. We’ re going to hit the road. I was about to come say good-bye.’

‘ Mom told me everything you’ ve been going through, and-’

‘ I’ ve got to run& don’ t want to leave Charlotte sitting there.’

‘ Can I go talk to her?’

He shook his head. ‘ It’ s nothing personal, June. It’ s going to take her a while to wrap her head around your news. We’ ve been wanting a baby for so long.’

‘ But Mom told me you didn’ t want to adopt.’

‘ It still hurts. That’ s all I can say.’ He reached an arm around me to give me a quick hug. ‘ Congratulations.’

‘ Thanks,’ I said softly. Then I handed him the letter in an envelope. ‘ It’ s no rush reading it. Just stuff I wanted you to know.’

From there, the Mankowskis couldn’ t scoot out fast enough. My parents and I cleaned up the party without a word about the baby. We were tipsy and tired, and the Parkers never talk about anything if it can possibly be avoided, and thank goodness, at that point it could.

IT WASN’ T UNTIL the next morning, over a breakfast of leftover tiny sandwiches, that I had a chance to discuss the baby with my mom. I let her tell me every parental horror story to try to dissuade me from making a rash decision. I nodded patiently and smiled as she outlined the sleepless nights and hurt knees and sassing back I could expect.

‘ Don’ t get me wrong,’ she said, sipping her coffee, elbows on the table, ‘ I’ m delighted I’ m going to be a grandma. And you might have to get a bigger apartment to handle the stuff I plan to buy that kid. I just wonder if you’ ve thought this through.’

‘ Sometimes it’ s all I think about.’

She set down her cup. ‘ I’ m going to play ‘ what if.’ What if the perfect man comes around tomorrow and says, ‘ I want to marry you, but you have a child’ ?’

‘ Then he’ s hardly the perfect man, is he?’

‘ No,’ she replied. ‘ I suppose not.’

‘ Now let me play ‘ what if.’ What if the perfect man never comes around?’

‘ Oh, sweetie,’ she said, clasping my hand across the table. ‘ He will.’

Chapter 19

A t the last minute, Marissa’ s mom and grandma begged out of the ride I’ d offered to Las Vegas. Instead, they said they’ d fly up and meet us at the hotel. I suspected they weren’ t eager to spend five hours on the road trying to make conversation-which might have offended me had I not been dreading the very same thing. I’ d need every minute of the drive to psych up for the weekend to come, which was why I was about to bitch-slap Brie if she didn’ t stop talking about what a long-ass drive this was, and why didn’ t we bring DVDs for the player?

It was eight o’ clock by the time Martucci pulled the Rideshare Mobile into the Flamingo parking lot. We checked in and headed up to our rooms. Marissa’ s mom and grandma had already arrived, but Troy hadn’ t. (And, ha! I’ d told him those carpool lanes would save us time. Plus, Martucci had driven straight through. Brie and I were able to use the bathroom in the motor home, and apparently Martucci had a bladder the size of an oil tanker.)

After calling Kitty Jones, Marissa’ s mom, to arrange for all of us to meet in the lobby in an hour, I collapsed on the bed.

‘ What is it about sitting that makes me so tired?’ I whined. ‘ It makes no sense.’

Our room was your standard two beds, dresser, and TV. From the window we could see across to the Bellagio. The fountains in its man-made lake were in the middle of doing their laser water show. It was both beautiful and grotesque, considering how much water was being wasted in the middle of the desert.

Brie disappeared into the bathroom, and I closed my eyes to relax. The next thing I knew, she was saying, ‘ C’ mon, wake up! We got partying to do.’ When I opened my eyes, Brie stood over me, squeezed into a white halter top and white leather pants. Her hair-these days a shoulder-length weave streaked with hot pink-was pulled high in a ponytail.

‘ Darn,’ I said. ‘ That’ s what I was going to wear.’

‘ It’ s almost nine. I sure hope you plan to spiff up.’

Begrudgingly, I dragged myself off the bed. This was nothing I was looking forward to-why had I let Martucci talk me into a party? I should have simply flown them up for the Wayne Newton concert and flown them home.

