Fifty Frogs (The Anti-Cinderella Chronicles Book 4)

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Vivian, at least give me your number so we can talk about this some more.” He gazed at me imploringly. “I think this could work out for both of us.”

  “I don’t think so, Grant.” I let the car roll backward and rolled up the window. As I shifted into drive and glanced at the rearview mirror, I spotted Grant still standing there, looking after me.

  When I was a block away from the church, I hit the button on my steering wheel to activate my phone and called Teddi.

  She answered immediately. “So how was it?”

  I let out a long groan of frustration. “Let’s just say I’ve learned that when it comes to finding frogs, Jesus isn’t the answer.”

  “MORNING, VIVIAN.” LAUREN STUMBLED THROUGH the door of Mr. Edguardo’s, oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes and a bandana holding back her multi-colored braids. “Please tell me I don’t have any clients first thing.”

  I moved the mouse and checked the computer screen. “Not for about half an hour, and then Mr. Agnew’s Molly is coming in for a bath.” I raised one eyebrow as she laid her head down on the counter in front of me. “Late night?”

  “Not so much late as too filled with whiskey.” She moaned. “I played a game of strip dominoes with a bunch of my friends from the tattoo parlor, and when I ran out of clothes, I started doing shots. I’m too old for this shit.”

  I patted her head gingerly. “I have a feeling there are questions I should be asking, but I’m merciful, so I’ll just keep quiet. Do you want coffee?”

  She rotated her head so that her chin rested on the Formica. “More than my next breath. And thank you for not asking me anything. It’s really too painful a story to tell, and it had an unhappy epilogue involving me waking up with my ex-boyfriend in my bed. And in me.”

  I winced. “Um, okay. Coffee is coming right up.” I liked Lauren, but it hadn’t escaped me that she came from a different world—or at least, a different part of my world. On the weekends, she worked at a tattoo place south of Orlando, and the stories she told about her adventures there never failed to shock me. Holly had told me that Lauren worked the groomer job to pay the bills, but that tattoo artistry was her real passion.

  When I came back with the mug of black coffee, Lauren had managed to push her sunglasses to the top of her head. She had also taken my desk chair and was perusing her list of clients for the day.

  “Oh, my God. I have Mrs. Feeny’s little monster today. Shoot me now.” She accepted the coffee with a grunt of thanks. “Have you met her yet?”

  “I don’t think so.” I perched on the corner of my desk. “What kind of dog?”

  “A poodle, and generally I love them, but she’s ruined this one. And the dog’s cut is never good enough for her. She drives me absolutely fucking crazy.” After glancing over her shoulder, she sipped her coffee and lowered her voice. “She was one of Mr. Edguardo’s original customers, back when he used to actually work here. She had a Pomeranian in those days. I heard that one was a holy terror, too. So, it’s got to be the lady, not the dogs, right?”

  “Seems that way.” I leaned around Lauren’s outstretched legs to retrieve my own coffee. “Do you need ibuprofen or anything for your head?”

  “Nah, the coffee helps. I took something first thing this morning, once Kent finished doing his thing.” She grimaced. “He’s such a hound dog. I mean, I asked him, couldn’t he have waited until I actually woke up before he fucked me?”

  “Um . . .” I wasn’t uptight. I liked sex as well as the next woman, and I didn’t mind talking about it. But Lauren was so casual, both about having sex and sharing reports of it . . . and I didn’t feel like we were close enough for this sort of chat. I’d probably tell Teddi this kind of thing, but I’d never spill the beans to my work girlfriends. And even if I did let it slip that I’d gotten laid, I wouldn’t dish the details.

  “Oh, well. What did you do last night? Did you go back to the wine and canvas place to see if Craig was up for a threesome?” She smirked. The girls had gotten endless amusement out of my experience with creepy Craig.

  “No. It was kind of worse. I went to a mixer at a church on the recommendation of a friend, and I almost got railroaded into a relationship.” I shook my head. “I told the guy I wasn’t interested, but he got my number from the sign-in sheet, and now he won’t stop texting me.”

  “I’m not sure I really follow what you’re saying, Viv, but I think the proper response is . . . I’m sorry?” She tilted her head. “You gotta watch out for those religious dudes. Some of them are okay, but others are perverts. The most twisted guy I ever dated later became a minister.” She sighed. “I miss the hell out of him. He was a dynamo in the sheets.”

