Shadow Moon, page 13
I reached for the window to slide it open, but stopped when I saw what he was doing. While Blaster watched, looking mesmerized, Teagan was peeing in the snow. Gross!
I opened the window and yelled, “Hey, Teagan! Don’t you have indoor plumbing in Ireland?”
Teagan finished his business, then turned and flashed his impishly evil grin. He said not a word, just raised his hand in farewell and vanished. I squinted at the snow, not believing my eyes. There, written in giant yellow pee letters, were the words, FIND THE GIRL! (Complete with exclamation mark.)
Okay, it’s not like I need to be whapped upside the head with a giant stick to get the picture. I’d been told by three separate beings—one of them a faery, one a half-demon, the third a wannabe angel—to get off my butt and find my sister, Anna Starr.
Time to stop moping and get busy.
Thanks to Gilbert, I now had the unlisted phone number of Dr. Gregory Scott, Paula Scott and Anne Marie Scott. Don’t ask me how Gilbert managed to accomplish this miracle. It was another don’t ask, don’t tell deal.
When he’d knocked on the door and handed me the number, he warned, “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Why?”
He frowned at me. “You don’t know why? Really?”
I sighed. Why did Gilbert always make me feel like an idiot? “Really, Gilbert. I don’t know.”
Gilbert smiled down at Mercedes who was clinging to his hand like she was afraid he’d get away. “I’ll bet Mercedes knows.”
“Okay, would one of you just please tell me?”
Mercedes giggled. “Cell phones, girlfriend. I bet your sis has her own phone. She probably never talks on the family phone.”
I pursed my lips in disgust. “So how do I get her cell number?”
“Trickery,” Gilbert said. “Think of a good reason you need it and then convince whoever answers the phone to give it to you.”
“Hmmm. Could work, I guess.”
I invited them in, but Gilbert insisted he had important scientific stuff to do. Before they left, he said, “That alcohol thing is bogus. Everybody knows it. I’m certain you’ll be cleared of all charges.”
“Really?”
Gilbert nodded solemnly. “Yes, my colleagues and I are working on gathering evidence of your innocence.”
My mouth dropped open. Brainiac Gilbert and his colleagues were working on my behalf? A flood of gratitude washed over me, and I blinked back tears. Geez, just a few seconds ago I’d been thinking bad thoughts about him.
I cleared my throat and croaked, “Thanks, Gilbert.”
The sight of girly emotion had apparently been too much for Gilbert. He’d grunted, “No problem,” did a quick about face and marched away from my doorstep, dragging Mercedes behind him.
Now I sat on the couch clutching the paper with the Scotts’s number scrawled across it. I’d taken Beck’s advice and borrowed Junior’s cell phone. I picked it up, started to punch in the numbers, then stopped. Gilbert was right. I needed a good cover story. I set the phone down and paced to the end of the trailer and back, ten times. Didn’t take long. Just long enough to hatch a plan.
My hand was shaking when the call went through, and a phone started ringing in Temecula, California. Maybe my sister would answer the phone, and I wouldn’t have to spin my fantasy tale.
Whoever answered the phone had a thick accent. It sounded Spanish, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I could only understand a few words. One of them was residence.
“Hi, is this the Scott residence?” I chirped.
“Yes, what you want?” a woman barked.
Okay, so much for phone etiquette. “May I please speak to Anne Marie? It’s important.”
“Call cell.” Click. The line went dead.
I stared at Junior’s phone, unable to believe my bad luck. Never say die. I punched the number in again. Same garbled greeting, this time tinged with a sharp edge of annoyance.
“Please, don’t hang up. It’s important I reach Anne Marie.” Make a personal connection, Allie. Scanning a mental list of potential Hispanic female names, I said, “Lucita?”
“Huh? No Lucita here. Rosa.”
“Oh, so sorry, Rosa. This is Anne Marie’s friend, Allie. I need her cell number. I accidentally left my phone in the pocket of my jeans, and it went through the wash. I lost all my contacts. She told me to call her after school.”
