Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"She moans and fights me. She knows she has to get up and look good. MY REPUTATION IS AT STAKE HERE!" he added, again, shouting in Mommy's direction. She finally emerged wearing sunglasses and walking with small, careful steps like someone who was walking on eggshells. She went directly to the coffee pot.

"You can't wear those sunglasses all day, Gina. I told you to stop drinking ten times last night if I told you once, didn't I? Didn't I?" he asked furiously.

"I'll be fine," she said.

"Sure. You'll be fine. You'll look and act half dead and they'll fire you and once again, they'll blame me. Another market will be lost to me and my other clients!" Richard exclaimed.

"Your other clients?" She tried to smile, but that seemed to make her head ache, because she

immediately grabbed her forehead.

"Does anyone want anything to eat?" I asked. Mommy didn't reply, but Richard turned away from Mommy and looked at me.

"No. And get dressed," he snapped. "You have to go with us. I'm not coming all the way back here to pick you up. Your appointment is in West L.A."

"Dressed?-1- am dressed."

"Put on something . . . sexier. Don't you have a miniskirt or something?"

"No, I--"

"Go look in Gina's closet," he ordered. Mommy smiled.

"Yes, go do that, Melody. Only, don't wear my other bathing suit."

She laughed.

"Oh, you're so funny," Richard said. "I have all the responsibility here. I'm the one putting his neck out. It's about time I was appreciated. I mean it," he said sternly.

She raised her sunglasses off her nose. Her eyes were bloodshot and very tired looking.

"I appreciate you, Richard. You have no right to say I don't."

"Well, if you're not in tiptop shape when I deliver you, you put me in a bad light," he said. He turned to me.

"Didn't I tell you to pick something out? We're behind schedule because it took so long for me to get her out of bed."

I gazed at Mommy. She lowered her glasses again and sipped her coffee. She hadn't even said good morning to me. I went into their bedroom. It looked like war had been fought in their bed: the blanket twisted, the sheet pulled up, one of the pillows on the floor. Mommy's clothes from last night were piled over her shoes beside the bed. I found a miniskirt and matching blouse in her closet and put them on.

"That's more like it," Richard said. "You women have got to understand how to put your best foot forward when I bring you someplace," he lectured.

"It's not our feet they're interested in," Mommy quipped and then laughed.

"Very funny. Let's get moving," he ordered.

He didn't give me time to clean anything up. I barely had time to turn off the coffee pot before he marched us out of the apartment, mumbling angrily behind us that we put pressure on him by taking so long to get ready.

"He's a slave driver," Mommy said loud enough for him to hear. "But he's right. I'm lucky I have him looking after me."

"If he was looking after you, why did he let you drink so much?" I asked her.

She glanced at me and then stiffened.

"He didn't let me. You heard what he said in the kitchen. He tried to get me to stop."

"Why did you do it?" I pursued.

"Because I'm not the hit of the party like you, Melody. I'm not perfect, but there's a lot worse than me around here," she added in a louder voice, mostly for Richard's benefit.