Kaya

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get a chance to spend any time together,” Emery sighed, a frown marring her perfectly smooth face. Even without any makeup on she was stunningly beautiful.

Although she was two years older than me, Emery had been my best friend and counterpart since the day I’d met her when I was four years old, just a scared out of my mind little girl. We’d lived next door to one another and had always been there for each other, no matter what. I’d been devastated when she left Lakeport, primarily because I hadn’t expected it. She’d gone from high school senior to international sensation in what felt like the blink of an eye.

Her rise had come when she’d been approached after a high school talent show by the director of Bytes, an insanely popular show about computer hacking vampires that had been about to launch on cable. The rest, as they say, was history. She'd done a screen test, and four weeks later she was filming in Los Angeles. From there she'd gone from supporting character to breakout star of the show within one season. The show had aired its final episode two months ago, and now Emery was going on to do her first feature film.

The exasperating thing to me was that Emery didn't enjoy acting. She originally did it for the money, but at a certain point it took on a life of its own. I constantly told her that she should take the money she'd earned and bounce so that she could do what she loved, which was horticulture. That was her dream, but she felt too beholden to the people who'd helped her get where she was. I suspected they manipulated into her staying, but I couldn’t make decisions for her.

Besides, who was I to talk? I'd never enjoyed school and I'd always known I hadn't wanted to go to college unless college started offering a multi-prong fashion, makeup, food prep and arts and crafts degree. I wanted to do hair and makeup while also learning how to cook and make intricate crafts— but I didn't want to be a chef, a hair stylist, a makeup artist or a full-time crafter because choosing one meant giving up the others. That limited my choices and left me on the fence about what to do with my life.

The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to be independent so that the people who had given up everything for me wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of me ever again. I’d graduated high school at loose ends, unsure of exactly how to proceed. And then, Emery stepped in. At the barbeque to celebrate my graduation she told me she needed a house sitter for six weeks while the show filmed in Europe and asked if I would be interested.

It was like dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit. I'd jumped at the opportunity without hesitation, and it was the best decision I'd ever made. It launched an unexpected career that paid me a good amount of money, most of which I was able to sock directly into the bank. Without rent or utility bills hanging over my head, I'd amassed a healthy savings account. That allowed me to put money into my love of food, fashion, and crafts, and now I had a secondary online career that was paying off, too.

Of course, Emery took precedence over all my other clients. Three years in I worked for her every time the opportunity presented itself. Since I stayed with her anytime I was between jobs—something that was becoming more and more rare—it wasn’t a surprise that I felt most at home at her Malibu rental.

“The studio set up an interview they need me there for, hence the earlier flight,” she said, halting my trip down memory lane. “I’ll be mostly off the grid because the location is so remote, but on Saturday I get to stay in town and stay in a hotel, which supposedly means access to reliable internet. If you’ve got something that isn’t time sensitive you think I need to know, just Facebook message me. I’ll FaceTime you as soon as I get to my computer each week. My business manager is on alert that any call from you is high priority so, in case of emergency, he's your go-to."

I assured her with absolute confidence that I had it all under control. She exhaled with relief and hugged me tightly before climbing into the back of the black stretch limo that would be taking her to LAX.

Her boyfriend, Elliot, a screenwriter, was already seated inside, talking on the cellphone that was always in his possession. Elliot and Emery became a couple over the course of the previous six months. They'd met at a club on the night of her twenty-third birthday, and he immediately set about wooing her. Two months later they were sleeping together, and a month after that, he'd moved in. I made an effort to be polite to Elliot, but something about him didn't sit well. At thirty-eight he was significantly older than her, and on top of that, he had four ex-wives.

Four ex-wives was excessive in my opinion. I said as much to Emery, and her response had been that LA was different. No kidding it was different—but not that different. Marriage was a commitment, full stop. To have tried and failed four times within a decade was a flashing neon sign about Elliot, as far as I was concerned.

No children had resulted from any of the marriages and all the exes were actresses, which some might say was normal for a man who worked in the business. Personally, I found it off-putting. I also had my suspicions about the timing of their meeting—conveniently just as the movie he’d written was being cast. She swore that she hadn’t felt pressured into it, but I’d read the script myself and it wasn’t anything to write home about.

On top of all that, I thought it was weird that he’d moved into her place. From what I saw he treated her okay when he wasn’t on his cell phone, but I often wondered why she let him stay. It was, after all, her rental home.

“I’ll take care of everything,” I assured her.

“I know you will. This is such a great arrangement, Kaya. You’ll never know the peace of mind you being here watching my boy gives me.”

