Set Up for Love

by Virna DePaul

  “Get real.” She shook her head. “One look at a hottie and you’d revert.”

  I paused, trying to picture the hottie, and wondering if he could be husband material. Oh, gosh. When had my falling in love gear shifted into overdrive? I needed serious help.

  “I’m willing to put in the time for you to find the man of your dreams, but I’ll need some kind of collateral to guarantee you’ll stick to my guidelines.”

  “Fine.” I followed her into my room. Nothing here but the dresser I’d had growing up, the mismatched nightstand with the paint peeling off, and the twenty-dollar Target bookshelf with stacks of People, US, and Cosmopolitan. Would Patti seriously hold my magazines ransom?

  “Aha!” Patti raised a finger in the air and nodded her spiky head. “Your car.”

  I gasped. Not Betty! I pictured my beloved blue VW Beetle convertible that had less than five thousand miles on it. I’d babysat through my teens, waited tables through college, and taught aerobics classes through my early twenties to save every spare penny for that car.

  Betty the Beetle was the love of my life. She never let me down, took me anywhere I wanted to go with no complaints or manipulation, and never judged me. I couldn’t risk losing Betty. Come to think of it, did I really want Patti making my romance decisions? The last guy she’d dated had chanted for an hour before they went to bed.

  “See, you were never going to listen to me.” Patti sounded exasperated. “So much for your word.”

  Oh, great. I had already given my word. I’d be acting like my mom if I backed out. “Fine.” Stomping out to the living room, I picked up my purse. “Where are my keys?”

  “Huh-uh. Not good enough.” Patti grabbed hold of my arm and whipped me around. “I want the title.”

  My heart stopped and I bit my bottom lip, hoping Patti couldn’t see the fear that was surely visible all over my face. Holding the title seemed extreme. When had dating become so complicated? “It’s in the box on my bookshelf.”

  My entire body went numb as Patti disappeared into my room and came back a minute later with a small pink slip.

  “Sign it over to me.” She slapped it down on the coffee table along with a pen. “If you don’t follow my advice, and I mean to a T, you can kiss Betty good-bye.”

  With my left hand clutching my chest, I took the pen in my right and poised it over the slip of paper. I paused, knowing Betty—my only true ally—would be safe in Patti’s hands. Well, as long as I did what she said. I’d been friends with Patti for fifteen years and I trusted her completely. She may be rough around the edges, but she had my best interest at heart—although, she wouldn’t hesitate to keep Betty if I failed to keep my end of the deal.

  Holding my breath, hoping this was the correct decision, I swirled big loopy letters on the bottom line, signing my beloved Betty over to Patti Hartley.

  Patti looked way too satisfied as she picked up the pink slip, folded it and pointed it at me. “You’ve got more balls than I thought, Melanie Porter.”

  Balls? I didn’t want balls. Unless they were Brad’s, that is. Tall, broad-chested, gorgeous Brad. I wanted him back. I wanted Betty back, too. But, I also wanted to find my soul mate. He had to be out there somewhere. But, how was I supposed to find him now that the star of singledom was calling the shots in my love life?

  Patti yawned and stretched her arms high above her head, the pink slip of paper still held securely in her right fist. “It’s late. We’ll discuss the dos and don’ts of your love life over breakfast.” She headed for her room, then stretched and yawned again like a satiated feline. “Make that over lunch.”

  Helpless to do anything else, I went back to my own room, threw myself down on my bed and hugged a pillow. It smelled like Brad’s minty-scented hair gel. My nostrils burned as I remembered my plan to buy him unscented gel for his birthday. But I couldn’t buy him new gel now. He was gone, and I was alone again.

  All alone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next day, I maneuvered Betty backward into a tight parking spot outside Cherie’s Café in Downtown Sac. After circling the block twice in search of parking, I was running late for my lunch with Patti and determined to squeeze Betty into the rinky dink space no matter what.

  Turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction, I shoved the car into drive and inched forward before thrusting the gearshift back into reverse. I spun the wheel the opposite way, let my foot off the brake and rolled backward as my cell phone chirped.

