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her car before her humiliation could swamp her.
    ****
    Zee let herself into her apartment. She leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes. Deep breaths. She saw herself touching Jagger again. Kissing him. She rubbed her eyes to erase the image. What was wrong with her? Was she losing her mind? Damn Madeline and her perfume. Zee could still smell it cloying in the back of her throat. That must to be the reason behind her insane behavior. Perfume allergy.
    Isabella sat on the floor at her feet blinking, as if to say, “You’re home early.”
    Zee dipped down and scooped the cat into her arms. The instantaneous hum of purring and a nuzzled chin were her reward. The cat lazily pushed into Zee’s hand for more head scratching. She smiled and remembered when she found this kitten at animal rescue. The card above her cage said her name was ‘Trouble.’ Zee looked down at the cutest little black and white tuxedo cat she’d ever seen. Big green eyes, a white bib and four little white mittens made Zee think of that cartoon kitten with a giant red bow. She’d whispered, “You’re mine, little one, and don’t worry. I’ll give you the most beautiful name I can think of.”
    She’d spent a lifetime loathing her name. It wasn’t even a name. Merely the initials, Z. Z. Her mother told her she wanted her to have the most original name, and the baby name books were all useless. Her child would be unique.
    Mom was a hippy after hippies were cool. She drank and smoked too much dope. Even though she was now clean and sober, she still acted like a child determined to stick something in a light socket. At least Zee had her Nana.
    Her father, now that was another story. When she asked about him, she remembered the sheepish look that came to her mother’s face. “Well, honey, it was kind of a…kind of a fuzzy time back then. I told you I was no angel. I was free, you know, free love. No inhibitions, no limits; just incredible, mind-blowing sex. Of course, sex couldn’t kill you then. I’m just not exactly one hundred percent sure who the guy was who knocked me up. I lost my birth control pills. You know how that can happen.”
    “Well, how many guys could there have been? Two? Three?”
    “Eight. Maybe ten. There was this four-day concert. It was wild. Rain and mud. But the music was fab. I tried this mushroom soup.”
    “Don’t you remember any names? You know, like the guy with curly reddish hair and gray eyes, that maybe looked a lot like…I don’t know…me?” Zee looked nothing like her blond, blue-eyed mother or her grandmother.
    “Z. Z., sweetheart, it’s going to have to be one of your life’s little mysteries. Don’t you think if I knew, I’d tell you? I prayed your eyes would turn more lavender, like Elizabeth Taylor’s. And for the record, your hair color is a perfect burnt cinnamon.”
    Try getting that put on your license. “Okay, Mom, never mind. I won’t bring it up again.”
    “I don’t mind talking about it. It was the best sex of my life. And bonus, I got you.”
    Isabella jumped from her arms, breaking Zee from her musings. The phone rang as she set the teakettle on to boil.
    “Hello?”
    “Z. Z.”
    “Hello, Mother. I was just thinking about you.”
    “Really? Good thoughts, I hope.”
    “Of course,” Zee lied. “What’s up?”
    “I wanted to talk to you about Ed Zeigler.”
    Groaning, Zee dropped the phone on the counter. She contemplated hanging up. Her mother’s voice called to her from the receiver. “Z. Z.? Are you still there?”
    Zee picked it up and muttered, “Yes, Mother, I’m still here.”
    “Did you hear what I said? I want to talk to you about Ed.”
    “I heard you. I don’t want to talk about him.” She pulled down a cup and fished a tea bag from the chicken-shaped canister on her counter.
    “Be reasonable. He likes you. I spoke to him yesterday and he told me if you would just apologize, he would take you back in a minute.”
    “Please don’t