That night Mel tried to call Dimi, but couldn’t reach her. Sitting in her small beach bungalow, Mel hung up the phone and stared out at the churning ocean, hating that she knew Dimi was out somewhere, trying to lose herself.
Finally she turned to her laptop and checked her e-mail, gingerly, braced for another message from LeaveItAlone, but nothing.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but answers would have been nice. Was it Sally, asking her to leave it alone?
And if that was true, why hadn’t Sally just come out and asked Mel herself? Surely she knew Mel would have done anything for her, if asked.
Unable to think anymore, she climbed into bed and slept surprisingly hard, dreaming even harder. Again a pair of green eyes followed her into dreamland, laughing sea green eyes in a strong, tanned face, with an Aussie voice and a smile that could melt a woman’s panties right off at fifty paces.
She woke up to the sun stabbing her in the face and decided she hated green eyes and sexy smiles, no matter who they belonged to. Still in bed, her gaze locked on the picture on her dresser: Sally in the cockpit of the Hawker, her head tossed back in laughter, as it so often had been.
God, Mel missed her. Still.
There was also a pic of Mel and Dimi at age sixteen, the day Mel had gotten her pilot’s license. They were high-fiving each other, with Mel proudly displaying the license in her free hand.
The best day of her life because of Sally.
Climbing out of bed, Mel moved to her bedroom window, devoid of window coverings because she loved the unencumbered view of the craggy sandstone outcroppings of the Santa Ynez Mountains rising so close to the water. The terrain was rugged. Lots of mornings she got up before dawn to climb. It was great exercise and she loved the dramatic view from the top of the sheer rock faces and massive boulders and overhangs.
But this morning she just let herself stand there watching the day, soothed by the sounds of the sea before she hit the shower and drove into work.
North Beach Airport’s day typically began at six A.M. The linemen came in, Char opened the café, the doors on the outside hangars rose, all in preparation for the morning flights. They usually had three to five planes come in to fuel up before nine o’clock. Some of those remained on the tarmac while their rich patrons went into Santa Barbara for their business. Some were towed into the maintenance hangar for work needed, and others simply used the airport as a fuel stop and moved on.
But as they typically did every morning before their day began, the staff and crew gathered at the counter of the Sunshine Café, mooching coffee from Charlene, standing around for the early-morning gossip session.
Mel, who was usually first into the airport, stood in the middle of it now, sucking down caffeine, humming an old Ratt song, which was coming from the ever-faithful boom box. Dimi was nowhere in sight, as usual. The woman was going to be late to her own funeral.
Ritchie was the front lineman today, and Kellan the rear, both inhaling donuts along with Danny and Ernest. Ritchie was talking, using his hands, his big gestures matching the grin on his face. “…And then I said, if you won’t dress like a Victoria’s Secret model, then don’t expect me to act like a soap opera guy—”
Kellan laughed. “Oh, yeah, I bet that got you laid.”
“Hey, I was just being honest.” Ritchie looked at the others. “It’s best to be honest. Right?”
The ones with a penis vehemently shook their heads.
Mel sighed. “More donuts,” she said to Char. “We need more donuts.”
“Got ’em.” Charlene came forward to plop down a tray, and it was like feeding piranhas, hands moved that fast. Mel managed to fight her way in and get a cinnamon twist, and had just taken a heavenly bite when Al nudged her. “So what’s up with that Bo guy?”
Mel choked on a bite. “Um…What do you mean?”
“Just wondering why he’s hanging around.”
Everyone looked at her, interested. Of course they were, it was her own business, which made it front-page news.
Where the hell was Dimi? Mel thought frantically. Dimi would lick the sugar off her fingers or something and suitably distract attention away from this issue. Mel glanced at Ernest, the only person here who’d been around when Eddie and Bo had shown up the first time all those years ago, but he was looking right back at her, no expression.
Was it possible Ernest didn’t remember Bo? “Bo’s an old acquaintance,” she finally said, hoping they’d all leave it at that. “And I’m letting him use some office space.”
“What’s the story with you two?” Danny asked, perceptive as always.
“No story,” she said. “There’s no story.”
The entire staff shot her a collective gaze that told her she’d have to do better. But until she heard back about the deed—and how it was falsified—she wasn’t saying a word.
“Is this guy hassling you or something?” This from Kellan, with all the toughness his twenty-one years afforded him. He set down his donut and puffed up a bit. “Cuz I can talk to him for ya.”
“Me, too,” Ritchie said, now also resembling a puffer fish.
Silly. Stupidly male.
But they meant it. Everyone else nodded, too, and Mel’s throat went tight. These guys, her friends, her family, would do anything for her. Anything except the one thing she needed: turn back time. “No one’s hassling me,” she said. “He’s just…visiting.” She tried to smile reassuringly but suddenly the whole thing felt like a big, fat elephant sitting on her shoulder.
“You sure?” Danny asked her quietly, watching her with those steady eyes. “Because I have a weird feeling you’re not telling us everything.”
If he only knew…But they weren’t going to let it go. Of course they weren’t going to let it go, that would have been easy. So what could she say? Look guys, he’s saying Sally screwed us years ago and I never knew it. He’s holding the deed and none of us are safe. She couldn’t say those things, not until she knew for sure. Should she say that he was a friend? Or how about an ex? “He’s an ex,” she tried.
“Of Dimi’s?” Char asked in surprise, because of course Mel wouldn’t have an ex.
Yeah, they’d buy Bo being Dimi’s ex, since Dimi had dated just about every single guy in California. And also in Nevada. And Arizona. Why not Australia, too?
Beside her, Danny went utterly, unhappily still. And damn it, she just couldn’t do it.
“Actually, he’s my ex,” she said on a pained sigh.
Charlene’s jaw dropped. “Yours? But…”
“But you never even date,” Al finished for his wife.
“Hey, I do so, just…just not very often.”
“So what happened?” Char asked. “Because damn, girl, he’s hot.” She caught Al’s long look. “Well, he is.”
“We didn’t work out, that’s all. He…” Mel wracked her brain for a plausible reason to have dumped Bo, and caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart kicked hard.
Bo himself.
Was he also enjoying her discomfort? Oh, yeah, no doubt. “He, uh, had this habit.”
“Drugs?” Charlene whispered, horrified.
Mel couldn’t see Bo’s face, but felt the heat of his silent challenge. She squirmed but reminded herself that really, this was all his fault. “He hummed during sex.”
Silence.
“I could have lived with that,” Charlene