  While the car was still rolling, I noted the number, and answered my phone. I jerked Betty to a halt. Throwing the gearshift into park, I groaned. “Oh, great. Just what I need on top of everything else in my life.”

  I pressed the green button on my cell, pulled the emergency brake into place and mustered up false enthusiasm for my stepmother. “Hi, Janet!”

  “Melanie, sweetheart, must you shout?”

  Attempts to please Janet were futile but I couldn’t seem to give up trying. Quitting is my mom’s thing, not mine.

  “Sorry.” I lowered my voice and stepped out of the car. “Is this better?”

  “Much.”

  Long pause. Janet likes to make people wait. It’s her thing. That way, everyone knows how important she is. It is not a good idea to speak during these times. It only serves to aggravate Janet, which would be made apparent by a longer pause and then some reference to the fact that she’d been speaking—even though she hadn’t been.

  “Listen, sweetheart.” Short pause. “Your father and I would like to have you over for dinner tonight. Kaitlin has something important she’d like to share with the whole family.”

  The “whole family” consisted of the four of us. Why my step-mom referred to us so formally was beyond me. And what had the magnificent Kaitlin done now? Sneezed? I, on the other hand, could be on my deathbed and would be lucky to get served a T.V. dinner. But such was life with a can-do-no-wrong stepsister. Fact was, they were family and Janet made Dad happy. “I teach class at six-thirty but can be at your house by quarter to eight.”

  “Well, we were hoping to have dinner at seven.” Long pause and a sigh.

  Janet knew my work schedule but consistently planned dinners during my classes, making me feel guilty for not being able to arrive on time. I put a hand over my eyes and peered through the mirrored window at Cherie’s Café to see if I could locate Patti while I waited for Janet to speak. “I just can’t get to your house any earlier,” I finally said.

  Pause. “All right then. Seven-forty-five it has to be.”

  Knowing Janet expected appreciation for modifying her oh-so-important schedule, I made an attempt to score some points. “Thanks for changing the time for me. I’d really hate to miss Kaitlin’s good news.”

  Silence. No points—not even half a point.

  “Okay,” I said, annoyance leaking into my voice despite my best intentions. “Well, see you tonight.”

  “We’re looking forward to it.” Silence, then, “Bye now.”

  “Bye-bye.” I ended the call and sighed. At least it had been relatively painless as far as our conversations went.

  Probably not as painful as lunch was going to be with Patti laying down the ground rules of what I could and couldn’t do with my own love life. I’d bet my vintage CD collection there’d be more couldn’ts than coulds.

  I turned and looked at Betty one last time, sitting there at the curb all shiny and blue with her black top up. “Don’t worry, Betty. I’ll never let Patti get her hands on you.”

  Then I reached for the entrance door and took a deep breath. I could only imagine what Patti had in store for me.

  ***

  I found Patti right away, sat at the table and reached for my water with lemon to calm my nerves. She told me she’d ordered our usual meals, which was fine by me. Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less about food right now.

  “The Boyfriend Bylaws.” Patti sounded very professional as she sat back in the booth and read the typed words off a thick linen p
iece of stationary. “By Patti Hartley.”

  Sheer terror sliced through me and I nearly spilled my water. What did she think this was, a piece of legislation to be ratified into California law?

  “Rule number one.” Patti looked at me pointedly. “No giving out your phone number until approved to do so.”

  I raised my hand. “Um, can you clarify that?”

  “What’s to make clear? If I don’t say yes, then you don’t give it out.” She enunciated each word as if she were talking to a particularly slow student.

  I dropped my hand. Apparently Patti wasn’t an avid supporter of the “No question is a bad question” philosophy. My throat went dry. “Say I’m at the gym and a really great guy asks for my phone number. What if you’re not around? Can I give him my number, or not?”

  Patti seemed to consider this as the waitress placed my pasta marinara in front of me. After due consideration, she shook her head. “It’s not a good idea to date where you work.”

