“Awesome. See ya.” Then he was gone.
Seriously? That was it? She’d spent the whole day stressing out and preparing for seven minutes of conversation?
Urgh.
But wait. Half the list for her, half the list for him. Obviously, the two of them were the whole committee. A good sign, right? And that scruffy beard. His sturdy shoulders. His lips. It was a pretty awesome seven minutes. Mmm. Yes, it was.
Giving in to girly giddiness, Madison scooped up her phone to offer Tia an update about her snug little committee of two.
* * * *
A bit later, Tia strolled into Madison’s room and flopped onto her bed. “I see you’re still going through with this date thing even though you are Drew are practically a couple.”
Madison frowned over her shoulder. “Don’t make me sorry I told you about my committee work.”
“Fine.” Tia scoffed lightly then, with an uncharacteristically gentle, encouraging smile, and added, “I don’t get why you’re going out this other guy when it’s Drew you want.”
Madison wasn’t certain why either, but the wheels were already in motion so she might as well follow through. It wasn’t as though she had anything else to do with her night and hey—an impressive guy would be, well, impressive.
“Where is the successful, potential-reunion-date doctor taking you?” she asked, making herself comfy on the mound of pillows Madison always kept on her bed.
Madison, having considered where he was taking her, had ruled out the black V-neck she’d worn for Drew and was now flipping through her closet in search of clothing that would make her feel hot but not look desperate, answered Tia’s question as she considered an Anthropologie knee-length floral silk skirt. “To dinner.”
Tia’s loud sigh nearly rattled the windowpanes of Madison’s bedroom. “Don’t be an ass. You know what I mean. You going to IHOP or The Montgomery Inn or Skyline Chilli or what?”
“The yacht club,” she replied, wiggling into the floral skirt.
“Oh, please.” Tia groaned, rolling over and staring into Madison’s closet. “You don’t mean it.”
“Oh, yes. Marcus and I will be dining at the yacht club.”
“What, are you guys taping for The Most Predictable, Boring Dates Ever?” Tia rolled across Madison’s bed as she laughed at her own joke. “Will there be anyone else under forty there?”
“You’re not as funny as you think.” Madison slipped into her beige suede boots. “I liked his ad and I think he’ll be fun.”
“Race car drivers are fun. He’s a doctor.”
“What do you know?” Madison stepped across the line into territory she knew was out of bounds. “When was the last time you went out on a date?”
Tia flopped onto her back and turned her head toward the window. “Okay, go out with the good doctor. I’m sure he’ll have a whole slew of bedside manner jokes to tell you.”
“I’ll try to remember them for you.” Considering Tia’s off-kilter mood, she asked, “Did Harvey call?”
“Harvey who? We don’t talk about him.”
Madison slipped out, going to the bathroom for makeup. “Did you call him back?” she yelled from down the hall.
Tia yelled back, “I deleted the phone number.”
Thinking of Harvey’s five giant boxes of Important Man Junk, like worn-out Xbox games—‘shut up, it’s fun’—natty University of Kentucky sweatshirts, back issues of Maxim—‘it’s not my fault they put her on the cover’—and plastic beer mugs that had been sitting in the middle of Tia’s apartment for so long that they had enough dust to draw faces in, Madison said, “You’re going to have to talk to him sometime. That stuff he left behind isn’t even worth selling on Craigslist.”
“I know,” Tia mumbled. “I guess that’s what he’s calling about.”
Seeing the telltale frown lines settling onto her friend’s forehead, she said, “Tell you what—if the doctor is dull, I’ll call you and tell you everything so you can laugh at me. Okay?”
A half-smile chased away some of the tension on Tia’s face. “Get ready to hear ‘I told you so’.” She rolled to her feet, pointing into the closet. “Wear the blue sweater and have a good time.”
About thirty seconds later, the front door of Madison’s apartment closed softly.
There was a good chance that Tia was right, that the good doctor might be a tad lackluster, but he was a plastic surgeon. Shouldn’t that mean he’d be better than, say, a pediatrician?
