by Ellen Mint
“Right. Sure.” Mel kept on with the ‘I’m not listening and don’t care enough to fake it’ answers, before her head shot up. “I knew that name sounded familiar.”
She spun her phone around to reveal an Instagram page in predominantly soft pastel colors. Brandy barely gave it a glance before Mel said, “Janeth Willows, she’s one of those influencers.”
“A what?” Brandy took the phone. The first handful of images were of various cotton candies artfully placed beside flowers.
“Someone who gets paid to take pictures of themselves eating vitamins and sitting on beaches.”
“Sounds grueling.”
“I followed her when she did more traveling and food recommendations. Now it’s all about vitamins to make your hair grow and teas that make you shit your pants.”
It didn’t take long until Brandy came face to face with a woman created in a lab to walk down a runway. Her face was perfectly symmetrical, with features so fine they almost vanished in her over-exposed pictures. Only her eyes stood out against the thin nose and lips. Ice blue, they were the kind that followed a person around a room before asking to see the manager.
Absently, Brandy batted at her freckle-dusted cheek. While the Instagram model had the kind of cheekbones a person would expect to find on a model, Brandy’s were flat as a pancake. It didn’t help that her mother had given her a long, almost rectangular-shaped head with a forehead that could sustain a forest.
“Of course she’s blonde,” Brandy said, trying to not notice how willowy Ms. Willows was. It could be photo manipulation. Maybe, in reality, she had a peg leg and one eye and… You’re thinking of a pirate. Marty’s not dating a pirate.
What do I care?
I don’t.
“Here.” She tried to toss the phone back to Mel, but her friend had her arms crossed. “It’s not like I’m Marty’s keeper. If he wants to go after a woman who spends her days taking a dozen pictures of a donut, who am I to stop him?”
“Are you sure you aren’t just the tiniest bit jealous?”
Brandy glared. “No. I’m not.”
She could see Mel winding up to ask her if she wasn’t jealous or wasn’t sure when the feed refreshed itself. The rosy golden colors switched to a deep indigo, drawing her eye to an image that sank her stomach. It was Marty dressed in a full suit, clinging to Janeth’s arm. She’d turned her face away from the camera in order to plant her lips on his cheek.
The caption under it read, Giving my hero a big smooch, followed by three lip emojis.
It was Marty that Brandy stared at. She’d seen him smile and laugh nearly every day since they’d met, but in all that time it’d never been so big. He was ecstatic.
Why shouldn’t he be? What was stopping him from finding that great love he kept talking about?
“Here.” Brandy solemnly passed the phone back. From the corner of her eye, she caught another refresh and a second picture of the date.
Mel inspected the feed herself, her eyebrows rising as she asked, “Don’t you want to watch their date play out?”
“No,” she said truthfully, dropping her fork in her dinner. Her appetite was completely drained. “It feels like spying.”
“Hardly counts when the person is posting it all publicly. But fine, putting it away.” Mel slipped the cursed phone into her pocket. It should have yanked away the lingering sickness seeping into Brandy’s veins too. “So, what movie are we taking on tonight? The romance pack? Comedies?”
Somewhere out there, Marty was having the time of his life, entertaining and enchanting a woman who could be a literal angel. And here I sit, deep in mac and cheese, dressed in sweats, prepared to waste my night watching discount bin trash. It didn’t sound so fulfilling anymore.
Pinching her nose, Brandy said, “The thriller collection.” She’d had enough romance for a lifetime.
* * * *
Don’t screw this up.
As his name rebounded around the exotic bus station, Marty turned…and picked his jaw up off the concrete. A straw sunhat—white as snow—nestled on her head. She struggled to keep it in place as vehicles whizzed past to his right. It also caused her skimpy dress with those straps so thin they were barely there to billow about.
He watched with rapt attention at how the light cotton molded around her legs, which had to be ten miles long.
“You’re…dressed well,” Janeth said as she came to a pause before him. People unaware of the epic romantic saga about to be made continued walking past. Some of them slumped onto the bench to wait for another passing bus.
