Starlight (Peaches Monroe #2)(18)
Author: Mimi Strong

“My daughter has epilepsy,” she said. “We appreciate all the fundraising you and those other nice boys do.”

“You’re welcome. I only wish I could do more.” He pulled out his phone and said, “If you don’t mind giving me your mailing address, I’ll put something in the mail for you.”

She fanned her face with one white-gloved hand. “If I give you my house number, you won’t show up unexpectedly, will you?”

He got a sly grin. “That depends. When’s your birthday?”

Her eyes got big and she took in a big gasp, then let out a torrent of girlish giggles. Once she calmed down a little, she was able to give her address. The woman didn’t have anything to take a photo with, but Keith insisted on getting one with his phone, for his collection. “On the tough days, I look at pictures like this to feel the support of my fans,” he said to her.

I used the camera on his phone and took the photo of them. The woman’s son and family came to retrieve her, and Keith insisted the son take a photo of the three of us, including me.

As I stood on one side of him, smiling for the picture, I fought down an overwhelming sense of pride. For Keith, getting a picture with me in it may have been a casual impulse, but being included meant so much to me. I remembered vividly how shut-out I’d felt by Dalton goofing around with his fangirl. This was the opposite feeling.

Once we were on our own again, in the fragrant rose garden, Keith put his arm around my shoulders and said, “Not one of these roses is as lovely as you in that purple dress.”

I pointed to some enormous, peach-pink blossoms. “Not even this one?”

“Not even. So, are you coming to dinner with my family tonight?”

“Of course,” I said. “I need to eat dinner anyway. I came to LA like so many other small-town blondes before me, hoping to catch my big break, and I think impersonating your cleaning lady is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“When you put it like that, it does sound glamorous.”

“Then tomorrow, it’s back to the old grind of putting on fancy underwear and having my picture taken.”

“What a coincidence! Me, too.”

We stopped to admire some unusual rust-hued roses with streaks of yellow. They were labeled Dragon’s Blood, and my sexy gardener/model was transfixed for a moment.

In the stillness, I heard my phone tremble in my purse with another text message. I was in no mood to check messages and ruin what had become a fun day, so I quickly switched it off.

Had it only been that morning that I broke up with Dalton? Had it only been three days ago I was in Beaverdale, helping bookstore customers pick out great summer beach reads? Who was this gorgeous girl in a knockout designer dress? As Keith had noted, this girl actually was getting checked out by other men, including sunhat-wearing dads pushing strollers. Whoever she was, I loved being her.

Keith’s parents lived in a neighborhood on the west side of LA called Mar Vista. As we drove along, I saw kids running through sprinklers, and tree-lined streets with modest, post-war bungalows.

“Except for the palm trees, this could be Washington,” I said.

“It’s a good place to grow up. We lived on the grittier side until I was ten, then we moved over, to north of Venice, which is much nicer.”

“Venice Beach?”

“I meant Venice Boulevard, but the beach is west of here. Look at you, knowing all about LA. Soon you’ll be telling me shortcuts.”

“Don’t be so sure of that. I keep getting turned around and thinking the sun’s in the wrong spot in the sky.”

Keith pulled the van over and parked on a street that looked like a nice place to call home.

“Are you ready for the Lipschitz experience?” he asked.

“I keep forgetting that’s your real last name.”

He didn’t move from his seat. “My parents worry too much about their kids. Especially about me. Can I tell you something personal?”

Uh-oh, here it comes. “Sure.”

“I got mixed up in drugs when I was younger. I’m clean now, but working in the fashion industry isn’t without its temptations. When I started modeling, my parents acted like I was going off to war.”

Looking over at the ordinary brown house we’d parked next to, I could understand how the people who lived in such a house would be scared. You make a nice life for your family, then your kids go off in search of things that terrify you.

He continued, “They’ve been so sad lately—my parents. We’ve had some death and illness in the extended family, and when Tabitha and I split up, my mother took it even harder than me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So, I dragged you here tonight, kicking and screaming—”

“No! Fair and square, you took me on the best date today.”

He smiled, his expressive brown eyes lively. “As I was saying… I invited you here tonight because you’re the most fun person I’ve met in a long time.”

“Hah!”

“And I think seeing me with someone as warm and giving as you will make them stop worrying about me so much.”

Putting on my fake accent, I said, “I clean house real good.”

“About the housekeeper thing… my sister’s gullible, but my parents aren’t. They’ll have you figured out in five minutes.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“Okay then,” he said cheerily, jumping out of the van and running around to my side.

I was already nervous enough, but my hands started to sweat as we slowly made our way up to the front door, stopping to admire all the various shrubs and flowers in the front yard.

Some of the tall flowers were held upright with green gardener’s tape, looking tidy in a way that bordered on ridiculous, but who am I to judge? One time, I threw out a whole batch of geraniums that were purchased for my terra cotta pots, because they were pink, not red, and I really had my heart set on red.

The world is a chaotic place, our destinies shaped by chance meetings and the rash decisions of others. We are helpless against fate, so is it any wonder we stomp our feet over getting our choice of pizza toppings, and spend our free time mulching coffee grounds into our gardens, our own miniature planet earth over which we have control?

The door to the house opened, and Keith’s parents stepped out onto the front step, father and mother, handsome and beautiful, respectively.

Under my breath, I muttered, “This confirms you’re not adopted.”