LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

or so they said.

      And the men she had admitted to dating, she’d kept the street vendors on the DL, were so perfectly cool that occasionally she’d have to break up with them just to see if the separation genuinely hurt. Most of the time, it hadn’t. Not really.

      Not that she hadn’t actually felt emotion for a few of them. She had, but most of the guys hadn’t been able to feel any real emotion in return. Which would have been fine if she were a rock, but seeing as how she had flesh and bones and a beating heart, she wanted something a little more emotionally satisfying.

      At least that’s why she had broken it off with totally cool, and totally full of himself, Bryan Heart. He was by far the hipster of all hipsters. The Brad Pitt of her fashion-obsessed world, but after he told her that he couldn’t let himself fall in love with her until it was cool to be in a relationship, she had to end it. The irony was that as he walked away, he told her not to worry, because as soon as relationships were back in again, she’d be first on his call-back list.

      That was over a year ago and she was still waiting for his call.

      So, all right, she had a thing for radically cool guys.

      Could be worse!

      But that wasn’t her only problem with living on her own and running with the in crowd. The transition from one coast to another had been an almost insurmountable task.

      It was probably the one thing in Mya’s nearly perfect life that somewhat confused her. Of course, she blamed this malady on the weather more than anything else. Mya wasn’t used to all that cold, and wind, and snow, sleet, ice, rain and outrageous humidity that could melt a girl’s skin right off her sexy little body. She was more the sunshine and occasional earthquake kind of chick, and all that other stuff was way over the top.

      The thing was, Mya wasn’t a quitter. Not ever. Nothing deterred her when she was on a quest for success.

      Two years ago, Mya had decided that twenty-four was way too old to be living at home and living off of Mom, so she packed up her stuff to make her way in the world. Start her own life. Find her passion. Make her mark.

      Anyway, that world was New York City, where she landed the absolute coolest job a girl could have. On a scale of cool dream jobs, it had to rank number one. But that was two years ago. Now, she missed her family, and the beach, with all those cute surfer-type guys, and maybe a little of that California nightlife, and well, maybe she just needed to go home for a while. To let her mother dote on her. Cook for her.

      All right, so she missed being pampered. Who wouldn’t with a mother like hers? Rita was one of those fifties moms who cooked a real breakfast every morning and darned socks. And let me tell you, my socks can use some darning.

      But what was even better than darned socks and sunshine was the fact that she was flying home to help her mother fix a problem that Mya was crashingly certain she could solve.

      Mom and Franko were on a downward spiral to oblivion. When Mya had checked, their ratings were falling right through the proverbial floor, and Mya was only too happy to turn that trend around. She was the queen of finding the tipping point, and loved the challenge of searching out the latest cool, then applying it to a struggling business. Mya knew about cool from the moment she started coordinating her own Care Bear outfits while she was busy learning how to walk. It was only appropriate for her to recreate her mother’s show and add some raw wow! to the pot.

      Mya spent the entire flight to L.A. in her own little world of au courant. She had her laptop purring with ideas for the set, their clothes, the food and the whole feel of the show. She cross-referenced various reports on popular cooking magazines and interviews with top chefs and various well-known foodies. Then she added a couple of opinion reports from teenage hipsters, and data from Vegas strippers—they were the latest trendsetters.

      She momentarily flashed on erecting a pole in her apartment, but then thought how pathetic it would be if she never had the opportunity to use it. She’d have to hire somebody to have it taken out and even her neighbors would know that she had no sex life. Of course, she could probably find a cute street vendor to do a pole dance for her, then she could keep it.

      Could I be more of an embarrassment to myself?

      Never mind all that, Mya had a keen eye for cool no matter what the venue.

      There was only one little pesky problem on Mya’s overflowing plate of things to do…her boss, Grace Chin, a delightful woman, who should have been happy for Mya.

      However, Grace hadn’t reacted quite the way Mya had expected. It was more of a reaction in the category of popping a vein when Mya had told her she was combining a vacation with her business trip to Vegas.

      No worries. Mya had both the new client’s research and her mother’s revamp succinctly under control and ready for total buzz liftoff.

      MYA WAS ALMOST GIDDY about five hours later as she stepped off the plane and made her way over to Baggage inside LAX. She lifted her checkered orange-and-pink French luggage off the baggage carrousel with absolute abandon and walked right out the glass doors and even though it was raining, she knew it wouldn’t last. That was the thing about L.A., the rain only had a bit part.

      Mya actually hummed that old song about how it never rained in Southern California, as she happily pulled her bags over to the side to wait under the overhang for the limo her mother had promised to send.

      Not to worry.

      Hum. Hum. Hum. It was only a matter of time before the limo driver would pull up looking for her. He might even hold up a sign with her name written on it, and she would be whisked away in the back seat of plush luxury, humming as the driver maneuvered the crowded streets of one of America’s finest cities.

      Hum. Hum. Hum.

      Mya stared at the endless stream of gnarled traffic trying to get past security and cops while the rain continued to fall. A chill swept over her. For a brief instant, she wished she’d been smart enough to pull a sweater out of her bag, but the instant passed when she saw a limo heading right for her.

      Right on time…well…almost, but who cares?

      Mya began to pull her luggage up to the curb when the limo stopped a few yards away and the driver got out.

      “I’m over here,” she called, while waving her arms. She now stood out in the rain. She thought maybe the driver couldn’t see her. After all, the airport was extremely busy, so she began to walk toward him. Just then, a Chinese family of four approached the limo and the driver opened the back door.

      “Wait! That’s my car!” she yelled, but no one paid the slightest bit of attention to her. When the family was safely tucked inside, and all the luggage, red Samsonite, was loaded in the trunk, the driver hopped back in the front seat and drove away…in Mya’s limo, no doubt.

      The question of the moment was: How could the driver mistake a Chinese family for Mya? Could he be that stupid?

      Okay, so apparently that wasn’t my limo, but where is it?

      She told herself to relax. Take a deep breath. Slowly let it out. Count to ten, or twenty, or one million. Something. Anything to relax.

      She rolled her luggage back under the overhang and waited.

      So, maybe her plane was a little early getting in, which would explain why her limo hadn’t arrived yet, plus getting through all that security stuff had to take a long time.

      It started to rain harder and Mya, wearing nothing but a sleeveless sundress, purple ankle socks and brown heels started to shiver.

      There’s no shivering in California.

      She pulled a long strand of golden-red hair off her face, and wrapped her arms across her chest for some warmth. All right, perhaps it was raining a little more and a little longer than she had expected. Not something to worry about. Her limo would arrive at any moment, and the driver would probably bring a warm towel for her to dry off with.

      Could happen.

Скачать книгу