Too late for that now, I thought, dressing in a short skirt with no stockings, heels, and a fitted jacket over a tank top. I brushed my teeth, slapped on a bit of makeup, and fluffed my hair. A good long look in the mirror-followed by more makeup and fluffing-and I was ready to go.

‘ Okay, we’ ve got to work out a code,’ Brie said. ‘ If there’ s a sock on the door handle, it means don’ t come in.’

‘ Oh hell, no. I’ m getting a good night’ s sleep. Don’ t even think about bringing a man here.’

‘ It’ s not like I’ d let him spend the night.’

‘ No! No men! Are we clear?’

‘ Every party needs a pooper, that’ s why we invited Ju-’

‘ Excuse me?’

‘ Fine. No need to get your panties in a bunch. I got it.’

I’ d arranged to meet Kitty and Grandma next to the giant six-foot slot machine in the lobby, and it was a good thing I’ d been so specific. I’ d have never recognized them otherwise. The grandma eluded my memory entirely, and Kitty Jones had seemed small and faded when I met her at the funeral-as if she’ d been washed and run through the dryer at too high a heat. That was to say, nothing like the woman standing before me, who had a healthy at-the-beach glow. Mid-fifties, robust, and with a layered blond bob, she appeared so much the part of a California girl grown up that it seemed odd when I’ d heard the twang of a midwest accent when she spoke.

‘ June, it’ s so nice to see you. I’ m Kitty. You remember my mother, Mrs. Jameson?’

‘ Call me Gran. Everybody does,’ said the tiny woman next to her. She wore a velour tracksuit, and her curly hood of brunette hair was clearly a wig, which she adjusted without a hint of self-consciousness.

I introduced Brie and then asked, ‘ How was your flight?’

‘ Went without a hitch,’ Kitty replied.

‘ Although you got to pay for a bag of peanuts,’ Gran barked. ‘ Can you believe it? A dollar fifty for a lousy bag of peanuts that used to be free! And you can forget about getting a real meal.’

‘ Oh, are you hungry?’ I asked. ‘ Because we could get dinner.’

‘ Thank you, but we grabbed sandwiches at the hotel deli,’ Kitty said.

‘ Eight-dollar sandwiches,’ Gran added. ‘ You’ d figure at that price it’ d at least have had that fancy mustard, but nope. Plain old French’ s yellow.’

‘ Whatever you do, don’ t drink the bottle of water in the room,’ Brie said, her voice a warning. ‘ You assume it’ s free, but there’ s a small note on it that says it’ s three bucks. They’ re counting on you being too drunk to notice or too thirsty to care.’

‘ I’ d never be that thirsty,’ Gran said. I noted she didn’ t mention she’ d never be that drunk.

‘ Hey, where’ s Martucci?’ I asked, partly out of curiosity and partly because I was running out of small talk.

‘ He’ s our friend who drove,’ Brie explained before turning to me. ‘ While you were doing your Sleeping Beauty thing, he texted me to say he was playing five-card stud. Unless we needed him, he’ d see us in the morning.’

Kitty glanced at her watch. ‘ Troy should be down any minute, but I don’ t want to keep you waiting.’

‘ No rush,’ I said. ‘ The only thing I need to do is book a massage for tomorrow.’

‘ That sounds divine,’ Kitty gushed. ‘ Oh, would you mind terribly if we tagged along? A girls’ day at the spa might be fun. And then Wayne Newton in the evening. What a delightful trip this is going to be!’

I debated whether to mention that the massage was one of the items on the list but decided not to bring it up. It was so much easier to pretend that this was a typical Vegas getaway and not the strange odyssey that it was. The list at this point was the elephant in the living room-it was gigantic, and it smelled something awful, but damn it, we were all going to carry on a conversation around it as if it weren’ t there.

Kitty was ringing Troy to see where he was when he showed up-and talk about your cool drinks of water in the desert. Black slacks, a casual silky shirt, the beginnings of stubble along the jawline. Mmm.

