and a half since Kevin shipped out, she had come to terms with her brother-in-law’s exit. The wedge Danny had driven between himself and her would go the way of a lifetime of spats, its intensity fading. She doubted that Max’s uncharacteristic display of fatherly concern would be repeated.
Life went on. Grateful for a break from family, she buried herself in landscape work by day, painting by night, and wishing Zak would call.
He had, that morning. Sort of. He texted a message to her cell phone. “Dinner, our beach, six p.m.?” Her workday pretty much ended at that point. She left the office early, changed into sweats, and jogged off the tension.
“Their” beach was a stretch in Solana, the midway point on the freeway between their homes. Dinner would be at a casual hamburger place. Nothing all that special. Nothing worthy of “date” status.
Still, Zak had contacted her. He wanted to see her.
Dinner never happened. He greeted Lexi in an exasperated tone, something along the lines of, “You’re going to jog yourself to death, and, oh, by the way, Abbey the ex doesn’t want me to see you. She knows you saved my life. She’s just a little insecure.”
It was all civil, all shrugs and yeah, sure, she understood. No problemo.
In the hours since then she had consumed enough carrots to feed an army of rabbits for a week and lost herself in reconstructing the rhinoceros.
Now she dabbed her brush on the palette, into a glob of charcoal-gray paint, and wondered how many ribs a rhino had.
Through the pounding music, she became aware of a tiny voice.
She cocked her head, listening.
“Pick up the phone!” Danny. His muted shout came from the answering machine in the other room. The phone ringer was turned off, explaining why she hadn’t heard it.
She set down the brush and hurried from the studio, twisting the volume knob to low as she passed the CD player.
“Lexi!”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” In the living room, she picked up the cordless phone. “What?”
“Turn on the news!”
Erik. Her stomach twisted into a knot. “What’s wrong?” She lunged for the remote next to the television and turned it on.
“He’s going to flip out this time. Is he still on the air? I’m getting
in my car.”
“Just a sec. It’s coming on. What’s wrong?”
“Just listen. I’m heading to the studio.”
The familiar image of Erik and Felicia filled the screen. “He looks okay.”
“Listen to his voice.”
“Felicia’s talking.”
“They should keep her talking and get him off.”
“Shh.”
The “Darling Duo of Newscasts”—as they’d been dubbed in a local magazine article—was engaged in casual banter, segueing from one report to another.
“Well, Felicia,” Erik was saying, “as you know . . .”
Lexi said, “He just called her ‘Flee- sha .’ His smile is goofy. Now he’s got his elbow on the desk. He’s about buried his chin in his bandaged hand, like if he doesn’t hold up his head, it’ll fall off.”
Danny groaned. “They’re not cutting to a commercial, are they? They are going to let him make a complete fool of himself.”
“Great for the ratings.”
Danny swore under his breath.
Her twin never swore.
“Lex, meet me at the studio as soon as you can. We gotta get him out of there.”
“Okay.”
Danny broke the connection.
Mesmerized, Lexi remained in front of the television. It was obvious that Erik was feeling no pain. But as usual, he projected the charm that was second nature to him. Maybe the general public would not notice.
Felicia noticed, though. Her complexion flushed. She interrupted Erik again and again. She stuttered.
“Erik!” she said at last in a loud, strident voice. “It’s time for a commercial break!”
“Right you are, Flee- sha . Stay tuned, folks.” The camera picked
up a full-face shot of him, his eyes all but closed, his mouth a grim line. “Next segment, we’ll learn exactly how long Ms. Matthews has been two-timing
Life went on. Grateful for a break from family, she buried herself in landscape work by day, painting by night, and wishing Zak would call.
He had, that morning. Sort of. He texted a message to her cell phone. “Dinner, our beach, six p.m.?” Her workday pretty much ended at that point. She left the office early, changed into sweats, and jogged off the tension.
“Their” beach was a stretch in Solana, the midway point on the freeway between their homes. Dinner would be at a casual hamburger place. Nothing all that special. Nothing worthy of “date” status.
Still, Zak had contacted her. He wanted to see her.
Dinner never happened. He greeted Lexi in an exasperated tone, something along the lines of, “You’re going to jog yourself to death, and, oh, by the way, Abbey the ex doesn’t want me to see you. She knows you saved my life. She’s just a little insecure.”
It was all civil, all shrugs and yeah, sure, she understood. No problemo.
In the hours since then she had consumed enough carrots to feed an army of rabbits for a week and lost herself in reconstructing the rhinoceros.
Now she dabbed her brush on the palette, into a glob of charcoal-gray paint, and wondered how many ribs a rhino had.
Through the pounding music, she became aware of a tiny voice.
She cocked her head, listening.
“Pick up the phone!” Danny. His muted shout came from the answering machine in the other room. The phone ringer was turned off, explaining why she hadn’t heard it.
She set down the brush and hurried from the studio, twisting the volume knob to low as she passed the CD player.
“Lexi!”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” In the living room, she picked up the cordless phone. “What?”
“Turn on the news!”
Erik. Her stomach twisted into a knot. “What’s wrong?” She lunged for the remote next to the television and turned it on.
“He’s going to flip out this time. Is he still on the air? I’m getting
in my car.”
“Just a sec. It’s coming on. What’s wrong?”
“Just listen. I’m heading to the studio.”
The familiar image of Erik and Felicia filled the screen. “He looks okay.”
“Listen to his voice.”
“Felicia’s talking.”
“They should keep her talking and get him off.”
“Shh.”
The “Darling Duo of Newscasts”—as they’d been dubbed in a local magazine article—was engaged in casual banter, segueing from one report to another.
“Well, Felicia,” Erik was saying, “as you know . . .”
Lexi said, “He just called her ‘Flee- sha .’ His smile is goofy. Now he’s got his elbow on the desk. He’s about buried his chin in his bandaged hand, like if he doesn’t hold up his head, it’ll fall off.”
Danny groaned. “They’re not cutting to a commercial, are they? They are going to let him make a complete fool of himself.”
“Great for the ratings.”
Danny swore under his breath.
Her twin never swore.
“Lex, meet me at the studio as soon as you can. We gotta get him out of there.”
“Okay.”
Danny broke the connection.
Mesmerized, Lexi remained in front of the television. It was obvious that Erik was feeling no pain. But as usual, he projected the charm that was second nature to him. Maybe the general public would not notice.
Felicia noticed, though. Her complexion flushed. She interrupted Erik again and again. She stuttered.
“Erik!” she said at last in a loud, strident voice. “It’s time for a commercial break!”
“Right you are, Flee- sha . Stay tuned, folks.” The camera picked
up a full-face shot of him, his eyes all but closed, his mouth a grim line. “Next segment, we’ll learn exactly how long Ms. Matthews has been two-timing
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