Moves
> > Both the Nomadic Arms Apartments and The Willows were on the same road -- Great Oaks Boulevard, which ran some twenty miles from one end of the valley to the other. But the two developments couldn't be much further apart, geographically or otherwise.
The place she'd just left -- for the last time *ever*, thank you very much -- wasn't quite Twisted Oaks bad, but the carpets smelled like a sweat cocktail and looked like old hamburger, and residents and visitors alike always looked like they'd just realized: I've Made A Terrible Mistake.
She'd never been to The Willows before and didn't know anyone who lived there, but from the address alone she knew it was upscale -- the kind of place that young DINKs (Dual Income No Kids) lived until they could decide whether to buy a loft-style condo downtown or a house in the hills with as many garage doors as bedrooms.
Halfway between where Angela'd been and where she was going, Great Oaks Boulevard crossed Union Street, which ran all the way across the valley through downtown and across the river. Great Oaks & Union was the heart of the suburbs, and not far from where Angela had grown up. The freeway and the Great Oaks Mall were just a mile or two ahead, and her high school five miles past that.
Growing up, Angela had gone through this intersection more times than she could count. But she'd never really looked around.
She had plenty of time to look around now.
"Stupid car!"
She was standing in front of the open hood -- not because she had the faintest idea what all those things in there did, but because it was what you were supposed to do when your car stopped working.
This was the third time in as many weeks that the car had conked out. First a broken alternator belt, then a dirty coil -- like anything *wasn't* dirty under the hood of a car that was older than her! -- and now... who knows what? She hoped it was something simple, because this was the absolute worst time for a big repair bill. And if she didn't have a car, how was she supposed to go to job interviews -- or go to work, if she did find a job?
Well, I guess I better find a phone and call... who? Not Ricky -- he was in school. (As if that was the only reason.) Definitely not Noel. Miguel? He wasn't interested in her personal problems. Really the only choice she had was Jason Truman. But she hated the idea of calling him and asking him to bail her out again. Heck, the man was already a shoo-in for sainthood, taking her case for free and putting her up in a nice apartment until he got her affairs sorted out.
Angela didn't look forward to testing his limits yet again, but it was either that or... she didn't know what. Hope a tow truck driver would accept a look at a cute butt and a smile as payment? Beg a stranger for a ride?
First she had to find a phone.
Easier said than done. The corner she was on was fenced off, behind it nothing but a weedy parking lot and holes where buildings had been, shadowed by a giant FOR LEASE sign. Across Great Oaks was a low office building -- but there was no way she was jaywalking across six lanes of stampeding SUVs. It was a hundred yards up to the intersection -- a hundred yards of mud, thanks to halted construction.
Maybe I should see if I can flag somebody down and use their cell phone. That'll be easier to do if I'm not hiding behind a raised hood...
The moment Angela stepped out from in front of her stricken vehicle, something blew by at incredible speed. Angela spun around to see what it was and saw the thing haul itself to a stop as if it had thrown an anchor out the window. Circular brake lights went dark, and tiny round backup lights lit up. The squat beast seemed to growl and whine as it backed up, edging uncertainly toward the curb. It stopped a few feet away from her suddenly-humiliating brown Corolla.
Angela headed toward the passenger side, all the while staring at the gorgeous beast that had heeded her call.
Low, wide, fluid, purposeful. And red. Very, very red. It looked unlike any car she'd ever seen before.
No, she *had* seen one before. That night at the warehouse. But that was from above, at a distance. This was something else. Standing right next to it, the thing took on a whole different form. Mythical. Other-worldly.
It certainly didn't *sound* like any car she'd ever heard, either. Like a purring wildcat -- smooth and subdued, but poised for sudden violence.
This was a dangerous, powerful machine, designed to be owned and driven by dangerous, powerful men.
Oh my god... what if this was the same car?
What if this was the same man?
Did he recognize her?
She looked up and down the busy boulevard. There was nowhere to run.
But this can't be the same car. I saw them take that other car apart.
They could have put it back together.
That one was black.
They could have repainted it.
And it had weird fin-vent things all over it.
They could have-
Oh, shut up. You're being paranoid.
He's waiting.
I should get my sapphires. Just in case.
Oh, that won't look weird. "Thanks for stopping, Mister, let me get my ass-kicking shoes in case you're a violent criminal."
