Her days were booked solid, but her evenings sucked. Not one real date. “I can be there a week from Thursday.”
“I have a meeting with the producers this Friday. I’d love it if you could be here for the meeting. I’m feeling especially vulnerable these days and I couldn’t take it if the meeting didn’t go well. I think I need all the support I can get.”
Like that is even remotely possible. How on earth did her mother expect her to be there by Friday? And with a presentation? She couldn’t possibly—
More sniffling.
“I’ll fly in this Thursday afternoon, but you have to agree to let me do this my way, or it won’t work. Actually, I’ve always wanted to—”
“Sounds fab, dear. I’ll send a limo to pick you up at LAX. Just phone me with the details. See you Thursday, sweetie. Bye-ee.”
And just like that, all was right in the world of daughters and mothers. There would be no hurling today.
THURSDAY, AT EXACTLY twelve noon, Mya strapped herself into the comfy leather window seat on Jet Blue’s A320 Airbus. She loved to fly Jet Blue. It was by far the coolest airline on the planet with its private in-flight TV shows and roomy aisles.
There was something grand about the thrust of a jet engine. Sexual. Erotic. Titillating. Am I horny or what?
Anyway, she liked the sound of it. The power of being propelled through the air above the earth. The wonder of looking down over the ocean and the city beneath her feet. Or maybe she was just excited about the whole concept of getting a mini-vacation and getting the hell out of the city for a while. It’s not that she didn’t love New York, she did, on Sundays and most holidays, but Mya Strano was a California girl at heart, and nothing could change that.
Okay, so there were a few things she liked about the city. Her upscale apartment in the Village, her coffee shop on the corner, not to mention the fabulous nightlife and the fact that her friends were some of the coolest people in Manhattan, or so they said.
And the men she had admitted to dating, she’d kept the street vendors on the DL, were so perfectly cool that occasionally she’d have to break up with them just to see if the separation genuinely hurt. Most of the time, it hadn’t. Not really.
Not that she hadn’t actually felt emotion for a few of them. She had, but most of the guys hadn’t been able to feel any real emotion in return. Which would have been fine if she were a rock, but seeing as how she had flesh and bones and a beating heart, she wanted something a little more emotionally satisfying.
At least that’s why she had broken it off with totally cool, and totally full of himself, Bryan Heart. He was by far the hipster of all hipsters. The Brad Pitt of her fashion-obsessed world, but after he told her that he couldn’t let himself fall in love with her until it was cool to be in a relationship, she had to end it. The irony was that as he walked away, he told her not to worry, because as soon as relationships were back in again, she’d be first on his call-back list.
That was over a year ago and she was still waiting for his call.
So, all right, she had a thing for radically cool guys.
Could be worse!
But that wasn’t her only problem with living on her own and running with the in crowd. The transition from one coast to another had been an almost insurmountable task.
It was probably the one thing in Mya’s nearly perfect life that somewhat confused her. Of course, she blamed this malady on the weather more than anything else. Mya wasn’t used to all that cold, and wind, and snow, sleet, ice, rain and outrageous humidity that could melt a girl’s skin right off her sexy little body. She was more the sunshine and occasional earthquake kind of chick, and all that other stuff was way over the top.
The thing was, Mya wasn’t a quitter. Not ever. Nothing deterred her when she was on a quest for success.
Two years ago, Mya had decided that twenty-four was way too old to be living at home and living off of Mom, so she packed up her stuff to make her way in the world. Start her own life. Find her passion. Make her mark.
Anyway, that world was New York City, where she landed the absolute coolest job a girl could have. On a scale of cool dream jobs, it had to rank number one. But that was two years ago. Now, she missed her family, and the beach, with all those cute surfer-type guys, and maybe a little of that California nightlife, and well, maybe she just needed to go home for a while. To let her mother dote on her. Cook for her.
All right, so she missed being pampered. Who wouldn’t with a mother like hers? Rita was one of those fifties moms who cooked a real breakfast every morning and darned socks. And let me tell you, my socks can use some darning.
But what was even better than darned socks and sunshine was the fact that she was flying home to help her mother fix a problem that Mya was crashingly certain she could solve.
Mom and Franko were on a downward spiral to oblivion. When Mya had checked, their ratings were falling right through the proverbial floor, and Mya was only too happy to turn that trend around. She was the queen of finding the tipping point, and loved the challenge of searching out the latest cool, then applying it to a struggling business. Mya knew about cool from the moment she started coordinating her own Care Bear outfits while she was busy learning how to walk. It was only appropriate for her to recreate her mother’s show and add some raw wow! to the pot.
Mya spent the entire flight to L.A. in her own little world of au courant. She had her laptop purring with ideas for the set, their clothes, the food and the whole feel of the show. She cross-referenced various reports on popular cooking magazines and interviews with top chefs and various well-known foodies. Then she added a couple of opinion reports from teenage hipsters, and data from Vegas strippers—they were the latest trendsetters.
She momentarily flashed on erecting a pole in her apartment, but then thought how pathetic it would be if she never had the opportunity to use it. She’d have to hire somebody to have it taken out and even her neighbors would know that she had no sex life. Of course, she could probably find a cute street vendor to do a pole dance for her, then she could keep it.
Could I be more of an embarrassment to myself?
Never mind all that, Mya had a keen eye for cool no matter what the venue.
There was only one little pesky problem on Mya’s overflowing plate of things to do…her boss, Grace Chin, a delightful woman, who should have been happy for Mya.
However, Grace hadn’t reacted quite the way Mya had expected. It was more of a reaction in the category of popping a vein when Mya had told her she was combining a vacation with her business trip to Vegas.
No worries. Mya had both the new client’s research and her mother’s revamp succinctly under control and ready for total buzz liftoff.
MYA WAS ALMOST GIDDY about five hours later as she stepped off the plane and made her way over to Baggage inside LAX. She lifted her checkered orange-and-pink French luggage off the baggage carrousel with absolute abandon and walked right out the glass doors and even though it was raining, she knew it wouldn’t last. That was the thing about L.A., the rain only had a bit part.
Mya actually hummed that old song about how it never rained in Southern California, as she happily pulled her bags over to the side to wait under the overhang for the limo her mother had promised to send.
