Season of the Dragonflies (26 page)

“She doesn't want to speak to you, that's why.” This little jab felt good. She was not so fond of her sister at the moment, but she liked this guy even less.

“Are you calling to harass me?” He told someone in the background to be quiet.

Mya said, “Lucia's here and she's an absolute mess. Refuses to go back to the city. Wants to give up on acting. And there's nothing here for her, you know? She might end up substituting at the local high school and serving as assistant director for the school musicals for the rest of her life, but I think we both know that's not good for her.”

“I hate that,” Jonah said. “But I can't do anything. We're divorced. I assume you know that.”

“I do. You're still friends, though, right? She said so, anyway, and I'd like to think you two are mature enough for that. Between us, she's already met someone here, and they're sleeping together, and I think she'll hitch on to anything at this point because she's so miserable about you. She can't waste away here. It's empty of opportunity for her.”

“You two aren't close.” Now he sounded suspicious. She'd gone too far.

“Family's family,” Mya told him. “She came back here, but I think she needs you more than us right now.”

“All right,” Jonah said. “Have her call me. Tell her it's about the lease and it's important.”

“She needs a reminder of what was good there,” Mya said, and all she heard was Jonah's breath in response. “You there?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Look, I've got a meeting here. I stepped out for this call, so . . .”

“I'll let you go,” Mya said, “just expect a call from us soon.” Jonah hung up without a good-bye. Mya slipped Lucia's cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She glanced over her shoulder as she left the room, as though she'd burgled the place.

The phone in Willow's office was ringing, and it rang and rang and rang. Mya did her best to rush on her crutches but dropped them in favor of a rapid hop. She pushed back the drapes to the office and caught the phone just before it stopped ringing. “Lenore Incorporated,” Mya said, slightly out of breath.

“Is Lucia there?” The unmistakable voice of Jennifer Katz.

“No, but this is Mya Lenore. Can I help you, Miss Katz?”

“Hi, Mya,” Jennifer said sweetly, like they'd been best friends in middle school. “Lucia left a message for me, about your perfume for Zoe. I just wanted to tell her I got the message and I'll be placing another year's order for my perfume.”

Mya closed her eyes, grateful for this small break. “Glad to hear it,” she said.

“Thanks for doing that.”

Mya shook her head and massaged her temple. “You're welcome,” she said, pushing herself to sound genuine.

“It's just,” Jennifer said, “you know, I can't stand her at all, but it's too bad what's happening to her.”

“Men suck sometimes,” Mya said.

“That,” Jennifer said, “but now this other stuff too. It's all so much all of a sudden.”

Mya moved the phone to her other ear. “Not boyfriend stuff?”

“No,” Jennifer said like she couldn't believe Mya had asked that. “She freaked out on set for that Schol shoot.”

“What do you mean ‘freaked'?”

“She kept saying everyone hated her and then she just up and quit. It's printed in the
Reporter
and the
Times
this morning. Front page. The studio already called me. But anyway, just pass along my message to Lucia and tell her I'm well.”

“Will do.” Mya hung up the phone. So now Jennifer Katz and Lucia were best friends. It was like Lucia had come in and usurped her life while Mya had been sleeping.

Mya turned on her mother's laptop and first went to the
Hollywood Gawker
to confirm what Jennifer had said, and there it was on the front page with a huge headline:
HOLLYWOOD
'
S
DREAM
GIRL
BREAKS
DOWN
.

Zoe Bennett, who has won awards for her roles in
Baby Magic, The Terrible,
and
Like Cats and Dogs,
quit her starring role in Nick Schol's
Arrow Heights.
She accused the director and all the staff of sabotaging her because they cut a much-anticipated sex scene from the script. An anonymous source from the set quoted Zoe as saying, “If my audience can't handle that sex scene, then they're immature and ignorant and shouldn't be in the theater in the first place.” After her public humiliation with actor/director boyfriend Clint Moore, Zoe has canceled multiple upcoming appearances for fashion and awards shows and refuses to present at the Oscars. Are we watching a star burning out? Only time will tell.

