03 The Fate Of The Muse - Marina's Tales (23 page)

I was simply too caught up in my own
desperate need to notice it. Or, even more frightening, it occurred
to me that maybe I’d noticed but I simply didn’t
care
. Kimo
had said I was lucky, but all I brought him was bad luck.

Then I thought about Ethan. He’d always been
a hard worker, but ever since I’d returned from my kidnapping he’d
stepped it up to near superhuman levels. Could that be a side
effect from hanging around with me? It was possible that I was
enhancing his natural qualities too, and I frowned. I didn’t want
to turn him into a workaholic.

I longed to see him, yearning for the comfort
of being close to him. After our last phone conversation, I felt
like a crack had formed in the bond that held us together, and it
frightened me. I reached up to touch my aquamarine, raising it to
my lips, clinging to the memory of how at peace I was when we were
together. I had to stop running away. I needed Ethan, and I would
be a fool to withdraw and let Amber come between us.

I decided to let go of my fear and find a way
to focus only on him. There was no point in getting angry. After
all, I couldn’t blame her for wanting the same thing I did. I never
would have been foolish enough to leave him in the first place.
Don’t get mad… get Ethan, I thought with a wry smile. I just hoped
I hadn’t blown it already.

It was a foggy evening in San Francisco when
I stepped out of the terminal into the dense night air. I sighed
with relief to see Cruz waiting for me by the curb, leaning against
yet another one of Evie’s sports cars.

“You got my message,” I gave him a big
hug.

“Did you hear the news?” he asked
excitedly.

“What news?” I looked around nervously.

“Megan’s song is all over the radio!” he
grinned like a pirate, “It’s a number one hit!”

“I know! Shayla and I heard it in
Hawaii.”

“Did you hear about the election? Mission
accomplished! Mom’s totally psyched!”

I smiled, “Yeah.” I wasn’t used to seeing
Cruz so animated.

“Come on,” he said, opening the car door for
me, “You’re just in time! Brad and I are celebrating Megan’s song
and the election over dinner. You can tell us all about how Shayla
did in Hawaii… Oh my God! Did I mention that Brad’s a gourmet chef
too?”

I climbed in, happy to see Cruz so bubbly. I
needed a little dose of pure, unadulterated joy.

We got to the apartment to find Megan and
Jamal sitting at the dining room table with Brad, laughing and
talking. The place smelled like delicious food cooking, and I
realized how long it had been since I ate. Megan jumped up to greet
me with a warm hug, and I told her how excited we’d been to hear
her song on the beach in Hawaii.

“I still can’t believe this is all really
happening!” she said, tossing her red curls in disbelief.

“I can!” I smiled, “I’ll never forget the
first time I heard you sing.”

It had been a momentous day, for in addition
to revealing Megan’s formidable talent, it was also the first time
I’d spoken to Lorelei. That day seemed like a lifetime ago, and I
could hardly believe that less than a year had passed. I looked at
Megan and Cruz, realizing that we had all completely transformed;
totally changed, and yet somehow, we were more our true selves.

Revealed.

Megan told us all about the promotional tour
she was leaving for the next morning, excitedly running down a list
of interviews she’d been scheduled to give and naming the places
she’d be performing. I could see Jamal watching her adoringly, and
she took his hand under the table. I missed Ethan with a painful
ache in my throat.

“I hope you like Italian,” Brad said to me,
getting up to check the oven, patting Cruz’s back affectionately. I
was really starting to feel like a fifth wheel.

He returned with a beautiful platter of
stuffed manicotti swimming in spicy marinara. It looked like a
picture from a food magazine, and smelled like Italy. We all dove
in, eating with gusto and talking about Megan’s itinerary. I told
Brad how happy we were that his Aunt would be working so hard to
save the farms.

“I’m surprised. She’s really gotten into this
whole environmental thing lately,” he said, “I’m just glad she can
help.”

It was going on midnight by the time we
finished, and I could barely stifle my yawns. Megan and Jamal got
up to leave, arm in arm, and Cruz rushed over to present Megan with
some outfits he’d tailored for her to wear on her concert tour. Her
eyes widened with delight, and she kissed both his cheeks with loud
smacks.

Cruz and I walked the happy couple out the
door, turning away as they stopped to kiss at the elevator.

