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.
She pulled her cell phone out of her cigar-box purse. Hey, with some fifty purses to choose from, a girl’s gotta find one she likes, even if they were so last year.
She phoned her mom’s cell.
No answer. She wanted to leave a message, but her mother had never figured out how to retrieve them, so why bother.
Mya had left precise flight information with her mother, even faxing the itinerary as a backup. She just didn’t understand where that damn limo could be.
She called Franko.
Of course, there was no answer. He didn’t like cell phones so he never had it with him. She pictured his poor little lonely phone stuck in a drawer somewhere just ringing and ringing.
“Okay, I’ve reached my crazy point,” she said out loud.
After waiting a good twenty minutes, with the rain still coming down, and no limo in sight, total frustration took over and Mya decided to simply take a cab.
Just as she was about to call her mom and tell her the new plan, she noticed an old beat-up van idling off to the right. There was something white taped up to the side window. When she looked harder, her name was scribbled in big black letters on a piece of white paper.
Now what?
Her mind whirled with scenarios. Maybe things were worse at home than she’d thought. Maybe her mother had lost all her money in some bad cooking deal and the only thing she could afford was a used van. A white used van, with Georgia plates.
“No wonder she’s always crying.”
The woman in the obviously warm raincoat standing next to her threw Mya a nasty look and moved away.
“Fine,” Mya called after her. “You should move away from me. I’m even scaring myself.”
Mya knew she was having ridiculous thoughts, but the van had her name on it. That in itself was ridiculous.
She didn’t quite know if she should actually approach the van, or stay as far away from it as possible, but she was desperate to get home and out of the rain. She decided to check it out, just in case her mother was inside, hiding from a potential press scandal.
She gingerly stepped out from under her shelter and into the rain again, hoping this was worth it. She walked right up to the Georgian treasure, and looked inside. It actually had a foul odor wafting out through an open side window. She backed away, holding her nose.
Whoa! Mom, what have you got in there?
The van was even worse than she could have imagined. Her mother couldn’t possibly own it. There wasn’t any stove.
Mya peeked in a side window, putting her face right up to the glass, but she didn’t see anybody. Empty cans and jars, clothes and some very expensive-looking professional video equipment littered the inside. There were only two bucket seats in the front. Everything else had been ripped out.
Wait.
Somebody or something moved in the very back of the van. She couldn’t make out if it was man or beast because the lighting wasn’t quite right. She cupped her hand around her eyes to shield out any backlighting.
That’s when a white flash of huge teeth, attached to a head the size of an adult bear, growled and leaped right at her. Mya jumped back, screamed and fell right out of her Miu Miu heels, landing in a nice warm puddle.
“Damn!”
“Voodoo, sit,” a male voice said from behind her.
“Excuse me?” Mya said.
The crazed animal inside the van immediately sat down, but the barking didn’t stop.
Mya wanted to run for her life, but her cute little shoes sat right in front of the dreaded van. She refused to leave without her new shoes. They pulled her entire outfit together.
“I was talking to my dog,” he said as he stood in front of her offering his hand to help her up.
“I knew that,” she told him, trying for some calculated sarcasm.
She didn’t want his help. Instead, she stood up all on her own, and even though she was now entirely drenched, with a very wet bottom, she still had her dignity. Kind of.
“That animal is vicious,” Mya shouted. “He should be put down. Destroyed. What’s the matter with you leaving him in there to scare somebody to death?”
“He’s very protective of his home. He must have thought of you as a threat,” the Voodoo owner offered.
Mya could barely see him. Her bangs covered her eyes, but from what little she could make out, he looked somewhat familiar. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to figure out where she’d met him before.
“Me? A threat? To whom?” she asked.
“To me?”
“To you! Somehow I think it’s the other way around.”
“Why? I wasn’t the one who was peeking in windows. They have laws for that you know.”
He had a point, but Mya was never going to admit she was actually looking for her mother in that junk heap.
The rain eased to a drizzle, and when Mya finally got a good look at him he was almost cute, with golden-chestnut hair—somewhat curly—and piercing gray-green eyes and a slight grin on his lips. He had a fairly large nose with a slight roundness to the tip, but it fit his boyish face, and if he were cleaned up, he might actually