Tugging on the lapels of his only suit, Marty smiled wide. “I wanted to make a good impression.” Lucky thing he hadn’t grown much since high school, either up or across.
After dancing her perfectly painted gaze across his body, Janeth pursed her lips. “Well, it suits you quite well, my dashing hero.”
All the anxiety that’d been knotted down his spine melted away. He hadn’t had much time to throw this together, but Marty had run himself ragged to get everything just right. And it was all worth it just to hear her call him a hero.
Janeth dashed to him, wrapping her hand around Marty’s head. He stood taller, his brain buzzing in shock. But she didn’t kiss him. It was to her phone she turned, curling her fingers around a case decorated in watercolors.
“I think the man who saved me last night deserves a kiss,” she said in a near giggle. Before Marty could answer, she turned, placed her ruby lips to his cheek and pressed down.
His heart leaped higher at her touch and he raised a hand to hold the small of her back when Janeth turned away to inspect her phone. She typed nimbly while talking to him. “What’s your Instagram name, so I can tag you?”
“Oh, I…” Marty shifted on his toes, growing aware that despite his body remaining at the same teenage length, his feet hadn’t. It was all good—girls like men with giant…shoes. “MCDashwood,” he said.
Janeth giggled at that, her entire face brighter than the summer sun. He wanted to burn in it, but she returned to her phone. “What’s the C stand for?”
“Cruz.”
“Your middle name is Cruise? Like the ships?”
That caused Marty to snicker. “More like in Penelope. It’s my mother’s family name and also my middle one. An old tradition of… Not that any of it matters. What about you?”
“Hm?” Janeth kept typing even as she watched him.
“Do you have a middle name?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s… Oh no! Something must be wrong. Says here you’ve only got fifteen followers.” She twisted the phone around and held it to Marty’s face.
“Really? Fifteen? Last I checked it was thirteen. Probably that deli I’m helping to pay the mortgage for thanks to their Monte Cristos.”
Janeth didn’t answer, all her focus on the phone. Crap. Did I already blow this? He hadn’t even got her out of the starting gate.
“Well.” She sashayed to his side and wrapped her arm around his far shoulder. Before he knew it, their faces were pressed together and she held her phone out. “That won’t do. People need to follow my hero.”
Marty gazed in wonder at the woman beside him. She’d scrunched down on her heels to compensate for his lack of height, which pulled him directly into her enchanting face.
“Say cheese!” she demanded in pure exuberance and snapped a picture. But Marty didn’t say it, and he didn’t turn away to look at the camera.
“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Janeth declared, showing him the image of an angel and a love-struck man gazing in awe at her. “Please help him out. He needs all the followers he can get,” she narrated, then hit Send. With that, she turned away from Marty to the Schuylkill River rolling under an overpass bridge.
“I haven’t been here in ages. Though”—she flapped her hands in front of herself—“in this heat, I fear my face is melting off.”
“You’re beautiful beyond measure,” Marty said, his heart blundering in awe. “And, if I may, I thought
we could walk along the river for a stretch.” He extended his elbow to her and bowed.
Janeth shrugged then looped her arm around his. “Why not?” she said as he guided them around the traffic and down the river trail which snaked out onto the water. Railings kept them from falling into the river and needing to be rescued, but as the crystal blue water rolled around them, he felt as if they were walking on the surface.
A soft breeze blew not a refreshing crisp air, but more baked-in heat from the city. It stifled Marty’s heavy suit more, sticking his shirt and pants to parts of his body he’d forgotten existed. Those vengeful shoes continued to pinch tighter and tighter to his toes, the heel rubbing haphazardly into the skin. Oh yeah, there were going to be blisters.
But none of it mattered. He was walking arm-in-arm with Janeth, who fell quiet to take in the open water and clear skies before them. Even beyond her beauty, it was clear from how she held her head that she was confident, graceful. He knew from how soft her hands were that she’d be an excellent mother, wiping away a baby’s tears and tickling tummies. Her gentle nature was evident in the soft sway of her dress, tenderly floating around her hips like an ethereal spirit. And her eyes were piercing with intelligence. No doubt she had a dozen favorite books.