“Aint love grand,” said Cruz with a sigh.

I snorted caustically, remembering all the
times he complained when Ethan and I got a little too affectionate
around him. Now I missed Ethan even more, and considered making the
long drive home.

“No way, it’s too late,” Cruz said. “He’s
probably fast asleep anyway… Aren’t farmers all like, ‘early to
bed, early to rise’ and stuff?”

I rolled my eyes at him, but I knew he was
right. I helped clear the table and clean up, bidding the guys
goodnight and stumbling off to my room. I thought about my new
studio waiting for me in Santa Cruz and planned to show it to
Ethan, thinking I should fix him a surprise dinner sometime. I
drifted off to sleep, imagining being alone with him there,
wondering how I should go about making him forget all about
Amber.

It was time to fight fire with fire.

The next morning I woke to a pounding on my
bedroom door.

“Marina! Get up!” It was Cruz, and he sounded
almost hysterical.

I sat up groggily, rubbing my eyes, “Wh-
what?”

“You have to see this! Come quick!”

I got to the kitchen to find Brad and Cruz at
the counter with a laptop open. Cruz looked up at me with wide
excited eyes, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

This can’t be good, I thought, slumping onto
a barstool. Brad turned the screen towards me and played a clip
from an entertainment website. They were reporting on the near
fatal surfing accident of America’s hottest young actor, Matt
Stone. I sat up, alarmed, while a series of still shots of Shayla
performing CPR on Matt were displayed. I was relieved to see none
of myself. I should have known better, I thought, remembering the
paparazzi in the bushes. Fortunately, the main focus of the story
seemed to be how Matt’s life had been saved by a Sports Illustrated
swimsuit model. Pure tabloid candy.

“Did it say if he’s going to be alright?” I
looked up to ask Cruz and Brad, searching their eyes. They both
stared at me with surprise.

Finally Brad answered, “Y-Yeah, he’s in the
hospital for observation… They said the movie production would be
delayed a few weeks.”

“So you were there yesterday? With Matt
Stone?” Cruz looked incredulous.

“Uhm, yes… We went surfing.”

“And what, it just slipped your mind?” Cruz
retorted.

I sighed, casting him a sideways look, “It
all happened so fast. He showed up at the photo shoot and we
decided to go surfing the next day… There was an accident.”

Cruz poured me a cup of coffee, sitting by my
side excitedly, “Do you see what I mean about Marina?” he said to
Brad, “She has crazy weird luck! Ever since you came to live with
us it’s been one thing after another!” He grabbed my arm, “Now tell
me everything… What was Matt Stone like?”

I explained that we only met him because they
hired some local surfers for the photo-shoot, and that he had
stopped by with Kimo to check out the swimsuit models.

“Kimo– Kimo Watanabe?” asked Brad.

Cruz told him that I’d met Kimo while surfing
at the point, and that we were friends. Brad was more impressed by
the fact that I knew Kimo than anything, and peppered me with
questions about what it was like to surf the big waves in Hawaii.
He told me he’d grown up surfing, spending summers at his dad’s
beach house, but he hadn’t been out in a long time.

“I miss it,” he said wistfully, and I smiled
sympathetically. I knew how that went.

“You two should go surfing together,” said
Cruz, beaming. He elbowed me, “Marina has a bad habit of going out
alone.”

We talked about going surfing the following
weekend, and Brad seemed eager to show me a favorite spot from his
childhood. Cruz continued to question me about my dealings with the
movie star but I glossed over the details, and was able to remain
vague enough to avoid both lying and telling the entire truth.

I remembered Cruz’s belated birthday gift and
pulled it out, putting an end to the questioning. He gushed over
each item Shayla and I had cobbled together while Brad translated
the French paper.

Cruz looked at me with starry eyes, “Can you
believe he speaks French too?”

“I went to boarding school,” Brad
explained.

I was eager to get going, gathering my things
and asking Cruz if he would walk me out to the elevator. When the
doors opened I paused for a moment, “Cruz, please don’t say
anything to Brad about my mother… okay?”

“I doubt he’d believe me if I did,” he said.
He looked down, uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked, alarmed.

He looked guilty, “I know we promised, but I
kind of let the story about the time I saw the mermaid slip.”

