Love Turns With Twisted Fates 2 (8 page)

September 2006

“Izzy, you bitch! What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” I return. I may have promised to
wait for her curbside, but in my defense, I was too excited to sit and wait.
“Don’t lecture me about the ‘dangers’ of over doing myself. I already got it
from Mr. Paranoid. And I’ll tell you like I did him, I’m walking through an
airport, it’s exercise and I’m fine. Now, fucking hug me already!”

We embrace in the middle of the terminal without a care for
the rest of the travelers around us. Before Diego, I could get lost and find
myself in the arms of my best friend.

“Ahem,” a clearing throat comes from behind me. “Am I gonna
get some lovin’ too?”

Releasing me from her grasp, Mazzy shifts to give my man a
squeeze. “It would appear neither of you can keep a promise…”she trails. “Wait,
you’re not here for me are you, D? You were worried about, Little Miss
Bun-in-the-Oven.” She finishes her final statement with a “
hmmph
.”

“Untwist yourself, bitch,” Diego holds her out at arm
length. “I’m holding you now and I haven’t even said one word to Izzy.” Pulling
her back in for another hug, he winks at me over her shoulder.

“Whatever,” she huffs jokingly. “What bar are we hitting
first?” I’m cracking up and Diego’s stunned speechless, jaw dropped and
bug-eyed. Shock and awe are Mazzy’s most desired reactions. “Hmmm,” she hums
out like she’s confused, “what was it you just said to me,” not really asking
the question. “Oh! That’s right, ‘Untwist yourself, bitch.’ ”

At this point, I’m doubled over laughing and I can’t
breathe. These two can get under each other’s skin, it’s downright side
splitting. Gasping for my breath, I try to say something, anything, but my
words are being blocked by the now silent and hiccup riddled laughter shaking
me.

When my silent laughing fit turns to wheezing, I look up to
find a panicked and ghost-faced Diego…and it does the trick. I’m able to settle
myself if for no other reason than to ease the concern from his face.

“Diego,” I soothe, “I’m just laughing.”

His only response is to shake his head. He turns and starts
walking in the direction towards the exit.

Mazzy leans into me, “He’s all kinds of paranoid now, isn’t
he?” she whispers into my ear.

I answer with a slow nod and finish with a shake that says,
‘Yes, he is and it’s going to drive me crazy.’

“It’s okay, babe,” she gives me a shoulder squeeze hug.
“He’s just worried about you and his little princess.” I love that she finishes
with our running joke about me having a little princess. She always knows how
to lighten the mood. Patting me on the ass, she nods her head in his direction,
“Go.”

It takes me a few quick paces to get to Diego’s side. I grab
his hand and he looks down at me.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make light of your concerns, but at
this rate, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack if you don’t relax a
little.”

Diego’s shoulders drop. “I know.”

Ahhh
…he’s resorting to his one to two word answers.
“You know I love you, right?”

He hesitates, but eventually answers, “Of course. How much
do you love me?” he asks with that wicked smile I love so much.

“So much, so much,” I finish. He quirks an eyebrow up at me.
I know that look. That’s trouble headed in my direction. “Why do I get the
feeling that wasn’t the answer you
really
wanted?” His eyes twinkle, but
he doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me with that look that says, ‘You’ll
see.’

“Hey!” Mazzy shouts from behind us.

Diego and I turn to see Mazzy stopped and pointing at the
sign above us. Straining, I see the sign for baggage claim. “Whoops…guess we
weren’t paying attention,” turning back to Mazzy with an apologetic look on my
face.

“No,” Diego answers back, “we’re headed in the right
direction.” Mazzy and I both screw up our faces in confusion. He just chuckles.
“Untwist yourselves, pretty ladies. I asked Alfred and Ken to grab Mazzy’s
luggage from baggage claim.”

“
Ahhh
,” understanding sets in. “Now, I know why you
wanted pics of the bags she was checking.”

“Such a clever man, aren’t you D?” Mazzy asks. “Not just
another pretty face.”

“Oh, I’m a lot clever,” Diego retorts. “Just ask Izzy how
clever I was last night.”

I can’t help the roll of my eyes and Mazzy is so lady-like
with her snort. “Easy, stud. Remember, I’ve heard the results of your talents
through shared walls.”