“Missus say don’t give out cell numbers. Call somebody else.”
I sensed she was about to slam the phone down again. “No, no, Rosa, don’t hang up. This is different. You see, I had her number. She wants me to have her number, and now I don’t. Anne Marie will be very mad at you if you don’t give it to me.”
“Never heard of no Allie,” she mumbled.
“Really? Maybe you know me as Allison.” I knew better than to say Alfrieda.
“Ah, yes . . . Allison.”
Score!
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you gave me the number.”
“Hold on.”
I winced as the phone clattered onto a hard surface. I heard the sound of feet clomping across an uncarpeted floor, drawers opening and slamming shut. Then the rustle of papers.
“Hokay, here you go.” Rosa recited a number with a 951 prefix.
“Thank you so much, Rosa,” I gushed. “The next time I see you, I’ll give you a big hug.”
“Never mind.” Click.
I thought long and hard before dialing the cell number. So many questions without answers. Did Anne Marie know she was adopted? Did she know she had a twin sister? It would be easy to talk myself out of calling her. But it wasn’t just a matter of idle curiosity. A bunch of people—well they weren’t all exactly people—thought it was vitally important for the two of us to meet. That’s the thing about saving the world. It’s uncharted territory, and you have to do stuff you really don’t want to do.
I took a deep breath and punched in the number. I counted five rings before a breathless voice said, “Hello?”
“Anne Marie?”
“Nope, Anne Marie can’t talk right now. She’s making out with her boyfriend.”
A voice in the background shrieked, “Kimmy, shut up!” Long pause filled by a chorus of raucous laughter.
“Is this Anne Marie’s phone?”
“Yeah, who the hell are you?”
“My name’s Allie. I’m calling from Washington State. I really need to talk to her.”
Kimmy yelled, “Hey, Anne Marie. Some chick from Washington State wants to talk to you. Step away from Ryan and take your call.”
The background noise died down. I heard muffled whispers and the sound of footsteps. I clutched the phone tighter in anticipation.
She didn’t bother with hello. “Don’t say a word. I know why you’re calling me, and you’re wasting your time.”
“But you can’t know why I’m calling unless you know . . . ”
“I’m adopted? Of course I know. My parents told me ages ago. They also warned me this was going to happen.”
“Warned you?” I repeated, apparently unable to formulate an original response.
“Not to be surprised if somebody from Washington calls and asks for money. Yeah, I know all about the adoption, how my mother took me away from that gross guy who sold me. Now I have a good home, so you can save your breath. We’re not giving you money.”
“No, no,” I sputtered. “That’s not why I called. Just listen—”
“I don’t know how you got this number, but don’t call me again. Ever.” Click.
Well, crap. I glared at the phone and thought about my next move. The longer I glared, the more fired up I got. I stood and stared out the window. Teagan’s FIND THE GIRL! message had melted into muck, but still resonated in my mind.
I began to pace.
As I paced, I muttered, “Is that all ya got, Anne Marie? You think you can scare me away with your snotty attitude? Well, think again. Obviously, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. You’re about to go head to head with Allie Emerson, your twin sister. Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Keeping a sharp lookout for Junior’s mother, Senora Martinez, I followed Junior through the newly remodeled dining room of Cholo’s Mexican Restaurant, soon to be reincarnated as Junior’s Bar and Grill. Junior’s mother scared the crap out of me, even though the top of her head barely came to my shoulder. For some inexplicable reason, she blamed me for Junior’s departure from her favorite Mexican daytime drama. Never mind he was a big movie star now.
I tugged at Junior’s sleeve. “Um, is your mother on the premises?”
He wrapped an arm around my neck, pulled me close and murmured in my ear. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll protect you from the mean, little Mexican woman.”
I pulled away and looked around, checking to see if she was lurking in one of the dark corners. “So, is that a yes?”
“I think she’s in the kitchen.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
With a bark of laughter, Junior said, “No, the kitchen is my mother’s territory. I want to show you what I’ve got planned for the outdoor dining area.”