‘ Look at you,’ Kitty said, giving him a hug hello. ‘ You must be beat. Have you been up since three?’

‘ Yeah,’ he said good-naturedly, and then hugged his grandma as well.

I was hoping I might get in on that hugging, but he gave a nod to Brie and me. ‘ Girls. How’ s it going?’

‘ Never better,’ I said as we all walked the few steps to the hotel’ s casino area.

Brie rubbed her palms together. ‘ I want to find me a drink and then a craps table-in that order. Should the craps table have a fine gentleman or two at it, all the better.’

‘ I’ m with you on the drink,’ Troy said. ‘ You’ re on your own on the men.’ He nodded toward a bar. ‘ What’ s everybody having?’

He took our orders and left to get our drinks. Kitty said, ‘ Anyone up for blackjack?’

‘ Too much sitting around for me,’ Brie replied. ‘ Craps you get to scream a lot and jump up and down.’

As if on cue, a cheer went up from one of the craps tables. It was a group of guys, most in cowboy hats, whooping it up. Even though the table was already mobbed, Brie said, ‘ That’ s my table. Bring me my piña colada when Troy gets back, will you?’

Kitty, Gran, and I stood for a while, watching the scene. ‘ You gamble?’ Kitty asked me.

‘ A bit. Roulette’ s my game. I plan to win big tonight.’

‘ You sound confident. You must be feeling lucky,’ Gran said.

And there it was again: the elephant. Yes, I planned to win money& to donate to charity. Another item from the list. The list I was busy pretending didn’ t exist, even though it was the sole reason we were here.

After Troy returned with the drinks, Kitty and Gran went to find nickel slots. I figured those weren’ t exactly going to win me the big bucks, so I was glad when Troy turned to me and said, ‘ You up for hitting the tables?’

‘ Love to.’

It was prime time in the casino. We could find only one seat open at any of the roulette tables, and that was at a twenty-five-dollar minimum bet table. Although I’ m usually more of a five-dollar-bet kind of gal, I grabbed the one available stool. ‘ You have to bet big to win big,’ I said with bravado.

Troy rifled through his wallet and held out a hundred-dollar bill. ‘ Here, you bet for me.’

I waved it away. I have a few basic rules for Vegas that I live by, which are as follows: Dress slutty, accept any free drink that comes your way, and always, always bet your own cash.

‘ Watch& ,’ I boasted, turning to the table and setting down five twenty-dollar bills, ‘ and learn.’

Also at the table were an elderly couple, a drunk guy who at first glance I thought was asleep, and four girls who were clearly at a bachelorette party since one of them wore a bridal veil.

The dealer-an Asian man whose name tag said José-gave me twenty-five green chips. ‘ To match your eyes,’ he said, smiling.

Troy leaned close. ‘ I never noticed that you had fluorescent green eyes.’

‘ I was hoping he’ d give me purple,’ I whispered, ‘ to go with my skin.’

Five spins of the roulette wheel later, I was broke.

‘ Hard to believe you didn’ t even get a corner of a number,’ Troy remarked, quite unnecessarily. The drunk guy had a wall of chips in front of him. My only consolation was that the bridal party hadn’ t fared much better than I had.

I set down another hundred dollars and said to José, ‘ Hit me again.’

This time I got an edge of number 27, which gave me a six-to-one payout. That was enough to keep me alive for another five minutes before I busted again.

‘ There’ s no love at this table,’ I said with a frown, getting up. ‘ Maybe the slot machines will be luckier.’ I scanned the casino, which was really bustling now with gamblers and crowds of people passing through to head to dinner or shows.

‘ Quarter or dollar machines?’ Troy asked.

‘ Quarters. You witnessed both the beginning and the end of my high-roller days.’

‘ If you’ re not feeling up to it, we don’ t have to gamble.’

‘ Yes, we do,’ I said grimly. ‘ I intend to win a big pot of cash so I can donate it to charity. Cross one off the list.’