“You know how much I love him,” I smiled. "Relax, have a safe trip and remember to have fun and enjoy life in rural New Zealand. It sounds amazing.”

Something flashed in her eyes as she bit her lip and darted her gaze to Elliot before looking back at me. “I’ll be hanging with this guy for two months without cell phone or internet interruption. I’m sure it’s going to be great,” she murmured.

I wondered about the way she'd said it but then wrote it off to her being frazzled about the earlier flight. I knew all the time they spent apart and the hours and hours he spent on the phone, on the computer or out at meetings drove her nuts. I also knew they hadn't had sex in nearly three months, which was another red flag for me. She'd told me in our last Facebook chat that she was hoping the two months away would boost their relationship. I had my doubts.

"Oh! I almost forgot to remind you," she said with a snap of her fingers. "The house next door is finished, and it was a hub of activity last week with furniture deliveries. Word in the neighborhood is that it's a vacation home and Donna from down the block says some people arrived two nights ago. I haven't seen or heard anything yet myself but she's never wrong so don't be surprised when you hear signs of life on the other side of the wall. It shouldn't affect you, but I didn't want you to be caught off guard."

“Got it. Noise from next door is not a reason to panic since humans live there now.”

We both laughed as we finished saying our goodbyes. Elliot stopped talking on his cell phone just long enough to lean forward, lift his chin in my direction and mouth later before the door closed. Elvis and I stood and watched as the limo pulled down the drive and out the gate, which I made certain closed behind it before I turned and walked back into the house.

I spent the next hour unpacking my clothes in the beautiful peach and white guest room I always stayed in at Emery's house. It was a cozy room with a beautiful view of the yard. Once I had myself all squared away, I went outside and saw to topping up Elvis’s metal water pails. He danced around the yard beside me, drinking a bit from each one after I added fresh water to it. By the time I’d finished the business of settling in I was starving, so I took a break and ate a hummus and chicken wrap at the kitchen island while I leafed through the new HGTV magazine I’d grabbed from the living room. I was just cleaning up after myself when my cell phone rang. I smiled when I saw the name on the display.

"Hi, Gigi!"

"Hi, Sunshine. Just checking to make sure that you got to Emery's okay. You know how Dean and I worry."

My heart warmed just hearing her voice. “I’m here, safe and sound,” I said cheerfully. “How about you two? Headed to Key West tonight, right?”

About six months after my high school graduation Gigi and Dean sold their house, bought an RV and got out onto the road. They'd always dreamed of exploring the world, and now they were doing it. I'd gotten my sense of adventure from them. They'd been to thirty-two of the fifty states in two and a half years, and they seemed to be enjoying every minute of it. Currently they were slowly working their way back to California to spend a few days at Emery's with me before they flew to New York to embark on a one hundred and thirty-four-night cruise aboard the Queen Mary 2.

“We made such good time that we arrived in Key West this morning, a whole day ahead of schedule. Dean’s already made friends, of course. We just love this RV park living, honey. Such a feeling of community at these places.”

I grinned at the excitement in her voice. More than anyone in the world, Gigi and Dean deserved to be happy and free.

“It might feel that way because Dean can make friends anywhere,” I laughed.

"It's true," she laughed. "Thank goodness I've got Dean because you and I both know without him around I'd get lost in my reading and forget to talk to anyone but you."

Gigi read spy novels like it was her job. Every few days Dean would text me a new photo of her reading, some new American backdrop behind her. If it weren't for her iPad, their RV would be crammed to the gills with books.

“You perfectly complement each other,” I agreed.

"I know that's true, but right now he's driving me nuts," she groused with a dramatic sigh. "He's getting impatient, so I'm going to hand the phone off to him now. I don't know why he doesn't just call you himself since he always takes it from me before I get to say anything."

There was some shuffling in the background before Dean’s voice was on the line. “Gigi knows perfectly well that I hate this stupid phone. I can never figure out how to find the damn contact list without dialing someone by accident. The amount of time I’ve spent making small talk with people I never meant to call is appalling.”

I snorted out a laugh as I leaned against the Spanish Talavera tiles on the counter in front of the window at the kitchen sink. Everyone knew Dean hated small talk with a passion, so misdialing was an annoyance. I grinned while I gazed out the window and watched Elvis wander from pail to pail.

“You could get you a phone without a touchscreen you know,” I pointed out for the millionth time.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to play the Candy Crush,” he answered, “and I’m three stars all the way through level four hundred and eighty-two, Sunshine.”