He picked up a set of blueprints from a nearby table, took my hand and led me through an open doorway onto a huge wooden deck. Two men were busy constructing the railing. They looked up at our approach, but kept on working.
“Wow, Junior, this looks great.”
He pointed at the area beyond the deck, now a weed-filled empty lot. “We’ll enclose this area with a high fence, landscape it and add a water feature.” He thumbed through the blueprints and pulled out a sketch drawn with exquisite detail. It showed a waterfall tumbling into a winding creek lined with shrubs and flowers. “This is what I want.”
“Oh my God, it’s beautiful! Who drew this? Your architect?”
I swear Junior blushed. I didn’t think he could. “Nah, it’s just something I threw together.”
“You? You drew this?”
“Don’t act so surprised. I’m not just a pretty face, ya know.”
“Geez, I had no idea. This is really good. You could be a landscape architect.”
“Maybe in my next life,” he muttered, staring at the floor.
I was about to launch into my you must be true to yourself lecture when I heard a burst of Spanish and staccato footsteps approaching. Mama Martinez! I looked around for an escape route. I was up on my tippy toes and ready to run, but Junior grabbed my arm and whispered, “Courage, chica. Face your fears.”
“Oh, man.” I sighed.
Junior’s mother raked me with an angry glare, but clearly her fury was focused on her son. She looked up at him and waggled a finger in his face. “Foolishness. Waterfall? Creek? We need good food. Nothing more.”
Junior’s face turned to stone. I knew the expression well. He was ticked off and trying hard to control it. “I don’t tell you what to do inside. You leave the outside to me.”
She responded furiously in Spanish. Junior looked over at me and shrugged. Finally, when she showed no signs of stopping, he lifted a hand and said firmly, “Enough!”
His mother snapped her mouth shut and put her hands on her hips. Her dark gaze left her son and focused on me. “You!”
“Me?” Why did I have the feeling she about to blame me for the waterfall and creek?
Junior put his arm around me and spoke to his mother in Spanish. I don’t know what he said, but the fight went out of her. After a little hiss of disgust that sounded like a teakettle boiling over on a hot stove, she spun on her heel and marched back inside the restaurant.
Junior shook his head. “She doesn’t know when to quit.”
One of the workman saluted Junior with his hammer. “You got my sympathy, man. That mama of yours is full of piss and vinegar. When you’re not here, she’s out here ragging on us.”
Junior’s brows drew together. “Is that right? Don’t worry, it’s cool. I’ll put a stop to it. Just remember, she’s the queen of the kitchen, but I pay the bills.”
I glanced at my watch. “I gotta get going. Faye wants me at the diner to help with the lunch crowd.”
“I need to have a word with my mother before we leave. I’ll meet you in the car.”
Rather than go back through the restaurant, I jumped off the deck and headed for Junior’s car.
Junior had stopped by the trailer earlier today to see how I was progressing in my quest to connect with my sister. I’d called her cell phone. I’d called her home phone. I’d texted her. Total roadblock. When Junior saw my mood, he’d pulled me off the couch and insisted I go with him to Cholo’s. Now, while I waited for him, I tried calling Anne Marie one more time. It didn’t even go to voice mail. It just rang endlessly.
When Junior slipped into the driver’s seat, I handed him the phone and shook my head.
“You gave it your best shot.” Junior started the car.
Slumped down in the passenger seat, I pursed my lips in disgust and nodded, still bummed that my phone calls and text messages to Anne Marie had accomplished nothing. Nada. Zip.
Junior flashed his smile and patted my leg. “Poor baby. Shoulda let me try.”
Even though I knew he was yanking my chain, I couldn’t help what I did next. I faked holding a phone to my ear, lowered my voice and tried to recreate Junior’s sexy growl. “Hi there. Is this the very beautiful Anne Marie Scott? You are speaking to Junior Martinez, yes, the Junior Martinez, star of movies and television. No, I’m not kidding—”
Junior’s whoop of laughter put an end to my nonsense. “So, you think I could charm her into listening?”