‘ Ah, I remember that one. Well, I’ ll pitch in anything I win tonight-and no matter how late it gets, we won’ t give up until we’ re flush.’ We walked up to two unattended machines sitting side by side. ‘ How about these?’ he asked.

‘ They’ re great& especially since I’ ll get to sit directly under that sign that says, ‘ Loose Slots.’ What woman wouldn’ t love that?’

‘ Oh, how you tease.’

Lord knows I would have liked to, if I hadn’ t been so worried about everything going right.

‘ So, Troy,’ I said, aiming for nonchalance as I perched on the edge of the stool and fed a twenty into the machine, ‘ how’ s your mom doing, anyway? She certainly seems okay, but I don’ t know her so I can’ t tell.’

‘ She’ s doing fine.’

‘ Should I give her a copy of the list? Or talk about it more? I mean, I haven’ t been-’

‘ June, don’ t worry. It’ s going perfectly. She and Gran are touched that you’ re doing this.’

‘ Because I could make a photocopy of it. I’ m sure the hotel has a copier.’

He grabbed the scruff of my neck in a massage. Warmth shot through me. ‘ I swear you can relax.’

As if with his hand on me like that!

A waitress came up then to take our drinks order. Troy ordered a beer. Sensing a long night ahead, I asked for a coffee with whipped cream. ‘ Lots of whipped cream,’ I said.

‘ Do you want a parasol with that?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘ Ooh, yes! Please!’

After she left, I hoped that Troy would resume massaging my neck, but instead he said, ‘ So how’ s work? Avert any crises lately?’

‘ Yes, as a matter of fact. I have a big presentation with the boss next week. If I do well, I could get promoted to management,’ I said. ‘ That’ s why I was so happy on the phone the other day when you helped me come up with an idea.’

‘ A promotion? I must’ ve missed something. Last time we spoke, you were about to get fired.’

I pulled the handle on the slot machine and won twelve quarters. ‘ That’ s the sort of roller coaster my life’ s been on.’

‘ No kidding. So what’ s this big idea?’

I suddenly became self-conscious as I was about to say it out loud. What if it was stupid? Better to find out now than with Lou Bigwood, I supposed, but I didn’ t want to appear foolish in front of Troy, either. Hesitantly I said, ‘ A street race. Well, a highway race, to be accurate. What I’ d do is set up two cars to race in rush-hour traffic. One would be a guy driving alone, and the other would be carpoolers.’

‘ I’ m not sure I follow. It wouldn’ t be much of a race at rush hour. What would they be able to do-twenty miles per hour?’

‘ That’ s the point. The guy driving by himself would have to deal with traffic. The carpoolers could use the carpool lane. They’ re almost guaranteed to win. It’ ll be a live demonstration of how the carpool lanes are faster.’

‘ I came up with that idea? I am a genius.’

‘ Do you really think it’ s good?’

‘ You’ ll have media all over that. Believe me, you’ ve got nothing to worry about. That manager position is yours.’

‘ Well, I have to be realistic. You’ re into racing. I’ m not so sure our CEO is. He may not get it.’

‘ If he’ s a man, he’ ll get it. We can’ t help ourselves-we have some sort of imperative to drive vehicles fast. Drink beer. Wage wars. But if you’ re concerned, how about I come to your presentation and help you out? We could give your boss a live demonstration.’

‘ Are you serious?’

‘ Sure, why not? I’ ll drive my car in a regular lane, and you and your boss can take the carpool lane. I’ ll even wear racing gear so it’ s obvious you’ re not going up against a little old lady. I’ ll look pro.’

This felt too good to be true. I waited for the other shoe to drop. ‘ It’ s next Friday at three o’ clock,’ I said cautiously, expecting him to tell me it wouldn’ t work.

‘ I’ ll be there. Count on it.’

Giddy, I gave the slot machine’ s arm another pull. I’ ll be there. Count on it. Aside from, ‘ No, no, I insist, you take the last piece of chocolate,’ are there any words that tug more at a woman’ s heart?

I was pondering this happy thought when Kitty and Gran walked up.