The two of them share a laugh at the embarrassed flush
that’s spread across my face and my need to scan the area around us, hoping no
one could hear them.

When we make our way through the automatic sliding doors of
the exit, I see Alfred and Ken waiting by the car. Diego’s trailed away from us
to take a call. I lean in to whisper in Mazzy’s ear.

“You’re gonna love, Ken. He’s the hot piece of man meat
Diego hired to head his security.”

“And why am I just now hearing about him?” she inquires.

“Well, if you remember correctly, Diego was still
interviewing a few days ago. I swear he went through twenty plus candidates,”
shaking my head. “Kept saying he wasn’t ‘feeling it’ with each candidate. Ken,
here,” gesturing to the man now talking with Diego, “was the last candidate he
interviewed the day before yesterday. He hired him on the spot. His hotness
slipped my mind…let’s blame it on baby brains,” I plead.

“Holy shit, Izzy,” Mazzy whisper shouts in my ear when Ken
turns to greet us.

“Miss Kidd,” Ken addresses Mazzy, reaching out to shake her
hand.

“Ken, this is Mazzy. Mazzy, Ken.” Finished with the
introductions, I turn to locate my ever-disappearing husband. Interrupting
their chitchat, I ask Ken where Diego went? He gives the area a once over to
locate him.

Back toward the exit and surrounded by a group of teenage
boys and their parents, is Diego. Chatting it up with the adults and signing
t-shirts for the kids. The moms are practically drooling. The dads are fighting
the obvious man crushes they have being in the presence of a football
superstar. It’s quite the sight.

“What are you looking at?” Mazzy asks, presumably following
my gaze. “Oh,” she draws out. “Mr. Soccer God,” she mocks.

“That’s Mr. Football God,” I correct.

“Seriously, Iz. How do you ever concentrate with him
around?”

“Who says I concentrate?” And we’re in hysterics again. If
we were in private, the both of us would be on the ground rolling, unable to
catch our breaths. Being where we are, we still manage to be a bit loud and
draw the attention of my husband and his adoring fans. The stern look on his
face causes me to mostly snap out of it. I’m still cracking up on the inside
when Diego makes his way back to us.

“Oh, Mr. Football God, can I have your autograph?” teases
Mazzy. “Right here?” pulling down the neck of her shirt to further reveal the
swell of her tits and her cleavage.

“For fuck’s sake, Mazzy, put those things away. There are
kids about.”

She shrugs, “They have to learn about anatomy at some
point.”

Diego gives her a squeeze, “Oh how I’ve missed your ways of
rationalizing, Mazz.”

“If you two are done drawing the attention of crowds, could
we get in the car?” I ask with mock annoyance.

“Untwist yourself,” they say simultaneously.

I chuckle, “Let’s go you jerks.”

After some time in the car, Mazzy breaks the silence and
shakes me from my near slumber. “Wow. It’s really quite an incredible sight.
When do I get the tour?”

My eyes flash to Diego’s as his zero in on mine. “Well,” he
drawls, “I could give you the tour I gave—”

“No!” the sternness in my voice catching the three of us off
guard. I clear my throat, “
That
tour was just for me.”

We share a laugh. Mazzy heard about the tour I got. “Walked
right into that one, didn’t I?”

Having plans to tour London with Mazzy while she’s here for
two weeks, Diego has Alfred take us straight home shortening our trip by about
half.

Not as much to see with the “wow” factor, but she’s wowed
nonetheless. Like me, she’s most impressed by the architecture, noting the
similarities and differences from back home in the States.

Mazzy and I are lost in conversation when Diego announces
we’ve arrived home.

“Wow.” It’s one word, but I know what she means. She’s out
of the car and looking at our not-so-humble abode from top to bottom. “Izzy,”
she practically whispers, “this is incredible.”

“Wait until you see the inside,” my voice heavy with almost
as much disbelief and awe as Mazzy’s.

“Lead the way, Mrs. Santo.” She turns back to Diego and Ken,
“Get the bags, boys.” It’s a riot when she tries on her mother’s snobbish
demeanor.

“Right away,
Ms. Robinson
,” Diego responds.

Immediately, I’m searching Mazzy’s face for how she’ll react
to being called by her given last name. When she was eighteen, she legally
changed her name to distance herself from her parents and the affluent
influence the family name holds. She chuckles, “I’ll get you yet my pretty,”
wagging her finger in Diego’s direction.

