California Girls (Page 27)

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not, Finola, but it’s true. You think about what I said. I’ll check in with you in a couple of weeks.”

Before she could agree or scream or tell him he was wrong, he’d hung up on her.

Finola stood, her phone clutched in her hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she screamed into the empty room. “You’re wrong about all of it.”

She raced up to the second floor. Fury gave her energy. Instead of showering, she simply scrubbed off her studio makeup and put on normal makeup, then fluffed and sprayed her hair. She went into her closet and changed into a cobalt blue suit with a patterned silk shell. She hesitated over her shoes before choosing a pair of nude high heels. One killer bag and simple jewelry later, she was ready to leave.

As she drove to Pacoima, Finola did her best to not think about her stepfather. Screw him, she thought bitterly. It was easy to give advice when you didn’t know what you were talking about. He’d never cared about her, anyway. He’d been all about Zennie. She was his favorite. The tomboy to replace the son he never had. Zennie, Zennie, Zennie.

She made her way through the valley, heading northeast. This time of day there was no point in even attempting the freeway. Besides, surface streets were more direct.

The monthly meetings were held at the recreation center and the group helped fourteen-to-eighteen-year-old girls stay focused to achieve their dreams. Finola had been offered a position on the board more than once, but she’d always refused. She hadn’t wanted the commitment. What she did instead was visit a few times a year and spend time with the girls. She talked about the business and how to succeed. She also gave practical advice on how to act in an interview, whether for a job or an internship. She talked about the importance of communication skills, and how you should look people in the eye when you spoke.

Finola pulled into the recreation center parking lot. She was a little early, but knew several of the girls would already be there. They were eager for the information, determined to better themselves. They looked up to Finola, used her as a role model. Last June she’d done a whole segment about the organization on her show and how they were helping local girls.

Finola turned off her car engine and took several deep breaths. She was fine, she told herself. She was going to march in there and share her knowledge. She would be helpful and funny and show the girls that someone believed in them.

Not enough to be on the board, a vile voice whispered in her ear. Oooh, you did a segment on your show. That’s amazing. You go, girl. You’re really giving back now. Better be careful or you’ll burn yourself out.

“No,” Finola whispered. “It’s not like that. I’m a good person. I am.”

She was, she repeated silently, then wondered if she was. Or if the rest of her life was exactly like her marriage—a complete and total fraud.

* * *

Ali sat on her sofa—the one piece of furniture she was keeping, no matter what—and took stock of her most pressing life issues. She supposed the biggest problem was she had nowhere to live and, thanks to what was still owed on various items for the wedding, she was dealing with crushing credit card debt. She was also feeling oddly uncomfortable about her sister.

Finola had been surprisingly difficult the other night. Ali tried to tell herself it was because her sister had her own pain with Nigel and the affair and all that, but jeez, did she have to accuse Ali of falling for Daniel? That was ridiculous. The man had been a saint and she was grateful, nothing more.

But Finola wouldn’t understand that and now Ali was left feeling kind of icky about something she hadn’t done, which could be really awkward, considering Daniel was due to arrive in about five seconds.

Right on time, he knocked on her front door. She let him in. He smiled at her as he handed her the ever-present folder.

“Done and done,” he told her. “You are released from all your contracts. Glen will live the rest of his life as a moron and years from now, you’ll look back on this and be grateful.”

Just seeing him made her feel better about everything. “You are so right,” she said. “I’m done, too. The gifts are all sent back and my to-do list is reduced to nothing.”

They walked into her small living room. Daniel sat on the sofa while she took the chair.

“You doing okay?” he asked, studying her.

“I’m fine. I’m sleeping more, drinking less.” She was still eating for twenty, but figured she could give herself another week of indulgence before she had to rein that in. “I’ve come through the worst of it. Thank you for all your help.”

He looked good, she thought absently, with the three-day beard, jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and motorcycle boots. Under other circumstances, she would be pretty excited to have such a dangerously handsome man in her living room, but these weren’t other circumstances. Daniel had been sweet to her and they were friends. She wasn’t going to be stupid—something she wouldn’t have even had to think if not for Finola. Sisters!

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She flushed. There was no way to tell him, so she mentally scrambled for a lie. “That, ah, I admire your negotiating skills. Mine totally suck. I do okay at work, but I really wish I’d stayed in college and at least gotten my associate degree. Plus I don’t really believe in myself and after this whole thing with Glen, I feel even more unworthy.” She shrugged. “Like the clock.”

“What clock?”

“My mom has this grandfather clock. I know it’s old-fashioned and big, but I love it. She’s getting rid of stuff because she’s moving to a small bungalow, so she wants us to take things. I asked for the clock and she told me no. No one else wants it, so she’ll get rid of it one way or the other. I mean seriously? She’d rather give it away than let me have it?”

“Did you take her on?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

“Does that attitude also explain why the kitchen table and chairs are gone?”

“No!” She stood up and glared at him. “That is so desperately unfair. You’re sitting with your back to the kitchen. I did that on purpose. How did you know?”

“I saw they were gone when I walked in.”

“And you didn’t say anything? You just waited to pounce.”

“I’m not pouncing.”

“It feels pouncy.” She dropped back into her chair. “Fine, yes, they’re gone. I couldn’t get in touch with the lady who bought them and when she called me, she was so excited. She and her kids have been homeless and now they have a place and she talked about how they would do their homework on that table. I couldn’t say no.”

She felt both defiant and stupid. Daniel stood.

“Get your purse and your keys. You’re coming with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

She wasn’t worried he would take her anywhere bad and it was only five in the afternoon, so it wasn’t even late. Maybe dinner, she thought, thinking wherever Daniel picked out would be better than the takeout she had planned. One of these days she was going to have to start cooking again. Once she got her act together, she would go back to the whole cooking on Sunday afternoon so she had healthy food for the week thing she used to do. Okay, not do, exactly. But think about doing. Sometimes.

They got in his truck and they headed east. When they reached the outskirts of Burbank, she glanced at him.

“Please tell me we’re not visiting my mother. Not that I don’t love her and all, but I’ll be seeing her this weekend when we have to spend more time going through the house.”

He smiled. “We’re not going to visit your mother. We’re going to my place.”

“Oh.”

That was unexpected. His place. She’d never been there. She tried to remember what Glen had told her. She knew Daniel’s business was a success, plus he’d done well racing. She thought maybe he had a house up in the hills.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, they’d passed through the flatlands and were heading up into the foothills. Condos gave way to small houses. Small houses gave way to bigger ones. The road narrowed and turned and twisted until they were in a very exclusive part of town.

“Well, this is fancy,” she murmured as he pulled into the driveway of a large two-story house with a four-car garage. He hit a clicker and one of the garage doors opened.

The first thing she noticed was the motorcycles. There were four parked in two of the spaces.

“You take this motocross thing very seriously,” she said as she got out of the truck.

Daniel shook his head. “They’re street bikes.”

“I knew that.”

He looked at her.

She grinned. “I did not know that, but I do now.”

He motioned to the empty fourth bay. “This is big enough for all your stuff. Boxes, furniture, assuming you don’t give it all away.”

She saw what he meant and realized why he’d brought her here. Good thing she hadn’t said anything about them maybe having dinner or something.

“You’re assuming I’m going to move in with someone, which makes sense,” she said. “This is so nice. You’re saving me storage fees. Thank you. That’s very kind.”