I spun around to confront him. “You two were showing us off to each other!”

Jack drove along the beach for a few blocks before making his way back toward the Village. The top was up and the windows closed because the onshore flow held that deep cold that comes off the Pacific, but I could look out at the ocean and enjoy the view. The waves breaking on the shore glowed with phosphorescence.

I caught Jack glancing sideways at me several times. “What?” I asked.

“Just enjoying the view,” he said, causing me to giggle at the echo to my own thoughts.

I gestured. “There’s wide ocean with waves full of shiny stuff out there and you’d rather look at me?” Why had I asked him that?

“Fishing for compliments?” he teased.

I tried to snort but it came out wrong, another giggle, and Jack laughed at me.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, but you do it well,” he said. “You’ll be dangerous once you get to know your new equipment.”

“Hmph,” I made a noise, glancing down at my new, personal horizon—which was where Jack had been looking. “Merde!” I said, just to hear Jack cackle.

“‘That’s French, Tish,” he quoted. “‘You know I love it when you speak French.’”

We both laughed because ‘merde’ is French for poop.

Jack drove us home through the quiet streets of Santa Monica and Westwood, avoiding the busier routes. We didn’t say much more until we approached Lowering Heights.

I felt good and wondered about that. My life had been overturned in the last few hours, but my upset and fear seemed to have evaporated. Did Jack’s charm and a good meal fix my mood? Or was it part of the magic that had transformed me.

We spoke at the same time just as Jack steered into the underground parking below our apartment. I said, “I still need to find that camera,” and Jack remarked, “We’re home,” simultaneously.

The camera that had changed me into a woman and the apartment I shared with Jack the Ladykiller, two topics of worry and concern in my new life.

“Don’t get out,” Jack ordered me as I reached for the door handle.

“Huh?” I said, intelligently.

Jack leaped out on his side and raced around the car to open my door for me.

He just grinned when I said, “Goofus.” He even offered me a hand which turned out to be appreciated because the low-slung car next to the curb left little room for maneuver.

“Why did you do that?” I asked him while he steered me toward the elevator instead of the stairs.

“You need to get used to it,” he said. “I’ve seen how hard it is for anyone, let alone someone wearing heels to get out on the right-hand side here. I love my parking spot, but it’s one of only three in the whole garage that has a curb next to it to trip people up.”

“Oh,” I said. Well, yeah. “But it was nearly as difficult for the old me to get out of the car, too,” I pointed out.

“If you remember back a few months, I warned you it wasn’t easy and offered you a hand once or twice,” said Jack. “You just wouldn’t take it because,” he deepened his voice, “it wouldn’t be manly.”

“Yeah, well.” Why did I giggle? “Well, I appreciated this time, Jack.”

“De nada, chiquissima.” He punched elevator buttons while I snuggled into the wrap the restaurant had loaned me; it was cold in the basement.

We stepped into the little box and the hydraulic lift pushed us up toward the third floor while I puzzled over what Jack had just called me. “That’s n-not a word,” I pointed out just as my teeth began to chatter.

“Sure it is,” he said while offering his arms wide open for a warming embrace. “Chiquissima is the superlative of chiquita, which is the comparative of chica. Or in English, babe, baber, and babest!”

I laughed while he wrapped his arms around me. I felt more warmth from his light hug than physics surely allowed. “Mm?” I murmured in doubt, my face against his shoulder.

“Mm-hm?” he responded. “I’d kiss you but I want to keep my internal organs right where they are. So, I’ll settle for a squeeze.” He did, and I laughed again as the lift bell dinged to announce our arrival. The squeeze did not freak me out and maybe that’s why I laughed.

Then again, it might have been the flash of what I thought was discomfort at the idea of Jack kissing me that made me laugh. Sure. Better not to think about that at all.

The elevator door opened and there stood Rico Espinoza giving off his best Jesus Quintana vibe with this tiny, big-busted Latina on his arm giving him sass. “Yeah,” she oozed the accusation, “Rico no es rico? You want me to lend you money? Hombre, you know who you talking to?”

“Oh, he doesn’t!” I cooed. “I’m sure of it! The world is full of things Rico is ignorant of!” I laughed, Jack laughed, Rico’s girlfriend laughed, and even Rico chuckled, though he looked a little embarrassed.

“I’m Luz Maria de Arroyo y Valdez,” the pocket-size beauty introduced herself as we traded places in the elevator. “I’m this tonto’s bail bond. He already owes me more than his cheapass is worth.” She growled at him but turned her face up for a kiss which he delivered with no shame at what she was saying.

“I’m Hallelujah Jones,” I squeaked at her, cringing because her voice was deeper than mine. “And this is Jurq Willoughby, he’s my landlord.” I had to introduce him, he had his arm around me again.

She collected another kiss from Rico and twiddled her fingers at me while the elevator door closed, so I twiddled mine back. Rico and Jack hadn’t said a thing, but they both looked fatuously pleased with themselves for some reason.

I tried to work out the logic that reason while we walked along the open air hallway and Jack used his keys on our apartment door. I wasn’t making much headway on the problem as Jack let me go in first. Jack hit the lights and I’d gone four steps before I realized he wasn’t following. When I looked back at him, it was obvious he was admiring my ass.

I spun around to confront him. “You two were showing us off to each other!”

Jack made a two-hand gesture like a shrug, smiling without showing his teeth.

“You don’t deny it!” I accused as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“What can I say? Having a beautiful woman insult him is the highlight of any man’s day.”

“I—what?” He came toward me and I retreated around the wall of my room to my own door.

“You called me a jerk while I had my arm around you, and sort of claimed me as yours. Maria did the same sort of thing.”

“I said you were my landlord,” I protested.

“Uh huh, you give me money. Maria gives money to Rico, too.”

“I—you—she?”

He stopped in front of me, put on the puppy dog eyes and said, “I don’t get a kiss after our first date? That pendejo Rico got a kiss.”

I retreated into my room. “¡Comé mierda! Eat shit!” I snarled then I tried to slam the door but it was too light and bounced back at me. Jack stood there and winked as I pushed the door closed and locked it.

“I’ll set an alarm,” he said through the door, “so you won’t be late for work.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Uh—thanks?”

“De nada, muñequita,” he said. It’s nothing, dolly.

“How do you say, you’re an asshole in French?” I asked.

“Je suis un cul,” he answered, laughing.

“Tu es, tu sais,” I said. You are, you know.

“Je suis,” he agreed. “But if you’re going to keep speaking French, open the door.”

“Non!” I said. Damnit, I noted to myself, I still sound like a squeak toy.