Adam had it shoved on his head. Adam was the resident jock and, now it appeared, also the resident stoner. Before he could confront that situation, he received a frantic call from Sara at the teen center. Someone had rigged the ice maker on the refrigerator to continuously make ice cubes, and by the time it was discovered the entire kitchen floor was covered with ice.

Kevin rushed over there and found everyone having an ice fight in the kitchen.

There were injuries. A freshman girl had taken an ice cube to the lip and was screaming bloody murder. A sophomore boy had slipped trying to skate on the slick linoleum floor and now had a nice bump to the head, which Kevin figured had a shot of actually knocking some sense into him.

In the middle of the chaos, Hope sat on the ratty couch in the front room, arms crossed defensively, looking straight ahead.

Kevin took one look at her and knew. "Whatcha doing?"

"Taking a time-out from the sandbox," she said stiffly. "I don't belong here."

Kevin looked around at all the kids-diversified, but all basically privileged, and spoiled. "I guess they could use a bit more black in their color scheme."

She snorted, then chewed on her lower Up. "About that ice thing. Anyone really hurt?"

"Well, Katie can't wear lipstick for a few days, which she thinks is a felony, but as for Chris, he has a hard head, thankfully. He'll live."

She studied her boots.

He crouched in front of her. "Hope."

It took her a moment to look at him. When she did, she caved like a cheap suitcase. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Are you really?"

"It's just that the girl told me I was stupid. And the sophomore? He thinks he's Tony Hawk. The only one who's nice to me is Adam."

Adam being the stoner, and also a first-class jerk who bed-hopped with shocking ease among the younger, easier influenced girls. If he was being nice, it was to get into her pants, but Kevin kept that to himself. "Adam is a player," he said careful;;y. "Know that now."

"He said you'd say that."

Kevin kept his face even. "I've been trying to get that ice machine to work forever."

"It was no sweat."

"If it was no sweat, and if you really pulled off all that stuff at Mia's work-"

"She ratted me out?"

"Nah. The grapevine." He eyed her for a moment. "Pretty impressive list of feats."

"I didn't steal the money."

"What about the other stuff? The phone rerouting, for instance?"

Hope looked away. "Maybe I did that."

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"I dunno," she said warily.

"I think you're incredibly smart and also incredibly bored, and that you should be in my summer science class."

"I failed science."

"No possible way."

"The teacher didn't like me."

"Well, I like you. Take my class, do well and pass it, and get credit for it."

"I'm getting shipped back tomorrow."

"What about your car?"

"Mia said she'd pay me what it's worth and I can buy something else back home."

"Do you want to go back?"

Another hesitation, then a lift of her shoulder.

"Think about it," he suggested.

Hope let out a laugh that sounded rusty but genuine. "Yeah. Maybe…"


***

When it came to advertising, Mia had worked her way up the old-fashioned way-from working the mail room to lowly assistant, to gofer, to creative team member, to ad exec, and she'd loved each and every job as she'd climbed the ladder.

But she especially loved where she was now, in a corner office with a glorious view of downtown LA, with accounts stacking up and a reputation for being the best of the best.

A reputation that was taking a beating within the building this week, thanks to Hurricane Hope. For three days Mia had been trying to get Sugar to nail down the plans for tomorrow because one thing Mia wouldn't do was blindly put Hope on a plane heading east.

Finally, Friday afternoon, Sugar answered her phone. "Tomorrow doesn't really work for me," she said right up front.

Mia's eye twitched. "Sunday then."

"Well…"

"Sugar. You are coming, right?"

"Actually, Apple, I need another week."

Mia thunked her head down on her desk, imagining what her hips would look like with another week of bacon and eggs for breakfast, imagining also the look on Dick's face when she continued to leave the office on time to pick up the kid. So much for senior butt-kissing… "Another week?"

"You have no idea what it's like, being in charge of a teenager."

Mia was beginning to, and she had to admit, she actually felt some sympathy for Sugar. "I'm not sure Hope wants to stay."

"She doesn't have a choice, if her car is really broken."

"It is." She sighed. Hell "Promise you'll come next week then?"

"Promise."

Only problem, Sugar's promise had never been worth much.


***

That night Mia let Hope cook chili dogs and French fries. They had salad for "something green" as Hope said, seeming quite happy loading up her arteries with a year's worth of cholesterol.

Because the kid looked so… content, Mia waited until afterward to tell her the news. "I talked to your mom today."

In the act of clearing the table, Hope went still. "What time is she coming tomorrow?"

Mia stood up and took the plates from Hope's hands, setting them in the sink before turning back to Hope. "She's not."

Hope nodded, giving no sign of whether this was a good or bad thing.

"She said next week," Mia said.

Hope nodded again. "So can we have hot dogs again tomorrow?"

"Do they make them low-fat?"

Hope snorted but still didn't give any indication of how she felt about staying.

"So… you okay?" Mia asked.

"Peachy."

Sarcasm and wit. A mechanism Mia herself had perfected and understood all too well.

"I'm going to take a shower." Hope left the room, and Mia looked out the window, feeling… she didn't know. Worried. Stressed. Strung too damn tight.

Kevin's bike sat parked in front of his house, looking sleek and sexy, like the man. Mia heard the shower turn on upstairs, and then she headed for the back door.