  Brad popped into my head and I cringed. I’d have to see him over and over again. Ugh. I bit my lip and remembered how he’d showed off to me by benching one seventy-five when I knew from previous spying that he normally benched one-fifty. Brad had no qualms about dating where he worked out.

  Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no! What if he gave someone like Erica “the eye,” benched one-eighty and asked her out? Erica loved PDA. I’d be forced to watch them all lovey-dovey while they worked out. “I get your point.”

  “Brad?”

  I nodded.

  “A shame we didn’t make this deal a couple weeks ago, eh?” Patti turned back to her neatly typed paper. “Rule number two. Must obtain permission to accept any date invitation. That one clear? Good, moving on—”

  “Actually.” I raised my hand again and started to sweat. “What if I’m, say, at a bar having a really great conversation with some gorgeous guy and he asks me out to dinner?”

  “You have a cell?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then use it. I’ll be available twenty-four seven for consult.” Patti frowned. “Strike that. Don’t call between midnight and eight a.m. I need my sleep.”

  “But how can I—”

  “Your problem. Not mine,” she said, with a barely concealed smile.

  I scrunched my face into a tight ball, then quickly thought better of it and relaxed my facial muscles. On top of everything else, I didn’t need squint lines.

  “Number three.” Patti glanced up, probably to make sure her student was paying attention.

  I gave her a thin smile and thought about how good it would feel to freeze Patti’s underwear like I’d done in eighth grade.

  Patti turned back to the beige, watermarked sheet. “No bringing up marriage, kids or the future.”

  My fake smile faded. How could I forge a lasting relationship without talking about the future? After freezing Patti’s underwear, I’d short sheet her bed.

  “Four. No going to first base without authorization.”

  No big. Brad had pretty much skipped first base anyway.

  Patti stared at me. Then, she reached for her giant purse, pulled out a pen and scribbled on the paper. “Rule number four has been modified. No going to first base, or any other base, without authorization.”

  What was Patti, a mind reader? I could kiss any chance of getting a boyfriend bye-bye with amended rule number four. “How am I supposed to find a husband when I can’t even—”

  “Figure it out. Your way obviously wasn’t getting you anywhere.” Patti raised an eyebrow and then turned back to The Boyfriend Bylaws. “Numero five. No scribbling your first name with some guy’s last name. Ever.”

  I tilted my head to the right and felt my ponytail flop over my left shoulder. “How’d you know I do that?”

  “The pad by the kitchen telephone, genius. And last but not least, number six. This is the rule that I may add new rules as I deem necessary.” She handed over the dreaded paper. It was typed in various colors and fonts with several words in bold and underlined. “Here you go. Read it. Memorize it, live by it, and happy dating. No need to thank me.”

  The Boyfriend Bylaws felt like lead in my hand. “What on earth makes you think I’d thank you for this?”

  “I’m taking charge of your love life, disaster that it is. And doing it for free, I might add.” Patti twirled her fork in the noodles. “It was your idea, remember?”

  I slumped my chin onto my fist and stared at the tomato-covered pasta in front of me. “That’s right. I’ve got balls.”

  “Big ones.”

  “Great. Just what I always wanted.” As Patti took energetic bites of pasta and garlic bread, I turned away from my plate and gazed around the lunchtime crowd at Cherie’s. My eyes froze on a familiar face seated at a back corner table. “Matt.”

  As if he’d heard me, he looked in my direction and winked.

  I smiled back and thought of going over to say hi.

  “He’s cute. That’s the guy who works at the front desk of Totally Fit, right?” Patti said. “Who’s the girl he’s with?”

  “What?” My brows came together as I scoped out the girl sitting across the table from Matt. She looked oddly familiar. She had long, sandy-brown hair and glanced over at me with a curious stare. I turned back to Patti. “I have no idea who she is. He must be dating someone new.”

  My stomach knotted. How could he act so interested in me one day and go out with another girl the next? A surge of jealousy flooded through me. He hadn’t mentioned her yesterday so maybe he’d just met her. I watched her lean forward, say something to him, and then they smiled at each other.

  They seemed awfully chummy for a first date.

