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Blue Moon 8.2

by Donna Lamb

"Aren't we supposed to meet your mom for lunch?" Richard asked, hoping to distract Jo from whatever thought had so astonished her.

"Uh?" said Jo. "Sort of?" She licked her lips and started to open the door of the limo. "Do you think w-we could get Mr. G'm-munro to the food court at the mall? And if we did, where w-would he sit?" She swung the door open.

Richard grinned. "Point. How about we go to Tommy's? Can't get much more authentic L.A. food than that. You call your mom to meet us and I'll call Patch to send the new driver there? Or to the park around the corner?"

Jo nodded. "Okay. B-but, Richard..." She looked at him wistfully. When she had his attention, she went on. "Are all m-men such terrible kissers as you and B-barry?" Smirking, she got in the car.

Richard got in, too, figuring himself lucky to just get zinged. Thank God she's not mad about it. Note to self, don't pat Jo on the popo until she's all over this.

Mr. Gmunro in the back seat chuckled like a malfunctioning escalator contemplating eating a few pedestrians -- or maybe that was his stomach.

* * *

"What's a damn wizard from Africa doing in Los Angeles?" Sophie complained.

"The Quest for Heartburn?" suggested Ted, shuddering a bit.

"What? Tommy's is good food -- chiliburgers, hot dogs, tamales. Helluva place to eat." She grinned.

"You said it. L.A. is just not a food town."

"Hey! Wanna go to Chicago for some ribs? I know this place on State Street...." Sophie's mouth was already watering.

"No. It's Friday. How about Majorca for some fresh caught fish and that great brown bread they bake on stones?"

"Ooo! I like that idea. It's late there though, but just in time for a supper in the moonlight." She batted her eyes at Ted.

"Don't make me lose my appetite, my dear, or you'll be opening the wine by yourself."

"We'll go to Crocodile Pete's in Ponsa, it's run by a Brit with the most exquisite, if small, cellar."

"Santa Ponsa, you mean."

"Don't be tiresome. Are we on?"

"I suppose. Yes, of course. I'm already there," said Ted. And he vanished.

Sophie smiled, snapped her fingers and two Devils in Drag shared the blood-red upholstery. "You know what to do," she said in stereo and both of her disappeared in a wink.

Whistling, "I get my kicks on Route 66," Bill C. Bubb took the I-40 exit from the Highway to Hell in Barstow and headed for Chicago. He knew a place on the South Side that beat State Street ribs all to Hell and back.

* * *

"Mom, how m-many chiliburgers you want?" Jo asked.

The voice on the phone answered, "Just one, dear, with a little paper of extra pickles and a lemonade."

"Okay, Mom, we'll meet you in the p-park with everything."

"Don't forget the extra napkins, never leave Tommy's without more napkins than you think you need."

Jo grinned. She might have changed but her mom was still Mom. "Sure, we'll get a ton. We're gonna need them, w-wait till you meet Richard's fare, Mr. G'm-munro."

"I'm sure he's nice. How about Richard? Is he as scrumptious as he looks?" asked with a maternal giggle.

Jo giggled back. "Tell you later. See you soon." After goodbyes she closed the phone and turned to their passenger in the back seat.

Richard was still on the horn to Patch, arranging for the extra driver to meet them in the park with Richard's car. "Yeah, it's out of gas but I wasn't expecting anyone else to have to drive it. Have him put five in and I'll pay him back. And ask him to call me direct so I can get his order for Tommy's. Yeah. No, I'm not coming to the barn with a sack of cb's. You're near the one on Beverly, send someone out to get your own."

"Mr. G'm-munro, how many burgers do you want? They're about this big." Jo made motions with her hands while leaning over the seat back.

"A dozen, and half as many of the annointed tamales," said the big man in as clear a statement as he had ever made in her hearing. He beamed at Jo through his thick glasses, the hideous scars on his cheeks making a friendly wreath around his smiling mouth.

"Anything to drink?"

"Lagoons of beer, suitably containerized."

"Uh, they don't have b-beer, just soft drinks."

"Beer of the American root then, a gallon or twain should quench me. Two gallons, the American ones to diminish are to amelioration." He looked content.

"Okay," said Jo and turned around to find Richard looking sideways at how her slacks had pulled tight across her butt. "W-watch the road," she warned him but she smiled. What am I gonna do with the guy? Even my mom thinks he's scrumptious. I just don't think I'm ready to let things get serious. And do I sound sufficiently girly? Good grief!

She buckled herself back in, still smiling.

"You look happy," said Richard. "All it took was that toy bunny to change your attitude?"

"I guess," she said. "Dunny was just a signal, from whoever is w-watching, and from m-my sister. Everything's going to b-be okay and I'm right where I'm supposed to b-be."

"You... if you have a third wish, you could use it to change back?" he suggested.

"I don't think that w-would be a good idea," said Jo. "And to b-be honest, I'm not sure I'd do it if I knew it w-was safe to w-wish it. I'm getting used to the idea of b-being a girl." She blushed.

Richard looked away,making a turn in the big limo. "San Fernando," he said. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"I'm glad you like being a girl. I liked Joel but...I like you better this way." He grinned at her. "But then I would, wouldn't I?"

"Don't be a Dick, Richard. This is Tommy's," she said. "We're here."