a smile. So Jake Cavanaugh was really Jake Steele. Her dad would get a kick out of that. He loved this series.
Dad!
Natalie’s head snapped up remembering that she had to pick up her parents to take them to the airport. She threw the book on the passenger seat, forgetting about it, and turned on the engine. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d be late. Even on Saturday, L.A. traffic was terrible.
Her parents were waiting outside by the time she pulled up.
“Sorry, sorry!” she exclaimed as she jumped out of the car to hug them.
“It’s fine, dear,” her mother said, kissing her on the cheek. “We still have time.”
“Have you forgotten we live in L.A.?” her dad reminded her mom. “Nothing in this city is ever ‘fine’ when it comes to driving anywhere.”
Her parents lived in Ladera Heights, in the same house Natalie had grown up in. It was a mostly African-American community of beautifully manicured lawns and retro, mid-century style houses. A far cry from the small apartment Natalie lived in near the U.S.C. campus. Staying here for a week would be like a mini vacation.
“Don’t worry, the airport is just up the 405,” Natalie said, grabbing her mom’s rolling suitcase and leading it to the trunk of her Toyota Corolla.
“You say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better,” her dad grumbled, putting his bag in the trunk and heading to the passenger side.
“You’ll get there in plenty of time,” she assured them, stuffing her mom’s bag in the trunk.
“What’s this?” she heard her dad say. “You read Jake Steele? I would have thought he wasn’t up your alley.”
Natalie’s head popped up over the trunk. “What?!” she exclaimed. Dammit! Why had she left the book on the car seat?
“Hmm, I haven’t seen this one before,” he said, opening the side door. “I thought I had read them all.”
“No, Dad it’s—”
Too late, she saw him reach in and pick up the book, turning it over to read the back. “This is a new one,” he exclaimed, reading the description. “Naomi? What’s with this Naomi character?”
She shut the trunk and quickly walked over to try and rescue it from his hands. He held it away from her, giving her a scornful look. She cringed when he opened the front and saw the handwriting.
“To Natalie, Thanks for keeping me…” he mumbled the rest of the words to himself.
She stood there, feeling like a 5-year-old who had just been caught stealing a cookie, as he gave her a long inquiring look.
“He’s a friend, Dad. That’s all.” Even to her own ears it sounded lame.
“A friend that you keep warm at night, huh?” he said.
“Can I just have it back?” she said desperately, reaching for the book again. “You’re going to be late!”
“Nonsense!” he said, pulling the book out of reach again. “Honey, I don’t care what business you get up to with your ‘ friends, ’ but this is a new Nick Zane novel and I’ve got a 6 hour flight ahead of me. You don’t even like these kinds of books.
“I think it would be a gracious gesture of a loving daughter to let her father have first dibs,” he said congenially.
Natalie stared at him open-mouthed. “ Daddy! ” she pleaded, slipping into the label she only used when she was mad or happy.
“Can we please take this into the car?” her mother chimed in. “If you two keep at it, we really are going to be late!”
Her dad gave her a pointed look, holding the book out of reach. She sighed ruefully and rolled her eyes, jogging around to the driver’s side. Her dad got into the passenger side while her mom sat behind her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she turned on the ignition. He was re-reading the front page.
“Well look at that,” he said turning around to his wife. “Natalie is the ‘inspiration for Naomi’ it says right here. Our very own daughter is a ‘muse,’ ”
Dad!
Natalie’s head snapped up remembering that she had to pick up her parents to take them to the airport. She threw the book on the passenger seat, forgetting about it, and turned on the engine. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d be late. Even on Saturday, L.A. traffic was terrible.
Her parents were waiting outside by the time she pulled up.
“Sorry, sorry!” she exclaimed as she jumped out of the car to hug them.
“It’s fine, dear,” her mother said, kissing her on the cheek. “We still have time.”
“Have you forgotten we live in L.A.?” her dad reminded her mom. “Nothing in this city is ever ‘fine’ when it comes to driving anywhere.”
Her parents lived in Ladera Heights, in the same house Natalie had grown up in. It was a mostly African-American community of beautifully manicured lawns and retro, mid-century style houses. A far cry from the small apartment Natalie lived in near the U.S.C. campus. Staying here for a week would be like a mini vacation.
“Don’t worry, the airport is just up the 405,” Natalie said, grabbing her mom’s rolling suitcase and leading it to the trunk of her Toyota Corolla.
“You say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better,” her dad grumbled, putting his bag in the trunk and heading to the passenger side.
“You’ll get there in plenty of time,” she assured them, stuffing her mom’s bag in the trunk.
“What’s this?” she heard her dad say. “You read Jake Steele? I would have thought he wasn’t up your alley.”
Natalie’s head popped up over the trunk. “What?!” she exclaimed. Dammit! Why had she left the book on the car seat?
“Hmm, I haven’t seen this one before,” he said, opening the side door. “I thought I had read them all.”
“No, Dad it’s—”
Too late, she saw him reach in and pick up the book, turning it over to read the back. “This is a new one,” he exclaimed, reading the description. “Naomi? What’s with this Naomi character?”
She shut the trunk and quickly walked over to try and rescue it from his hands. He held it away from her, giving her a scornful look. She cringed when he opened the front and saw the handwriting.
“To Natalie, Thanks for keeping me…” he mumbled the rest of the words to himself.
She stood there, feeling like a 5-year-old who had just been caught stealing a cookie, as he gave her a long inquiring look.
“He’s a friend, Dad. That’s all.” Even to her own ears it sounded lame.
“A friend that you keep warm at night, huh?” he said.
“Can I just have it back?” she said desperately, reaching for the book again. “You’re going to be late!”
“Nonsense!” he said, pulling the book out of reach again. “Honey, I don’t care what business you get up to with your ‘ friends, ’ but this is a new Nick Zane novel and I’ve got a 6 hour flight ahead of me. You don’t even like these kinds of books.
“I think it would be a gracious gesture of a loving daughter to let her father have first dibs,” he said congenially.
Natalie stared at him open-mouthed. “ Daddy! ” she pleaded, slipping into the label she only used when she was mad or happy.
“Can we please take this into the car?” her mother chimed in. “If you two keep at it, we really are going to be late!”
Her dad gave her a pointed look, holding the book out of reach. She sighed ruefully and rolled her eyes, jogging around to the driver’s side. Her dad got into the passenger side while her mom sat behind her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she turned on the ignition. He was re-reading the front page.
“Well look at that,” he said turning around to his wife. “Natalie is the ‘inspiration for Naomi’ it says right here. Our very own daughter is a ‘muse,’ ”
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