  Whatever. Finding Matt with another girl was exactly why I’d said no to dating him in the first place. Reminding myself of that, however, didn’t make me feel one ounce better.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Erica and I had spent fifteen minutes in the janitor’s closet whispering as I filled her in on my lunch with Patti and the ins and outs of The Boyfriend Bylaws. Erica knew Patti so she wasn’t surprised, but she couldn’t believe that I’d risk Betty. Just went to show how desperate I was.

  At promptly 3:55 p.m., Steve joined us in the darkness, ending our discussion, which had been depressing me anyway.

  Suddenly, I shoved the elbow that dug into my thigh. “Ouch! That hurts.”

  “Sorry.” Steve’s voice sounded muffled in the pitch-black closet. “I thought you were a shelf.”

  “Shh. You want us to get caught?” Erica’s voice was low but stern.

  I stuck my ear against the wall and listened to the silence in Rudy’s office. “I don’t hear a thing.”

  “They aren’t in there yet.” I could hear the “duh” in Erica’s tone. “If they were then Matt would’ve left the front desk and joined us already.”

  I thought about being in the dark with Matt and my heart skipped a beat. Then, I remembered his lunch date and wanted to kick myself for even thinking about him. Suddenly in pain, I smacked an elbow digging into my hip.

  “Sorry,” Steve said.

  “You’re a trainer, Steve.” I straightened from my crouched position and shook off all thoughts of Matt and his new girl. “Shouldn’t you at least be able to hold yourself up without help?”

  “Shhh!” Erica scolded again. “You guys will never be invited back if you don’t shut up.”

  “Don’t tell me to shut up.” I glared toward Erica in the darkness. Not like she could see me, but I got some satisfaction out of narrowing my eyes in her general direction. Normally, I could deal with Erica’s bossy attitude but the stress of the last twenty-four hours had been enough.

  Erica grabbed for my shoulder and put an arm around me. “You don’t want us to get caught, do you? How yumzy would that be?”

  “Yumzy was yesterday’s word,” Steve informed her with a sigh. “Keep up with the times, Conner.”

  “Well, excuse me.” Erica sounded indignant. “But in case yo
u don’t remember, I was late this morning, thanks to Mario, and I didn’t hear the new word.”

  “So that’s where you were.” Steve said it like he’d cracked an unsolved mystery.

  “Congrats to Mario.” I said it half-heartedly. It was hard to be enthused over Erica’s love life when my own had taken a plunging nosedive and all future prospects were now subject to The Boyfriend Bylaws. “What’s he like? Any chance he’s The One?”

  “God, no.” Erica snorted. “On a scale of one to ten, I’d give him a seven. That’s a thanks for playing, but it won’t get ya invited back.”

  “That’s harsh, Conner.” Steve paused. “Do all girls rate guys? Wait, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  I sighed. Brad would’ve been a nine. Get rid of the yellow car, minty hair gel and his opposition to commitment and he would’ve been a ten, hands down.

  The closet door creaked open then and a dark figure with a fabulous physique stood in the hallway holding the handle with one hand. Oh, no. We’d been caught by a hot bod! I knew I should’ve waited and gotten the information second-hand.

  “Why is it dark in here?” The lights flashed on, illuminating Matt, who slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Don’t slam the door.” Erica waved her arms too little too late.

  “Turn the light off.” I somehow managed to shriek quietly. Heat crept up my neck. Had I really thought of Matt as a hot bod? It must be nerves. This spying stuff was so not up my alley.

  “The lights can stay on.” Matt sauntered toward us. “It’s not like they have x-ray vision and can see through the wall.”

  “Good point.” Steve squatted on one knee and pressed his ear against the wall. “Rudy’s not Clarko Kento.”

  Matt bobbled his head and raised his brows. “Nice italian-o accent-o, Steve-o.”

  Erica stomped her foot repeatedly. “Next time, you all are not allowed.”

  “The suits in there yet?” Steve spoke in a low voice and winked at Erica. “See how yumzy I can be?”

  She glared at him. “I thought you said that was yesterday’s word.”