Mya swallowed and couldn't bring herself to read any more. Hollywood loved a good meltdown. Mya had been so angry with Zoe, even irrationally and temporarily wished her dead while she made the essence from her hair. Now Mya was concerned. Very concerned. Within a day of the perfume's arrival and application to Zoe's skin, her heart had been broken, she'd quit her biggest film yet, and she seemed consumed by paranoia, convinced the world hated her. What could one more application do? An entire bottle? Mya's hair and her intentions—she knew what could come of those. Would Zoe end up in the mental ward? Was that how her career would finish? That outcome was an acceptable one. But could it be much worse? She didn't want the girl to die or to hurt anyone else.

Mya opened her mother's contacts spreadsheet and found the number for Zoe's manager. She called the number and it went straight to voice mail. Mya almost hung up and promised herself she'd have the nerve to call again later, but then she changed her mind and left a message: “This is Mya Lenore from Lenore Incorporated. Considering the recent events, please ask Zoe to stop using the new formula immediately until further notice. There's been a mistake—I mean, I made a mistake, and it could be dangerous. Call if you have any questions.” Mya hung up and dropped the phone onto its base like a hot coal. Her mother might disown her for this decision, but whatever came of it was Lucia's problem now, and that might be enough to make her leave.

The office phone rang. “Lenore Incorporated,” Mya said, and she braced herself to hear from Zoe's manager.

Lucia said, “Just checking on you.”

“I'm fine.”

“We're coming back from Ben's.”

“Okay.”

“See you in a minute.” Lucia hung up.

Mya couldn't go into the forest, so she sat on the porch swing and stretched out her bad leg. If only the deer would come back, Mya would feel better, but she hadn't seen the herd since she killed Spots. Nothing made her feel more shunned, not even Lucia's newfound bond with their mother. And she couldn't go search for the herd and ask for forgiveness, not with her leg in this state.

Ivy vines hung down from the ceiling to the floor of the porch, and Mya parted them so she could see the sky. In the distance, thick blue clouds hung above the mountain range, a possible thunderstorm. But ahead of it, the sky was blue with wispy clouds, and Mya stared up. The longer she concentrated, the more the clouds shifted and whirled together to form Zoe Bennett's face stricken by pain, thick tears moving down her cheekbones until the face dissolved almost entirely. Then Zoe vanished, and the clouds thinned to reveal a blue sky once again.

Mya pulled out her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Luke's number just to hear his voice. After a few rings, a young, chipper female voice said, “Luke's phone.”

“Hello?” Mya said. “Is Luke there?”

“Hang on.” The girl giggled, and then Mya heard a scrambling sound and the line cut off.

“What the hell?” Mya said, and dialed Luke's number again, checking the screen to make sure that his name came up. It did. The line rang and rang, but nobody picked up this time. She hung up and texted him:
I'm trying to call you.
Mya placed the phone on her outstretched leg and tried not to stare at it.

Nothing. He'd always been lightning fast to text her back, even when he was working on the tractor. Maybe that was just one of his little sister's friends. Had to be, Mya told herself. And maybe his phone died. The idea that he had a younger lover on the side was impossible for Mya to imagine. She couldn't be that older woman who obsessed over her younger lover's liaisons. Resisting the urge to call him again would be difficult. She wanted to identify that voice on the other end. Did Mya know her? How much older was Mya? How did Luke meet her? Mya squeezed the phone in her hand like she could make the innards seep out. She considered tossing it into the lily pond—she didn't want another fucking call for the rest of her life.

W
HAT'S SHE DOING
here?” Lucia said, parking her mother's truck behind a Subaru station wagon, the same one she'd watched Vista reverse out of Ben's garage an hour ago. “Are they friends?” Lucia removed the keys from the ignition and stared out at her sister and Vista talking—or yelling even—with wild gesticulations like they were practicing to be air traffic controllers.

“Isn't that Ben's girlfriend? I can't see.”

“That's her,” Lucia said.

“She runs Mya's store,” Willow said, “but ‘friends,' I can't be sure about that.”

