Free Luck on the Line by Zoraida Cordova Page B

mention the very first time I met him he was draped over another girl.
    I wonder if there are certain kinds of guys that have built-in homing devices for girls like me. Self-sabotaging. Lonely. Horny as hell. One look at James Hughes’s heavenly cheekbones and my common sense, what’s left of it anyway, went right out the window.
    I shut off the water when my skin is as close as possible to turning into an icicle. I wrap a plush white towel around my body and twist excess water out of my hair.
    On the wet glass I trace a heart. As the droplets disappear, it turns into an unrecognizable blob, not dissimilar from this bloody thing in my chest.
    When I’ve decided that staying awake is a better idea than getting three hours of sleep, I make some coffee in my mom’s drip machine. It’s dusty and hiding under the sink, but the rich caffeine smell wakes up my senses right away.
    “You’re up early,” Felicity says. Today she’s wearing a beige pantsuit that ages her about fifteen years. She sets a brown shopping bag on the counter, then pours herself some coffee and joins me on a barstool.
    “Couldn’t sleep.”
    “I didn’t hear you come in.”
    I laugh. “Did my mom ask you to keep tabs on me?”
    “Oh, I didn’t mean to—”
    “Relax,” I say playfully. “When is the Boss Lady going to be ready? I wrote up a list of ideas for that section that’s burned off. I also need your contact for the liquor distributor. Why are you looking at me like I just grew a third eye?”
    “Didn’t Stella tell you?” Felicity dumps half a cup of sugar into her coffee.
    “Tell me what?” A hot panic sensation crawls on my skin in anticipation of Felicity’s news.
    “Stella’s in New York.”
    “ What ?” I forget I’m holding my coffee cup when I raise my arms in surprise. The mug shatters into little pieces on the wall, leaving a streak of coffee. At least there’s finally some color in the kitchen. “Shit, I got it.”
    I realize I don’t know where the broom is and after opening and closing all of the cabinets under the sink, Felicity takes pity on me and finds the magic cabinet.
    “What do you mean she’s in New York? She was at some party with James just last night!” As soon as I say his name my mind fills with the memory of his torso. The way his muscles flexed as he pulled his t-shirt off in one fell swoop. His juicy mouth on mine.
    “She took a jet with one of the heads of the network. She said she had important business in New York.”
    I shake the broken mug pieces into the garbage bin. I wipe the coffee from the floor, but there’s not much I can do about the stain on the wall. Then I take a deep breath and hold on to the counter in front of me.
    Why would she leave at a moment like this, when her restaurant is days away from a private tasting? What is she thinking, leaving me alone with this apartment and James and all of the things that are supposed to belong to her?
    But all I say is, “Typical.”
    Felicity approaches me the way a bomb tech would a hastily wrapped ticking mystery package. “She says it’s important to the opening.”
    For a moment, it shocks me to think that my mom would talk to me through Felicity. She could have said something yesterday. She should have said something the day before when she asked me to stay and help. She could have sent me a quick text message on the way to the airport. What good is having 24/7 access to phones if people always find the excuse to not communicate?
    I take several deep breaths when I realize that with my mother gone, I’m in charge. I run my hands through my hair, stopping short of pulling it all out when I catch Felicity’s hopeful smile.
    “I guess this makes me your assistant for the next couple of days.” Felicity chuckles nervously. That’s right, Little Assistant. Be nervous because I don’t know what to do any more than you do.
    She unhooks a phone from her hip. It’s in one of those thick plastic cases designed to protect its