Just then the driver got out and began to approach.
Expensive unwrinkled slacks. Tight knit shirt that revealed a well-chiseled bod. Tight abs, steely arms, defined chest, broad shoulders. Long tapered neck, Superman jaw, severe cheekbones and chiseled nose, all in a smooth chocolate-caramel tan. Thick spiky shock of black hair that defied the gel trying to slick it back.
Angela finally locked in on the most amazing set of eyes she'd ever seen. A shimmering pale gray, their look seemed hard enough to pierce her chest... and soft enough to make her knees weak.
Angela blushed at being caught checking him out. She cast her eyes down momentarily. She wasn't the type to go all gushy at the sight of a hot guy -- she wasn't even the type to think in terms of "hot guy" -- but there was something about this man in this car in this situation that set her heart aflutter.
"Need a lift?" Even the voice was dreamy. A crisp low tenor, mellow yet forceful.
Actually, a lot like the car...
Angela's mom had told her a thousand times not to talk to strangers, and absolutely not to accept a ride from one. But like most young women Angela's definition of "stranger" forked at the "looks" signpost: "plain" led to Scarytown and "hot" led to Dreamville. This guy -- this *man* didn't just live in Dreamville, he was the Mayor.
Eventually Angela realized he was waiting for a response. A lift?
"Oh! Yeah!" she gushed. "Lemme get my stuff."
"It won't fit." His voice froze her a half-step toward her car.
"Well, I can't just leave it here."
"Hang on, I'll call a tow." She raised a hand to protest, but those *eyes* locked her up. "Friend owns a shop and a truck, he owes me a favor. Just conked out and won't start?"
Angela answered dumbly, "Uh... y-yeah."
"He's got a guy, can fix anything. You have plans?" What a smile...
She just blinked.
"You in a hurry?"
"I'm, um, I'm moving. I have to get to there by five to get the key and stuff." Angela's brain wasn't even working well enough to criticize her thoroughly uncharming speech. But her beauty was more than able to pick up the slack for her dull tongue.
Angela was just coming back around to the fact that she couldn't afford to have some who-knows-how-much-an-hour Ferrari mechanic looking at her car...
He was one step ahead of her. "I'll take you to lunch while he comes out to take a look at your car -- no charge." For the lunch or the mechanic? His smile said Both, of course. "He'll call my cell and then you can decide what you want to do, no further obligation. And I'll make sure you get to your new place in plenty of time."
Angela was getting more than her share of knights in shining armor lately. Then again, with the mess her life had become, she deserved them.
"O-okay," she answered, sounding like a little girl doing whatever daddy asked. "Let me get my purse."
Paranoia gave it one last try: Maybe this is the thief's boss.
Well, if he is, then I should find out more about him. Anyway, I've got my sapphires with me, and if he had a weapon on him in those snug clothes I'd have noticed.
What about the bulge in his pants?
That's not a weapon.
Isn't it?
Shut up.
"Hey, could I use your phone? I wanna tell my... friend where I am."
"Sure, here."
Why didn't you say boyfriend? That would have been more effective.
More effective at what? Besides, I don't have a boyfriend anymore.
She got the Aquinos' machine. Why was she calling there? Well, she had to call somewhere. If this guy -- this *cute* guy -- was some kind of creep, he wasn't going to try anything if somebody knew he'd picked her up.
She heard Noel's voice on the machine. Speaking of creeps... it triggered a flood of uncomfortable thoughts. She pushed them away. Why call him? Because she didn't have anyone else. Truman never answered, and it might be days before he tried to call her -- she could be dead in a ditch somewhere by then. (Stop being so morbid.)
And Noel would probably check up on her as soon as he got the message. Not that she looked forward to dealing with him. But better safe than sorry.
"Hi, it's me, my car broke down at Great Oaks and Union. This guy stopped and he's helping me get it taken care of. He's taking me to lunch. His cell number is 867-5309, and he's driving a Ferrari."
"Modena."
"Ferrari Modena. Red. It doesn't have a plate yet. Anyway, I'll call you a little later to let you know I'm okay."
That should do it.
"Boyfriend?"
"No, just someone I, um, work with." That would do. "His dad's a cop." Good thinking. And that part's even true.
"Smart. I never would have thought of that. Your mom taught you right."