Without using her crutches, Mya pushed past Vista and limped to the station wagon like the car belonged to her. Lucia tried not to look at Vista directly but found herself drawn to the girl's hippie, casual, artsy beauty: long hair in two braids, chunky wooden bangles, hemp ankle bracelets. Lucia couldn't pull off that earthy look, though she'd tried it out when she first dated Jonah. Vista had no raccoon circles or sad lines around her eyes—she had to be younger than Lucia by a few years. All of this made Lucia want a sip of moonshine. Just a tiny sip. Or another trail run.

Willow said, “What's going on here?” but Mya barely registered the question. “Vista?” Willow said.

Her carefree face finally showed a glimpse of human angst when she squinted her eyes and said, “The store's ablaze.”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Get in,” Mya barked at Vista. “Everything's fine,” she told Willow.

“Are you headed there now?” Lucia said.

“No, Lucia. I made a spa appointment for a mud facial,” Mya said with searing sarcasm. Each day Lucia stayed here, her sister became meaner.

“What about your leg?”

“I don't care if it hurts,” Mya said, and she slammed the driver's-side door.

Lucia said, “May I come?”

Vista shrugged and said, “Sure.”

She danced around Lucia as they tried to figure out who should be in the front seat. Lucia wanted to be in the back and away from her sister's bad mood, so she said, “It's your car, I'll take the back.” Vista appeared dismayed, and Lucia thought the girl would rather be in the back with Lucia. And what did Vista know about Lucia? Had Ben told her anything at all? Did Vista sense right now that the only reason Lucia asked to join was the off chance that Ben would show up at the store to check on her? And he would, of course he would. Ben was one of the good guys.

Mya waved her hands at them and shouted something that sounded like “Hurry up,” but Lucia couldn't hear her, sealed as she was inside the vehicle.

Willow said, “I should stay here, just in case someone calls.”

Lucia inserted herself into the backseat of Vista's car, and the smell of patchouli and sandalwood incense overwhelmed her immediately. This was the smell Ben inhaled when they had sex. Lucia cracked the window to draw in some much-needed air.

Mya sped down Route 161. Lucia said, “Be careful,” and Mya said, “Shut up.” Vista glanced back at Lucia but didn't say anything.

“I can't believe this is happening,” Mya said, and she glanced over at Vista, who didn't seem to have any plan to respond. “Vista?”

“What?”

“Answer me.”

“You didn't
ask
me anything,” Vista said with an attitude Lucia hadn't thought her capable of before. This unfortunately made Lucia admire the girl even more. Ben liked spunk.

Lucia watched her sister's head shake back and forth. “How did it happen?” Mya finally asked.

Vista propped two Roman-sandaled feet on the dashboard, her red painted toenails glistening in the sun. She finally said, “The glycerin tinctures. They were going three days and those Crock-Pots were old, I told you that.”

“And the extra product, that was still on hand?”

Vista nodded and separated her homemade feather earrings from her hair. “I had them set to ship out to a buyer this afternoon.”

Mya turned down the bluegrass music on the local NPR station and said, “Everything of mine, everything I deal with, everything that matters to me, is disappearing.” Her eyes flashed in the rearview mirror and connected with Lucia's for a moment. Without words they exchanged the same disturbing thought about the black cloud.

For all the hurt Mya had caused Lucia in the past, Lucia had never once wished her sister to die. She loved her, despite everything, even her attempt to steal Ben away and keep him for the business. Mya had always been a protector. She had the will to protect Lucia, Willow, the business, herself. All of her actions, good and bad, stemmed from this one impulse. When Willow had left town on business trips, Mya took control as mother figure, believing the hired babysitters might mess up. In some ways, Lucia continued to see Mya in that role. No matter what, Lucia didn't want Mya harmed.

As if she too had been thinking about Mya's comment, Vista said, “What's that mean? Everything is disappearing?”

“Nothing,” Mya and Lucia said at the same time, but Mya looked at Lucia once more in the mirror as if to say, “You know it's possible.”