Must Love Sandwiches (5 page)

“We went to the flea market last weekend and he bought me a necklace with a pink rhinestone heart. Wasn’t that romantic?”

Romantic? The jewelry was probably so cheap the fake gold finish would wear off within days. A sparkly trinket had won her mother’s heart over this time. “Yes. It sounds great. Look, I really need to go. Can we talk some other time?”

“Sure.” A hiss, or maybe a sigh, crackled from the phone. “Have a good day.”

“Goodbye.” There was nothing good about talking with her mother, even for a few minutes. The day could only get better after plummeting to the low point of the phone conversation.

- Part 2 -

Emma’s eyes watered, but she couldn’t wipe the tears away. Unless she wanted a do-it-yourself facial peel. Her hands were covered in industrial strength disinfecting cleanser. The fumes were breathtakingly awful. The exhaust fan hummed like a jet engine, but it didn’t help dissipate the harsh odor. She stripped off the disposable latex gloves and tossed them in the trash can. The bathroom was the worst area to clean in the small apartment. Mopping around the toilet and scrubbing the bathtub tiles in the cramped space was a feat that required the flexibility of a contortionist. The vanity was cluttered with bowls and jars filled with essential toiletries like cotton balls, lip gloss tubes and bath salts. She arranged the containers in a cluster to free up some space on the small counter top. The menial tasks were only partially keeping her from freaking out about her encounter with Brad. Cleaning like a maniac was her usual method of hashing out dilemmas, but it wasn’t working.

A coughing fit propelled her out of the tiny bathroom. She turned into a flustered teenager with a massive crush whenever she was around Brad, giggling and blushing uncontrollably. One of his lopsided grins spun her out of control and into trouble. The open-ended offer to go out with him was torture. A juicy steak teasing the hungry lioness. After eradicating every speck of dirt in the bathroom, she needed a break from the fumes.

She rubbed her neck as she walked across the living room area of the studio apartment. Her work bench was a tangled mess. The scarred drafting table was littered with shiny beads, bits of chain, half a dozen pairs of pliers and a pile of necklace prototypes. She was developing a jewelry and hair accessory line to go with her other fairy-inspired artwork. The doors and miniature garden accessories attracted quite a bit of attention in the gallery, but jewelry would appeal to many more customers.

She gathered loose beads and deposited them back into their tiny plastic containers and small ceramic bowls. The high-pitched trill of her cell phone punctured the silence. She looked around the room, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. The phone was on the end table. She rushed to answer it before the call went to voice mail. It was Daisy, asking if she wanted to watch a movie with her in the main lounge. The work bench could wait. “Sure. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Don’t start the movie before I get there.”

Emma slipped on a sweater to cover her grubby t-shirt and hurried downstairs. Daisy had claimed space on the most comfortable couch in the television area. She sprawled across all of the cushions like a cat claiming the prime napping area. She sat up and smiled at Emma. “Saved you a spot.”

“What are we watching?” Emma settled onto the couch. The fluffy cushions molded around her. Often she’d stop into the lounge and find people taking a nap on the coveted piece of furniture.

“I’m not sure. Heather picked it out. She said it was some kind of mushy romance.” Daisy grabbed a huge, plastic bowl full of popcorn off the TV tray sitting at the end of the couch. Her nose wrinkled. “You smell like bleach. I bet you’ve been scrubbing the grout in your bathroom with a toothbrush again. You should’ve agreed to go out with Brad and saved yourself all of the work. Your studio is spotless most of the time anyway. Although, if you’re still stressed out tomorrow, you’re welcome to come clean my place.”

On the television a woman was waking up, alone in a king-sized bed. Out of the corner of her eye Emma saw a couple walking toward the area of the lounge known as the Love Nest. Amorous couples often cuddled or made out among the mountain of floor pillows and blankets. Max flopped onto one of the pillows and gestured for a curvy, platinum blonde-haired woman to sit next to him. “Who the hell is that with Max?” she asked. Snuggling up with a Marilyn Monroe look-alike was not concentrating on his artwork, unless he had decided to write an erotic romance and was doing research. Heat radiated from Emma’s cheeks. Could a person explode from anger?

