Sizzling (5 page)

CHAPTER
FOUR

LORI STARED at the ringing phone. "Are you going to get
that?" she asked.
Gloria continued to flip through the
DVD magazine. "There's no one I want to talk to."
"Then
I guess I'll talk to them." Lori grabbed the phone.
"Hello?"
"This is Cal Buchanan. You're,
ah…"
"Lori Johnston. We spoke when you called
before. Hi. How are you?"
"Good. I'm phoning to
check on my grandmother. I thought I might come by later and
visit."
"That's great." Lori covered the phone
and smiled at Gloria. "It's Cal. He wants to see you."
Gloria
didn't bother looking up. "No. Tell him to go away."
Lori
uncovered the phone. "She's thrilled and can't wait to see
you."
Cal chuckled. "Want to let me hear her say
that?"
"Not really. She doesn't always say what she
means. You have to read between the lines."
Gloria glared
at Lori. "Hang up this instant. You will not answer my phone
again, nor will you speak for me."
Lori took a step back
so she was out of reach. "Your grandmother is doing great. She's
making progress every day. Even her physical therapist is impressed
and he's one tough guy to please. She's gained a little weight. Not
as much as I would like, but then I'm just bitter at how good she
must look in her clothes."
Gloria's scowl didn't soften.
"You're annoying me. Hang up. Or tell Cal he can visit, but just
him. Not that whore he married or her horrible baby."
Lori
winced. She hadn't had the phone covered and based on how Cal swore,
he'd heard every word.
"Why do I bother?" he asked
before he hung up.
Lori put down the phone. "What is
wrong with you?" she demanded. "Why would you do that? He's
your grandson. This is the second time he's called, wanting to come
see you. To me that shows an impressive level of commitment. If he
was just being polite, he would have stopped after one
call."
Instead of answering, Gloria turned her attention
back to the catalog.
Lori snatched it from her and tossed it
on the ground. "I'm talking to you."
"I have no
interest in this conversation. You need to be careful. You're coming
very close to overstepping your bounds."
"Excuse me
while I tremble in fear." Lori stalked to the bookcases and
turned back to face the bed. "What's wrong with you?" she
asked again. "Why are you acting like this? It doesn't make any
sense. I know you're lonely. I know you're hurting and feeling a
sense of your own mortality. Who wouldn't after what you've been
through? So you deal with that by connecting with people. But
you
don't connect. We're talking about your family and you keep pushing
them away. Why?"
"I will not discuss this with
you."
"Too bad, because I'm not leaving until I
understand."
Gloria folded her arms across her chest and
looked out the window. Lori stared at her.
"I thought you
had the most selfish grandkids in the world," she said slowly.
"You'd lost your only child, you took them in, raised them, ran
the family business and your reward was for them to ignore you. But
it's not like that, is it? You push them away. What are you trying to
prove?"
"Stay out of this," Gloria told her,
her face tight with anger. "This isn't your business. You will
stop right now."
"Who's gonna make me? You? You
think you're so tough, but I'm not afraid of you."
One
corner of Gloria's mouth twitched. "Very mature."
Lori
held in a grin. Oh, my. Was that a crack in the armor? A sign of
humanity? It couldn't be.
"I don't care about mature,"
Lori told her. "I do what works. What's going on with Cal? Why
don't you want to see him?"
Gloria turned to the window
again, but this time the action seemed more about pain than defiance.
"He's never respected me."
"I doubt
that."
"You don't know. And that woman he married.
She was pregnant with another man's baby. That child he's raising
isn't his."
And people thought home care could be boring.
"Did she cheat on him?"
"No. She was pregnant
before they got together."
"So technically she
didn't do anything wrong."
"That's not the
point."
"Actually it
is
the point. Is Cal
happy?"
"Any fool can be happy."
"I'll
take that as a yes." She leaned against the side of the bed.
"You might want to be careful about pushing people away too many
times. Eventually they stop trying to get close."
"You
must know this from experience," Gloria said, turning to look at
her.
Lori blinked. "Excuse me? I have no idea what you're
talking about."