A plastic surgeon…
Madison leaned into the mirror, staring at her imperfect face. Imaginary blue suture lines dotted across her nose and cheekbones. Like a tiny road map to perfection, they worked their way up to her eyes, which maybe, needed to be more open. And evenly matched. More perfect.
Her gaze darted down to her breasts.
Was she going out with a man who made a living of playing with women’s breasts? A man who had some kind of rating system of good, better, best?
Clearly, Madison hadn’t thought things all the way through.
But there was bound to be an upside. This guy had to drive a good car—he was all about image. Right? And wasn’t image what she needed to show up all those high school assholes? Yes. Of course. She grabbed the flat iron and gave herself a touch-up.
Forty minutes later, Madison paced around her living room, wondering how late was too late. So far the doctor was twenty minutes past pick up time. Not a good sign.
Twenty-one minutes.
She flipped through an old copy of Variety.
Twenty-two minutes.
Drew hadn’t been late. He hadn’t been early. He’d called exactly when he said he would. Very considerate.
Madison pulled out her phone. No missed calls.
Then, as if by magic, it buzzed.
“I’m turning into your lot now. Want to meet me out front?”
No thanks was what she should have said, but what she did say was, “Sure. I’ll be wearing a brown jacket, a floral skirt and suede boots.”
“Sounds perfect. Just what the doctor ordered.” He laughed and Madison’s blood stirred at the warm, deep sound, even while the stupidity of his joke threatened to force her to face reality. Reality being the fact that he might be everything Tia tried to tell her he would be. But Tia was always either too careful, like when she wouldn’t date somebody because she didn’t know every last detail about him, or not careful enough—as in the case of ‘yes, Harvey I’d love for you to move in with me and run all my bills up and then break my heart by moving out to live with the cake decorator from Busken’.
No wonder Tia was a bit snippy lately.
Doctors were probably twenty-three minutes late all the time. At least. And didn’t they all make stupid jokes to relax their patients?
But she wasn’t a patient.
She looked at her 34B breasts.
Yet?
Outside, the doctor’s casket gold Cadillac crept along the edges of the lot, gliding slowly past the cute apartment fronts. When he rolled by, Madison waved subtly, but he didn’t notice. So she raised one arm overhead. But he still didn’t realize he’d left his date twenty feet behind. At the end of the lot, the doctor turned away from Madison’s apartment.
Madison resisted the urge to shout as she trotted across the parking lot. She barely managed to cut him off before he turned the wrong way—again. The car jerked to a stop, and he rolled down his window to poke his handsome head out far enough to say, “Hey there. Madison?”
Face-to-face with such masculine perfection, all she could manage was, “Um, yeah.”
“I’m Marcus. Bet you guessed that.” He smiled, flashing teeth so white and perfect they would’ve looked out of place on a lesser mortal’s face. “You look great,” he purred. “Hop in.”
Don’t mind if I do.
Madison slid onto the fat leather seat and pulled the car door shut. He grinned over at her, apologized about being so late, and went on to say something about making a stop to drop so
mething off, but because everything about him was so damn flawless, Madison was only listening enough to know when to nod and smile back.
The guy wasn’t handsome. He was fucking beautiful. Chiseled jaw, lips full enough to be sexy, gently arched brows, beautiful blue eyes and thick, glossy, chestnut brown hair.
“…so that’ll be okay with you?” he asked.
“Sure.” Was she agreeing to dinner, again? Or going to a strip club to try out for amateur night? As long as he was on the menu, she didn’t care. “That’ll be great.”
“Thanks, you’re a sport.”
With whatever was up in the air settled, he turned his attention to the road, and Madison sagged deeper into the plush seat that was promising to swallow her whole. The people on the sidewalks of Montgomery were hunched over, fighting the unusually cold evening. But inside the poshmobile, Madison sighed with relief because she’d hit the jackpot on the first pull.
“Could you reach back and grab the gift? It should be right there on the seat.”
A little something for her?