“I think that’s the new performance artist who moved in on the fourth floor. Heard she goes to galleries, gets naked and paints herself with melted chocolate. I bet there are all kinds men who get chocolate cravings after they see that.” Daisy snickered. “I can just hear it. ‘Hey, baby. I’d be happy to help you clean up…using my tongue.’”

Max’s grope fest had already reached “get a room” status, warranting jeers and cheers from other people gathered in the lounge. Emma shifted her position so she was facing Daisy and couldn’t see the horny couple. “Unbelievable.”

Daisy leaned sideways to peer around her. “Sorry. Didn’t hear what you said. I’m too busy watching the live porno demonstration. Damn! That woman is flexible.”

“Daisy, stop it! I don’t really care what she does or who she is. What I really want to know is what is Max doing with her?”

“Um, duh, that’s pretty obvious.”

Emma plucked a fluffy popcorn kernel out of Daisy’s bowl and flattened it between her thumb and index finger. “I don’t care that he obviously has a new girlfriend. What pisses me off is that he broke up with me so he could supposedly spend more time working on his art.”

“I think he’s experimenting with a new art form.” Daisy wagged her eyebrows. “I bet she recruited him to help with her performances.”

“Sorry I pulled you away from cleaning grout to watch the Max and Marilyn freak show. I had no idea he was screwing around with her.” Daisy inhaled. Nothing smelled better than fresh donuts. Would half a dozen be too much to eat after midnight? She broke off a chunk of the cinnamon sugar dusted piece of heaven sitting on her plate. It was still warm from its bath in sizzling, hot oil.

Emma took a bite of her own donut. She licked a smear of chocolate icing off her top lip. “It was a good reminder of why I need stay away from men right now. Concentrating on artwork, even when I accidentally glue my fingers together, is better than dealing with a lying, cheating pervert.”

“Good point, but all men aren’t creepy psychopaths like Max.” There was something wrong about a person obsessed with drawing decaying body parts. Max was probably a card-carrying member of The Future Serial Killers Club of America. “Some guys are really nice and have beautiful sisters, too.”

“What? Beautiful sisters?” Emma asked. “I think the donut fumes are affecting your brain, because I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why did we come here instead of going back to one of our studios anyway?”

“I thought we could talk during the movie, but Max ruined that. Then I figured you’d make me scrub your toilet or something if we went back to your place. My studio is a pig sty, so considering the mood you’re in you’d be so distracted by the mess you wouldn’t listen. That’s why we’re here.”

Emma glanced at the clock on the wall over the kitchen pass-through window. “So here we are at a donut shop at almost one o’clock in the morning. I know you’ve been working a lot, so you must be as tired as I am. What’s going on?”

The waitress was making her rounds. She stood at the side of the table, a carafe of paint stripper strength coffee in her hand. She refilled both of their mugs without saying a word. Daisy poured sugar into the inky liquid as she said, “I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t tell you about what happened today, while you were working in the gallery.”

“Does it have to do with beautiful sisters or were you just trying to confuse me for sport?” Emma took a sip of her black coffee and grimaced. “Definitely needs sugar.”

Daisy slid the sugar dispenser across the sticky, formica table. Why was she obsessed with confessing to her stupid misconception? Emma would’ve known better than to jump to such a crazy conclusion. She also would have had the confidence to strike up a conversation with the mysterious woman to find out who she was, instead of stepping aside to invent insane scenarios. “When I went to Vegan Valhalla for lunch a woman I have never seen working there was taking the orders. She looked like a super model. Stick thin and pretty with blinding white teeth and perfect cheek bones. Marshall was preparing the orders and he didn’t even notice me. Since they were busy I had to wait. I just stood there and watched Marsh joke around with her.”

“Oh no.”