‘ There you two are!’ Gran said. ‘ We’ ve been over at the nickel slots. I’ m up fifteen big ones. You should’ ve seen it.’

‘ Way to go, Gran,’ Troy said. ‘ Although you might want to donate that to the fund we’ re starting. June is trying to win money for charity. In fact,’ he said, easy as pie, ‘ it’ s one of the items for the list. Marissa wanted to make a big donation.’

I glowered at Troy-did no one explain to him that mentioning the elephant was forbidden?

‘ Oh, how wonderful!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘ Ma, we’ ll have to pitch in our winnings!’

Considering her outrage over the eight-dollar sandwich, I expected Gran to balk, but she said, ‘ Shoot, I’ d have played the quarters if I’ d known.’

Kitty turned to me. ‘ What charity?’

‘ She didn’ t specify. A lot of groups collect out here in the streets. Was there one Marissa was particularly fond of?’

‘ Drinks!’

The waitress returned and hefted Troy’ s beer and my coffee with whipped cream and-yes!-a parasol.

As I grabbed my drink and tossed tip money on the waitress’ s tray, I heard Kitty squeak, ‘ A parasol.’

‘ Hmmph?’

Kitty suddenly had that grayish, washed-out look I remembered from the funeral. ‘ A parasol,’ she mumbled. ‘ Marissa& she always loved parasols in her drinks. Even as a little girl, if we were at a restaurant, she’ d insist they put one in her milk. Who gets a parasol in her coffee? I’ d expect it in a fancy drink, you know& but coffee?’

Tears slid down her face, which seemed to have crumpled and turned into a wadded tissue before me.

Troy jumped to his feet and put his arm around her. ‘ It’ s okay, Mom. Everything is okay.’

‘ I’ m sorry,’ I sputtered. ‘ I didn’ t& I mean, that is, I-’

Troy pulled Kitty aside to comfort her while I stood there, dumb and confused.

Gran clucked. ‘ Here we go again.’

‘ I feel terrible,’ I moaned. ‘ I shouldn’ t have& ‘ What? Ordered a drink with a tiny umbrella? How could I have possibly known?

‘ Don’ t you fret,’ she assured me. ‘ You’ re doing the best you can. We know that. It’ s just, the little things sneak up on you. Kitty can brace herself for a weekend where we’ re going to see Wayne Newton to help complete a list& and by the way, I’ m quite excited about that. I’ m his biggest fan. But sometimes you get blindsided. She didn’ t see the parasol coming. No one could have.’

Gran went over to take Kitty’ s elbow and lead her away. Troy came over to me. ‘ My mom could stand to call it a night.’

‘ Of course.’

‘ See you tomorrow?’

‘ Sure.’

A lesser woman might have noted that surely Gran could have handled Kitty-that if they took Troy, too, I’ d be alone.

All alone.

In Vegas, surrounded by clanging machines and groups of people drinking and cheering.

Yes, a lesser woman might have felt sorry for losing a wild night of gambling and flirting-and a promise from Troy that he’ d stay and help win the pot of money.

She might have even mildly resented the sight of three bodies retreating toward the elevators while she stood there alone, cashing out the money left in her slot machine.

Two quarters made a tinny chink, chink noise as they hit the tray.

The stress of the day caught up with me then, pulling on my body. Sleep. I needed sleep. There was no reason I couldn’ t put off gambling until the morning.

But before I went back to my room, I wandered by the poker area. I needed to connect with someone. Anyone. I was starting to realize how hard this weekend was going to be, and I didn’ t want to face it by myself. And there was Martucci, still sitting at the five-card-stud table. I’ d never been so happy to see him.

‘ Martucci!’

He grunted a greeting toward me, not taking his eyes off his cards.

I stood behind him. ‘ Have you been here all night? How’ s the game going? Are you winning? Is that a good hand you have there?’

One of the other players tittered.

Martucci took a twenty-five-dollar chip from a pile in front of him and handed it to me.

‘ What’ s this?’ I asked.