Dean took Candy Crush very seriously. He’d play the same level dozens of times until he had a three-star score. Gigi joked that he could probably have bought a luxury car with the amount of money he’d put into buying in-game items.

“Well we wouldn’t want you to lose that,” I agreed.

“Damn straight,” he laughed, “so you’re now safe and sound at Emery’s. Anything new there?”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “Not that I know of. We didn’t get to talk because they bumped her to an earlier flight. She seemed fine, though.”

“She still with that old dipshit?” he asked bluntly.

I bit back a laugh. "Mm-hmm."

Dean let out a harsh sound. “That girl has always been too damn accommodating. She’s worth more than some old dirtbag who’ll never appreciate her.”

“Dean!” I scolded. “He’s thirty-eight. That’s hardly old.”

"There are a few kinds of old, Sunshine. There's physical age, there's mentality, and then there are road miles. That idiot's taken so many people around the block the warranty is about to run out. I hate to see her with someone so damn unworthy. If you ever show up with someone like that, I won't hesitate to load up my BB gun and chase him away."

I giggled, the image of Dean taking shots at someone with his Red Ryder BB gun not hard to conjure up. He was very protective of me, something I was incredibly grateful for.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I answered firmly. “I won’t get into any more relationships until I’m twenty-five. I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone else.”

He sighed heavily, my stance about dating something that frustrated him to no end.

"Some day you will," he said firmly. "And if that day comes before you're twenty-five, I hope you give the guy a chance.

"I've never met anyone who even made me pause," I responded.

"I love that you're headstrong, Sunshine, but I worry that you'll let something good slip through your fingers."

I chuckled as I unwrapped a watermelon Jolly Rancher and popped it into my mouth. "If that happens it would mean the person wasn't really the love of my life."

"Honey, you know age has nothing to do with love. Whether you're twenty-five or fifty-nine, the only thing that matters is that it's real and you've chosen well for yourself. What if what could've been the love of your life slips through your fingers because you're too damn stubborn to take a chance?"

Dean and I had the same discussion whenever the subject of my dating came up. We both knew where we stood on it and I didn't see anything changing. He wanted me to be happy, but I knew what happened when people got into relationships when they were too young. I diverted his attention away from the subject as I always did and we moved on to talking about the RV Park they were at in Key West. Once we'd finished talking, he gave the phone back to Gigi, and I spent a few minutes talking to her before we wrapped up our conversation.

After getting off the phone, I went upstairs and changed into my bathing suit, an adorable one-piece navy blue suit with a dark red bandeau accented bodice. It was vintage in style, which I loved. I'd been so happy when I found it on the clearance rack at Walmart. I may have danced a little jig in the aisle. Finding something cute and cheap was a thing to celebrate. I'd done a whole haul video for my subscribers after my last trip to Walmart, and it was one of my most popular videos to date.

I applied a liberal amount of high SPF coconut-scented sunscreen and then took up position on one of the plush loungers by the pool. If there were a better time to housesit than the beginning of summer at the beach, I couldn’t imagine what that time would be.

After I slid my sunglasses into place, I played with the control on the lounger until I was in the most comfortable position to soak up some rays. It was a gorgeous day in Malibu. The sun was high in the sky, the warmth of it against my skin a most welcome feeling. With each passing minute, I relaxed a little more as the soothing sound of the waterfall wall that ran along the side of the pool lulled me into a state of Zen. Before long my eyes started to drift shut and a few minutes after that I’d nodded off.

I woke up to the sound of Elvis shrieking, which had me up and off the lounger like a shot, my sunglasses toppling to the ground as I frantically searched the yard for him. I started to sweat when I didn't see him in his regular perch atop the waterfall wall.

“Elvis? Elvis!” I called as my eyes darted around the yard. My stomach dropped when I realized he wasn’t around.

“Where are you?” I yelled frantically.

When I heard the shriek again, I realized the reason I couldn’t see Elvis was that the sounds were coming from the other side of the wall, the one that separated Emery’s property from the extra-large mansion next door. The fact that the people living there were unknown worried me. What if they were animal haters? My anxiety spiked because I had no idea what kind of reception I was going to get when I asked them to let me in to find Elvis. Without another option, I pulled on my swim cover-up, slipped into my white flip-flops and raced from the yard.

I ran down the driveway at high speed, the slap-slap-slap of my flip-flops against the Spanish pavers an annoyance that only heightened my anxiety. I cringed when I heard Elvis shrieking again, causing my worry to grow exponentially. By the time I flung the wrought iron gate built into the exterior wall at the end of the drive open to get out to the street I was sweaty and out of breath.

