Keeper of the Keys

Chapter One A white yacht floated deep in smooth water not a hundred feet away, separated from Kat and Jacki by the sheet of glass that made up the back wall of the restaurant. A man in a white cap moved about on deck. Blinding white boats floated at their moorings a long way out under a hot cloudless sky. Kat took off her cotton blazer and nudged off her dressy shoes under the table. Her sister, Jacki, sat across from her, marine-blue eyes hidden by huge sunglasses, lipsticked, wearing a sleeveless blouse that overhung her eight-months-along middle like a steep-eaved roof. "Have a good morning?" Jacki asked. "The usual schizoid Sunday in August. I read the paper in my jammies and enjoyed myself until I made the mistake of returning a business phone call and had this knockdown fight with one very angry owner in La Cienega who thought his house should be worth double my appraisal. Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find legal parking so I'll probably get towed." "The walk nearly killed me." Jacki lived right here in Marina del Rey, only two blocks away in a loft condo with her husband, Raoul, who taught bioethics and biology at UCLA. Kat couldn't afford this area on one income, so lived several miles south in Hermosa Beach. "Braggart. I should have had a margarita instead of this latte," Kat said, taking a sip. "Things always go better with tequila." "You drink too much." "So do you when you're not pregnant." "Already the low blows," Jacki said comfortably, offering her a napkin, "and you've only been here"she consulted her watch"three minutes." "You started it." "So I should get the last word." Kat nodded. "Always end as you start. I remember that from the one creative writing course I took at Long Beach State." "I ordered a turkey on rye for you, okay?" Kat nodded again, taking the napkin and setting it beside her plate. She made a note to herself to stop for a bottle of wine on the way home. Evenings had been much easier to get through lately, what with this new habit of getting slightly shitfaced every night. Yes, later she would undoubtedly violate the Buddha's Fifth Precept against intoxicants once again this evening, because she didn't seem to have any control over anything anymore, but the main thing was to be on the path and do the best you can at any given moment. She was drinking coffee right now and not hurting anything, not engaged in any sexual misconduct, not stealing, not getting whacked on chardonnay, piling up merit to piss away later tonight. Jacki had just started her maternity leave, and she was becoming quite irksome now that she didn't have a job on which to expend her prodigious energies. She called Kat a half-dozen times a day. Leaning back in the blue-trimmed wicker chair, Kat decided she didn't really mind. In fact, she didn't have much of a life outside her work and Jacki these days. Her sister's phone calls gave her a sense of normality. "I love the air here," she said, breathing deeply, as a sea breeze swept across the patio. "I heard it was a hundred and eight in San Bernardino yesterday. Imagine being there next month, in September, when it really gets hot. We're lucky, living on the coast. They say being near large bodies of water makes the air heavier or something and so it's healthier for you." "Fewer cooties is what I hear." "Ask Raoul, and be sure to use the word 'cO'Shaughnessy, Perri is the author of 'Keeper of the Keys', published 2006 under ISBN 9780385337960 and ISBN 0385337965.