Reed woke up, unsure where she was for a moment. Then it all came roaring back, the accident, the fire, being chased by the crazy girls.

She was in Duncan Browne's beach mansion, with nothing but the clothes on her back. Her novel, her precious work, was gone. Her laptop was gone, the tiny life she'd tried to cobble together for herself here in the City of Angels was gone, up in flames.

She rolled over and winced when she felt the pain in her arm.

Oh yeah.

She carefully got out of bed and got dressed in her old clothes, which were definitely looking a little worse for wear. She glared at her puffy face in the mirror and poked at her hair with her one good hand, trying to tame it into some semblance of normalcy. Whatever, she probably wasn't going to run into Justin Trudeau today.

After wandering out to the main area of the house and finding it empty, Reed wasn't sure what to do. Should she go back and wait quietly until the master of the house was awake? Should she turn on the big TV and hope the sound woke him up?

She finally decided to just behave normally, as she would if she were living here, which she was, right? He'd told her to make herself at home, hadn't he? And she was famished, so she was going to make herself some breakfast, dammit.

She wondered if there would be anything she could actually cook with, any actual food. Who knew what kind of crap a rock star kept in his refrigerator?

She was pleasantly surprised to see lots of fresh fruits and vegetables in his fridge, and at least five different kinds of cheese. She found the eggs and decided to make an omelet, and other than having to lean funny to hold the vegetables, she did okay with her limited mobility.

She was just wondering how she could slide the omelet onto a plate when Duncan wandered into the kitchen, shirtless, asking, "What smells so heavenly?" He wasn't using his crutches anymore, Reed noticed. His foot must be feeling much better.

"Breakfast," Reed responded. "Here, get this onto the plate, and it can be yours, okay?"

He took over without a murmur while Reed started on a second, got the coffee going as soon as he was finished, then pivoted smoothly to chopping the fruit that Reed hadn't gotten to yet. The coffee and the second omelet were ready at about the time he finished, so they carried their plates out to the deck to eat while looking at the morning ocean.

"Wow, this is really nice," Reed remarked, gesturing toward the view. There were a few joggers, loyal dogs by their sides, and the ocean was gentle and quiet in the misty morning blue, gentle swells breaking at a towering six or eight inches.

"Yeah, and the house keeps the deck shady until about lunch time, so it's not so blasted hot," Duncan answered.

"Speaking of nice, this omelet is ace," he continued. "Are you a trained chef?"

Reed nearly snarfed her coffee. "Hardly. Though I do like to bake. I worked in a bakery in—in Florida."

"I enjoy cooking," Duncan confided. "Not that I get a lot of opportunity to do it, being on the road so much and everything. I try to keep my hand in when I'm at home, though."

"That's why you have so much stuff in your fridge," Reed said. "I was expecting to find green juice and some beer, so it was nice to find some things I could actually cook with."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the day brighten, and drinking their coffee.

"Listen, about today's shopping," Duncan finally said. "You understand I can't go with you myself? It'll cause too much fuss?"

"Oh? So who's taking me? Or are you saying I'm going alone?" Reed looked at him. "I certainly don't mind—"

"No no," Duncan corrected. "You'd have no way to pay, for one thing. No, my PA, Nancy, is going with you. I told her to be here around ten o'clock, will that suit you?"

Reed nodded.

"Hopefully you can get the car and all the police stuff regarding your apartment taken care of today, and maybe even get some clothes as well. You can't very well run around Los Angeles in the same clothes day after day, can you?"

Reed looked down at her clothes. "Probably not," she agreed. It occurred to her that she was wearing these clothes when she'd hit Duncan with the car, and that he'd never seen her in anything else, other than a hospital gown.

"You know I've never seen you in anything else?" Duncan remarked, smiling at her. "Not that I remember when you hit me or anything."

"You don't? I mean, I'm glad," Reed assured him. "It was pretty gnarly."

"Was it?"

Reed nodded "You flew through the air pretty far. I thought I'd killed you."

"God, I'm sorry," Duncan said, covering her hand with his. "It must've been really terrible for you, especially after what you went through in Florida with your family last year."

Reed almost said, "What?" but remembered, just in time, what she'd told him about where she'd come up with the money to fund her year in LA. At least the part about her parents was true, she consoled herself. "Yes," she said instead.