I smiled at him to take the sting out of the words. “No, you think you could charm her into listening, and maybe you could. But, I need to do it myself. You get that . . . right?”
Junior nodded. “Time for a road trip then.”
“Road trip to where?”
“You’re the genius, figure it out.”
I sat up straight and stared at him. “Are you talking about driving to southern California? To Temecula?”
Junior shrugged. “It’s not exactly a trip to the moon. Two long days of driving and we’re there.”
“If Anne Marie won’t talk to me on the phone, she won’t talk to me in person either.”
“Worth a try. What else have you got to do right now?”
I thought about it while we rode in silence. What else did I have to do? Homework? Bussing tables? Tag along behind Junior?
We pulled into the Busy Bea parking lot.
“Not much,” I admitted.
Junior said, “I need to get away from my mother. She’s driving me nuts.”
I reached for the door handle. “Speaking of mothers, let’s talk about Faye. You gotta be crazy if you think she’ll let me take off to California. With you.”
Junior lifted his hands helplessly, as if he just couldn’t help his handsome self.
I grinned over at him. “No offense, but you know Faye.”
He unfastened his seat belt. “Let’s go talk to her.”
The lunch crowd hadn’t arrived yet, so we corralled Faye in a corner booth for an intimate chat. Junior poured on the charm, apparently forgetting Faye had been exposed to a lifetime of handsome men with agendas. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Her face told the story. At first, her expression was curious. Then, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Toward the end of Junior’s pitch, he said, “I promise, we’ll have separate rooms and I won’t lay a finger on your daughter. You can trust me.”
That’s when Faye burst into laughter. She used the corner of her apron to wipe away tears of merriment before saying, “Junior Martinez. Do you really think I’d let my sixteen-year-old daughter jump into a car with you and travel thousands of miles away from home doing God knows what?”
Junior looked at the floor and mumbled, “More like eleven hundred miles, not thousands.”
Faye laughed again. This wasn’t going well. “Is that the best you can do, Junior?”
Not one to ignore a challenge, Junior stiffened. “I find it very sad that you do not trust me, when all I want to do is help Allie find her sister . . . your other daughter.”
Faye punched him lightly in the arm. “Oh, get off your high horse.”
She stood. “You two stay right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I poked an elbow into Junior’s ribs. “I warned you.”
He glowered and drummed his fingers on the table. After five minutes, Faye returned. She slid into the booth, folded her hands on the table and fixed her gaze on Junior. “I’d like to know your opinion of Disneyland?”
Junior jerked in surprise. “Disneyland? Well, uh, it’s fine, I guess. I did a special appearance there once. It went okay.”
“This isn’t about you, Junior. Do you think Allie would enjoy it?”
Junior’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I get it. Yeah, I think Allie would love it. We can definitely go to Disneyland.”
Faye’s expression changed. “FYI, Junior, that was a test. Of course, Disneyland isn’t what’s important. Is it?”
Junior looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn’t know which way to jump. I wished I could help him, like they do on that TV show. But Junior couldn’t “ask the audience” or “phone a friend.” I knew Faye was thinking about the baby she’d given up. Her sad eyes told me so.
“For your information, Mr. Junior Martinez,” Faye said. “The important thing here is for Allie to connect with her sister, Anna Starr.” She paused and swiped at her eyes. “My daughter.”
Apparently struck dumb, Junior barely managed a nod.
Faye recovered rapidly. She smiled and patted his arm. “Excellent. Now, tell me, when do we leave?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Yep, that’s right. Me and Junior and Faye. Road trip. Yippee. Faye had convinced her friend, Connie, to sub for her at the diner. Bea promised Faye she could have her job back when we returned, even though she was leaving during the holiday season.
We only had one day (Tuesday) to get ready, since Junior wanted to leave at six a.m. on Wednesday. His plan was to drive just south of Redding, stop for the night and make it to Temecula by late Thursday. Once there, we’d figure out a way to contact Anne Marie. It was a pretty lame plan, but we had a couple days of drive time to come up with something better.
