A Pinch of Cool

Mya rolled herself up inside her comforter and fell asleep, or did she?

There was that damn bark again, only this time it came from somewhere inside the house.

3

MYA MUST HAVE JUMPED three feet off the bed when she heard that bark. At first she thought she’d dreamed it, but when she heard it again, she knew the animal was close by. Which meant, of course, that Eric was somewhere close by. Was there no rest for the weary? No port in the storm? No time to recover? She rolled over and pulled the blankets up over her head.

“Honey, I thought you’d never wake up,” Rita Strano announced. She sat on the bed next to Mya and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Mya rolled over and stared up at her mother’s always beautiful face.

Her mother’s eyes widened and an eyebrow shot up. “What the heck happened? Are you all right?”

A shot of adrenaline raced through Mya’s veins. “What do you mean?”

“Do you feel okay? You look rather…awful.” Her mother took in a sharp breath. “Were you in an accident?”

Mya yawned and stretched. Her jaw ached and her right hip hurt. How odd, she thought. “Define accident.”

“Don’t kid. Do you hurt anywhere? You look like something the dog dragged in.”

Mya smiled. Her bottom lip stung. “He did.” She was beginning to get somewhat worried over all the aches and pains.

“I don’t understand,” Rita grumbled, shaking her head.

Mya scooted out of bed thinking she needed to get a good look at herself in her bathroom mirror. She didn’t remember being in an actual accident, but then she’d read that if the accident’s really bad, a person can’t remember it. Like your brain saves you from the trauma or something. Okay, but she didn’t have any deep pain anywhere. Not really. Her lip hurt, and her hip was sore, and her ankle was a little stiff, and maybe her jaw felt a little weird, but nothing major. No headache. No nausea. No acid indigestion…no wait, she never got that. What was her mother talking about?

When Mya glanced in the mirror, she had no choice but to let out a short burst of a scream at the woman staring back at her.

Her mother came running in. “What’s the matter?”

Not only was Mya’s hair full of dried dog saliva and some kind of unrecognizable yellow substance, but her right cheek was slightly bruised, her bottom lip was swollen and her pretty floral dress was torn and just plain filthy.

“This is all your fault, Mom. You sent that…that disaster-on-wheels to pick me up from the airport. Are you trying to punish me for something?” Mya examined her bruised cheek and swollen lip in the mirror. She couldn’t believe there could be so much damage from one little fall. All right, maybe two falls. Then she remembered jumping into the back of the van, and the creepy yellow stuff, and how she had hit her face on the camera case.

“Of course not. I sent a comfy black limo to fetch you.” She hesitated for a moment. “Or did I tell Franko to order the limo?” She paused and thought for a second. “Yes. That was it. I got really busy with a Spanish blackberry torte and asked Franko to send over the limo. Oh, my! Did something go wrong with the limo driver? Did he attack you? You can’t trust anybody these days.”

“I wish the limo driver had attacked me. At least I would’ve been inside a clean car rather than a vile, stinking hell-on-wheels. It was Eric.”

“Eric attacked you?” She sat down on the closed toilet seat. “Who knew? And he was such a nice little boy. It’s that devil mother of his. I always knew she was a bad influence on that boy. We’ll send him to jail for the rest of his miserable life.”

Her mother was spinning out of control. Mya had to put a stop to it, or the police would be raiding Eric’s van at any moment…which, considering all he had put her through, might not be a bad idea. “Mom. Everything’s fine. Relax. It was nothing like that. Eric never touched me, well, except for a hug, which was way too long, by the way.”

She abruptly stopped staring at herself in the mirror. The yellow stuff was like glue in her hair and she had to get it out of there. “I have to take a shower this instant or I’ll explode.”

“That’s my girl. You need a good outlook on all of this. We’ll work it out, later, at dinner. I’m sure whatever happened between you two can be resolved.”

“Does this mean he’s coming to dinner?”

“Of course he is. He’s like a son to me.”

“A minute ago you were ready to put him in jail.”

“But now I’m not. See, it’s already working out.”

Mya pulled her dress up over her head and threw it on the white tile floor. Her mother picked it up. “Should I keep this as evidence, or should I burn it?”

Thoughts of a trial with Eric and her stained dress swirled around in Mya’s head. A long trial, with Calista Flockhart as her lawyer, and Lucy Liu as the judge. They’d fine him for a million dollars for causing Mya so much stress, but Eric wouldn’t be able to pay. She’d end up with his van. And Voodoo!

“Burn it!” she ordered. “Leave no thread uncharred.”

