T-shirt. Ruth had a long nose, not big, but she had to admit little Gracie had had a point—there was something vaguely weasel-ish about her, in the nicest possible way; although Sylvia felt cruel to think it. Her eyes the color of poop? They were a sort of sludgy-green. But she had almost black hair; beautiful, flawless olive skin; perfect teeth, and Sylvia could see that her overall look might really attract a man. Ruth looked so much younger than her years, too, and Sylvia had no doubt that her flirting skills were honed sharp and that she could play the sex appeal card with aplomb. She’d obviously had plenty of practice with her four engagements.
“Anyway,” Ruth said, “I’m not going to get involved with anybody right now. I need to concentrate on my writing . And when I make millions from my novel, I’m sure the perfect man will fall into my life just when I need him.”
THE NEXT MORNING, after Sylvia had set her friend up with Twitter and Facebook accounts, Ruth gave Grace a big bag of gifts.
“Mommy, Mommy! Look!” her daughter shouted, skipping about. “A pair of Wizard of Oz shoes like Dorothy’s with red sparklies!” She pulled more goodies out of the bag. “And chocolate!”
“Ruth, really, you shouldn’t have—it’s not her birthday or Christmas.”
“And even more chocolate! And candy, too!” Grace squealed, her skinny brown arm buried deep in the bag.
“By the way, how did you know Grace’s shoe size?” Sylvia asked. She glanced over at her daughter whose teeth were already stuck together in a green, chewy mess.
“I guessed. Look further into the bag, Grace baby, there’s a red sparkly bag to match.” Ruth turned to Sylvia. “I just couldn’t resist. When I saw her cute little face when we Skyped the other day, I fell in love with her. She’s a little dream.” She swept her hand over her dark hair. “By the way, Sylvia, honey, do you have another shower I could use? Your plumbing is a little funky in my bathroom.”
“Sure. Upstairs. First door on the right.”
Ruth sashayed upstairs, her see-through negligee trailing behind her like mist. There was something very sexy about her and Sylvia felt relieved that Tommy wasn’t around.
Grace strut about in her shoes, which were a tad too big, clicking her heels together saying, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” Grace knew all about The Wizard of Oz because Tommy was keen to educate his daughter with classic films. Some of them not suitable for a child her age, at all. Men, Sylvia mused —they can be so clueless sometimes when it comes to child rearing.
Sylvia gave Grace a kiss and held her close, but Grace, like a jiggling, excited puppy struggled free.
“Remember,” Sylvia said, “to say a very big thank you to Ruth. Maybe you could draw her a lovely card.”
“She’s so nice to me. I really, really like her.”
Sylvia felt a pang in her stomach which took her by surprise. Jealousy? Surely not.
CHAPTER 5
Tommy
T ommy sat by the ocean in Malibu, watching the surfers, clad in wet suits like black seals waiting for the right wave. It was almost dark. He mulled over the day’s events. He really hadn’t meant anything to happen. He had just gotten off the plane when his cell phone rang. It was Marie—the Bel Ange, as Sylvia called her. Marie suggested they have lunch again—she’d seen from his Facebook post that he was in LA. Just to talk about her headshots, she said. A little chitchat about music, acting—have a nice time out.
She was pushy, Tommy thought. A pretty girl used to getting men to do her favors.
Still, he found himself saying “yes.”
He had no idea that Marie would be so flirtatious. So predatory. Her skin was silky and pearlish, smooth and taut. Her dark hair hung over her shining eyes like a wild mare’s mane. She was wearing a short (oh so short!) black skirt and he could see a flash of knickers when she sat down. Wow, she looked young. So fresh.
“Anyway,” Ruth said, “I’m not going to get involved with anybody right now. I need to concentrate on my writing . And when I make millions from my novel, I’m sure the perfect man will fall into my life just when I need him.”
THE NEXT MORNING, after Sylvia had set her friend up with Twitter and Facebook accounts, Ruth gave Grace a big bag of gifts.
“Mommy, Mommy! Look!” her daughter shouted, skipping about. “A pair of Wizard of Oz shoes like Dorothy’s with red sparklies!” She pulled more goodies out of the bag. “And chocolate!”
“Ruth, really, you shouldn’t have—it’s not her birthday or Christmas.”
“And even more chocolate! And candy, too!” Grace squealed, her skinny brown arm buried deep in the bag.
“By the way, how did you know Grace’s shoe size?” Sylvia asked. She glanced over at her daughter whose teeth were already stuck together in a green, chewy mess.
“I guessed. Look further into the bag, Grace baby, there’s a red sparkly bag to match.” Ruth turned to Sylvia. “I just couldn’t resist. When I saw her cute little face when we Skyped the other day, I fell in love with her. She’s a little dream.” She swept her hand over her dark hair. “By the way, Sylvia, honey, do you have another shower I could use? Your plumbing is a little funky in my bathroom.”
“Sure. Upstairs. First door on the right.”
Ruth sashayed upstairs, her see-through negligee trailing behind her like mist. There was something very sexy about her and Sylvia felt relieved that Tommy wasn’t around.
Grace strut about in her shoes, which were a tad too big, clicking her heels together saying, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” Grace knew all about The Wizard of Oz because Tommy was keen to educate his daughter with classic films. Some of them not suitable for a child her age, at all. Men, Sylvia mused —they can be so clueless sometimes when it comes to child rearing.
Sylvia gave Grace a kiss and held her close, but Grace, like a jiggling, excited puppy struggled free.
“Remember,” Sylvia said, “to say a very big thank you to Ruth. Maybe you could draw her a lovely card.”
“She’s so nice to me. I really, really like her.”
Sylvia felt a pang in her stomach which took her by surprise. Jealousy? Surely not.
CHAPTER 5
Tommy
T ommy sat by the ocean in Malibu, watching the surfers, clad in wet suits like black seals waiting for the right wave. It was almost dark. He mulled over the day’s events. He really hadn’t meant anything to happen. He had just gotten off the plane when his cell phone rang. It was Marie—the Bel Ange, as Sylvia called her. Marie suggested they have lunch again—she’d seen from his Facebook post that he was in LA. Just to talk about her headshots, she said. A little chitchat about music, acting—have a nice time out.
She was pushy, Tommy thought. A pretty girl used to getting men to do her favors.
Still, he found himself saying “yes.”
He had no idea that Marie would be so flirtatious. So predatory. Her skin was silky and pearlish, smooth and taut. Her dark hair hung over her shining eyes like a wild mare’s mane. She was wearing a short (oh so short!) black skirt and he could see a flash of knickers when she sat down. Wow, she looked young. So fresh.
Similar Books
