I STARE. GLORIA IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN TOWN. She's supposed to be in Los Angeles or New York, doing whatever the hell supermodels do.
Shit.
Gloria aims her thousand-watt smile at Trish. "He doesn't know yet," she says. Then she puts a finger over her lips. "I want to surprise him so if you see him first, don't spoil it, okay?"
Trish nods that the secret is safe. "We were going for coffee. Want to join us?"
Shit. Shit. Shit.
With all the obnoxious, rude teenagers in the world, my family has to end up with a nice, polite one. My insides curl into a ball.
I'm saved by a shake of Gloria's auburn mane. "I can't, honey. I do need a word with your aunt. Do you mind?"
Trish nods again. When Gloria doesn't immediately launch into whatever it is she needs to tell me, Trish accepts that it's one of those adult things and moves off to look at some decorations in a nearby store window.
I watch Trish, then turn reluctantly to fix my attention on my least favorite person, human or otherwise, in the entire world.
Gloria Estrella is a model and an actress. A well-known model and actress. Now, as we stand here in Horton Plaza, life seems to shift into slow motion as those passing around us cast one look at her and falter in their steps. Even though half-obscured behind oversize sunglasses, women recognize the heart-shaped face, the huge almond eyes, the artfully tussled mane of shoulder-length hair. Men recognize the tits and long legs. She has on jeans and a cashmere sweater and three-inch Ferragamo pumps, but men know what's underneath. They see the Victoria's Secret model prancing on TV ads in thong underwear and a push-up bra every damned day.
I hate her.
She hates me right back. Usually, we avoid each other like I avoid garlic. She's noxious to my system.
Which makes her desire to talk to me that much more puzzling. As far as I know, we have nothing to talk about. Gloria used to date my partner, David. Used to, being the operative phrase. Gloria hasn't seen David in two months. I had begun to believe I'd never have to see her again. It was a wonderful, liberating fantasy.
I shift from one foot to the other. "How did you know I was here?"
Gloria slips the glasses off her face. "I saw you in Tiffany's."
Terrific. Remind me never to shop in Horton Plaza again. "What do you want? Can't be about David. Last I heard you'd broken up."
She tilts her head. "Why would you think that?"
"Why? Maybe because David was shot and you didn't bother to call to see how he was doing."
She drops her eyes. "Oh, that."
Oh, that? David was laid up for two fucking months. He had been shot by a psycho hit man who held us responsible because we got his guy into custody before he could make good on a contract. Gloria didn't call or come by once during David's convalescence. I know. I took care of him myself.
"I have to talk to David. In fact, I planned to go by your office this afternoon. I can explain it to him. I can make it up to him."
Her faltering tone implies she's not as confident as she pretends. Good.
I narrow my eyes at her. "I wouldn't bother if I were you. David hasn't mentioned you once. I think he's over you. Finally. For good."
She bristles at that and the bitch shines through. "Don't kid yourself, Anna. David still loves me. He's left me dozens of messages. Got one this morning, in fact. Do you want to know what he said?"
I'm shocked at this bit of news. So shocked my traitorous body reacts with an involuntary start. David never tried to contact Gloria when I was around. I can't believe he went behind my back. A flush of anger creeps up my neck.
Gloria catches the reaction and smiles.
Damn her. "Whatever you have to say, make it fast. Trish and I have more shopping to do."
She looks over at Trish. "She's a beautiful girl. Do you think she'd be interested in modeling?"
After what Trish has been through, the last thing my family wants is to have her exposed yet again. There are two reasons I don't jump down Gloria's throat right now for suggesting it. Trish really is beautiful enough to be a model, and Gloria doesn't know what happened to her. Hopefully, she never will.
It takes effort, but I moderate my anger and reply gruffly, "She's only a freshman in high school. She's too young to be subjected to that kind of life."
My tone clearly implies that what I mean by "that kind of life" is nothing good and that it's directed at Gloria, but surprisingly, she doesn't bite. In fact, she doesn't pursue the subject or the insult.
The muscles at the base of my neck tighten. This is not Gloria. I study her more closely. For the first time, I notice frown lines at the corners of her mouth and faint dark circles under her eyes. Through the makeup, her perfect face is shadowed by what? Worry? Grief?
I stifle the urge to clap my hands and do a happy dance.
However, doing that would imply I care. The truth is, if it wasn't for what she said, that David has been in touch with her, I'd be out of here in a heartbeat. As much as I dislike her, I care for David more. He finds something in Gloria that touches him. I can't see it but evidently, he's not over her the way I'd thought.
"You didn't stop me to talk about Trish. What do you want?"
Her gaze pulls away from Trish. "I need your help."
"With what? Your Christmas shopping? If you think I'm going to waste my time helping you get back in David's good graces, you'd better think again. I have more important things to do."
Gloria doesn't respond. She shifts uneasily from one foot to the other, her hands in fists at her sides, her eyes darting over the crowd like a rabbit ready to bolt at the approach of a fox. When she looks at me again, there's no mistaking the emotion clouding her eyes.
"I may be in trouble," she says finally. "Big trouble."
In that instant, I know what she says is true. Her irritation and anger are gone, swept away by a more powerful emotion. An emotion my vampire nature can pick out of the air like a bad smell.
Fear.