"Well, thank goodness it wasn't too bad," Duncan said, "though I know that replacing all the things you've lost doesn't come close to repaying you for what I've done." He smiled at her. "Hopefully the computer fellow can retrieve your novel from the cloud, yeah? In fact, let me check something—" he pulled out his phone and began scrolling. "Oh, they wrote back, hold on a tick—" he smiled at her. "We're in luck! Bryon, the Apple Genius, will come out to the house tonight at five to get your novel back from the cloud!"

Reed stared at him. "He'll what?"

"Get your novel back from the cloud."

"No, the other part, the part about coming out to the house?" Reed had envisioned hours of waiting at the Apple Store, and then probably days of waiting in limbo before going back to find out the verdict on Esmerelda and Ruark.

"Oh, right, he'll be here tonight at five," Duncan repeated.

"Who'd you screw to make that happen?" Reed asked before she could help herself.

"Erm, well, no one," Duncan admitted, chuckling. "It's just, you know, with me being who I am, we've just found certain things are easier if people can come to the house, rather than me going out to them, so yeah—" he stopped speaking.

"Wow, must be nice," Reed said, shaking her head. "I'm not complaining or anything, honest."

"Good morning!" someone called as she opened the French door and emerged from the house. "What a beautiful day, huh?" She leaned down to kiss Duncan on the cheek, then turned to Reed.

"So, this is the woman who hit you with her car?" she chirped. She held out a tanned hand. "Hi, I'm Nancy Sherwood, Dunc's PA."

"Manners, Nancy, manners," Duncan chided with a laugh. "This is Reed Halliwell, the woman whose car I rode out in front of a couple days ago."

Reed held out her hand. "Hello, and thanks for taking me shopping, I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem, hon, just doing my job." Nancy was a perky blonde with an alarmingly high ponytail. In fact, everything about her could be covered with those descriptors, Reed thought. Her voice was alarmingly high, as were her heels, her boobs were perky, as was her smile.

 "Ready to go?"

"Sure, just let me clear this away and grab my bag."

"I've got this, love, go grab your things," Duncan assured her.

"Thanks, Duncan." Reed rose and went inside.

"Not much to look at, is she?" Nancy remarked.

"Will you keep your voice down. Or better yet, stop being so blasted rude." Duncan, too, rose and began clearing the plates.

"Sorry, I thought you'd agree with me, and we could have a laugh." Nancy looked surprised. "How long's she staying?"

"As long as she needs," Duncan answered with a shrug.

"You mean it's just—open ended?" Now Nancy sounded really surprised. "You didn't set an end date? God, Dunc, she could end up just freeloading off you for, like, ever!"

Duncan walked to the kitchen, put the dishes in the sink and began rinsing them. "She won't, no worries."

Nancy followed him, her heels tock tocking on the floor. "Oh, okay, if you say so." Her doubt showed on her face, however.

Reed returned with her bag over her good shoulder. "Okay, I'm ready," she declared. She felt a little dowdy next to the exceedingly well-groomed and put together Nancy, if truth be told, but what could she do? She literally had nothing else to wear. If Nancy were a different kind of person, she might have asked her to fix her hair into a pony tail, but Reed could tell, just from their brief interaction, that neither one of them would be comfortable with that.

"Hold on a tick," Duncan said, turning from where he was loading the dishwasher. "Your hair looks a bit of a nest, if you don't mind my saying? You want me to have a lash at a braid or something? I mean, you couldn't very well do it yourself, could you?"

Reed nodded at him gratefully, and she and Nancy waited in a silence that wasn't entirely comfortable while Duncan ran for a brush. He was back quickly, holding what Reed assumed was his own hairbrush aloft, and she was glad she'd made the effort in the shower last night to wash her hair with one hand.

"Just a pony tail is fine," she said to him, sitting on a stool at the island.

"You sure? I have two younger sisters back home in England, and I've done many a fancy braid in my day," he told her as he quickly and efficiently put her hair in a nice, tight pony tail.

Reed smiled and shook her head. "No, just a pony is fine, though I might take you up on your offer some other time," she assured him. "I'm terrible at doing my hair, and I love having people mess with it."

"Well, it's gorgeous, and there's so much of it," Duncan said, brushing out the ends of Reed's long, brown tresses. "I'd love to, anytime. There we are."