‘ Go play something.’

‘ Wha-?’

He frowned at me. ‘ Parker, I’ ve got a game going here.’

‘ Fine.’

I stomped away, and upon not seeing Brie ( please, let there not be a sock on the door when I get upstairs), I gave up. It was time to close my eyes and put an end to this day. Cut my losses.

On my way to find the elevators, I passed the roulette table where I’ d lost my money earlier. There was a new dealer, and the bachelorette party was long gone. The only person at the table was the drunk guy, whose wall of chips had dwindled to an anthill.

What the heck. The dealer spun the wheel, and before the ball settled, I set down Martucci’ s chip. Number 11. Marissa’ s birthday. As the ball clattered to find a spot and the dealer waved his hand to indicate no more bets, I remembered, Shit! Her birthday was the twelfth! I’ ve bet the wrong number!

‘ Lucky number eleven!’ the dealer announced.

I’ d won.

Nobody was there to cheer. The drunk guy didn’ t even notice. I’ d never won that kind of money before, yet strangely, I felt nothing. I’ d gotten more excited the time I won a carpool mug in the company raffle.

The dealer slid me 875 dollars in chips without comment.

I’ d been to Vegas often enough to know it wouldn’ t be hard to spend my winnings. I stepped outside the casino, where crowds still bustled even at this late hour. The warm night air cuddled me like a blanket. I’ d barely cleared the casino entrance when I saw a nun in full habit holding a collection can that read, ‘ Fund for Abused Children.’

‘ You a real nun?’ I asked her. There were plenty of scams around here, but then again, there were plenty of genuine charitable organizations glad to take advantage of people who’ d lost all sense of the value of a dollar.

‘ Yes. I’ m with the St. Thomas parish here in town.’

A cop stood a few feet away, which seemed a good sign. Besides, the sooner I unloaded this cash to charity, the sooner I could cross the task off my list and be done with this day. That seemed as good a reason as any to trust her.

I held up my chips. ‘ You take these?’

‘ Absolutely.’

I slid the chips one by one into the collection can.

‘ God blesses you, my child.’

‘ Great. I’ ll take any help I can get.’

Chapter 20

W ith sleeping in and then taking our sweet time having breakfast the next morning, it was one o’ clock before we hit the pool.

‘ Goodness, it’ s a zoo!’ Kitty exclaimed, assessing the scene. To my relief, she was back to her old self-or at least the self who was trying to buck up as best she could.

Calypso music floated through air so thickly hot that you could almost see the waves of sound. We wove through a sea of bodies to a group of lounge chairs next to the pool. Brie had reserved them before she’ d stumbled in our room at eight a.m., waking me long enough to tell me that I’ d missed quite the party at the Hard Rock.

After a general jockeying for chairs, I wound up between Martucci and Kitty. Troy was on the other side of his mom, with Brie at the very end of our row. Gran had opted to take a nap in the hotel room rather than lie outside getting sunspots and risking heart failure in the heat-a choice we heartily supported.

Brie immediately collapsed facedown. ‘ Wake me in an hour. I’ ll need to turn over.’

I stripped to my swimsuit and was bending over to rifle through my bag for my book when Martucci gave me a hard slap on the butt.

‘ Hey!’ I protested.

‘ This, people, is the result of expert coaching!’ he boasted loudly. ‘ This body is entirely my creation.’

Before I could clock Martucci one, Kitty remarked, ‘ God may have had a little to do with it.’

‘ Well then, praise the Lord,’ Troy said.

His mother swatted the back of his head. ‘ Show some respect, young man.’

‘ I thought I was!’ He laughed.

With that, I started to wonder if I’ d somehow conjured my own form of hell: a place where a smart, cute, funny guy kept flirting with me but nothing could come of it, especially with his mother literally between us.

Plus, as part of this hell, Martucci was asking me to rub sunscreen on his back.

‘ Normally I say sunscreen is for pansies,’ Martucci explained, holding out the bottle, ‘ but I don’ t trust this desert sun. It does wicked things to the skin.’