I opened the window and yelled, “Hey, Teagan! Don’t you have indoor plumbing in Ireland?”
Teagan finished his business, then turned and flashed his impishly evil grin. He said not a word, just raised his hand in farewell and vanished. I squinted at the snow, not believing my eyes. There, written in giant yellow pee letters, were the words, FIND THE GIRL! (Complete with exclamation mark.)
Okay, it’s not like I need to be whapped upside the head with a giant stick to get the picture. I’d been told by three separate beings—one of them a faery, one a half-demon, the third a wannabe angel—to get off my butt and find my sister, Anna Starr.
Time to stop moping and get busy.
Thanks to Gilbert, I now had the unlisted phone number of Dr. Gregory Scott, Paula Scott and Anne Marie Scott. Don’t ask me how Gilbert managed to accomplish this miracle. It was another don’t ask, don’t tell deal.
When he’d knocked on the door and handed me the number, he warned, “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Why?”
He frowned at me. “You don’t know why? Really?”
I sighed. Why did Gilbert always make me feel like an idiot? “Really, Gilbert. I don’t know.”
Gilbert smiled down at Mercedes who was clinging to his hand like she was afraid he’d get away. “I’ll bet Mercedes knows.”
“Okay, would one of you just please tell me?”
Mercedes giggled. “Cell phones, girlfriend. I bet your sis has her own phone. She probably never talks on the family phone.”
I pursed my lips in disgust. “So how do I get her cell number?”
“Trickery,” Gilbert said. “Think of a good reason you need it and then convince whoever answers the phone to give it to you.”
“Hmmm. Could work, I guess.”
I invited them in, but Gilbert insisted he had important scientific stuff to do. Before they left, he said, “That alcohol thing is bogus. Everybody knows it. I’m certain you’ll be cleared of all charges.”
“Really?”
Gilbert nodded solemnly. “Yes, my colleagues and I are working on gathering evidence of your innocence.”
My mouth dropped open. Brainiac Gilbert and his colleagues were working on my behalf? A flood of gratitude washed over me, and I blinked back tears. Geez, just a few seconds ago I’d been thinking bad thoughts about him.
I cleared my throat and croaked, “Thanks, Gilbert.”
The sight of girly emotion had apparently been too much for Gilbert. He’d grunted, “No problem,” did a quick about face and marched away from my doorstep, dragging Mercedes behind him.
Now I sat on the couch clutching the paper with the Scotts’s number scrawled across it. I’d taken Beck’s advice and borrowed Junior’s cell phone. I picked it up, started to punch in the numbers, then stopped. Gilbert was right. I needed a good cover story. I set the phone down and paced to the end of the trailer and back, ten times. Didn’t take long. Just long enough to hatch a plan.
My hand was shaking when the call went through, and a phone started ringing in Temecula, California. Maybe my sister would answer the phone, and I wouldn’t have to spin my fantasy tale.
Whoever answered the phone had a thick accent. It sounded Spanish, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I could only understand a few words. One of them was residence.
“Hi, is this the Scott residence?” I chirped.
“Yes, what you want?” a woman barked.
Okay, so much for phone etiquette. “May I please speak to Anne Marie? It’s important.”
“Call cell.” Click. The line went dead.
I stared at Junior’s phone, unable to believe my bad luck. Never say die. I punched the number in again. Same garbled greeting, this time tinged with a sharp edge of annoyance.
“Please, don’t hang up. It’s important I reach Anne Marie.” Make a personal connection, Allie. Scanning a mental list of potential Hispanic female names, I said, “Lucita?”
“Huh? No Lucita here. Rosa.”
“Oh, so sorry, Rosa. This is Anne Marie’s friend, Allie. I need her cell number. I accidentally left my phone in the pocket of my jeans, and it went through the wash. I lost all my contacts. She told me to call her after school.”
“Missus say don’t give out cell numbers. Call somebody else.”
