not about to stop trying to manipulate her life—big-time—unless she told her mother that she was once again gainfully employed.
“Mother, stop, please,” she pleaded. “I don’t need to move back into my room or to rent out my condo.”
“Oh, then, just what is your brilliant solution to your present problem?” Elizabeth asked.
I’m talking to my present problem, Yohanna thought.
However, she kept that to herself, knowing that if she ever said those words or similar ones out loud, her mother would be beyond hurt. She couldn’t do that to the woman no matter how much her mother drove her up a wall.
“I’ve got a job, Mother,” she told her.
“Honey, I told you that you don’t need to pretend with me.” It was obvious by her tone of voice that her mother simply didn’t believe her.
“I’m not pretending, Mother,” Yohanna answered, struggling to remain calm and clinging to what was left of her dwindling patience.
“All right.” She could all but see her mother crossing her arms in front of her, fully prepared to sit in judgment. “And just what is this ‘job’ you’ve gotten so suddenly?” Before she could tell her, Yohanna heard her mother suddenly suck in her breath. “You’re not doing anything immoral or illegal, are you?”
It was more of an accusation than a question. Among other things, her mother, an avid—bordering on rabid—soap opera fan, had a way of allowing her imagination to run away with her along the same creative lines that many of the soap operas she viewed went.
“No, Mother. Nothing illegal or immoral.” She really hadn’t wanted to tell her mother until her three-month probationary period was up, but, as with so many other things that involved her mother, she found that she had no choice in the matter. “I’m going to be Lukkas Spader’s assistant.”
“And just what does this man want being assisted?” Elizabeth asked suspiciously.
“Lukkas Spader, Mother,” Yohanna repeated, stunned that her mother didn’t recognize the name. “The producer,” she added. But there was apparently still no recognition on her mother’s part. “You know, the man who produced Forever Yours, Molly’s Man, Dangerous.” She rattled off the first movies that she could think of.
“Wait, you’re working for that Lukkas Spader?” her mother asked, sounding somewhat incredulous.
Finally! Yohanna thought. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
Suspicion leeched back into Elizabeth’s voice. “Since when?”
“Since this morning, Mother, when Mr. Spader hired me.”
Elizabeth obviously wasn’t finished being skeptical about this new turn of events. “And what is it that you say you’re going to be doing for him?”
Yohanna silently counted to ten in her mind before answering. “I’m going to be organizing things, Mother. Movie things,” she elaborated, knowing how her mother tended to think the worst about every situation. Given the choice of picking the high road or the low one, her mother always went the low route.
As proved by her mother’s next question. “Are you telling me the truth?”
Yohanna rolled her eyes. This was not a conversation that a thirty-year-old should be having with her mother. Anyone listening in would have thought her mother was talking to someone who was twelve. Maybe younger.
“Of course I’m telling you the truth, Mother.”
To her surprise, instead of continuing to harp on the subject, she heard her mother give a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. Now, remember not to mess anything up, understand?”
“I’m not going to mess anything up, Mother.” And then it hit her. She knew what her mother was thinking. Yohanna nearly groaned. Her mother never gave it a rest. Never. “He’s my boss, Mother,” she said in a sharp warning voice.
“So?” Elizabeth asked defensively. “Bosses don’t get married?”
Enough was enough. She was not having this conversation. “I’ve got to go, Mother. I’ve got some things to take care of before I go in tomorrow.” It was a lie, but it was better than slamming the receiver down in the cradle, which she was very tempted to do.
Rather than attempt to pump her for more information, her mother surprised her by saying, “Go get some new clothes. Sexy ones. These Hollywood types like sexy women.”
There was no point in arguing about this with her mother any longer. She had never known her mother to admit she was wrong or that she had overstepped her boundaries. Not even once.
There was no reason for her to hope that her mother would suddenly come to her senses at fifty-seven and turn over a new leaf.
For better or worse, this was her mother.
“Yes, Mother,” Yohanna replied in a near-to-singsong voice. “Bye.” And with that, she hung up, promising herself to get a new phone—one with a working caller ID—the first opportunity she got.
* * *
Yohanna didn’t remember when she finally closed her eyes and fell asleep.
All she knew was that it felt as if she’d only been asleep for ten minutes before she opened her eyes again and saw that, according to the clock on her nightstand, it was quarter to six.
Spader wanted her at his Newport Beach home by seven.
Stifling a groan, she stumbled out of bed, then somehow made her way down the stairs and into the recently remodeled kitchen.
If she was going to get anything accomplished, she needed coffee. Deep, hearty, black coffee. Downing one cup fortified her enough to go back upstairs, take a shower and get dressed. All of which she did at very close to top speed. She needed to get out and on the road as quickly as possible.
She didn’t anticipate any large traffic snarls from her home to Spader’s but there was always a chance of a collision and/or a pileup—and she didn’t like leaving anything to chance.
She also didn’t like calculating everything down to the last possible moment. On time wasn’t her style—being early was.
Fueled by an enormous amount of nervous energy, Yohanna was on the road less than half an hour after she’d woken up.
Twenty minutes after that, she was parked across the street from Spader’s impressive three-story house. As usual, she was early and, ordinarily, she would walk up to the front door and ring the bell. She just assumed that to most people, being early was a plus. But Lukkas Spader might be one of those people who actually didn’t like anyone arriving early, possibly before he was ready to see them.
She needed to find that little detail out before tomorrow morning. In the meantime, she looked at her wristwatch and continued to wait, parked directly across from his slightly winding driveway.
Which was where the patrol officer who tapped on her driver’s-side