He turned so his back was to me. Across the width of his shoulders was a tattoo of an eagle, which seemed to flap its wings as he flexed to lie down. Didn’ t it figure? Mere feet away was a back I’ d enjoy giving a good rubdown, and here I was, smearing lotion on Martucci, trying not to wince when I had to lift the rattail out of the way.

‘ There, done,’ I proclaimed moments later, even though he was still white with the lotion I’ d barely grazed over him. I grabbed my book-a trashy paperback I’ d bought at the hotel gift shop-and settled into my chair.

‘ Aren’ t you going to put on sunscreen?’ Troy asked.

‘ Yeah,’ Martucci piped up, ‘ I was looking forward to watching you rub it all over yourself.’

Ugh! ‘ Martucci, you are such a pig. And I already put some on in the room. You’ re supposed to apply sunscreen half an hour before sun exposure. Therefore, you are currently frying, whilst I, in my wisdom, am only allowing enough rays through to give me a golden hue.’ Then I buried my nose in my book, signaling the end of conversation.

Martucci passed out almost as fast as Brie had. I attempted to read but was distracted by Troy shifting from his front side to his back, adjusting the lounge chair, sighing, coughing, and then flipping back over to his stomach. Finally he sat up and said, ‘ How long are we going to lie here?’

‘ It’ s been fifteen minutes,’ I said.

‘ It’ s so hot. I thought it’ d been a couple hours.’

‘ It’ s not the heat,’ Kitty said to me, glancing up from her magazine. ‘ He’ s always this way. The boy can’ t sit still.’

‘ Yes, I can,’ he said, and then he stood. ‘ Think I’ ll swim a few laps.’

‘ See?’ Kitty said smugly.

I peeked over the top of my book as he walked to the end of the pool and dove in neatly. Then he attempted to swim laps, which was probably like trying to jog through a minefield with so many kids playing and people floating around on air mattresses.

‘ It’ s so good to see him swim,’ Kitty said. ‘ We wondered if he’ d ever be able to. He told you about his motorcycle crash, didn’ t he?’

I set down my book. ‘ Called it a spill.’

‘ Heh. Spill. That scar’ s just a small reminder of what he went through. He didn’ t walk for a year, and then he had a terrible limp for several more. Did he mention that?’

I shook my head.

‘ He put me through the paces, I’ ll tell you that. I wondered if either one of us was going to survive his teenage years.’

‘ Yeah, he said that he always thought-’ And then I stopped.

My unsaid words hung in the air, and I hoped Kitty wouldn’ t catch on, but she said, ‘ That he’ d go before Marissa.’

‘ I’ m sorry. I didn’ t mean to bring her up. Here you are trying to relax and have a good time.’

‘ Don’ t worry. I’ m glad to talk about Marissa. It’ s funny how people are afraid to mention her name-as if by saying it, they’ ll remind me that she’ s gone. As if I don’ t already know that every second of every day.’

‘ That’ s got to be tough.’

‘ Some days are better than others.’ She gave me a reassuring smile. ‘ This day is a good one.’

I took a moment to let her words sink in. ‘ Do you mind,’ I ventured, choosing my words as carefully as I could, ‘ if I asked what Marissa was like? All I know about her is what she wrote on the list. And a few things from yearbooks Troy let me borrow. I’ d love to know more about her.’

‘ Oh, I’ d love to tell you. She was such a cheerful girl, you know. Never let things get her down. Funny. Bright. And she always had a hobby going-I remember for a while there she was into sewing. She made all of the draperies in our house. Then it was model airplane building of all things. And that girl loved children. She always said she was going to adopt a houseful of kids when she grew up-you know, poor kids who had nowhere else to go. I guess she had a thing for the underdog. Perhaps it was those years of being overweight that made her more sensitive to others. Mostly, though, I’ d have to say she was a sweetie. I suppose every mother says that about her daughter, but with Marissa it was true. She was always thinking about other people. Wanting to make a difference in their lives.’

Well, that last part sounded familiar.