Madison twisted until she spotted an eight inch-square package tied with an oversize yellow ribbon. Flattened Berts and Ernies smiled back at her. Doctor Marcus has a sense of humor? She peered at him. Or was there a tiny schoolgirl outfit in there?
“She’s going to love it.”
Oh.
She. At least Madison wasn’t going to have to make peace with herself in the morning for wearing a costume that would have at-home lingerie partygoers giggling.
Minutes later, the good doctor turned onto a tree-lined side street and coasted to a stop in front of a Georgian brick house. Madison turned to Marcus. He wasn’t looking at her—he was staring at the flat Berts and Ernies and smiling. He looked silly. But handsome. And successful enough for both of them.
“Come on.” He marched up to the door, but instead of knocking, pushed it open, motioned for Madison to follow, then slipped inside, calling quietly, “Carol?”
Madison followed him through a tiled hallway to a cozy kitchen. A tiny woman wearing a lemon yellow tracksuit tiptoed in from the opposite direction and zipped right over to throw her arms around Marcus and give him a big kiss on the cheek.
Marcus eased the women back and nodded her way. “Madison and I are having dinner at the yacht club.”
Carol gave Madison a quick once-over, then another, slower look, pausing on the boots, before finally meeting her gaze. “Okay.”
Madison’s polite smile faltered.
Did we need your approval?
“How long have you and Daddy been going out?”
Daddy?
Yes, of course.
Grown men, especially successful plastic surgeons, have grown children who call them daddy…
Daddy?
Shit.
Madison pulled her face back together and opened her mouth to say something, anything, but unfortunately nothing came out. After what felt like three minutes, her date remembered himself and stepped forward to rescue her from the thoroughly embarrassing and very awkward moment.
“Madison and I just met,” he chuckled. “About ten minutes ago, in fact. I guess that makes this our first date.”
Carol’s eyebrows knitted together in the picture of daughterly concern. Or was that horror?
Who could blame her? He could’ve said something better than that. Don’t look at her like she’s some tarty gold-digger would’ve been a decent start.
Carol gave Madison another obvious once-over. But this time her gaze was ruthless, the way a woman’s was when she was examining every detail of another woman. Another woman who was going out on her first date with Daddy.
This isn’t happening. If we leave now, everything will be fine. I can forget this ever happened.
Madison glanced over at Marcus. As long as he didn’t peel out a strip of family photos at the reunion, everything would be okay. Nobody else would have to know the man she was showing off had a daughter her age…
Carol finally shifted her gaze away from Madison and turned back to Daddy. “I’ll have her call you in the morning when she gets up.”
“Tell Nancy to pass the call on through—unless I’m in the middle of a procedure, of course.” He stretched forward to kiss Carol on the cheek and give her a quick hug. “It took me forever to find it. I’m dying to know if she likes it.”
“I’m sure she will,” Carol gushed.
Within seconds, Madison and Marcus were shown to the door and the whole sorry episode was, thankfully, over. The Cadillac waited at the curb, promising protection from further scrutiny and speculation. Madison climbed in gratefully.
“So,” Marcus started once they were on their way. “What do you think of my daughter? Isn’t she great? Too bad Amelia was already in bed. You’d love her, too. She has her mom’s looks”—he tapped his temple—“but her grandpa’s brains.”
While Marcus sat puffed up with pride behind the wheel of his overpriced car, Madison reeled at the truth. She’d only just accepted the fact that her date was Daddy, but add to that the unspeakable fact that he was a grandpa? Well, those pre-dinner drinks would not be coming too soon.
Madison let the whole aren’t-the-girls-in-my-life-wonderful subject drop and switched to the one that actually mattered. “How much farther to the yacht club?”
“Not much. Do you need me to stop somewhere?” When she remained silent, he added, “For you to use the bathroom?”
His question only served to increase the urgency with which Madison needed to get out of the car, get a drink and regroup. What kind of grown man dated women half his age? Madison winced. Ones who are all about image. Ones who don’t care about developing a meaningful relationship.