The passenger seat was a lot lower than she'd expected; she practically fell into the car, hiking up her skirt considerably further than she'd have liked in front of a stranger. She didn't want him to think she was that kind of girl... But either he didn't notice, or he was being a gentleman about it. She tugged the errant garment down before buckling her seatbelt.
"All set?" he smiled. She nodded. His hand moved toward her knee, startling her before it fell naturally to the large polished metal ball on the console between them. "Sorry," he said as he shifted into gear. The engine behind them barked twice before settling into a gentle growl, and they were off.
"So, what sounds good?"
"I don't know." She wasn't even sure if he was paying.
"Well, since I'm buying, you mind if I choose?"
That answered that question. "Okay," Angela said meekly.
"I was just gonna grab a sandwich on the way to the club -- working lunch -- but I'm thinking I work too hard and I deserve to relax for a change. Let's try Frederico's."
It sounded expensive. "Are you sure I'm dressed for it?"
"I've never been there, but I'm sure it won't be a problem. If it is, I've got a formal gown in the trunk." He checked his mirrors before making a quick lane change. "That was a joke. This car doesn't have a trunk."
"Oh!" Angela giggled.
"You'll have to tell me if I go too fast," he said as they waited at a signal.
"Well, I don't even know your name," Angela said as delicately as possible.
That seemed to throw him for a moment. "Oh! Clever. I'm Dino." He paused, a raised eyebrow prompting her to reply.
"Angela."
"Nice to meet you, Angela. I meant the car -- you'll have to tell me if I drive too fast. I've only had her a week, and it's still easy to get carried away."
Frederico's was up in the hills where the newly-rich and nearly-rich lived, on its own lot halfway between the upscale shopping mall and the country club. Valets rushed to open their doors and help them out, and a doorman ushered them inside. The maitre'd found them a table along the back wall. The back half of the restaurant was several steps higher than the front half, so every table had a view out the front wall of windows. The view was spectacular, especially on a crisp clear October afternoon -- the jagged mix of towers and boxes that was downtown in the middle, suburban sprawl all around, and the faint sparkle of water reflecting sunlight that was the California river running from off to the right past downtown and off between the North and South Coastal Hills on the horizon to the Pacific Ocean somewhere beyond.
Or at least it would be spectacular to someone who'd never floated weightlessly a thousand feet above the valley on a silent cloudless summer night...
Angela kept stealing glances at a different view. God, Dino was so *gorgeous*! Gorgeous hair, gorgeous face, super-gorgeous eyes -- she swore if he looked at her one more time she would just melt into a puddle on the floor -- and a bod to die for.
I'm gonna have to get Ricky one of those shirts.
As if buying him a shirt would fix anything.
She brushed the dark thought aside. It was tough... she couldn't let herself get depressed thinking about him all the time, but when she put him out of her mind for a while, she'd forget and something would suggest itself like they were still together. And that just made it worse.
Maybe the best thing to do *was* to move on. Meet someone new.
Especially if Fate was going to drop a cute guy like this right in her lap.
"Where'd you get that shirt?" she blurted.
"Oh, this? It's Armani. I think. Maybe Prada."
"Oh," Angela said, humbled. (Ricky can get his own shirt.) "Well, it looks great on you."
"Thanks," he said. Then, probably figuring she was fishing for a compliment, his eyes darted quickly up and down her form. "I've got to be honest, it was your legs that got me to stop," well, that wasn't what she was looking for, "but when you first leaned into the car," dude, a boob reference is not going to win you any points, "and I saw this angel looking back at me, and I had to thank God for giving me a chance to redeem myself." Oh, that wasn't fair, now I'm all mushy inside...
A cellphone rang before she could respond. "That's probably Ilya about your car." He flipped the tiny phone open. "Yep." He held it up to his ear; Angela got a good look at his rugged chain-banded Tag-Heuer. "Yeah. [pause] Alternator? How much? [pause] Three hundred?" Angela made a pained expression; he looked surprised, then the corner of his mouth turned up in a sly grin. "Can you fix it today?" Angela's brow furrowed. "Two days for the part." Angela was shaking her head. "Do it." Angela's mouth was agape. "Drop it off at The Willows as soon as you're done with it." Angela was waving her hands frantically. "Send the bill to the club." Angela stopped gesticulating, but her expression was cross. "Yeah, I'll put your names on the list for Saturday. Listen, I gotta go, I think I just got myself in big trouble. Yeah." He hung up.
