Believe It or Not

by Tawna Fenske

  Violet resisted the urge to close the door in his face. The man was wearing pants made of paisley patches of fabric, and a shirt that might have been a Hefty bag at one time. His feet were bare.

  “Um, can I help you?” she asked.

  That’s when she noticed the hammer in his hand.

  With a yelp, she grabbed the door and started to fling it shut.

  “Dude,” the man said in a reassuring tone as he extended his hammer-free hand. “Chill. Moonbeam sent me.”

  Violet stopped closing the door and stared at him. “Moonbeam?”

  “I was visiting her at rehab and she said you, like, needed help.”

  Violet sighed. “Of course she did.”

  “She said you, like, had needs… both spiritual and physical.” He grinned at her, showing a piece of spinach on one tooth. “I’m, like, here to meet your needs.”

  “Oh, well, that’s very nice of you, but—”

  “I thought we could, like, tend to the spiritual first. Tell me, what are you looking for in a life partner?” Violet closed her eyes and silently cursed her mother.

  A familiar voice burst through Violet’s thoughts before she could get very far with her curse.

  “Am I interrupting a meditation here?” Violet opened her eyes to see Drew ambling up the walkway, casting a curious look at Dreadlock Dude as he climbed the steps onto the porch. Violet was so happy to see him, she almost shoved Dreadlock Dude aside and rushed out to hug Drew.

  She thought better of it when she spied the arsenal of sharp-looking tools he was toting.

  Drew raised an eyebrow at as he glanced at Dreadlock Dude. Then he met her eyes again. “I can come back later if this isn’t a good time—”

  “No!” Violet yelled, and threw the door open. “This is the perfect time.”

  “Dude,” said the dreadlocked man, and stepped aside so they could stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the door.

  Violet sighed. “Drew. This is… I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “I don’t believe in names,” said Dreadlock Dude as he extended a hand to Drew. “They’re, like, too confining.”

  “Sure they are,” Drew agreed as he gave the man’s hand an agreeable shake. “I wish some of the girls I’ve dated felt the same way. It would make things much easier.”

  “Right, because Jenny is so tough to remember,” Violet muttered as she stepped aside to usher them both through the door. “I’ve got pizza coming in a few minutes, if you boys want to come in. I ordered extra, so I’m sure there’s plenty for all of us.”

  “Excellent,” said Drew, and set his tools down on the porch. Dreadlock Dude frowned and set his hammer beside Drew’s Skilsaw. “I don’t eat animal flesh or dairy products or nightshade vegetables or anything grown in a country that, like, violates the human rights of its citizens.”

  Violet sighed. “You can look through the fridge and help yourself. I’m sure everything’s free-trade certified and organic. Moonbeam wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Dreadlock Dude nodded happily at her and ambled toward the kitchen. “Maybe after you and I have been dating for a while, we can, like, move in together with Moonbeam and form a communal cooking collective.”

  Drew grinned at Violet as he headed toward the kitchen to join Dreadlock Dude. “That sounds like fun,” he murmured in her ear as he passed. “Let me know when the wedding is so I have time to shop for a gift that isn’t a nightshade vegetable or something made with animal flesh or—”

  “Shut up,” Violet hissed as she stole a glance at Dreadlock Dude. He was rummaging through the fridge, searching for something ethical to eat. She leaned back toward Drew. “Moonbeam sent him. Apparently, she thought I needed help with the wheelchair ramp.”

  “Apparently that’s not all she thought you needed help with. Maybe I should leave the two of you alone?”

  Violet grabbed his arm so tightly she could feel the curve of his bicep. She ignored the flutter in her belly and looked up at him in panic. “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”

  Drew grinned down at her, his mouth close to her ear as he kept his tone low enough that Dreadlock Dude couldn’t hear. “I kind of like it when you beg.”

  Violet released his arm as the heat crept into her cheeks. She stepped away from Drew and wiped her palms on the front of her jeans. She cleared her throat and addressed both of them in a voice that sounded noticeably shakier than it had a few minutes ago.