“I’ll get right to it. Enjoy your shower, sweetheart.”

Her mom left while holding the dress out in front of her with one hand. Mya closed the bathroom door, opened the glass door on the shower, turned on the water so it was nice and hot, stripped off her underwear and stepped under the gentle spray.

She wanted to stand there for the next hundred years and let the warm water run over her aching body. She had little aches and pains everywhere. She wondered how a simple ride from the airport could have caused all of this. She even had a bruise on her left shin.

Next time she’d take a cab or rent a car or steal a skateboard. She figured her lack of transportation judgment must have something to do with the coming-home thing. That unconscious need to be taken care of. The desire to return to the child stage, or some such madness. Why else would she have agreed to hitch a ride from Eric Baldini? The Tormentor.

Then she thought of how incredibly sexy she had felt when Eric had stared at her legs. She hadn’t been that turned on over something that simple in, well, forever. He had the best eyes, an olive-green color, and could probably be astonishingly attractive if he just dressed the part. Maybe a little product in his hair to make it stand up a little, a classic Calvin Klein shirt, and some H&M slacks. And where did he get those absolutely horrid blue shoes?

But why was she even thinking about Eric? He and his monster dog lived in Georgia for heaven’s sake. It was like swooning over somebody who lived in Brooklyn.

He may as well live on another planet!

She told herself to stop daydreaming and to think about her purpose for coming to L.A. in the first place. To save La Dolce Rita.

She needed to focus.

Now that she was safely home, she would go over her notes and present them at dinner. Turning, she let the water run down her face and belly while she lathered her hair, carefully. She turned again, rinsed and lathered it three more times, just to make extra sure the yellow goo was completely gone, along with any Eric Baldini residue.

Okay, she was back on track. Back in control.

Mya finished washing, dried off, dressed in a white Hugo Boss shirt and Ralph Lauren pink capris while she mentally prepared her speech on rules for cool. She wanted to wow Franko and her mom with her plan, and by tomorrow when the actual meeting rolled around, everyone would be prepared for the perfect pitch, Mya-style.

ERIC HAD WAITED PATIENTLY for someone to come home to let him in after Mya had locked him out. It wasn’t a long wait, maybe an hour or so. Obviously, no one had told Mya that he was her mother’s house guest for the next two weeks while his dad’s house was being renovated. He wondered how Mya would react to his constant presence after their afternoon together. Not that it was a necessarily bad afternoon. It was more in the somewhat strained category of afternoons.

At one point, he actually toyed with the idea of getting a room somewhere, but then decided against it because of his dog. Voodoo was a point of contention to most hotel and motel owners. It was just easier to sleep on a mat in the van while he traveled. However, sometimes getting a shower was something of a problem, but he hadn’t expected to have to pick up Mya at the airport the very day he arrived in L.A. That was his father’s idea, and not a very bright one. He never should have agreed to it, but his dad always could get him to do things he didn’t want to do.

Now, as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror off the guest room, shaving off his three-day-old beard, he wondered if giving her a ride home had been a smart move. The look on her face when he hugged her said it all. The woman wanted to run, not hug. He could see it in her eyes, those fantastic smoky eyes. And that body.

He put on his only clean T-shirt, black, and a pair of shiny blue knee-length shorts. Admittedly, he didn’t look quite up to her funky standards, but at least he didn’t smell anymore. He blamed the obnoxious odor on those bottles of spicy Cajun mustard his father had forced him to lug back from New Orleans. Voodoo couldn’t leave anything alone once it was inside the van.

Of course, Eric should have cleaned it up before he picked up Mya, but Voodoo had just ripped open the plastic bottles on the way and there hadn’t been any time.

This whole thing had been his father’s idea. Eric was happily filming his saloons when his dad had called him, begging for some help with La Dolce Rita. Not that Eric had a single idea of what to do to help, but his dad insisted that he come out anyway. He never could say no to his dad. The man had a way of making everything sound exciting. Like it was Eric’s idea. And this was no exception. By the time he drove into L.A. he was feeling euphoric about the possibilities, even though he still hadn’t one single clue of what to do to help. When he had heard that Mya was on her way out as well, he’d hoped they could work together on the show, but after everything that had happened that afternoon, he was sure the show was categorically doomed.

“AH, THAT’S MY BEAUTIFUL MYA,” Rita said crisply as Mya walked into the kitchen. Rita held out her arms and Mya embraced her mother. “Do you feel better, sweetheart?”

“Much,” Mya answered while they hugged even tighter.