Chapters (128)
- Prologue: THE STORYTELLER
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Part One: THE “MARY SMITH” MURDERS
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Part Two: I LOVE L.A.
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Part Three: JUGGLING ACTS
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Part Four: THE BLUE SUBURBAN
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Chapter 80
- Chapter 81
- Chapter 82
- Chapter 83
- Chapter 84
- Chapter 85
- Chapter 86
- Chapter 87
- Chapter 88
- Chapter 89
- Chapter 90
- Chapter 91
- Chapter 92
- Chapter 93
- Chapter 94
- Chapter 95
- Chapter 96
- Chapter 97
- Chapter 98
- Part Five: END OF STORY
- Chapter 99
- Chapter 100
- Chapter 101
- Chapter 102
- Chapter 103
- Chapter 104
- Chapter 105
- Chapter 106
- Chapter 107
- Chapter 108
- Chapter 109
- Chapter 110
- Chapter 111
- Chapter 112
- Chapter 113
- Chapter 114
- Chapter 115
- Chapter 116
- Chapter 117
- Chapter 118
- Chapter 119
- Chapter 120
- Chapter 121
- About the Author
“What are you doing Saturday?” she asked. Just the question, in her sweet voice, made me smile. “This isn’t about the Children’s Defense Fund by the way.”
“I was hoping you’d come over for one of Nana’s home-cooked meals,” I said.
“Don’t you need to ask Nana?”
I laughed. “It was her idea. Or one of the kids. But Nana’s definitely part of the conspiracy. She might even be the ringleader of the gang.”
If the universe wanted me to stop dating, its message was getting garbled. All day Saturday, I was a little nervous about Kayla coming over, though. This meant something, didn’t it? Bringing her home—under these circumstances.
“You look good, Daddy,” Jannie said from the door to my room.
I had just rejected a shirt onto the bed and pulled on a black V-neck sweater, which I had to admit looked pretty good. It was a little embarrassing to be caught in the act of preening, though. Jannie invited herself in, flopped down, and watched while I finished up.
“What’s going on?” Damon wandered in next and sat beside Jannie on the bed.
“Anybody ever hear of privacy around here?”
“He’s getting all handsome for Doctor Kayla. All duded-up and such. I like him in black.”
My back was to them now, and they spoke as if I weren’t there, their voices just a little stagy.
“Think he’s nervous?”
“Mm-hm. Probably.”
“You think he’ll spill something on himself during dinner?”
“Definitely.”
I turned on them with a roar and grabbed them both before they could separate and squirm away. They exploded into screams of laughter, forgetting, for an instant, that they had outgrown this kind of horseplay. I rolled them both around on the bed, going for all the ticklish spots I knew from past tickle fests.
“You’re going to get all wrinkly!” Jannie yelled at me. “Dadd-eee! Stop!”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll have to change anyway . . . when I spill something on myself!”
I chased them all the way down to the kitchen; then we pitched in to help Nana with the parts that she would let us. Adding a leaf to the dining table. Putting out the good china and new candlesticks.
Nana was showing off a little, maybe a lot. Fine by me; I’ve got no problem eating her finest. Never have.
After dinner, which was pretty amazing—two herb-roasted chickens with oven fries, asparagus, mesclun salad, and coconut cake—Kayla and I got out of there. We took the Porsche, and I drove out to the Tidal Basin and then up to the Lincoln Memorial. We parked, then strolled the length of the Reflecting Pool. It’s a beautiful, tranquil spot at night. For some reason, not too many tourists make it there after sunset.
“Everything was perfect,” she said as we approached the Washington Monument. “Back at your house.”