The exterior of the house next door was on lockdown, and the gate was closed. Emery's place had a gate, but the neighbors were double the size and taller by about two feet. The wrought-iron masterpiece was blacked out so that there was no visual access to the property. I frantically pressed the button on the intercom outside the gate, but no one answered.

My eyes darted around as I tried to figure out a way to gain access to the yard. The wall that separated the two properties offered no line of sight, and I couldn’t find an entrance gate on the wall.

Chills raced down my spine when Elvis shrieked again. I panicked, thinking that he could be wrapped up in something, trapped with no way out. Emery would be devastated if her little man got hurt, the very thought of which made me ill. With no other alternative, I grabbed onto two of the wrought-iron bars and tried to lift myself up. I got a good grip, but my flip-flops couldn't get any purchase because of the slippery back panel on the gate.

Frantic with worry I kicked the flip-flops off, grabbed onto the metal bars and started maneuvering my way up. It felt like an eternity passed while I worked my way up the gate, bit by bit. It hurt like a bitch, and I knew my hands were going to feel raw later, but I didn’t care. Elvis needed me, which meant any pain was incidental. Although he didn't belong to me, I loved him to death, and I thought of him as family. The thought of something happening to him made me sick.

I was a sweaty and out-of-breath mess when I reached the top. The ornate arch only had one reasonably safe spot for me to sit on, so I carefully finagled my way to it and straddled the gate. It was as painful and uncomfortable as you’d expect, and I definitely wouldn’t recommend it. Having metal digging into my softest area wasn’t ideal. As bad as my level of discomfort was, my anxiety was the bigger issue. I freaked when I looked down the side of the gate into the neighbor’s driveway. The back of the gate was smooth, and there were no metal bars for me to use as leverage to get myself down. If I fell from the gate, I knew I'd be in an incredible amount of pain when I hit the Spanish pavers below. I searched the driveway and huge front yard for any signs of Elvis, but he was nowhere to be found. For all intents and purposes, I was well and truly screwed.

“Elvis!” I yelled. “Buddy, I’m here! Where are you?”

A new sound cut through the air—only it wasn’t from Elvis. No, the new noise was one that made my stomach drop as I looked back toward the street and saw a police car at the end of the driveway.

It was, without a doubt, the worst possible scenario. I was trapped atop a gate to a house I had no business trying to gain access to. I prayed I wasn't going to be spending my first night in Malibu in the slammer as I watched the officer get out of the car. Although his gun hadn't been drawn, he had his hand on his holster, which didn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling.

“Miss, would you care to tell me why you’re on top of that gate?”

I raised my hands for a second to show that I wasn't a threat and then quickly had to grab back onto the gate because I wobbled. I realized if I didn't play my cards right I'd either fall off the gate or wind up in jail—and neither option appealed. “I swear I’m not trying to break in to rob the place," I assured him. "My best friends little baby is in there, and I need to get him.”

“This baby managed to crawl over a wall onto private property?”

I shook my head. “Oh, no, of course not. He would’ve flown and jumped.”

I could tell he thought I was on drugs or just completely crazy because his expression was dubious.

“You’re after a little fella that flies?”

I opened my mouth to explain what the little fella was but didn’t get the chance because someone back on the other side of the gate began bellowing in Spanish.

"¿Que diablos esta pasando aquí?”

I started at the sound of the strong male voice but kept my eyes on the officer, afraid to turn away. After all, he had the gun. I’d have kept my attention glued to him if Elvis’s shriek hadn’t cut through the air again. When I heard that I whipped around to face the neighbor’s house. Unfortunately, my movements were too fast and my perch atop the gate too precarious. I screamed as I lost my grip and toppled to the side, headed for the pavers.

I landed on something that sure as heck didn’t feel like solid ground. It took a second for me to realize I hadn’t fallen all the way to the pavers because someone with strong arms who smelled mouth-wateringly good had caught me.

“Dios mios, eres hermosa,” he muttered in a low voice.

I lifted my head to respond, but no words came when I found myself looking at a man with eyes the color of the blue orchids Emery grew in distressed copper pots along the rear wall of her sunroom.

Seconds passed in silence, neither of us moving or speaking. I’m not even certain I was breathing as a sensation spread through me unlike anything I’d felt before. It was like being unbearably hot and insanely cold at the same time, my system in some kind of overload.

I forgot all about everyone else in the world for countless seconds because all I could think about was finding out who was he and where he’d come from.