Angela was steaming. She didn't like men making decisions for her. "Didn't you see me? I said No."
Dino seemed amusedly perplexed, as if being reminded of the impenetrability of the female system of logic. "I thought you'd be happy to get your car fixed for free."
"There's no such thing as a free lunch," Angela snipped.
The irony of the statement made Dino bring his hand to his mouth to suppress a chuckle. "Okay, I'm sorry. I offended you. You don't want a man taking control of your life. You don't want to be in debt to a stranger." After lunch, the word almost didn't fit. "I screwed up. Tell me what I can do to make it right." His eyes locked onto hers. "Anything."
God, those *eyes*... a girl could get lost in them. What I wouldn't give to stare into those gorgeous eyes all night long...
Without warning, a mischevious side that Angela didn't know she had asserted itself.
"Anything?" she said, not breaking his gaze.
A sudden surprise flashed over his face. The surprise became a smile before he could force a belated poker face. Just like that, Angela knew she had him hooked.
So *this* is using your feminine wiles, she thought.
"Anything," Dino finally said, the forced evenness of his tone betraying that he had no idea what she might ask -- and that he would be thrilled to comply regardless.
"Buy me dinner," she said slyly.
"Done," Dino said, with a look of both relief and disappointment.
"A hot dog, with extra mustard. At the boardwalk." Angela grinned. The boardwalk was an old amusement park out on the coast; it took over an hour to get there.
She could tell by the way his eyes flashed that he was no longer disappointed. If there were other girls -- and with a dreamboat like this, how could there not be? -- Angela just proved she was unlike any of them.
"Tonight?" he asked.
"Duh," she rolled her eyes. "And no taking the freeway, either. I wanna see if you can go fast enough when it comes to the curves." She hadn't meant the double entendre, but she wasn't going to take it back, either.
Dino could only raise an eyebrow in response.
"Just let me get my keys and I'll show you around the complex."
Dino bowed out. "Looks like you're in good hands here. I've gotta run back to the office. I'll see you in a little bit, okay?"
"I'll be ready," Angela smiled. I hope you are...
"Okay. Obviously, this is the office. If you'll follow me, we'll check out the gym and the pool first..."
"Actually," Angela interrupted, "could I use your phone first? I need to call someone and let them know I'm okay. I mean, I got here okay."
"Sure. Use the phone there on my desk. I'll just wait outside."
"Thanks."
Since Dino obviously wasn't sent by some criminal mastermind to "take care of" her, she needed to head Noel off before he decided he had an excuse to drop by. "Hey, about that message earlier, never mind." She didn't know what else to say. The machine took her silence to mean she was finished and hung up.
Well, there wasn't really anything else to say. To Noel, or to Ricky.
Angela woke suddenly to the feel of cold water on her skin.
She'd fallen asleep in the tub. How long had she been out?
She heard someone knocking -- was that her door? Then a doorbell. Must be her door. Shoot! Was it Dino? Had she slept that long?
She scrambled out of the tub, the sound of her splashing loud in her still-sleepy ears. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. It barely reached from her nipples to her thighs. Stupid discount towels! She'd have to be careful.
"Hi."
"You're wet."
"Yeah, I fell asleep in the tub."
"How long do you need?"
"Fifteen minutes."
That meant thirty. "I'll wait in the car."
Angela awoke with a start. A pounding noise. Her eyes focused... on herself. In the mirror. Her lipstick was smeared along her cheek. She looked down; a matching smear ran along the counter.
Once the adrenaline of the sudden awakening faded, fatigue set in. Why was she so tired? Maybe last night's... adventure had taken more out of her than she'd thought.
She stood. Well, at least she'd managed to get dressed. Her cute little "princess" tee and pleated white miniskirt. Dino wouldn't know what hit him.
"Ready?"
She felt a breeze blow up the stairs and through the door, ruffling her skirt. She felt her nipples begin to crinkle; a hand reflexively covered her chest. The breeze stiffened, threatening to blow her skirt right up. My, it was *awfully* breezy... what underwear had she picked out? She thought back... she'd narrowed it down to the pink satin string bikinis or the white lace french-cuts, and she'd settled on... oh shit! She hadn't decided yet! She wasn't wearing anything yet! Her hand shot to her crotch, pressing down her skirt.
