spend more time with her,” Dante said. “Before she has a meltdown.”
“You really think Mom would lose it?”
Dante’s expression was stone cold serious. “I think we don’t want to find out.”
Gabriel gulped, but then a smile spread across his face. “At least, with her paranoid about Dad’s free time, she won’t be scrutinizing me and my love life so much.”
“No.” Dante shook his head. “She’s still brow beating me about this secret paramour of yours.”
Gabriel flopped down into the chair behind his desk again, deflated. “Call Francis and light a fire under him.”
~*~
Lucy used her mother’s flat iron to tame her still fly-away tresses. She even used her mother’s make up. Cheap stuff from Wal-Mart, of course, but since she hadn’t bothered buying her own, she had to make do. She burgled her mother’s room again, this time taking a faux silk blouse that her mother wore to waitress in. It was hoe-ish and almost too big in the bust, but Lucy tucked it into the vintage Calvin Klein’s, and finished the look off with the rip-off Jimmy Choo’s heels.
She looked in the bathroom mirror to check her makeup, and decided she didn’t look bad at all. It’s a start. But she didn’t check out her ass. Hopefully, I’ll still be hot enough to throw that perv Luvic off balance.
She grabbed her driver’s license and the two hundred and fifty dollars she’d managed to save from working at McDonalds, and stuck it in the front pocket of her jeans. Walking to the bus stop seemed much easier. She naturally walked better in heels, and for the first time since they’d moved to the sleepy, crappy little town of Four Corners, she felt like her old self again. Not the dowdy, plain Jane that tried to stay faded into the scenery.
No.
She walked down the street with her old swagger, her posture perfect, her bright hazel eyes meeting the eye of everyone she passed by. Her smile grew with every step, becoming luminous and beautiful. She noticed every man—young, old or downright ancient—smiled with puppy-dog interest. She could feel their stares as they turned to watch her walk away.
Good, I’ve still got it. Always best to go into battle with your weapons sharp.
Lucy stood leaning against the bus stop sign, going over in her head what she’d say to the scum bag lawyer. A bus stopped in front of her, its breaks whined from wear. The door opened with a creek and Shirley peering down at her from the driver’s seat. She smiled but there was no recognition in her expression.
“You gettin’ on, sweet thing? I’ve got a schedule...” Shirley’s eyes widened as Lucy stepped up the stairs and fed a dollar fifty in quarters to the toll machine.
“Oh—my—goodness...Mary and Joseph!”
“Hey, Shirley.” Lucy smiled and took a seat up front, right across from her.
Shirley turned in her seat and just shook her head. “I didn’t even recognize you, baby girl.”
“It’s just a little make up.”
“Shit!” Shirley whooped. Her green eyes jerking as she took in the sight of Lucy. “It’s a hell of a lot more than a little make up. You look like a completely different person.”
This made Lucy smile more than anything. She wanted to be another person. She wanted to be who she used to be.
“You wearing that to work?”
Lucy shook her head. “Off today.”
“Then where in God’s creation are you goin’?”
“San Bernardino,” Lucy pursed her lips as a thought occurred to her, and Shirley‘s eyebrows knitted in consternation. “You wouldn‘t happen to know when the next bus runs there, would you?”
~*~
Things ran smoothly. No more than ten minutes after Shirley left her off at the bus terminal, Lucy boarded the bus to San Bernardino. It wasn’t crowded, so she had an hour to sit and think, without anyone trying to strike up a conversation with her.
Every so many miles there would be a sign, counting down the miles to journey’s end. At first those miles were trudging down far too slow. It made Lucy feel more and more impatient. But by the time the signs started ticking down from fifty, Lucy started getting nervous. Butterflies from hell fluttered in her stomach, and her mouth felt dray as the bottom of Death Valley.
But why am I getting nervous? She thought, chewing absently on one of her ragged nails. I can do this. That sleaze bag is toast. After I’m done with him...
But as each mile marker declared San Bernardino closer and closer, her nervous stomach, and her fidgeting hands