  I was saved from replying by the ringing of the bell over the door as the day’s first client came bustling in, her pug waddling in front of her.

  Lauren stood up, patting me on the arm as she passed me. “I’m going to get my station ready. Talk with you later.”

  The morning sped by with drop-offs and pick-ups. The phone stayed busy, too, with a regular stream of appointments set up for later in the week. I had just opened up the salad that I’d brought for lunch when the door opened yet again.

  The woman who walked in wore her salt and pepper hair in a bouffant the likes of which I’d never seen out of magazines from the sixties. The poodle that pranced in front of her was black and nervous, darting to and fro as she pulled at her leash. Behind them both, a short older bald man held the door.

  “Oh, look, Arnie, this must be Edguardo’s new girl. Hello, darling. I’m Rosemary Feeny, here with Velveteen Rose. What’s your name?”

  “Uh.” I stood up, nudging my salad to the back of the desk. “I’m Vivian. Nice to meet you. I think you have an appointment with Lauren—or rather, your dog does.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s exactly right. She does such a good job on our sweetheart—doesn’t Mama’s baby want to look pretty? Come here, Velveteen, come meet Miss Vivian.”

  I pasted a smile on my face. “If you’ll excuse me one moment, I’ll get Lauren.”

  Slipping into the grooming area, I waved. “Lauren, Velveteen is here. She’s waiting for you.”

  “Fuck my life.” Lauren brushed her hands over her apron. “Okay. The sooner we get her in here, the sooner she can go.” She followed me back out into reception. “Hello, Mrs. Feeny, Mr. Feeny. Come on, Velveteen. Let’s go.”

  “Lauren, a moment, darling. Can you take her cut just a teeny bit closer this time? Now that it’s summer and so warm, I don’t want her to get overheated, you know? And can you make sure the pouf on her tail is very pronounced? We want her to look just right now, don’t we?”

  I could practically hear Lauren’s teeth grinding. “Of course. We’ll call you when we’re finished.”

  “Is the number on here the best one to reach you?” I read out the numbers from the computer.

  “Yes, that’s the right one, but you know, we might just wait. It seems silly to drive all the way home, and that way, we can have a chat with you.”

  “Oh.” I managed a weak smile. “How fun.”

  “Yes! Here, sit down, Arnie.” Mrs. Feeny huffed into a chair. “Now tell me. Are you from around here?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I grew up here in Summer Meadows. My dad is a professor at the college. I’m a local girl, through and through.”

  “That’s so wonderful.” She smiled, bobbing her head. “Arnie and I moved here in 1973, so we’re practically natives. All of our children live nearby, too.” Her eyes narrowed. “How old are you, darling?”

  I fidgeted uneasily. “Um, twenty-six.”

  “Arnie!” Mrs. Feeny slapped the arm of her chair, making her husband jump. “It’s like fate, isn’t it?” She turned back to me. “And you’re single, too, aren’t you? Oh, this is perfect. I just knew it when Edguardo told me he’d hired a new front desk girl. I said to Arnie, I said, ‘She sounds perfect for our Jon.’”

  “Um . . .” I began.

  “Jon is our grandson
. He’s twenty-six, too, and he’s amazing. He’s so gifted. He’s a marketing specialist, working for the state, and he just got a huge new promotion.” She winked at me and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “Making lots of good money, darling, and just needing the right girl to spend it on, if you know what I mean.”

  “Ah . . .” I tried to answer.

  “He’s so good-looking, too. Well, you can look at Arnie here and guess that, can’t you?” She went off in peals of laughter. “Let me show you his picture.” She opened the mammoth purse on her lap and began rooting through it. “Oh, shoot, Arnie, I must’ve left it in the car.” She poked her husband in the ribs. “Go on out and get the picture of Jon, Arnie. Vivian needs to see it.”

  “Oh, now, I’m not sure . . .” I began again.

  “Nonsense. You’ll see it and you’ll understand. Such a nice boy. And so successful.” She dug into the purse again, and this time she took out a cell phone. Squinting down at the screen, she hit a button and lifted it to her ear. I assumed that she was answering a call before she began to speak, and I realized that I’d been very wrong.