"October breeze can be chilly, huh?" Dino smiled. He cocked his head to one side as Angela felt her cheeks burn hot, then his eyes got big. He recovered quickly.
Great. Now he's gonna be wondering all night what I'm hiding down there.
Like he wasn't anyway, her conscience chided. You came on pretty strong at lunch.
Dino looked up at the top of her head for some reason. "You sure you're up for it?"
"I just need one more minute," Angela said, inching back away from the door, trying to decide whether to uncover her upper or lower charms to close the door. "I just need to get my shoes," she added, then letting out a quick sigh of relief, kicked the door shut. It slammed a bit more harshly than she'd have liked -- she didn't want Dino to think she was rude. "Just a sec," she called out through the door.
Angela rushed into the bedroom. The mirror on the vanity showed what Dino had been looking at -- apparently she'd slept at the vanity long enough that she'd bent some of her hair into a weird little shelf sticking out of the side of her head. Pressing it down didn't help. "So much for the hairstyle." With a sigh she rubbed her hands through her locks vigorously, giving her a passable tousled look; the stray lock still stuck out, but it wasn't as noticeable.
Okay, now get dressed.
There on the bed was the cute little white sweater she'd planned to wear, loose faux-cashmere knit with fuzzy little puff-balls at the ends of the two front ties and fuzzy cuffs -- probably a little too "winter" especially for the beach but she didn't have time to be picky now. Next to it, the two finalists in the underwear competition. She quickly checked under her top for a bra -- she wasn't wearing one.
Jeez, Angela, you sure are throwing yourself at him.
Well, bra straps would look tacky.
Sure, whatever.
So there was no matching-bra tiebreaker to decide the underwear issue. She felt the seconds tick away. Shoes first. There in front of the closet, white strappy sandals.
Again she stood, frozen by indecision. Pink, or white? Satin, or lace? Side-tie, or French-cut? Which one sent the right message? What *was* the right message? She wasn't seriously considering letting him... Well, no, but she hadn't picked this skirt to be modest -- he was supposed to get a few peeks.
She closed her eyes, just for a moment...
"Listen, it's not that important."
Angela straightened up with a start. "Eeek!" she squealed in surprise. "God, you scared me! Don't you knock?"
"Only until my knuckles are raw. I guess you didn't hear... I thought something might be wrong, so I came in to find you just standing here, staring at underwear on the bed."
Angela scrambled to grab the two garments, wadding them up in her hands as she spun around to face him, giving him a brief flash in the process. "Omigod, I must have dozed off. I'm really sorry."
"It's okay. I'm sorry I'm so boring."
Angela looked pained. "Oh no, it's not you! Really! I just had a really rough couple of days, and I didn't sleep well last night, and I guess it caught up with me. But I'll be okay, I promise. I'm really looking forward to driving out to the coast with you."
"Well, I'd hate to get started only to have you fall asleep. I've got something that might help." He pulled what looked like a prescription bottle out of his jacket pocket and rattled its contents.
"No, that's okay. It might interfere with my..." Angela stopped short of telling him that she was taking Xanax; it might freak him out. "...sleep cycle. I don't want to get any crankier than I already am; I've got interviews tomorrow." Well, she hoped to find some, anyway.
"You sure? It's safe. I've been taking them. It's originally a muscle stimulant designed to work with physical rehab, speed the recovery process -- I injured my shoulder working out, and a friend at work gave me the rest of hers, that's how I found out about them -- but it turns out a pleasant side effect is the temporary boost to your energy level."
That sounded like it might mess with her sapphires. And that was something she didn't need; they were acting up enough lately with the Xanax, or lack thereof, she still wasn't sure which.
"No, really. But thanks."
Dino backed off. "Okay, you're not into recreational pharmaceuticals. That's cool. The body's a temple, I understand." The look he gave her suggested he was ready to convert to her religion... Of course, she was more than ready to convert to his. If only she could stay awake!
"I'm really sorry. I really really wanna go..." she was starting to sound a little whiny, like a little girl up past her bedtime. Dino picked up the vibe.
"No, Angela, I think you should stay home and rest. I wouldn't want you to push yourself too hard and get sick. How about we reschedule for tomorrow night?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Maybe by then you can decide what to wear."
Angela blushed deep red.
"I'll let myself out. Sweet dreams, Lady Angela."
That would *not* be a problem...