  “There’s beer in the fridge, iced tea, and I bought a few different kinds of soda. The tea is herbal and free-trade certified, of course. Drew, you like cherry Coke, right?”

  Drew shot her a grin as he joined Dreadlock Dude in front of the refrigerator. “Wow, you must be psychic.”

  Dreadlock Dude turned and beamed at Drew. “She is psychic. Like, a very gifted one, from what Moonbeam and Butterfly say.”

  Violet rolled her eyes and took three glasses out of the cupboard. She began filling them with ice as Drew slurped his cherry Coke right out of the can and Dreadlock Dude began unscrewing the cap off a jar of organic stone-ground mustard. He stuck his nose in and sniffed it, and Violet made a mental note to throw it away later.

  “So how long have you two kids known each other?” Drew asked as he leaned against the counter.

  “Dude, we just met, but clearly there’s, like, an intense spiritual connection between us,” said Dreadlock Dude as he smiled at Violet with mustard on his nose. “I’ve always believed marriage is a draconian and discriminatory institution, but, like, I’m open to considering a sacred union if you want to talk about that.”

  “Right,” Violet said. “How about if we just eat pizza? It should be here any minute.”

  Dreadlock Dude shrugged and peeled the top off a container of tofu that had been in the fridge since before Moonbeam’s accident. He gave it a sniff before pulling out a rubbery cube and dipping it into the mustard jar. Violet grimaced.

  “So you’re a friend of Moonbeam’s?” Drew asked Dreadlock Dude as he took another sip of his soda.

  “We’re all part of the same psychic massage group where we use touch to harmonize the astral vehicles,” Dreadlock Dude said. “I’ve only just met Violet, but of course I’ve been hearing about her for, like, ages. She’s, like, way remarkable.”

  “Agreed,” Drew said, taking another sip of his soda.

  “And her ethical conviction is, like, totally admirable,” Dreadlock Dude continued. “Moonbeam was saying that just yesterday, someone tried to blackmail Violet into compromising her integrity by, like, giving a fake psychic reading to someone.”

  Violet felt all the blood drain from her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dreadlock Dude was on a roll now.

  “I mean, here’s this big shot, like, making all these threats, but here’s Violet sticking it to the man, you know? It’s, like, dude… her ethics totally aren’t for sale. Moonbeam even said—”

  “Dude,” Violet interrupted. “Enough, okay? The story’s complicated, and my mom wasn’t there, so—”

  “Sticking it to the man, huh?” Drew said, raising an eyebrow at Violet. “How unfortunate for the man.”

  Violet blinked at him. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just… maybe we can talk about this later?”

  Drew shrugged. “None of my business, is it?”

  Violet hesitated. Was that a real question, or a rhetorical one?

  The doorbell rang, and Violet almost cried with relief.

  “I’ll answer it,” said Dreadlock Dude as he set down his tofu and headed for the door. “Since I’ll probably be, like, moving in here soon anyway, right? I mean, we’ll both want to live with Moonbeam, of course.”

  Violet gripped her empty glass, feeling the chill of ice cubes against her sweaty palm. She waited until Dreadlock Dude was well out of earshot before she met Drew’s unreadable gaze.

  “Something on your mind?” Drew asked.

  “Nope, you?”

  Drew just looked at her and
took another sip of soda.

  Violet swallowed. Should she say something? Frank was Drew’s landlord, too. Whatever she decided to do—give the fake reading, or just tell Frank to go to hell—that impacted Drew.

  Violet bit her lip. “Drew, I—”

  “Hey, dude,” came a voice from the other side of the wall. “You’re, like, dressed totally too nice to be a pizza man.”

  There was a long pause, followed by another familiar voice. “Actually, I’m a doctor, though certainly I do appreciate a good pizza. Is Violet home, by any chance?”

  Violet closed her eyes again, not sure whom to curse this time, but wishing like hell the floor would just swallow her up.

  She opened her eyes as Drew clunked his soda can down on the counter beside her.