‘ Were you aware that one of the things Marissa wrote on her list was to change someone’ s life?’

Kitty seemed pleased. ‘ Troy didn’ t tell me that one, although it sounds like her. He mentioned that there was one about riding in a helicopter& and getting a massage& and, of course, losing the weight. A few others. I understand that there are twenty things& ?’

I nodded. ‘ I don’ t have the list with me here, but it’ s right up in the room. I could run up and get it if you want to see it.’

‘ That’ s okay. Truthfully, before I see it, I’ d rather the whole thing be finished.’

‘ From your mouth to God’ s ears,’ I said, holding up crossed fingers.

‘ What do you mean-is it difficult?’

‘ Nah. Although it’ s not an easy list, that’ s for sure. Some of the tasks are definitely challenging.’

‘ Like having to take her crazy family to Las Vegas?’ Kitty said, her voice teasing.

‘ Not at all! This has been wonderful. And to be honest, I needed it.’

‘ Oh? How so?’

‘ Well, I guess I’ d let myself get totally caught up in getting everything completed on time. So much of my focus has been on hurrying to check things off. I want so desperately to succeed. But being here with you gives me a new perspective. It reminds me of why I’ m doing the list in the first place.’

She shifted to face me. ‘ Why are you doing it?’

Ah, the million-dollar question.

I decided to be honest, since we were having this heart-to-heart. ‘ I suppose it started out mostly as guilt. I felt so awful about everything.’

‘ The accident wasn’ t your fault, June.’

I shrugged. How could I say it? It wasn’ t about regretting how I’ d veered out of the way and rolled the car. Or that I’ d asked for that damn recipe, making her unbuckle her seat belt. Or, for that matter, how I’ d offered Marissa a ride in the first place. Granted, I’ d spent plenty of time lamenting those things, but the idea of fault wasn’ t what propelled me forward. It was more the fact that two people were involved in an accident, and I couldn’ t help but suspect that the wrong one walked away. ‘ I want to make it better. That’ s all. I know what I’ m doing isn’ t much, and it doesn’ t change anything. But-’

‘ It’ s a lot. I can’ t tell you how grateful we are that you’ re doing this. All of us. Troy can’ t stop talking about how impressed he is you’ ve taken this upon yourself.’

‘ Oh, good.’

‘ Not to put any pressure on you, but once we found out that Marissa was making such a big deal out of her twenty-fifth birthday, we decided to throw her a little party. We’ re having it at that Oasis bar that she was so fond of. Nothing fancy. We’ d love it if you could come. Invite anyone you’ d like. And, of course, bring the list.’

‘ I’ d be honored. And it should be finished by then. Will be finished. That’ s the deadline.’

‘ So I’ m told.’ She paused. ‘ You know, I didn’ t even know she’ d made a list. Usually she was so open about that sort of thing.’

Not liking the hurt look that crossed Kitty’ s face, I said hurriedly, ‘ Maybe she was embarrassed by the things on it. There was one about going braless. No offense, but it’ s not exactly the type of thing you want your family to know about. And another one about wearing sexy shoes.’

‘ That explains it!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘ For the life of us, we couldn’ t figure out why she’ d been wearing those silver shoes. They were so not her style. Then again,’ she added, sighing, ‘ who’ s to say? She’ d lost all that weight. There were probably a lot of things she was ready to try.’

My stomach twisted, but there was nothing accusatory in Kitty’ s voice as she continued, ‘ Okay, June, I know I said I didn’ t want to see the list, but tell me: Was there anything on it about finding love?’

I mentally reviewed the list. ‘ Not really. Although one of the items was to go on a blind date.’

‘ Really. Did you do that one?’

‘ Yeah. The guy turned out to be gay.’

‘ How funny! Oh, it makes me wonder how it would have been if Marissa had had a chance to do the list herself. Would she have met someone special on that date? The love of her life, even?’

‘ Oh, Kitty& ‘

She waved away my concern. ‘ It’ s a nice thought. It doesn’ t make me happy exactly, but I feel as if she’ s here with us.’