Ones who wanted to impress other people.
How odd. That motivation had seemed okay when she’d told Tia she was going to find a guy awesome enough to impress people. It had seemed kind of cool, even. Modern. Hip. But to think a grown man—somebody’s dad—would do it? A successful man who had gone all the way through medical school?
Well, for him…it was not okay. But just because he looked stupid for doing it, didn’t mean that she shouldn’t do it.
Did it?
Why did life have to be so confusing?
Why did a woman have to be driven to such strategies?
It was those reunion witches.
Madison imagined them hunched around a caldron, laughing at all the people whose lives they were throwing into chaos. Boil, boil, toil and trouble, they howled, then turned to her and laughed the cruel laugh of the girls teachers actually like.
Them and their stupid, stinking invitation.
What choice did Madison have?
None, thanks that damn reunion.
She turned a winning smile to Marcus. “No. I don’t need you to stop. But thanks.” She leaned closer. “I guess I’m just anxious.”
He looked away from the road long enough to smile back. “I’m anxious to get to know you better, too. You’ll like the club. It’s quiet, but, not, um, boring. Sometimes there’s a band. Do you like to dance?”
Madison had enough sense to know he wasn’t talking about the kind of dancing she and Tia did at The Fifth Quarter after they’d had one too many shots of Jaeger. But she’d done dance scenes in West Side Story, so she’d be able to fake real dancing. Hopefully. “Sure. I love to dance.”
“My first wife couldn’t dance at all,” he replied, exiting smoothly off of I-75. “Can you believe that? A woman who doesn’t know how to dance? I made sure Carol took dance lessons. She can swing, salsa, polka, clog—you name it, she can do it.”
First wife. That meant there had to be at least two. Could there be more than two? Past wives was a topic a few steps out of her comfort zone. Madison swallowed hard. “What about Amelia? Can she dance?”
Marcus laughed. “You are funny. I’m glad. I need someone to make me laugh.”
“Really?” she asked, honestly interested. “Why?”
“My clients.
They drive me crazy sometimes. More than half of them don’t really need any work done and they have no sense of humor. They get indignant if I tease them. All they care about is what other people think.”
“They sound pretty shallow.” After a pause, she asked, “What about the rest?”
He ran one hand through his thick, glossy hair. “They need help. Burn victims, kids who’ve been chewed up by dogs. Trust me. There is nothing funny about what those people have been through.” His nervous laugh bounced around inside the car. “Sorry. That’s not a fun topic for a date.”
But at least she knew that he wasn’t completely without morals and values.
Curious thing, though, he didn’t look that old. No wrinkles. No loose skin around the neck. Lots of nice hair. No pudgy middle.
Ohhhhhh…
How many times would she have to go out with him before she could ask which parts of him were real and which were, um, adjusted? Did it matter? It wasn’t like she was waiting in line to be wife number…three?
Four?
He couldn’t be that old.
“Do you have any other children? Besides Carol?”
“Two boys.”
Not the answer Madison was hoping for, which would have been no.
“They’re both from my second wife. Don’t worry. They live with her.”
Her.
Mercifully, Marcus didn’t elaborate, and Madison, being smart enough to know when to say when, at least some of the time, kept her trap shut.
The yacht club parking lot was jammed full of vehicles she and Tia always made fun of. Hummers, probably driven by macho guys who did MMA, X class Jaguars, driven by people who couldn’t afford Audis and enough SUVs to ruin the air quality of a Third World village. Marcus rolled his Caddy to a stop under a white awning and hopped out. She tumbled out, snuggled deeper into her coat, and took Marcus’ hand. Three valets grinned from under their blue caps, letting their gazes zigzag across her breasts then down her legs as she moved out of the car. Marcus greeted them all by name and didn’t seem to notice the discourteous way they leered at his date. Inside the club, things were pretty much the same. Cheerful personal greetings for the doctor, impolite stares for her. By the time they were seated, the meet and greet seemed to be over. Thank God.
Off the Rails Page 5