“You mean Ricardo’s reluctance about your arrival?”
She snorted. “I’m sorry, did you say his all-out hatred of my arrival?” He wanted a familiar as much as Poppy wanted a root canal.
Wanda giggled, rubbing Poppy’s hand with reassuring strokes. “Oh, honey, he’s just in shock. He’ll get past it.”
“You think?” If he tried to trade her in, she was toast.
“I dunno,” Nina said from her place on the couch, where she’d sunk into a corner, tucking a pillow behind her head and latching her fingers behind her dark nest of hair. “I’m with the kid on this. He’s kind of a dick. I was this close to ripping his head off his damn shoulders for being such a dick.”
Wanda’s lips thinned, her eyes narrowing in Nina’s direction. “You’re always this close to ripping someone’s head off their shoulders. Maybe he just needs to sleep on it, Nina. We did just show up and blindside him. Don’t be such a Negative Nellie, for the love of Pete. We’re here to support, not tear down.”
Nina flicked her fingers in the air. “Just because you put a positive spin on it doesn’t make it the fucking reality, Pollyanna.”
Nina’s realism rankled her. Under normal circumstances, she’d look this problem straight in the eye and agree. She was, after all, pretty used to rejection after at least a thousand auditions in her pursuit to become a star on Broadway. But with Nina’s skepticism, she realized she needed this more than she was comfortable admitting.
Marty came out of the kitchen holding a cup of cocoa, steam from the rich chocolate rising from the thick white mug. She waved it under Poppy’s nose and smiled warmly. “I say we ignore Nina like we always do and we all sleep on it. Now drink this and grab a shower, and then it’s lights out. Everything’s clearer after a good night’s sleep. Okay?”
Taking the cocoa, she let Marty lead her into the tiny, glossy kitchen, through the bedroom and to the connecting bathroom. Flipping the taps of the shower to warm the water, she sat Poppy on the toilet seat and grabbed some fluffy white towels.
A thought occurred to Poppy then, one that terrified her.
She couldn’t do this alone.
Not yet, anyway. She didn’t know how to do any of this. The very thought made her literally tremble.
Grabbing Marty’s arm, she looked up into her beautiful eyes, so warm and kind. “Will you guys come back tomorrow?”
Marty grabbed her chin and squeezed with a grin. “We’ll do better than that. We’ll stay here with you. When you wake up, we’ll be right out there. Don’t worry, honey. You’re not alone. Not until you’re ready. Promise. Okay?”
Shuddering a breath, she nodded as the steam in the bathroom rose, soothing her frazzled nerves. “Thank you,” she whispered in relief.
Whoever these people were, wherever they’d come from, Poppy was grateful. She’d been alone in New York a long time, and she’d never needed anyone. She’d never asked for help from her parents when she was flat-ass broke. She’d never resorted to bank loans or credit cards. She’d managed her fears alone because no one was going to see Poppy McGuillicuddy scared witless.
She’d left home with something to prove to her parents, who’d wanted her to go to college and get a degree, and even if she hadn’t fulfilled her dreams, she’d gotten by. She knew she’d disappointed them; each year wrought a visit during which they ended up leaving after giving her a long lecture about how dismal her future was destined to turn out if she didn’t get a “real” job.
And she let them leave with a smile on her face and words filled with dogged determination, each year that passed becoming more defensively determined than ever to convince them she was going to break out.
But they’d been right. She was thirty-four. She wasn’t a Broadway star. She had no insurance. No 401K. And still, she’d refused to face the truth.
But this one time, this one time when her fears wouldn’t be pacified by her fierce independence, she was grateful to not have to put on a brave front.
Tomorrow would be much better.
She was counting on it.
Hear that, universe? I’m talkin’ to you!
Chapter 6
Oh, fine. Tomorrow wasn’t any better than the day before.
The only difference being, she no longer had a greasy face full of Paul Stanley makeup and her hair was washed.
The rest of it just sucked.
As morning had dawned, the crisp scent of fall in the air, the sun playing peek-a-boo through gray clouds outlined with purple and deep blue against the backdrop of autumn trees, they’d trudged the small distance to Rick’s house.
As promised, the women and Calamity had stayed the night; two of them sprawled on the small couch, with Nina in an armchair. While they’d had a little sleep, they all looked fresh as daisies.