Starlight (Peaches Monroe #2)(20)
Author: Mimi Strong

“Dad!” she wailed like a brat.

“He’s right,” Keith’s father said. “You do resemble a member of the canine family when you scowl like that. An ill-tempered Chihuahua. I love you, kiddo, but if your mother and I can respect Keith’s choice to show his gen**als to the public for money, you can be nice to his girlfriend, who—” he turned to me “—does seem like a nice girl, despite her chosen profession of removing clothes. No offense.”

“We’re not strippers,” Keith said, rolling his eyes.

“Modeling is hard work,” I chimed in. “There are great opportunities, though. I’m actually the designer for the line with my name on it. That part is intense, because you have to consider the fabric weights and think about the colors two seasons ahead, because of manufacturing times.” (Okay, I was pulling that last part completely out of my ass, thanks to a few things I’d overheard during the shoot, but who doesn’t fudge their credentials when meeting a guy’s parents?)

Katy stared at me, her pretty brown eyes almost dazed.

“What?” I said to her.

“That sounds so cool,” she said, and with that one compliment, my desire to punch her in the throat greatly diminished.

Ken asked me, “Have you always been a fashion designer, or was there something else before all this?”

“I used to, and still do, manage a bookstore in my hometown.”

“That sounds respectable,” Ken said. “Will you look for another bookstore here in LA? We’ve lost some of the bigger ones, but there are places, if you know where to look.”

I looked to Keith for assistance.

“One day at a time, Dad,” Keith said, and then he gave me a look that scared me.

It was one of those looks that lasts forever and communicates so much.

With his big, brown eyes and that handsome boyish face, he looked at me like he loved me, and that everything was going to work out. I’d move to LA, and we’d be together, and tonight was just the first of many colorful dinners we’d have with his family.

Were we still pretending?

The rest of dinner was actually enjoyable. Keith’s family had a different dynamic than the Monroes, but what they did have in common was that they seemed to like each other. You have to love your family, of course, but liking the family you were born or otherwise brought into is both rare and precious.

For dessert, we had fresh brownies with a raspberry compote plus ice cream. Any two of these items on their own would have been good, but the trio was perfection.

Keith’s family howled with laughter as he picked up his plate and actually licked the pink raspberry and ice cream soup off his plate. Did I then follow suit and lick my plate? You bet I did, and I’d do it again, because I am classy like that.

After all the plates were cleared and after-dinner coffee was served, Katy asked if I wanted to “see her room.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Why? Do you have poisonous spiders?”

“I’m trying to be nice,” she said.

Everyone else was quiet, and I felt the pressure to try to be nice as well. “Sure, I’d love to see your room. I guess you just moved back home after living with Keith?”

She got up and nodded for me to follow her.

CHAPTER 8

We went to the back of the house, then down a set of stairs, to a lower floor that was so cool, it was practically chilly. The decorating style was nice and modern, and the ceilings were a good nine feet high, but it still had the faintest musty basement smell.

Katy’s room was an L-shape, with a gas fireplace, sofa, and TV at one end—more of a bachelor apartment than a bedroom.

“Swanky,” I said as I admired the framed prints of flowers and hummingbirds on the wall. “You have your own apartment, practically.”

She flopped back on her double-sized bed, sprawling on the white comforter. “What’s the deal with you and my brother?”

I looked closer at the prints on the wall, all tastefully framed in white frames. “Did you take these photos yourself?”

“Yes. How did you meet my brother?”

Switching into Ursula mode, I quipped, “I clean house. He see me bent over toilet, scrubbing with brush. He like what he see, you know? Grab me by hips. Say be girlfriend with me!”

“What I really want to know is, do you love him?”

“That’s between me and your brother.”

I turned back to see a disgusted look on her face. “So, no, you don’t. Great. Well, give me a call when you’re done using him, so I can pick up the pieces.”

So much for being nice.

I didn’t have to take any more of her attitude, so I turned around and left. Katy didn’t follow me upstairs, which was fine by me.

I joined Keith and his parents, and we went for a tour of the back garden, which was full of not just flowers, but more butterflies than I’d ever seen outside of a conservatory. One came and landed on the back of my hand. It was orange, black and cream. I nearly died when I realized how much its long freaky body resembled a dragonfly, but I managed to grimace through the horror.

Keith’s father pulled his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and examined the butterfly. “You have a friend,” he said.

My voice squeaky, I said, “Monarch?”

“Painted Lady. They’re smaller than the Monarchs.”

I thought the creepy butterfly would take to the air again, but it didn’t. Finally, I yelped and shook my hand like a crazy person, which made them laugh.

Kendra squeezed my shoulder and said, “I hate it when they land on me, too.”

After the garden tour, Keith took my hand and we said goodbye to his parents. They stood together as we walked away, like they were posing for a photo.

The sun was low on the horizon, the whole city of LA orange and glowing as we drove back to Keith’s apartment. I was now so used to the dirt smell in the van, I wondered if any air freshener companies made a dirt option.

At the apartment building, we walked through the courtyard in comfortable silence. The apartment was still and quiet, as though not one dust mote could be bothered to float around if nobody was there to see it. My own house never had this time capsule feeling, because my roommate was usually coming or going during the time I was out. For a moment, I felt a pang of sadness for Keith, that he had no roommate, nobody to stir the air and toss all his shoes into the closet in annoyance.

He had me, but that was only temporary. Just a short-term arrangement between two wild animals with emotional wounds that needed licking.