  “Your night just keeps getting better,” he said, and moved past her on his way out of the kitchen.

  Chapter 15

  “Chris,” Violet said, pasting a smile on her face as she nudged Dreadlock Dude out of the way and greeted her new guest at the front door. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Chris beamed at her and held up a bottle of expensive-looking Pinot Noir. “Your mom said you could use some help with a construction project. I made a few calls, but the earliest someone can get out here to build a ramp is next week.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve already pulled some strings, so Moonbeam’s extended stay at the rehab facility will be paid in full.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, but actually, I have it covered.”

  “What?”

  Violet smoothed her hair behind her ears. “Right. Um, a friend of Moonbeam’s and then you remember Drew, my mom’s neighbor? They offered to help build the ramp and move furniture.”

  She felt Drew behind her and stepped aside, letting the three men come face-to-face. She saw Chris’s smile falter for a moment, but he recovered like a gentleman and extended his hand.

  “Good to see you again, Drew.”

  Drew shook it warmly and nodded at Chris. “Welcome to the party.”

  Chris’s expression was more pained than festive, and he turned back to Violet as though expecting an explanation. Violet grimaced and turned to Dreadlock Dude.

  “Um, Chris, this is… well, he believes names are too confining. He’s a friend of Moonbeam’s, and he came to help, too. And Chris here is my mother’s orthopedic surgeon, so… wow.”

  “Dude,” said Dreadlock Dude again as he stepped up for a handshake.

  “Well,” Chris said, looking a bit taken aback as he studied the assembled male faces. “It looks like we all had the same idea this evening.”

  “Sure,” Drew said. “Helping Moonbeam, right?”

  “Right,” Chris said uneasily. “Helping—exactly.”

  Dreadlock Dude shrugged and shoved a piece of mustard-covered tofu in his mouth. “Actually, I was hoping to, like, get with Violet. In a spiritual way, you know?”

  “Okay!” Violet said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Chris, I ordered a bunch of pizza and you’re welcome to stay for dinner. I see the delivery guy pulling up, so let me just run out and take him some money and I’ll be back in… well, in just a minute.”

  She dashed out the door with her face flaming, relieved at the sensation of raindrops slapping her cheeks. She darted down the driveway and gave some serious thought to just continuing down the street, running as hard as she could until the house, the town, and most importantly, the men were all out of view.

  Instead, she reached the door of the delivery car and rapped on the window.

  The driver gave her a startled look and popped open his door. “Um, that’ll be—”

  “Keep the change,” Violet said, and thrust a fistful of bills at him. “I don’t suppose you’re hiring, are you?”

  “Uh—”

  “Never mind. I’m just contemplating a career change.”

  “Right. Here’s your pizza, ma’am.”

  “Thanks. Have a good night.”

  “Sure,” said the kid, and yanked his door shut.

  Violet clutched the two large pizza boxes to her chest and marched back up the driveway to face her suitors. When she walked through the door, the three men were deep in conversation about the positioning of the couch.

  “Gentlemen,” Violet called. “Shall we eat first?”

  “Certainly,” Chris said, stepping up beside her and placing a possessive arm around her shoulders. “That was really nice of you to think of feeding everyone like this.”

  “Oh, well…” Violet tightened her grip on the boxes, tipping a little under the weight of his arm and the pizzas.

  Without a word, Drew ambled over and relieved her of the boxes. He set them down on the table and then set about rifling through the cupboard for plates.

  Dreadlock Dude sat down at the head of the table and began performing some sort of complicated looking prayer ritual.

  Chris released Violet and headed into the kitchen. “Where do you keep the corkscrew?”

  “It’s right there in that second drawer. Let me get some glasses. Who else wants wine?”

  Chris grimaced a little and bent toward her. “I didn’t realize we’d be splitting this four ways,” he whispered. “It’s actually a very expensive Pinot.”

  Violet stared at him. “Would you like to just keep it for yourself?” she whispered back. “I don’t think anyone would mind.”