"So, we all finished playing beauty parlor?" Nancy asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, all finished," Duncan said, shooting Nancy a look as Reed stood up and gathered her bag once more.

Once they were in the car, Nancy seemed to relax a little, and she even attempted to make small talk.

"So, you're originally from Florida?"

"Mm hm. I came out here after my parents were killed in a car accident. I'm trying to write a book."

"Interesting. Most aspiring writers go to New York. Usually it's people trying to break into show business who come to LA, you know?"

"I've always wanted to see Los Angeles," Reed explained. "Hollywood, the Pacific Ocean, the beautiful weather, all that? It's always been a dream."

"Yeah, it's pretty nice. So you went to college back there? Florida?"

"Yes."

"What did you study?"

"I was an English major."

"And where was this?"

Reed stared at her, at her perfect profile.

Nancy didn't look back, but merely kept her eyes on the road.

"Florida?"

Nancy nodded. "Right, I know that, but where in Florida, you didn't say."

"Oh. Orlando."

Nancy nodded, apparently satisfied for the moment, and they drove the rest of the way to the car dealership in Hollywood in silence, for which Reed was profoundly grateful.

*

The salesman was shocked, though he hid it well. This was LaLa Land, after all, TinselTown, where there were all kinds of eccentric people doing all sorts of strange things.

"So you want to buy a car, and you want to go out on the lot and pick it out, but you don't want to test drive it."

Reed shook her head, lifting her arm.

He turned to Nancy. "And you're going to pay for it. In cash. And you want it delivered out to an address in Malibu."

Nancy nodded. "And we'd like to take care of it as quickly as possible, because we have other places we have to go today, more shopping to get to."

The salesman held his arm out. "No problem. Lead the way, ladies."

Reed ended up choosing a Toyota Corolla in something called "Havasue Blue," which was basically a light, metallic blue. It was a really nice car, the nicest she'd ever owned.

"Great, so please deliver it to this address," Nancy said as she filled out everything necessary to the purchase of a car and paid for it with a minimum of fuss. Reed had never seen anything like it. They were in and out half an hour.

"Okay, then," Nancy said when they were back in her little Audi sports car. "Where to next? You need to go to the police station, right?"

Reed shook her head. "They said any time in the next couple weeks, since I was only the tenant. I can do that on my own time, now that I have a car. I really need to get some clothes, though."

Nancy looked her up and down. "And where do you get your clothes?" Her eyebrow quirked up just the slightest bit.

"You know what? Let's just forget it. Please take me home."

Nancy sighed. "Don't be ridiculous, you need clothes, let's get you some clothes."

Reed just looked out the window and shook her head. "Please take me home," she repeated.

"Oh, come on, let's just get this done, it won't take very long, and you'll be done with it," Nancy coaxed. "Come on, tell me, where do you shop?"

She was right, Reed supposed. She couldn't keep washing the same pair of underwear in the sink every night. "Target on the corner of Santa Monica and Westgate," she finally said.

"Okay," Nancy said, her relief evident. "Let me just punch that into my GPS, and we're good to go."

They were silent for the drive there, and this time, no one tried to fill it.

After Nancy parked her car, Reed spoke for the first time in twenty minutes. "There's a Starbucks inside," she said. "How about if you wait there until I'm ready to pay? I'll come and get you."

"Sounds fine."

So Reed spent a fast hour gathering everything she thought she'd need for an extended stay at Duncan's house, from clothing to toiletries to groceries. She tried to remember what had been in her apartment, other than furniture, and buy accordingly. There was no joy in shopping, no fun in choosing anything. She was ever aware of Nancy, sitting in the Starbucks, waiting for her, judging her. She didn't try anything on, of course.

Finally, she took her cart and went to the Starbucks, where Nancy was scrolling through her phone, coffee sitting untouched next to her. She looked up, bright smile appearing as if from nowhere. "All finished, hon?"

Reed nodded, and together they headed for the register.

They were silent all the way back to Malibu, until they pulled into the driveway, and Nancy said, "Oh, looks like they delivered your car."

"Yes." Reed smiled, looking at the car, parked under the carport, next to Duncan's very expensive black sports car. "Looks quite at home, doesn't it?"

"You know, I was going to say something earlier when you used that word," Nancy remarked, turning to Reed for the first time since they'd left the store. "You shouldn't get the wrong idea. You don't live here, and this is definitely not your home."