Still, it was a bit strange that she wasn’t talking. Maybe she needed a nudge. She could be shy, a delicate flower hiding from the burning sun in a meadow.
“How are you feeling?” Marty asked, certain the gurgling in his gut was love and not any unease from the awkward silence.
“Hm? I’m good. Why?”
“Your ordeal, with the mugger. I mean, if I’d been in your shoes…” He paused and glanced down at her heels. “I’d fall over a lot.” That brought a laugh to him and a vague look of indifference from her. A serious, delicate meadow flower. “But I’d be terrified to go anywhere outside. You’re so brave.”
“I didn’t think of it like that, but I suppose I am. It was a shock, one that didn’t hit me until I was home. He could have been planning to do any horrible thing to me.” Her voice sharpened at that, a sneer lifting her lips. But those soft eyes danced back to Marty and her body caressed his. “Thank goodness you were there to save me.”
“Uh-huh.” All brain functions shut down as he felt the graze of her hip, the clasp of her palms against his biceps and the small breast glancing against his ribs. Warning! Warning! We have boob touch!
Focus. Romance. This has to be perfect.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I have a little something set up ahead,” Marty said, turning them away from the winding on-the-river trail. They drifted away from the setting sun to face a park of greenest grass. A handful of kids were slumped on a bench, phones in hand and one nudging a skateboard with his foot. But they didn’t matter.
He’d planned for all contingencies.
“Are you certain this is safe?” Janeth asked, eyeing up the kids like they were carrying switchblades.
“I’ll protect you, I swear,” Marty declared and she once again melted in his grip. The teens didn’t even glance up once at the pair of love birds walking up a rising hill. Marty struggled with the incline, but supported Janeth, helping to guide her up to his next surprise.
“Wow,” slipped from her as she stared in wonder at the checkered tablecloth laid out on the grass. A woven basket sat in the middle, its top opened to reveal an array of cheeses and a moderately priced wine inside. But the real centerpiece was the battery-operated phonograph placed on a small table. It needed a fully flat surface, otherwise the damn thing didn’t work.
Marty left her side and pulled out an old record of crooner songs. It took him no time to line it up, ushering in a soundtrack of smooth music to accompany his lifting the wine and two glasses.
“This is…” Janeth blinked her baby blues in shock, staring from the setup to the glass Marty handed her. Suddenly, she reached into her bag. “I have to take a pic of this.”
“Of course,” Marty said uncertainly. He tugged the offered glass back, watching his date fiddle with her camera settings.
Uncertain what to do, he was about to take a drink, when she said, “Wait. Hold it out to me again, like I’m…I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”
His smile resumed tenfold, Marty extending the wine as asked. “You are,” he whispered, his full charm cranked to eleven. Janeth snapped a picture of a man in a suit handing the viewer a glass of wine while a record played in the background. Beads of sweat dribbled down the glass, slicking Marty’s hand, which he struggled to keep horizontal.
“A real picnic. I never even…” She finally turned from her phone to find him in the same position. “Oh, thank you.” And with that, she accepted his gift, taking a quick sip of the rosé.
Thank God. Marty’s shoulder ached from holding that awkward pose, but he wasn’t about to show it. “Please, sit. Would you care for anything to eat? I brought brie and toasties to spread it on. There’s also a salami in here.”
Everything was going perfect. The walk along a dazzling river arm-in-arm. The beautiful picnic spread across verdant grass. The melody swaying through the sunset streaking across the sky. So…
“Do you know what I want?”
Me? “No,” Marty said through gritted teeth.
Janeth swept her skirt under her and she fell to her knees on the blanket. “For you to sit here with me, and listen to this lovely record you brought,” she said, taking his hand with hers.