“Cruz!” I cried in dismay, remembering the
pact we’d made with Megan.

“It’s okay, really! Brad laughed at me– he
thought I was making it up so I dropped it! I realized I shouldn’t
have brought it up.” He bit his lip and gave me the puppy dog eyes,
“I’m sorry! Please forgive me?”

I was horrified, “Swear to me that you won’t
say anything else?”

His big brown eyes looked earnest, “I will! I
mean I won’t! I promise… please don’t be mad.”

It bothered me, but I couldn’t stay irritated
with Cruz for long. I hugged him with a sigh and got into the
elevator.

On the way down I shook my head. To be
perfectly honest, I couldn’t see how he’d managed to keep quiet as
long as he had. Cruz had always been the type of person who blurted
out whatever he was thinking, and I wondered how long it would be
before Brad knew everything Cruz did. I understood how easily one
could drop their guard in a moment of intimacy.

I remembered the pact we made with Megan to
keep Lorelei’s existence secret. Someone once said that only way
three people could keep a secret was if two of them were dead; I
cringed at the thought, even as I acknowledged its truth.

When the elevator door opened, the empty
garage spooked me; it felt odd not to have Boris waiting to greet
me. Peering around corners suspiciously, I quickly slipped into the
Range Rover, flipping the doors locked immediately.

I got to Aptos to find Abby setting up a
nursery in Cruz’s old room. She smiled brightly when she saw me,
tucking her hair behind her ears, more beautiful than ever. She
wore her happiness like a glowing halo, and just being in her
presence made me feel much better.

For an instant I wondered if I could be
enhancing her natural tendency to be joyful, and I stopped myself.
The constant questioning of everyone around me was like a rock in
the shoe. This whole muse thing was going to take some getting used
to, and it stank.

I needed to see Ethan.

Abby told me how the little feral cat Freddy
had delivered a litter, but she hadn’t been able to climb up into
the bushes and count the kittens. She had plans to trap them when
they were weaned and bring them here to tame them and find them
comfortable homes.

I nodded, “I think Stella would like
that.”

She was touched, and launched into the
detailed plans she had made to trap the remaining cats, returning
them to their beach home after having them vaccinated, spayed and
neutered.

“That way, they can live out their lives
wild, and there won’t be any more poor little kittens to replace
them,” she said, “There’s a vet clinic in Aptos that will do one a
week for free. Dutch says he’ll help me trap them.”

“That’s a great idea!” I enthused, wondering
why it never occurred to me to try and be more proactive. Abby was
really blossoming into quite the organizer, and it dawned on me
that after single-handedly producing a rally that got a
Congresswoman elected, there was very little that she couldn’t
do.

It turned out that Ethan had gone out on the
boat with Dutch in the morning, so I had to wait all day to see
him. I washed up and changed, stopping to tell Abby that I was off
to pick up some cat food and run some errands.

I was greeted warmly when I arrived at the
art gallery, and Susan was excited to show me how many paintings
she’d sold. She asked me to bring more to her as soon as possible,
and I agreed, thinking about getting into my new studio. I strolled
through the gallery while she went to write me a check, admiring
some new art. I felt comfortable there, and wondered if maybe this
was what I was supposed to do.

Susan handed me a sizable check, “I’m so glad
that Barbara sent me out to look at your pieces in the coffeeshop,”
she beamed.

“Barbara?” I asked, confused.

“Why yes, our new Congresswoman… she was the
one who told me about you.”

Wow, I thought, this fate thing was really
working in my favor. If Barbara Watson hadn’t told Susan about my
paintings I never would have met her, and Cruz never would have met
Bradley. Most importantly, she might not have gotten elected, and
Lue’s farmland would still be in jeopardy.

I was feeling satisfied with myself, and more
positive about everything when I stopped at the little beach market
for a big bag of cat food. I looked up to see a brightly colored
tabloid by the checkout stand.

“Swimsuit Model Gives Kiss Of Life To Matt
Stone!” was the headline, and the picture of Shayla bending over
Matt’s unconscious body was the same as the one I saw on the
internet earlier. A movie star, a beautiful girl, and a tragic
accident– the story was custom made to sensationalize. I picked it
up, looking around guiltily, and flipped it open. The next picture
I saw made me gasp in shock.