  “Jon! How are you, darling? It’s Grandma, sweetheart . . . yes, yes, I’m fine . . . oh, you’re such a sweet boy to worry about me! Now, darling, I’m here at Mr. Edguardo’s . . . you know, the groomer . . . yes, we brought Velveteen. Anyway, darling, you must come down here. They have a new girl working the reception, and she’s just adorable. And she’s your age, and she’s very interested in you.”

  I knew my face must have been flushed red, because it had gone hot. My mouth dropped open, and I began to sputter.

  “Mrs. Feeny! No, don’t tell him that—”

  She turned so that her side was facing me and waved her hand as though to shush me. “I know you’re working, darling, but you must have a lunch break, don’t you? And it’s only, what, about thirty minutes away? What’s thirty minutes when it’s a matter of true love?” She was silent for a few minutes, and I had a brief spark of hope that her grandson was sensible enough to tell her that no, he wasn’t going to drive half an hour to meet a girl at a dog groomer.

  “Pretty?” Mrs. Feeny turned back to face me, examining me critically. “Oh, yes, very pretty. Uh huh. Ah, her hair’s kind of reddish brown, a little curly but not like Little Orphan Annie, you know?” She chuckled. “No, she’s not fat. And she’s got a nice little shape, you know—Jon! You’re so naughty, no, I’m not telling you that.” She rolled her eyes at me, but her smile had broadened. “You want to find that out, you get your tushie up here and see for yourself.”

  I wanted to crawl under the desk and die.

  “Vivian, come here, darling. Stand up and come around here.”

  “Really, Mrs. Feeny, I can’t leave. I’m working. I need to answer the phones.”

  “And are they ringing now? No, they are not. Come here.” She pointed to the floor in front of her. “Right here. Right now.”

  I wanted to stand my ground and refuse, but it occurred to me that this woman knew my boss well. While I didn’t think Mr. Edguardo, whom I’d only met once, would force me into dating Mrs. Feeny’s grandson, I also knew that she could spin my reluctance into something that might be a firing offense.

  I rose to my feet and rounded the desk, walking slowly through the swinging half-door that separated reception and the waiting area. Mrs. Feeny pushed herself to stand, too.

  “Yes, just a minute.” She held up her hand to me. “Stop right there. Hold on.”

  I frowned, trying to figure out what she was doing. “Mrs. Feeny, do you need—”

  “There we go!” A light flashed in my face as she took my picture with her phone. “All right, Jon, I’m sending it now, if I can figure out . . . oh, here it is. Okay, all sent.”

  I closed my eyes, wishing the floor would swallow me. What had to be the world’s worst picture of me was now flying through the cell phone waves, heading to the phone of a man I didn’t know.

  The bell over the door rang as Mr. Feeny returned, carrying a square of wood. When he handed it to his wife, I realized that it wasn’t wood; it was a framed eight by ten photograph, the kind that most sane people keep hanging on their walls, not in their cars. Mrs. Feeny used her free hand to brush off the glass and hand it to me.

  “There you go. That’s our Jon. Isn’t he handsome? Look at that face!” She beamed down at it before returning her attention to the phone. “Yes, darling, it’s your graduation photo. Yes, I know it’s a few years old, but you won’t sit for another one, so what I am supposed to do?”

  I glanced down at the picture in my hand. The man staring back wasn’t ugly by any means. His black hair was a little on the long side and fell over one eye. But his face was open and friendly, and I thought I saw some humor there. If I were meeting him in person, I might have been attracted to him.

  “What is that, darling? Oh . . . oh, yes. Let me ask her.” Mrs. Feeny moved the phone away from her ear and pressed it into her ample chest. “Vivian, darling, are you a lesbian?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Um, I’m sorry?”

  “A lesbian. Are you attracted to other women?”

  My mouth opened and closed a few times before I could manage to engage my voice. “No. No, I’m not. I’m, uh, heterosexual.” I wondered what in my photograph had prompted Jon the grandson to ask such an odd question.

  “She says she’s not.” Mrs. Feeny sounded relieved. “Mmmhmmm, I know. Okay, hold on.”