Her sandals slapped on the concrete, the heat from the day rising up through her feet. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until Kevin opened his door.

Wearing only a pair of loose basketball shorts hanging to his knees and his chest bare, he looked better than the dessert she hadn't allowed herself.

His gaze went wary. "Mia-"

Not wanting to hear why this was a bad idea, she stepped over the threshold and into his personal space, winding her arms around his neck and sighing in pleasure even before their mouths met. "Are we alone?" she murmured.

"Yeah, but-"

She kicked the door shut, slid her hands into his hair and brought his mouth back to hers, his delicious, talented, gorgeous mouth.

Seemingly just as hungry, he lifted her up against him, his mouth trailing hot kisses down her neck, his hands snaking beneath her skirt. When his fingers found her thong, he let out a rough "Fuck" in a strained voice.

She knew she had him then, that he would take her hard and fast and help her forget.


***

Despite Mia's intentions of making sure the next week was an improvement over the shockingly bad previous one, somehow the shit kept hitting the fan. She was in the middle of a handful of accounts, all in different phases but none more exciting than the highly secret Runner account. The good news: she put together a fabulous campaign.

The bad news: Tess's computer crashed and her files vanished.

All of them. Poof, gone.

It meant many hours of stress, trying to re-create everything, and as a result she felt strung tight. Making it worse, Dickhead started asking a bunch of questions about the Anderson account, about her team's creative strategies, the production of planned ads, the media blitz, and the execution of all of the above. He was suddenly extremely interested in exactly how she'd gone about getting the account, and finally admitted that Ted had complained about her.

One morning she came into her office and found a sign leaning against her potted plant that said rescue me.

To top off things nicely, Sugar claimed she needed another few weeks "kid-free," leaving Mia not sure how to explain to Hope that even if she'd wanted to go home, no one wanted her.

Halfway through the week, Mia and Hope were eating bagels and bacon-Mia was going to have to pick up an extra few yoga classes every week just to keep up-when from outside came the rumbling of Kevin's motorcycle starting up. Casually, Mia moved to the window to peer out at him.

"You think he's hot." Hope came up beside her and grinned. "Admit it."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do-" Mia broke off and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Get ready to go."

"I am ready." Hope spread out her hands, revealing her black trousers-three sizes too big and staying in place by some random act of fate-and her black tank top, ripped in several spots and showing glimpses of a black bra. Her makeup was also black, and she'd filled in the chipped black nail polish with what smelled like a permanent Sharpie marker.

"Aren't you guys going to the movies this afternoon?" Mia asked her.

"So?"

"So I'll give you one thousand dollars to wear something bright pink today."

Hope chewed on her wad of gum, then blew a big bubble.

Pink.

Pop.

"Yeah. I was thinking something Chanel," Mia said.

For this, she got an eye roll.

After she dropped Hope off at the teen center and got to work, the fun began. Layoffs had hit close to home. Half her creative team had to go. It didn't help that Margot and Ted faced the same cuts, not when saying good-bye to Tami and Steven.

That afternoon, the Anderson people started asking her about Ted, wanting to know if he could join her in handling their account. When Mia went to Dick about it, she realized the good-old-boy network had gone into effect when she hadn't been paying attention, because he just said, "Do what you have to do to keep the Anderson people happy."

Afraid to say anything because she was seriously peeved, and when she was seriously peeved, her Southern accent buttered her every word, she simply bit her tongue and stalked out of the office, where she ran into Margot. Mia and Margot had never exactly been friends, but in this firm, where they were in the definite minority as far as women went, were in fact the only two females at this level, they had a silent agreement to stick together when needed.

"Layoffs," Margot said furiously. "Suck."

"Men suck."

Margot nodded, and in rare solidarity they smiled grimly at each other.

Mia went back to her office, going over and over the Runner stuff, wishing Tess would show up so she could get her opinion, but Tess had gone to lunch two hours ago and hadn't come back.

Then, finally, Tess reappeared. She stuck her head in Mia's office with an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry."

"Are you sick?"

"No." A flush worked its way up Tess's throat. "I, um…"

"Ah, hell." She scrubbed her hands over her face. "Mike."

Tess sighed dreamily.

Mia searched Tess's face, found utter bliss, and let worry work its course. "It's only been a few dates. You can't engage your heart that quickly."

"It was engaged the first moment I laid eyes on him."

"Oh, Tess. Really?"

"Really." Tess's eyes wandered to her plant. "Hey, you've got to water that thing."

"I've watered it. I've not watered it. Nothing makes it happy and it's going to die to spite me. You're changing the subject. Tell me about him. What does he what to do with himself?"

"Well, he's between careers at the moment, but he's putting in time at the teen center every day for a while."

"Great." Mia tossed her pen aside. "Damn it, you have too big a heart, you know this. You fall too hard, and then get hurt."

"No I don't."

Mia ticked them off on her fingers. "Scott. Jon. Timothy-"

"Okay, fine. I've fallen too hard, too fast before, but not this time."

"Ha. You've already slept with him, the hurt is just around the corner."

"Shows what you know." Tess lifted her chin smugly. "I haven't sleep with him. Yet."

Mia groaned. "How do you even communicate? You don't know sign language."