"Of course you do. But it's not so
comfortable to have someone analyzing you, is it?" Gloria looked
her up and down. "How long have you done your best to ignore
your appearance? One might even say you play down your looks."
Lori
did her best not to react, and that included blushing. "I wear
scrubs because it's appropriate for my job."
"They're
shapeless and ugly. Your hair isn't horrible, but you pull it back in
that ridiculous braid. No makeup, those glasses."
"They
help me see," Lori said. "Blind nurses are much harder to
employ."
"You use humor as a weapon. I would say I'm
not the only one pushing people away. So what's your excuse? When did
you stop trying?"
A long, long time ago, Lori thought
grimly. When she'd realized her older sister was totally perfect and
that she, Lori, would never measure up.
"So, now you
don't have quite so much to say," Gloria said calmly.
"I
prefer telling other people what's wrong with them, but I can handle
whatever you say. I wear my hair back because it's practical. I dress
like this because it's appropriate. I don't wear makeup because I
have limited time in the morning and I'd rather spend it on a run
than painting my face."
"Excellent excuses. Have you
used them before or did you come up with them all right now?"
Lori
stared at her patient. The good news was Gloria was showing a
healthy, if slightly twisted interest in life. The bad news was she'd
shot a few unpleasant truths right into Lori's gut while doing
it.
"What do you want from me?" Lori asked. "Is
there a purpose or are your comments their own kind of fun?"
"I
want you to wear regular clothes. Jeans and a sweater. Looking at you
in those…what did you call them?"
"Scrubs."
"Right.
Looking at you in those scrubs is depressing. I'm already near death.
I don't need my demise hurried along by looking at your ugly
clothes."
Lori flipped up the hem of her shirt and
pretended to look for a tag. "There's no warning label that
being seen in scrubs can cause death."
"Insolent
child."
"Crabby old biddy."
Gloria
pressed her lips together, as if holding in a smile. "You will
wear regular clothes starting tomorrow."
"You
actually can't make me."
Gloria ignored her. "In
return, there is a slight chance I might be willing to see one of my
grandchildren."
That
was
a victory. And worth
wearing jeans. "You have a deal."
Gloria eyed her
head. "We also need to do something about your hair."
"Not
likely. The price for that is you singing karaoke."

* * *

DANI WAITED for her large nonfat latte at the crowded Daily
Grind across the street from the downtown Nordstrom.
This had
always been her favorite of Seattle's Daily Grinds— probably
because it was the first one her brother Cal had opened. She'd stood
in line the very first day while Cal had worked the counter and
waited to see if his business would take off.
It had. Now
there were Daily Grinds all over the West Coast. The company was
expanding and giving Starbucks a run for its money.
Of course,
thinking about Cal's success made her own life look just a tad more
grim, she thought with a wry smile. Decisions were going to have to
be made. No, that wasn't right. She'd already made the decisions.
What she lacked was action.
The barista called her name and
she grabbed her coffee. It was time to give notice at The Waterfront
and go look for a new job. One where she would succeed or fail based
on her performance and not because of her family.
She turned,
only to have someone bump into her from behind. She glanced over her
shoulder and saw a pleasant-looking man backing away.
"Sorry,"
he said, shaking his head. "I zigged when I should have
zagged."
"That's okay," Dani said.
"Did
you spill?" he asked.
She liked that he visually
inspected her coat instead of taking the chance to touch her.
"No.
You look good." Instantly he took another step back. "Sorry.
I didn't mean to say that. Not that you don't look good. You do. But
I wasn't trying to compliment you. Not that I wouldn't want to, it's
just…"
He stood there looking so uncomfortable,
she momentarily forgot her rule of never again speaking to an
unrelated man under the age of seventy-five.
"It's okay,"
she said with a smile. "I totally know what you were trying to
say. My coat looks untouched by any form of coffee."
Relief
darkened his pale gray eyes. "Exactly. I didn't spill."
"Good."
Impulsively she held out her hand. "I'm Dani."
"Gary."