I sensed she was about to slam the phone down again. “No, no, Rosa, don’t hang up. This is different. You see, I had her number. She wants me to have her number, and now I don’t. Anne Marie will be very mad at you if you don’t give it to me.”
“Never heard of no Allie,” she mumbled.
“Really? Maybe you know me as Allison.” I knew better than to say Alfrieda.
“Ah, yes . . . Allison.”
Score!
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you gave me the number.”
“Hold on.”
I winced as the phone clattered onto a hard surface. I heard the sound of feet clomping across an uncarpeted floor, drawers opening and slamming shut. Then the rustle of papers.
“Hokay, here you go.” Rosa recited a number with a 951 prefix.
“Thank you so much, Rosa,” I gushed. “The next time I see you, I’ll give you a big hug.”
“Never mind.” Click.
I thought long and hard before dialing the cell number. So many questions without answers. Did Anne Marie know she was adopted? Did she know she had a twin sister? It would be easy to talk myself out of calling her. But it wasn’t just a matter of idle curiosity. A bunch of people—well they weren’t all exactly people—thought it was vitally important for the two of us to meet. That’s the thing about saving the world. It’s uncharted territory, and you have to do stuff you really don’t want to do.
I took a deep breath and punched in the number. I counted five rings before a breathless voice said, “Hello?”
“Anne Marie?”
“Nope, Anne Marie can’t talk right now. She’s making out with her boyfriend.”
A voice in the background shrieked, “Kimmy, shut up!” Long pause filled by a chorus of raucous laughter.
“Is this Anne Marie’s phone?”
“Yeah, who the hell are you?”
“My name’s Allie. I’m calling from Washington State. I really need to talk to her.”
Kimmy yelled, “Hey, Anne Marie. Some chick from Washington State wants to talk to you. Step away from Ryan and take your call.”
The background noise died down. I heard muffled whispers and the sound of footsteps. I clutched the phone tighter in anticipation.
She didn’t bother with hello. “Don’t say a word. I know why you’re calling me, and you’re wasting your time.”
“But you can’t know why I’m calling unless you know . . . ”
“I’m adopted? Of course I know. My parents told me ages ago. They also warned me this was going to happen.”
“Warned you?” I repeated, apparently unable to formulate an original response.
“Not to be surprised if somebody from Washington calls and asks for money. Yeah, I know all about the adoption, how my mother took me away from that gross guy who sold me. Now I have a good home, so you can save your breath. We’re not giving you money.”
“No, no,” I sputtered. “That’s not why I called. Just listen—”
“I don’t know how you got this number, but don’t call me again. Ever.” Click.
Well, crap. I glared at the phone and thought about my next move. The longer I glared, the more fired up I got. I stood and stared out the window. Teagan’s FIND THE GIRL! message had melted into muck, but still resonated in my mind.
I began to pace.
As I paced, I muttered, “Is that all ya got, Anne Marie? You think you can scare me away with your snotty attitude? Well, think again. Obviously, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. You’re about to go head to head with Allie Emerson, your twin sister. Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Keeping a sharp lookout for Junior’s mother, Senora Martinez, I followed Junior through the newly remodeled dining room of Cholo’s Mexican Restaurant, soon to be reincarnated as Junior’s Bar and Grill. Junior’s mother scared the crap out of me, even though the top of her head barely came to my shoulder. For some inexplicable reason, she blamed me for Junior’s departure from her favorite Mexican daytime drama. Never mind he was a big movie star now.
I tugged at Junior’s sleeve. “Um, is your mother on the premises?”
He wrapped an arm around my neck, pulled me close and murmured in my ear. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll protect you from the mean, little Mexican woman.”
I pulled away and looked around, checking to see if she was lurking in one of the dark corners. “So, is that a yes?”
“I think she’s in the kitchen.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
With a bark of laughter, Junior said, “No, the kitchen is my mother’s territory. I want to show you what I’ve got planned for the outdoor dining area.”
