Erzulie nudged her nose to my cheek in the dark, waking me from a contented dream at Nick’s side. I peered over her head to the clock on the nightstand. Five-thirty. I scratched her behind the ears. “Go back to sleep. It’s Saturday.”
She jumped over my body and pawed Nick’s shoulder. He stirred, draping an arm and bare leg over me.
“What time is it?” he mumbled, half asleep.
“Too early.” I burrowed my head into my soft, warm pillow.
Erzulie, resolute about her wake-up-I-want-breakfast mission, climbed onto Nick’s hip and meowed. He leaned into me. I heard her jump off the bed, then in an instant she hopped to my side again. She sat, staring at me. Guilt settled in. My girl was hungry.
If I got up really fast and fed her, I might be able to come back to bed and catch the end of my dream. I sat at the edge of the bed and slipped into the only clothing nearby—the purple chiffon baby-doll. Leaving Nick to sleep, I tiptoed out of the bedroom with Erzulie trotting beside me to the kitchen. The dream faded by the time I pulled a can of seafood splendor out of the cabinet and pulled off the lid.
I set her dish on the floor and freshened her water. Extending my arms above my head, I stretched a blissful ache out of my muscles. I didn’t get much sleep, but we sure had a good time last night. Memorable.
An engine outside broke the silence. I heard a plop then another plop. The uncurtained living room window provided me with a full view of the pre-dawn street and the headlights of the car outside. The window also gave the driver delivering the morning paper a full view of me in sheer, thigh-skimming chiffon under the bright kitchen light. I ducked down fast, crouched next to Erzulie, and waited until the engine sounds disappeared in the distance. My impromptu neighborhood peep show jolted an adrenaline rush of embarrassment. No shot of getting another hour of sleep now. Might as well make some coffee and start the day. Better get dressed first.
Nick slept with his arms and legs sprawled across the king-sized mattress. His head rested on a scrunched-up pillow. His mouth relaxed open, inhaling soft, rumbling breaths. I watched him for a minute, battling the urge to pull off the sheet and slide between his arms. He looked too content to wake, even for a morning kiss.
Easing the dresser drawer open, I pulled out my gym shorts and a T-shirt, then tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom to brush my teeth and change. I left the baby-doll—a new candidate for the Lingerie Hall of Fame—on the bathroom door hook for an encore performance.
Back in the kitchen, I filled the well of the coffeemaker with water, scooped fresh grounds into the filter, and hit the “On” button. While I waited for the coffee to brew, I flicked on the small TV tucked in the corner next to the refrigerator.
“We’re taking you on scene to John Joseph Hey-wood…”
“Do I smell coffee?” Nick wandered in, barefoot and in sweats. He came up behind me, nuzzling my neck with his scratchy chin while his soft hair tickled my cheek.
“…two alarm townhouse fire last night at the thirty-nine hundred block of Carpenter Avenue near the Carpenter School in Studio City.”
I jolted to attention. The reporter onscreen stood across the street from a charred building I knew very well. “Nick—that’s my old townhouse.”
We stood together, watching, as the reporter continued, “Firefighters were called out to the townhouse just before one A.M. last night and found flames engulfing the south end of the building. Residents escaped safely after firemen went unit to unit, pounding on doors. Fed by high overnight winds from an approaching weather system, the fire swept through the dry trees and brush bordering the property, endangering the school and homes in the canyon. Though firefighters managed to contain the blaze, two of the townhouse units were heavily damaged.”
“Thank God no one was injured.” I said. “I wonder how a fire like that started in the middle of the night?”
“With this heat drying up all the vegetation, a small spark in high winds can set off an inferno. They’re lucky they caught the blaze before the fire spread into the canyon.” He shut off the TV and took two mugs out of the cabinet, setting them on the counter while I brought out the milk and spoons. “Why are you up so early?” he said.
“My fault. My early trips to the gym this week reset Erzulie’s feeding schedule. I tried to be quiet.”
“As opposed to last night?” he said with a playful grin.
“You should take that as a compliment.”
“I do. What’s the plan for this morning?”