They
shook hands and she felt nothing. Not a spark, not a hint of a spark.
There was an absolute lack of sparkage. Thank God.
"It's
crazy in here," she said. "I'd try to avoid the rush, but I
don't know when that is."
"Me, either." A
couple moved toward them and Gary took a step toward her. "I'm
here several times a week for my cup of courage."
She
stepped into a less crowded corner. "You get courage from
coffee?"
"From the caffeine. I teach nearby and my
afternoon students are surly. This keeps me on my toes." He
raised his cup as he spoke.
He was the kind of man easily
overlooked and forgotten, Dani thought. Light brown hair, pale eyes,
pale skin. Slender. Nicely dressed, but not flashy. He seemed sincere
rather than charming, intelligent rather than physical. All good
things.
"What do you teach?" she asked.
"Theology
and math at the community college. Most of my students are taking
theology to fulfill a requirement, and everyone knows people hate
math. I should try to find a fun subject that everyone would
like."
"Is there one?"
"What did
you like in college?" he asked.
"Not math," she
said, then smiled. "You probably hear that a lot."
"I
can handle it."
"I took a lot of classes in
restaurant management. That's what I do now— work in a
restaurant. I've been an assistant to a chef for a while. I used to
manage a place in Renton. Burger Heaven."
He nodded.
"I've been there. Great milkshakes. Do you like being an
assistant to the chef?"
"I love working for Penny,
but it's time for me to make a change. That's what I was thinking
about when we bumped into each other. That I need to take the risk
and go for it. But I'm nervous. What if I fail? What if I succeed? I
can't…"
She stopped talking and stared at him. "I
can't believe I'm just blurting this all out."
"I
appreciate you talking to me, Dani. I'm happy to listen."
There
was something about the way he said it— as if he really meant
it.
"But I don't know you."
"Sometimes
we recognize a kinship in another person," he said.
If
any other guy had tried a line like that on her, she would have hit
him in the stomach. But the way Gary spoke the words made her think
he really meant them.
"Still, I don't usually dump stuff
on strangers," she muttered.
"I'm glad I was your
exception." He glanced at his watch. "But I have forty-five
bored students waiting to hear about comparative theology through the
ages. I have to go."
He sounded as if he regretted the
fact. She kind of did, too.
"Thanks for listening. I
appreciate your time," she said.
"I'm glad I ran
into you."
"Me, too."
They stared at
each other for a second, and then he was gone. Dani walked out the
other door and headed for her car.
That was good, she thought.
Meeting Gary had reminded her that all men weren't lying, cheating,
smarmy weasels. There were still some nice guys around.

* * *

REID FLIPPED through the fan letters in front of him. Some were
typed and sounded more like they were from forty-year-old truck
drivers than actual kids, but a few really got to him.
He kept
returning to the one from Frankie. A kid dying from some form of
cancer Reid couldn't begin to pronounce. The kid who had asked to
meet Reid as his last wish.
"Damn it all to hell,"
Reid muttered and picked up Gloria's phone. He punched in the number
the kid had written on his letter and leaned back in his chair.
A
woman answered. "Hello?"
"Hi. This is…"
Reid hesitated. The letter was three months old. Maybe he should wait
to say who he was. "Is Frankie there?"
"Oh,
God."
The woman's voice came out in a sob. Reid stiffened
as he heard what sounded like crying.
"Ah, ma'am?"
"I'm
sorry. It's just…" More crying. "He's gone. It's
been two weeks. Frankie died. I knew it was going to happen. It was
inevitable. We all knew it. So I expected to be sad, you know? But
why am I shocked? Why do I keep expecting to see him? To hear him? He
was just a little boy. So little and now he's all alone."
Reid
felt as if he'd taken a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball to the gut. The
air rushed out of his lungs and he couldn't speak. Probably a good
thing, because what was he supposed to say? That Frankie was in
heaven and hanging out with the angels? Who believed that after
losing a kid?
"I'm sorry," he managed at last. "I'm
really sorry."
