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Blue Moon 10.1

by Donna Lamb

Richard drove like un coureur du Tour de France sans drogue: he was losing the race. He changed lanes mechanically, he ignored opportunities to surge ahead; he might as well have been a typical commuter who had left his mind locked in his desk at work.

Jo gave him a couple of concerned looks but she said nothing. I wonder if he's thinking about me? Oh, isn't that a lovely bit of self-centeredness to discover about oneself? Looking for some way to distract her attention from Richard, she pulled down the sun-visor in the Mustang to look into the mirror attached to the back. Oh, now this is vain, too. God, I'm so-o-o shallow! She giggled out loud.

Richard glanced at her, showed his dimples in a reflexive smile and went back to his deep concentration on whatever weighty problem had engaged his thinking.

"Are we going to b-be on time?" Jo asked after a bit more poking along.

"Sure," said Richard. He accelerated around several pokey sedans, cut through the opening between a gas truck and a cement mixer to reach a clear lane and ran the late amber light at La Cienega. Jo bit back a squeak. Richard said, "We really had plenty of time, but you never let a girl know that."

Jo's mouth flew open, Richard looked at her sideways and winked.

She sighed, realizing she had been had. "What were you thinking about b-back there?"

"Us. You," he said.

Jo felt a glow. "Really?"

"Yeah,"said Richard. "This looks like it's the real deal, a rest-of-your-life sort of thing. You're Melody Jo now and you're a real person with a real place in the world."

Jo blinked, suddenly unsure if she wanted Richard to be thinking of her in such terms.

"You're beautiful, you're rich and you're talented. I just have to wonder...." He didn't finish, suddenly having to take evasive action to avoid eating the rear bumper of a BMW convertible driven by a plastic-looking blonde who had fishtailed her beemer through the eye of a camel.

Jo did squeak that time and Richard cursed. The moment had passed.

* * *
"Rather evil bit of buggery that," remarked Ted.

"You should know," said Sophie, with a smirk.

He looked at her down a long, British nose. "I meant, you're playing a devious game, folding your strategy back, egging them on then cooling them off."

"Ew, cold folded eggs," said Sophie.

"Whatever," he said. "You're losing this one old girl, and you know it."

"If hearts were not trump, I would have."

He stared at her. "Hearts are trump? But that's why you are losing. Love conquers all, you know."

She smiled. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

Jo and Richard reached the entrance to the parking garage under the building holding the offices of Tom K. Harmon, Talent Associates before they managed to get back the discussion they'd been on the edge of starting.