He picked up a set of blueprints from a nearby table, took my hand and led me through an open doorway onto a huge wooden deck. Two men were busy constructing the railing. They looked up at our approach, but kept on working.
“Wow, Junior, this looks great.”
He pointed at the area beyond the deck, now a weed-filled empty lot. “We’ll enclose this area with a high fence, landscape it and add a water feature.” He thumbed through the blueprints and pulled out a sketch drawn with exquisite detail. It showed a waterfall tumbling into a winding creek lined with shrubs and flowers. “This is what I want.”
“Oh my God, it’s beautiful! Who drew this? Your architect?”
I swear Junior blushed. I didn’t think he could. “Nah, it’s just something I threw together.”
“You? You drew this?”
“Don’t act so surprised. I’m not just a pretty face, ya know.”
“Geez, I had no idea. This is really good. You could be a landscape architect.”
“Maybe in my next life,” he muttered, staring at the floor.
I was about to launch into my you must be true to yourself lecture when I heard a burst of Spanish and staccato footsteps approaching. Mama Martinez! I looked around for an escape route. I was up on my tippy toes and ready to run, but Junior grabbed my arm and whispered, “Courage, chica. Face your fears.”
“Oh, man.” I sighed.
Junior’s mother raked me with an angry glare, but clearly her fury was focused on her son. She looked up at him and waggled a finger in his face. “Foolishness. Waterfall? Creek? We need good food. Nothing more.”
Junior’s face turned to stone. I knew the expression well. He was ticked off and trying hard to control it. “I don’t tell you what to do inside. You leave the outside to me.”
She responded furiously in Spanish. Junior looked over at me and shrugged. Finally, when she showed no signs of stopping, he lifted a hand and said firmly, “Enough!”
His mother snapped her mouth shut and put her hands on her hips. Her dark gaze left her son and focused on me. “You!”
“Me?” Why did I have the feeling she about to blame me for the waterfall and creek?
Junior put his arm around me and spoke to his mother in Spanish. I don’t know what he said, but the fight went out of her. After a little hiss of disgust that sounded like a teakettle boiling over on a hot stove, she spun on her heel and marched back inside the restaurant.
Junior shook his head. “She doesn’t know when to quit.”
One of the workman saluted Junior with his hammer. “You got my sympathy, man. That mama of yours is full of piss and vinegar. When you’re not here, she’s out here ragging on us.”
Junior’s brows drew together. “Is that right? Don’t worry, it’s cool. I’ll put a stop to it. Just remember, she’s the queen of the kitchen, but I pay the bills.”
I glanced at my watch. “I gotta get going. Faye wants me at the diner to help with the lunch crowd.”
“I need to have a word with my mother before we leave. I’ll meet you in the car.”
Rather than go back through the restaurant, I jumped off the deck and headed for Junior’s car.
Junior had stopped by the trailer earlier today to see how I was progressing in my quest to connect with my sister. I’d called her cell phone. I’d called her home phone. I’d texted her. Total roadblock. When Junior saw my mood, he’d pulled me off the couch and insisted I go with him to Cholo’s. Now, while I waited for him, I tried calling Anne Marie one more time. It didn’t even go to voice mail. It just rang endlessly.
When Junior slipped into the driver’s seat, I handed him the phone and shook my head.
“You gave it your best shot.” Junior started the car.
Slumped down in the passenger seat, I pursed my lips in disgust and nodded, still bummed that my phone calls and text messages to Anne Marie had accomplished nothing. Nada. Zip.
Junior flashed his smile and patted my leg. “Poor baby. Shoulda let me try.”
Even though I knew he was yanking my chain, I couldn’t help what I did next. I faked holding a phone to my ear, lowered my voice and tried to recreate Junior’s sexy growl. “Hi there. Is this the very beautiful Anne Marie Scott? You are speaking to Junior Martinez, yes, the Junior Martinez, star of movies and television. No, I’m not kidding—”
Junior’s whoop of laughter put an end to my nonsense. “So, you think I could charm her into listening?”