The tightness in her chest came back. She took a deep breath, letting her lungs fill completely, trying to loosen the muscles that were apparently trying to kill her for being such an idiot. “The woman called my name to pick up my order and Marshall finally realized I was there. I wanted to rip the smile right off his face. The way they were joking around…he obviously knew her very well.”

“And you figured she was his girlfriend.” Emma waived a powdered sugar donut around as she spoke. “Instead, she’s his sister.”

“You got it. I felt like an idiot after he introduced her to me. Would you have thought the same thing?”

She shrugged. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I try not to jump to conclusions.”

Daisy picked up the bill and threw some tip money on the table. “Really? You think you’re destined to turn out like your mother just because you’ve had a string of bad luck with men lately. That isn’t a jump. It’s a crazy, dangerous leap across a snake-infested canyon to a conclusion.”

Emma rested her forehead on the cool toilet seat and shut her eyes. There was still a faint bleach odor clinging to the porcelain from her cleaning binge. At least all of the time spent with the scrub brush and cleanser wasn’t wasted. Puking into a dirty toilet would have made the morning epically terrible. She flushed the toilet and slowly stood up. She grabbed the towel bar, clinging to it until her body acclimated to the change in altitude. The doorway glowed from the sunlight flooding into the main room. She shielded her eyes with her hand and shuffled out of the bathroom. Each step closer to the window increased the pain. She yanked on the shade pull. The roller blind shuddered down, sealing out the unbearable sunshine. She stumbled back across the room, climbed back into bed and curled into the fetal position.

A series of quick-fire knocks on the door made her groan. Each thump was a bullet ripping through her brain. A key scraped into the lock and the door clicked open. Emma pulled the blanket over her head as Daisy’s ever-present chunky boots clumped across the room.

“I have good news for you, Em. Somebody asked about you again today. You are being missed.”

The bed seemed to be spinning and wobbling like an out of control magic carpet. Vertigo. Great. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter as the shade rumbled open again. “Don’t open that! I need it to be dark in here.”

“When did you turn into a vampire? Fresh air and sunshine will do you good.”

A gust of air ruffled her hair that was peeking out from the blanket sanctuary. Daisy must have opened the window, too. Her stomach lurched as her fun-loving friend bounced on the end of the mattress. The heat and humidity accumulating under the blanket was nearing unbearable levels. Soon she’d have to expose herself to the light just to get a breath of fresh air. “Shut the window and pull the shade back down. Please. I told you when you called this morning that I have a migraine. I can’t stand bright light.”

The mattress shifted again as Daisy sighed loudly and then said, “Fine. Pretend you’re a cave dweller, but I’m telling you, you’ll feel better if you get up. Take a few aspirin and walk to the park. That always works for me when I have a hangover. After watching Max last night I don’t blame you for getting bombed.”

“I don’t have a hangover. You were with me until almost 2 a.m. When would I have gotten drunk? I. Have. A. Migraine. Obviously you’ve never had one or you’d realize I’m about ready to kill you.” Emma flung the stifling blanket off. She winced and dug her fists into her eye sockets to drown out the light. “I love you, Daisy, but leave me alone right now. I’ll come and find you when I feel better.”

“You could’ve gotten wasted after I left. I certainly don’t blame you for doing it. I’ve had some nasty whiskey hangovers and I’m telling you . . . ”

“Not the same thing.”

“A headache is a headache in my book. I can get you some beer or maybe a glass of wine. Didn’t I see another bottle of that sweet moscato stuff you like in your cupboard? Hair of the dog. It does the body good.”

“Daisy! Stop it. Please, please, please go away.” Emma grabbed a spare pillow and squished it around her head. Suffocating would be better than the torture Daisy was doling out.

“Okay, I give up.” Daisy stomped away from the bed. She sounded like a pissed off two-year old having a tantrum. At least she was leaving. “I guess you don’t want to know what Brad said.”

Emma’s heart beat faster. The shock waves made her stomach gurgle. “Nope. I don’t care right now. Goodbye, Daisy.”

She sighed when the door clicked shut, but the relief was short-lived. Footsteps crossed the room again. “Daisy! Go away!”