We share a laugh at her failed attempt to sound like the
Wicked Witch of the West as we ascend the stairs to our front door. Alfred
already has it opened and waiting for us to enter. Diego and I agreed that
having him around regularly would help with my transportation needs. In
addition to chauffeuring me around, he’s offered to be our valet. I gave up
trying to fit a title to his role that didn’t sound so incredibly posh and
snobbish and went with the lesser of the evils. As it is, I’ve taken to calling
Diego Batman or Mr. Wayne, because his butler was also an Alfred.

“Holy fucking shit,” she draws out each word. “When you said
he found the ‘perfect’ place, Izzy, I figured he came close…I never would have
figured he’d bought you your dream house.” She spins around taking in the
expanse of the first floor.

“Miss Izzy,” Alfred breaks me from the trance of watching
Mazzy. “Can I get you something to drink?” I start to decline with a shake of
my head when he gives me a knowing look. With Diego’s constant concern over my
well-being, Alfred has managed to put two and two together.

“Yes, please, Alfred. I’ll have some sparkling water.” I
turn to Mazzy now looking over my collection of photos and books on the
built-in cases. “Want something to drink, Mazz?”

She just shoos me off as she picks up a photo of us from
Ozfest 2002. The smile that creeps across her face tells me everything I need
to know about what she’s thinking. We’ve had some killer times together over
the years.

“Izzy, you remember what we did after?”

I quirk up an eyebrow, “I know what I did, but you were
definitely not there.” Visions of Diego picking up a very drunk version of me
from the Denny’s down the street pass through my mind. He was camping with some
friends in the desert nearby and wanted me to join. I don’t know if it was the
alcohol or whether my give a damn was busted, but underneath the stars that
night, we had our fill of each other’s naked—

“Before that,” she interrupts my daydream, her tone slightly
annoyed. “When we were trying to find the car service we arranged?”

“Ohhhhhh…” Now, I know what she’s referring to. “I think you
might be slightly misrepresenting who did what. I believe my drunk ass was
following your drunk ass around the parking lot while you were asking anyone
and everyone if they wanted a ride on the crazy train.” I pause, trying to
remember the rest. “If my memory serves me right, you were wearing the crazy
train shirt I made for you.”

“Well,” she shrugs not even remotely embarrassed, “sometimes
you gotta ask the hard questions.”

“Oh, Mazzy,” I squeeze her. “I’ve missed you.”

“Miss Izzy, your water.” I turn to see Alfred has returned
with my sparkling water in the bottle with a straw. “I took the liberty of
putting together some finger sandwiches. Cucumbers with cream cheese and
cheddar cheese with sun-dried tomatoes. They’re on the table downstairs. I know
Diego will want you to eat as soon as possible.”

Speaking of Diego, “Alfred, where is Diego?”

“Let me check out front,” he answers and turns for the front
door.

“That’s odd,” I say picking up my phone. “Diego sent me a
message saying he had to go to a meeting with Bean.”

“Bean? That’s the owner, right?” Mazzy asks looking quite
pleased with her memory skills.

I nod.

“So, why is that odd?”

“He didn’t even come in to say goodbye,” trying not to let
my emotions affect my voice, but failing miserably with a squeak.

“Let’s get you to the food and make you fat.”

My growling stomach temporarily distracts me and supports
her almost insulting suggestion. I gesture for her to follow me down the
stairs.

She continues, “I’m sure he figured you were giving me a
tour and wouldn’t notice he was go—”

Her sudden silence stops me in my tracks. I turn to see
what’s caused it. With her mouth agape, I see that Mazzy is awe-struck by my
fabulous kitchen. I chuckle. I suppose the openness of the room is pretty
impressive.

“Fuck, Izzy…” she trails off as she walks the length of the
cabinets, examining the marble countertops with her fingertips along the way.
“You could have a staff working in here.” She turns to look at me. “I thought
this place just looked huge in the panoramic images you sent…” she trails off
again with a shake of her head. “Baz is gonna lose his shit over this kitchen.”

“Right?” the question dripping with enthusiasm over
Sebastian’s foreseeable kitchen envy. My grumbling belly interrupts my thoughts
and garners the attention of Mazzy.

She gestures to the finger sandwiches beautifully plated on
a tiered serving dish, “Eat.”