hers. “You can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything.”
Not this, she couldn’t. “Danny. Don’t you ever get tired of feeling sorry for me?”
“I don’t feel sorry for you. You’re too ornery to feel sorry for.”
“Good.” She went to the line, gripping her darts with new determination. “Prepare to lose.” Backing up the words, she threw.
Double twenty.
Her game was back.
Or so he let her think for a few minutes, before he proceeded to kick it into gear and beat her by three points.
“I could use breakfast now,” he said, putting the darts away.
“It’s dinnertime.”
“So?”
She just rolled her eyes and headed to the door before he could say anything else, before he could see her tension had really only mounted…
It was her own fault. She’d gotten complacent. She’d fallen into a false sense of security, and she’d forgotten the pretense. She was good at forgetting. She’d spent most of her childhood forgetting about her father’s wandering ways, her mother’s drugs…
What if it all fell apart again, her entire world? If she lost this job, what would happen to her? She had no talent for anything other than sleeping with men, and even there she hadn’t been all that successful or she’d have a diamond ring and a minivan by now.
Nibbling on a nail, she made her way through Sunshine Cafe, which was still suitably filled. A handful of women sat at one table. They’d flown in on a private jet owned by the husband of one of the women. Dressed in designer gear, they looked like a million bucks, all with expensive bags at their feet, most likely filled with the afternoon’s shopping spoils. They probably had perfect lives, beautiful homes, complete with minivans.
At another table sat a couple. The man was in his sixties and now retired, but he had been a Hollywood movie star for years, and had developed an expensive plane habit that North Beach was all too happy to satisfy. The woman dripped bling.
It was the third table to catch her interest: five men, ranging from twentysomething into their forties, rowdy and noisy, all toasting themselves over one deal or another.
Maybe they’d gone to the track and had won big. Maybe they were in town for a convention. Dimi didn’t know, but all that really mattered was that they stopped talking as she walked past them and up to Char’s counter.
She could almost hear the collective male sigh and smiled inwardly as she waved at Al. “A beer,” she said, needing a drink bad and wishing they had the hard stuff. “Make it two,” she decided.
“Hey, Sexy. Is this seat taken?”
Dimi looked up into a tall, dark, and gorgeous stranger’s face-one of the rowdy men behind her-and because he was the youngest and the best looking, she smiled. “Only by you,” she purred, thinking there, she’d just found herself exactly what she needed: her mindless oblivion.
Chapter 6
That night Mel tried to call Dimi, but couldn’t reach her. Sitting in her small beach bungalow, Mel hung up the phone and stared out at the churning ocean, hating that she knew Dimi was out somewhere, trying to lose herself.
Finally she turned to her laptop and checked her e-mail, gingerly, braced for another message from LeaveItAlone, but nothing.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but answers would have been nice. Was it Sally, asking her to leave it alone?
And if that was true, why hadn’t Sally just come out and asked Mel herself? Surely she knew Mel would have done anything for her, if asked.
Unable to think anymore, she climbed into bed and slept surprisingly hard, dreaming even harder. Again a pair of green eyes followed her into dreamland, laughing sea green eyes in a strong, tanned face, with an Aussie voice and a smile that could melt a woman’s panties right off at fifty paces.
She woke up to the sun stabbing her in the face and decided she hated green eyes and sexy smiles, no matter who they belonged to. Still in bed, her gaze locked on the picture on her dresser: Sally in the cockpit of the Hawker, her head tossed back in laughter, as it so often had been.
God, Mel missed her. Still.
There was also a pic of Mel and Dimi at age sixteen, the day Mel had gotten her pilot’s license. They were high-fiving each other, with Mel proudly displaying the license in her free hand.
The best day of her life because of Sally.
Climbing out of bed, Mel moved to her bedroom window, devoid of window coverings because she loved the unencumbered view of the craggy sandstone outcroppings of the Santa Ynez Mountains rising so close to the water. The terrain was rugged. Lots of mornings she got up before dawn to climb. It was great exercise and she loved the dramatic view from the top of the sheer rock faces and massive boulders and overhangs.
But this morning she just let herself stand there watching the day, soothed by the sounds of the sea before she hit the shower and drove into work.
North Beach Airport’s day typically began at six A.M. The linemen came in, Char opened the cafe, the doors on the outside hangars rose, all in preparation for the morning flights. They usually had three to five planes come in to fuel up before nine o’clock. Some of those remained on the tarmac while their rich patrons went into Santa Barbara for their business. Some were towed into the maintenance hangar for work needed, and others simply used the airport as a fuel stop and moved on.
But as they typically did every morning before their day began, the staff and crew gathered at the counter of the Sunshine Cafe, mooching coffee from Charlene, standing around for the early-morning gossip session.
Mel, who was usually first into the airport, stood in the middle of it now, sucking down caffeine, humming to an old Ratt song, which was coming from the ever-faithful boom box. Dimi was nowhere in sight, as usual. The woman was going to be late to her own funeral.
Ritchie was the front lineman today, and Kellan the rear, both inhaling donuts along with Danny and Ernest. Ritchie was talking, using his hands, his big gestures matching the grin on his face. “…And then I said, if you won’t dress like a Victoria’s Secret model, then don’t expect me to act like a soap opera guy-”
Kellan laughed. “Oh, yeah, I bet that got you laid.”
“Hey, I was just being honest.” Ritchie looked at the others. “It’s best to be honest. Right?”
The ones with a penis vehemently shook their heads.
Mel sighed. “More donuts,” she said to Char. “We need more donuts.”
“Got ’em.” Charlene came forward to plop down a tray, and it was like feeding piranhas, hands moved that fast. Mel managed to fight her way in and get a cinnamon twist, and had just taken a heavenly bite when Al nudged her. “So what’s up with that Bo guy?”
Mel choked on a bite. “Um…What do you mean?”
“Just wondering why he’s hanging around.”
Everyone looked at her, interested. Of course they were, it was her own business, which made it front-page news.
Where the hell was Dimi? Mel thought frantically. Dimi would lick the sugar off her fingers or something and suitably distract attention away from this issue. Mel glanced at Ernest, the only person here who’d been around when Eddie and Bo had shown up the first time all those years ago, but he was looking right back at her, no expression.
Was it possible Ernest didn’t remember Bo? “Bo’s an old acquaintance,” she finally said, hoping they’d all leave it at that. “And I’m letting him use some office space.”
“What’s the story with you two?” Danny asked, perceptive as always.
“No story,” she said. “There’s no story.”