  “No, of course not. I just thought… well, I was hoping to share it with you. Sort of a romantic thing, I guess.”

  “Oh. Um, well—”

  “Never mind, it’s not a big deal. The more the merrier, right?”

  “Right,” Violet said uneasily as she glanced back out at the other two men. Drew was studying her with a curious expression.

  “Wine?” Violet asked weakly.

  “None for me, thanks,” Drew said, lifting his cherry Coke.

  Dreadlock Dude opened one eye and looked at her. “Does it have sulfites?”

  “God, I hope so,” Violet said, and reached up to grab two glasses.

  Once they were all assembled around the table, Drew opened up the pizza boxes and released the heavenly scent of sausage and mushrooms. Violet inhaled deeply, feeling some of the tension ease out of her shoulders.

  Beside her, Chris frowned. “I hope the wine pairs all right with sausage.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Violet said, and took a healthy gulp of it. “Perfect.”

  Chris gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Want some?” Drew offered, nudging the box out to Dreadlock Dude.

  “Dude, no. I don’t do animal flesh or dairy or—”

  “Right. Enjoy your mustard.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Chris shoveled a piece of pizza onto his plate and smiled at Dreadlock Dude. “So Drew here owns a bar. What is it you do… uh…”

  Dreadlock Dude wiped some mustard off his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m an artist.”

  “How fascinating. What medium?”

  “Medium?”

  “Acrylics, pottery, metals…”

  “Nah, man, I do dirt art.”

  “Dirt art?”

  “On car windows. Like, if I see a car that’s, like, really dirty, I’ll study the windshield until the form, like, comes to me, you know?”

  “Oh. I see.” Chris nodded thoughtfully. “So how do you… well, I mean, how do you make money at that?”

  Dreadlock Dude stared at him, uncomprehending.

  Chris flushed a little and picked up his wineglass. “I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood. Is it a hobby or a career?”

  “Dude?”

  “Well surely you have to make money to survive, to have a stable income, a sense of purpose, a retirement plan…”

  “I don’t believe in capitalistic greed, dude. It’s like… totally a drag.”

  “But why do you—?”

  Drew looked up from his pizza and stared at Dreadlock
Dude. “Do you like doing dirt art?”

  Dreadlock Dude swung his gaze to Drew and nodded. “It’s my calling. My passion. The reason I was, like, placed upon this earth.”

  “Do you eat regularly?”

  Dreadlock Dude shoveled another piece of mustard-covered tofu in his mouth and smiled.

  “Okay then,” Drew said as he picked up the pizza box. “Sounds like you’re doing just fine. Anyone want another slice?”

  Violet hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she felt Drew’s words dissolve the tension like sugar in a glass of warm water. She held out her plate and smiled at him with gratitude.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Here, have the one with all the good toppings on it,” Drew said as he shoveled it onto her plate. “Anyone else?”

  Chris shook his head and swirled his wine around in his glass before taking his sip. “So Violet, how’s the life of a psychic accountant treating you?”

  “Fine, thanks. Busy, really busy. Don’t worry, though, I finished up your accounting paperwork last night.”

  “I’m not worried about that. Take your time on that, really. I’m just glad you’re enjoying your mom’s business.”

  “It has its moments,” Violet said, and took another gulp of wine.

  “Maybe sometime I could come in and watch you work?”

  “Oh… well, I really don’t—”

  “Or I could book an appointment. That would be even better. What’s your schedule like next week?”

  His expression was so eager Violet didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d rather stick bamboo under her fingernails and soak her hands in grapefruit juice than give a psychic reading to a man she was dating.

  “Well, I’d have to check my schedule,” she said slowly. “I know things are really booked up, though.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about the fact that there might be ethical issues with doing a psychic reading for someone you’ve been… well…”

  “Right,” Violet said. “Ethical issues. Well, there is that.”

  “Violet’s all about, like, ethical stuff,” said Dreadlock Dude somberly. “Like this thing with her landlord—”

  “Let me get you some ketchup to go with that,” Violet said, standing up so fast she knocked her chair over.