A million butterflies burst inside Marty’s heart and he dove behind her. His hip bashed into ground much harder than it looked, but he kept the pain off his face. Curling his fingers under her hand, he brought it to his lips. “There is nothing I’d like more,” he whispered before placing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
She smiled serenely, her hair aglow from the light streaming behind her. He’d finally found his angel.
As the sun’s vibrant reds glistened one last time across the river’s ripples, Janeth turned to him. “This was a lovely surprise. Thank you.”
The words were right, but the tone was too formal and final. Ah crap, there came the panic again. Marty kept his smile in place as he shrugged. “It’s just the kind of guy I am.”
All she did was smile politely and return to her phone. Damn it. How was he losing her already? Was the music wrong? Too hokey? She’d barely touched the cheese. Dumbass, what if she’s lactose intolerant? Think!
“Martin?”
He hated his full name, but the voice that’d been distant melted to warm caramel. In that moment he’d have let her call him Martin until his dying day.
“Yes?” he asked, his limbs frozen as Janeth inched closer along the blanket.
She extended a single long finger, the nail painted like a plaid kilt. When she landed it on Marty’s chest, he stopped breathing. As it began to rise higher up his lapel, his heart clocked out. Hanging on the edge of death, he floated in a dream as Janeth rustled through his gelled hair and pulled him closer.
Right before they touched, he took control, kissing her. This was everything he’d scraped and worked for, the moment he’d been wanting to have for ages. Her lips fell flat below his, but he didn’t mind. Cupping her jaw in his hand, he gave it his all. Tender but not weak, wet without being slobbery, hot without dragging it into triple-X territory in public.
The limp woman seemed to respond, pursing and molding her flat lips around his. Just before parting, Marty caressed her bottom lip between his, leaving a touching reminder behind. Slowly, her heavy eyelids raised, radiant blues beaming at him as she licked along the mouth he’d ravished.
Movement from the periphery caused Martin to turn his head. Her phone hovered to the side of them, her finger right on the button to take a picture. Well, why not? Some day in the future, their grandkids would want to see pictures of the first time they’d kissed.
“How’s the date going so far?” he asked.
Janeth quirked her lips to the side, the smile of heaven blanketing everything from him.
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nbsp; * * * *
“Bye.” Brandy waved to Mel, who walked away with a container full of mac and cheese. Why had she made so much in the first place? Even as leftovers there was no way she’d eat it all before it went bad.
Wiping at her eye, Brandy limped back into her empty apartment. The loading screen from her game console and shitty movie player bounced its homicidal music through the air. They’d wound up going with three slasher flicks back to back, Brandy trying to focus on the fake blood splattering on the camera. The last movie had been real special, a murderous advent calendar that somehow predicted a person’s death.
“I should save that one for Christmas and give it to Marty,” she said to herself before wincing. They’d gone the whole night without her mentioning him once. Mel had sure tried, bringing up this Willows woman every few minutes in the first hour. But even she’d gotten tired of Brandy’s lack of reaction, and they’d settled into hacking and slashing.
Having watched so much death should’ve probably sent Brandy dashing through her puny loft to find a killer hiding in her shower or the cupboards. A very tiny killer, like if Thumbelina were a mass murderer.
But those stories didn’t get to her. They felt fantastical and impossible. Serial killers didn’t chop up sexy teenagers one by one in a cabin in the woods. No, what chewed on her brain and left it in mulch were the love stories. The promises that if she found him, if she put in all the work and made that one true soulmate hers, happiness was guaranteed.
She only watched them for Marty, anyway.
What’s he doing now?
Despite her best efforts, that damn thought wouldn’t leave her. It’d take nothing for her to search for Willows’ Instagram feed and see.
But no. No! That was what crazy stalker ladies did. She’d hear about it tomorrow at work. If there was even anything to talk about. Probably not. It was hard to see someone like this Janeth lady falling for Marty.
Sure, he was cute in that ‘boy next door who also a bit hyper like a cocker spaniel puppy’ way. And hilarious. No one could deny how funny Marty was. Smart without being fussy about it. Creative to a sometimes-dangerous fault with their boss.