I smiled at him to take the sting out of the words. “No, you think you could charm her into listening, and maybe you could. But, I need to do it myself. You get that . . . right?”
Junior nodded. “Time for a road trip then.”
“Road trip to where?”
“You’re the genius, figure it out.”
I sat up straight and stared at him. “Are you talking about driving to southern California? To Temecula?”
Junior shrugged. “It’s not exactly a trip to the moon. Two long days of driving and we’re there.”
“If Anne Marie won’t talk to me on the phone, she won’t talk to me in person either.”
“Worth a try. What else have you got to do right now?”
I thought about it while we rode in silence. What else did I have to do? Homework? Bussing tables? Tag along behind Junior?
We pulled into the Busy Bea parking lot.
“Not much,” I admitted.
Junior said, “I need to get away from my mother. She’s driving me nuts.”
I reached for the door handle. “Speaking of mothers, let’s talk about Faye. You gotta be crazy if you think she’ll let me take off to California. With you.”
Junior lifted his hands helplessly, as if he just couldn’t help his handsome self.
I grinned over at him. “No offense, but you know Faye.”
He unfastened his seat belt. “Let’s go talk to her.”
The lunch crowd hadn’t arrived yet, so we corralled Faye in a corner booth for an intimate chat. Junior poured on the charm, apparently forgetting Faye had been exposed to a lifetime of handsome men with agendas. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Her face told the story. At first, her expression was curious. Then, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Toward the end of Junior’s pitch, he said, “I promise, we’ll have separate rooms and I won’t lay a finger on your daughter. You can trust me.”
That’s when Faye burst into laughter. She used the corner of her apron to wipe away tears of merriment before saying, “Junior Martinez. Do you really think I’d let my sixteen-year-old daughter jump into a car with you and travel thousands of miles away from home doing God knows what?”
Junior looked at the floor and mumbled, “More like eleven hundred miles, not thousands.”
Faye laughed again. This wasn’t going well. “Is that the best you can do, Junior?”
Not one to ignore a challenge, Junior stiffened. “I find it very sad that you do not trust me, when all I want to do is help Allie find her sister . . . your other daughter.”
Faye punched him lightly in the arm. “Oh, get off your high horse.”
She stood. “You two stay right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I poked an elbow into Junior’s ribs. “I warned you.”
He glowered and drummed his fingers on the table. After five minutes, Faye returned. She slid into the booth, folded her hands on the table and fixed her gaze on Junior. “I’d like to know your opinion of Disneyland?”
Junior jerked in surprise. “Disneyland? Well, uh, it’s fine, I guess. I did a special appearance there once. It went okay.”
“This isn’t about you, Junior. Do you think Allie would enjoy it?”
Junior’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I get it. Yeah, I think Allie would love it. We can definitely go to Disneyland.”
Faye’s expression changed. “FYI, Junior, that was a test. Of course, Disneyland isn’t what’s important. Is it?”
Junior looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn’t know which way to jump. I wished I could help him, like they do on that TV show. But Junior couldn’t “ask the audience” or “phone a friend.” I knew Faye was thinking about the baby she’d given up. Her sad eyes told me so.
“For your information, Mr. Junior Martinez,” Faye said. “The important thing here is for Allie to connect with her sister, Anna Starr.” She paused and swiped at her eyes. “My daughter.”
Apparently struck dumb, Junior barely managed a nod.
Faye recovered rapidly. She smiled and patted his arm. “Excellent. Now, tell me, when do we leave?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Yep, that’s right. Me and Junior and Faye. Road trip. Yippee. Faye had convinced her friend, Connie, to sub for her at the diner. Bea promised Faye she could have her job back when we returned, even though she was leaving during the holiday season.
We only had one day (Tuesday) to get ready, since Junior wanted to leave at six a.m. on Wednesday. His plan was to drive just south of Redding, stop for the night and make it to Temecula by late Thursday. Once there, we’d figure out a way to contact Anne Marie. It was a pretty lame plan, but we had a couple days of drive time to come up with something better.