  I waited for whatever horrible question was going to come next, but instead, she shoved the phone toward me, sliding it against my ear. “Jon wants to talk to you, Vivian. I think I feel a love connection coming on!”

  Frantically, I tried to back up, away from the phone, but she moved with me. The still-functioning part of my brain began to wonder if there might be a hidden camera somewhere in the room . . . maybe I was being punked. Was that still a thing? This couldn’t be real, could it? Normal people didn’t act like this.

  “Hello?” A deep male voice was calling through the cell phone. “Hello? Is this Vivian?”

  I coughed to try to jumpstart my voice. “Yes. Yes, this is Vivian.” Pivoting, I closed my hand over the phone and moved away from Mrs. Feeny.

  “Well . . . hi, there. I’m Jon.” He sounded amused. He had a nice voice, I decided. It went with his friendly face.

  “Hi,” I managed. “Listen, I want to say right now, I’m sorry about this. I didn’t put your grandmother up to calling you or anything.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know. Grandma is a little intense when it comes to me and matchmaking.” He laughed, and I relaxed a little. “Did she hijack you for the picture? You looked a little bit like a deer in headlights.”

  “Yes!” I was relieved that he understood that. “She didn’t warn me at all.” I paused. “She did show me your picture, though.”

  Jon groaned. “The college graduation one that she carries around with her? Yeah, that’s an older pic. She’s a little out of control, but she does everything out of love.”

  “That’s pretty sweet.” I chanced a look at Mrs. Feeny over my shoulder. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I need to do the same. Nice chatting with you.”

  “Hey, wait—Vivian?” Jon sounded a little hesitant. “Listen, I know this is unorthodox, but since Grandma’s gone to all this trouble, I’m thinking we should at least meet each other. If you’re single, that is, and interested.”

  I considered. Here I’d been trying to come up with a way to meet the next potential frog, and this one just fell into my lap. Why not check him out? Could it be worse than Grant or Craig?

  “I think I could do that,” I replied. “I’m single.”

  “Awesome. Get my number from my grandmother and text me, and we’ll set it up when we have time—and when she’s not looking over your shoulder.” He chuckled again.

  “I will. Thanks.” I began to hand the phone back, then paused. “Nice talking with you.”

  “You, too. I’m looking forward to us getting t
ogether.”

  I passed the phone to Mrs. Feeny just as the door opened, admitting another client. I breathed a sigh of relief as I returned to my desk, glad to have a reason to avoid further conversation with Mrs. Feeny, but part of me was more than a little intrigued by her grandson. If he turned out to be a halfway decent guy, this would be an incredible meet cute story to tell our grandchildren someday.

  I left work that afternoon with a little bit more optimism than I’d had that morning, notwithstanding the teasing I’d taken from both Lauren and Holly about Mrs. Feeny and her grandson.

  “She tried the same thing with me,” Holly told me, shaking her head. “Started talking up the grandson, making him sound like all that . . . but no way did I want to get hooked up by someone’s grandma. I told her I was only interested in other women.”

  “Ohhhhh.” I nodded. “That explains his question.”

  Lauren laughed. “Don’t worry, Viv. You can always tell him you became a lesbian between the time Grandma called and the time you see him. That’s possible.”

  “Hey, who knows?” I shrugged. “He might be okay. Maybe he’s actually a good guy, and you two will be sorry that you didn’t give him a shot.”

  Lauren wrinkled her nose. “Viv, have you seen Mrs. Feeny? What do you think the chances are that the grandson’s this side of normal? She can’t even raise well-adjusted dogs. There’s no way her family’s not super fucked up.”

  “You know, you don’t have to settle for blind dates set up by grandmas, Vivian. There’s always Kyle.”

  I sighed. Kyle Noles, the man who owned Bella, hadn’t made any secret of his interest in me. In the weeks since we’d met, he’d been in a few more times for his dog’s appointments—she had nail trims as well as interim mini-grooms, apparently—and on each visit, he made a point of complimenting me and hinting about that cup of coffee he wanted to have together. I knew I should have been flattered by the attention, and that at the very least, I should have looked at him as a frog to kiss, but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He seemed like too nice a guy to lead on, when I was fully aware that I’d never be genuinely interested in him.