"Thank you." The woman cleared
her throat. "I didn't mean to go off like that. I just can't
seem to get it together." She drew in a breath. "I didn't
get your name. Why are you calling?"
"It doesn't
matter," Reid said. "I won't bother you again."
He
hung up the phone and let the letter fall to the ground.
Two
weeks. Two fucking weeks. If he'd bothered to read his fan mail even
two weeks ago, he could have been there. Could have gone to see the
kid.
Not that his showing up would have made any difference,
but at least the kid wouldn't have thought his last wish didn't
matter.
He picked up another letter from a pissed kid,
basically telling him off for not bothering to show at some benefit.
There were dozens more like it.
Reid closed his eyes and did
his best to forget. He wasn't a bad man. Sure he had his flaws, but
he worked hard at his job and he didn't deliberately hurt anyone. At
least that's what he used to tell himself. Now he had no real job—
the sports bar didn't count— and it turns out he'd hurt a lot
of people.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID
and saw it was Seth— his so-called manager.
"What?"
he said by way of greeting.
"Turn on CNN. And brace
yourself."
Reid grabbed the remote and flipped to the
appropriate channel. There were two former centerfold twins being
interviewed.
"So this is a self-help book?" the
reporter asked, barely able to keep from staring at their matching
DDD boobs.
"Uh-huh," one of the blond twins said,
her voice high and lispy. The sound made Reid cringe. It also made
him remember a couple of nights in Cincinnati, a king-size bed and a
whole lot of room service.
"We've been in a lot of
relationships," the blonde continued.
"We've had a
lot of men," the other one said with a giggle.
"Right."
The first one smiled at the camera. "So we decided to share our
experiences with other women. You know, the ones who aren't as pretty
and sexy, who don't get out as much as we do."
"There
are things they can do," her sister said earnestly. "Ways
to be more sexy. Not just in how they dress, but in what they say and
how they act."
This fabulous offer to American women
everywhere came from big-haired twins wearing matching halter tops
and hot pants.
"You also talk about some of the men
you've been with," the reporter said.
Both sisters
giggled. "Uh-huh," the one on the left said. "We know
it's bad to kiss and tell, but we couldn't help ourselves."
Reid
got a cold feeling deep in his gut.
"One name popped out
at me," the reporter said. "Reid Buchanan's been in the
news lately."
Reid groaned.
The twins looked at
each other and sighed.
"We didn't want to say anything in
our book," the first one said. "That would be tacky. But
honestly, it wasn't that great. I mean most guys have trouble with
two women, so we expect that. Sure, it's their fantasy, but when
faced with the reality of us naked, it can be a little much."
"It
wasn't too much," Reid yelled at the television. "It was
fine. It was better than fine. I did great."
"The
earth didn't move," the second one said in a low voice. "It
happens."
The reporter leaned forward. "Was it a
size issue?"
Reid turned off the TV and sprang to his
feet. He paced the length of the room and swore. He didn't need this
in his life. He didn't deserve it. He wasn't that horrible a person,
was he? He should get a break.
Only no one seemed willing to
give him one.
He continued to pace back and forth, but the
room was too small. He had an excess of energy and no way to burn it
off. He had to get out of here, but there wasn't anywhere to go.
He
headed downstairs for the one person guaranteed to distract
him.
Talk about idiotic, he thought as he walked into the
kitchen. Lori had made it very clear what she thought of him. Did he
need to be beat up more?
Except as definitive as she'd been
about not wanting him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he got to
her. If he did, she would hate that. Which, in a twisted way, made
him happy. At least annoying her was interesting.
But she
wasn't in the kitchen or the living room. He headed for Gloria's
temporary bedroom.
"Where's Lori?" he asked when he
saw the nurse wasn't there. "She's not avoiding me, is
she?"
His grandmother slipped off her glasses, put down
her book and stared at him. "Amazingly enough, the whole world
doesn't revolve around you, Reid. Lori's sister is sick and Lori took
her to the doctor. She'll be back in an hour or so. Can you survive
on your own until then, or should I call 9-1-1 for emergency
assistance?"