by Susan Hatler
“I’m not sure exactly.” Erica’s face grew serious. “He just kept saying grazie to whoever was on the other end of the line and then told them to meet here, in his office, tomorrow at four o’clock.” She held her palms up. “That’s all I know.”
Steve tsk tsked. “You should’ve stayed to look for a dust pan while you were at it.”
Erica frowned. “Like you’d know squat around here if it wasn’t for me.”
“We appreciate all the dirt, Conner.” Matt patted Erica’s arm and she promptly perked up again. It amazed me how Erica didn’t hold a grudge against Matt for cheating on her. The way they acted, there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings between them.
“Great.” I sighed, trying not to ponder Erica and Matt’s odd relationship. “If I have to come at four, I’ll be arriving two hours before my six-thirty class. Might be a little suspicious, don’t you think?”
Matt opened his novel again.
What? No wise suggestion from The Bookworm?
“Hmmm.” I shrugged it off. With the perfect night dangling in the air, I didn’t need Matt to wreak havoc on my emotions—not to mention create worry lines before I hit thirty. “I hope Rudy has something good up his sleeve.”
“You and me both, sister.” Erica eased around the desk as the door dinged open and a chatter of voices floated into the lobby. “We’d better get our butts to work. I’ll see you all tomorrow, in the janitor’s closet, at four sharp.”
I picked up my sports bag, slung it over my shoulder and checked my watch. Thirteen hours and three minutes until my big date with Brad. Pushing the worry about work out of my mind, I pictured myself slipping into my sheer ruffled babydoll nightie. It was sexy, see-through and would encourage Brad to get right down to it. Talk about yumzy.
No point playing hard to get when I knew Brad was exactly what I needed.
I glanced back at Matt who was greeting a perky redhead who’d entered the lobby. For some reason it bothered me that he didn’t believe in Brad and me. His accusation that I was “in love with being in love” had even deflated my mood.
I knew I shouldn’t worry about what Matt thought. He was a philosopher, not a love guru. So, why was it bugging me so much?
****
After a romantic dinner at The Boat House in Old Sacramento, Brad and I went back to my apartment, hopped on my bed, and happily slid into second base. His mouth explored mine and I felt relieved to be with him—to not have to go through the roller coaster of emotions in dating anymore.
He found the blue spaghetti strap on my bare shoulder and slipped it off. Privacy between roommates didn’t happen often, but thankfully we hadn’t seen any signs of Patti when we’d come in. I crossed my fingers that she’d gone out for the evening. Things were about to progress to the next level.
Time to tell Brad how I felt about him.
“Brad.” My lips skimmed along his strong jawbone and I whispered in his ear. “I feel like we’re going to be so happy.”
He pulled back and gave me a look that told me he was happy now. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”
Looking him in the eyes, I nodded in agreement. “Believe me, I’m ready. This will be the first night of many in a long life together.”
His hands had reached around my back for the zipper, but he suddenly stopped short. “What’d you just say?”
I had to force a flirty smile since things had gone from hot to halt. “Just that this feels right. You and me. Like it will last.”
“Uh…” He adjusted the way he was sitting and took a deep breath. “Mel, it sounds like you’re asking for a ring or something.”
“Not a ring exactly.” I giggled nervously. “But, I guess now would be a good time to say how you’re feeling about me. About us.”
“Mel, you’re hot.” He eyed me up and down, then cleared his throat. “I thought we were having a good time.”
Uh-oh. This was so not going the way I’d imagined. “Me, too. Are you saying you want that to end one day?”
“Oh, man. I can’t believe we’re not on the same page.” He stood, adjusted his jeans, then held his arms out. “I’m not a ball and chain guy.” He put a fist to his broad chest. “I thought I made that clear.”
My heart clenched, forcing air out of my lungs. “When did you make that clear?” I racked my panic-filled brain for some hint I’d missed, but he seemed in a massive hurry to get out of here. “Shouldn’t we discuss this?”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys to his yellow Roadster and managed to slink his arm out of my pathetic grasp. “I’m not a ‘discuss it’ kind of guy either. Sorry if I gave the wrong impression. You’re great, Mel. Really.”
My jaw dropped as he slipped out the bedroom door. But…he’d seemed like he could be The One. There had to be a way to convince him to talk it out. Readjusting the straps on my dress, I hurried out of the bedroom and across the living room where Brad was already turning the front door knob.
I put my hand over his. “Can’t we talk about this?”
“No can do.” He shook his head and stepped out onto the front porch. When the door was only inches from closing, it stopped, then swung halfway open again. My heart leapt as he popped his head back in. “I’ll, uh, see you at the gym.”
The door shut in my face.
My heart sank and I squeezed my eyes closed, fighting tears as I leaned back against the door. Brad hadn’t wanted a relationship after all. How had I misjudged that?
“That display was too pathetic for words.”
I jumped at the sound of my roommate’s voice. Patti stood there in the kitchen, holding a mug, and had apparently witnessed Brad’s hasty exit. I cursed the fact that she was a homebody.
“He just left.” The pain of being abandoned hit me so hard I wanted to crawl in a hole. I put my hand over my nose as a sob escaped. “Ran out because I said I thought we would last. I thought he was The One.”
“I hate to break this to you, Mel.” Patti’s hand was on her hip, her short dark hair stuck out in all directions and her Salvador Dalí t-shirt half tucked into black boxer shorts. “But you think every guy’s The One.”
My throat tightened. “No, I don’t.”
Patti was obviously not in a sympathetic mood at this late hour of the night—not that she would’ve been more compassionate at any other time of day. Expecting sympathy from Patti was like expecting a dog to meow.
She raised her hand and counted on each finger. “Brad. Paul. Mike. Marcus—”
“Enough.” I sniffed, unable to argue with the numbers. Matt had said earlier that I was in love with being in love. Patti had just confirmed it. “So, what? You’re saying it’s my fault none of my relationships work out?”
“Yes.” Patti’s eyes scrunched as she yanked at her short hair in exasperation. “And I can’t begin to explain how frustrating it is watching you do this to yourself!”
With Patti’s white-knuckled grasp on her hair, it was a wonder it didn’t all come out by the roots. “You fall for each guy before you’ve even gotten to know him, Mel. Your focus is preventing him from leaving and you skip the most important question: Do you want to be with him?”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “Oh, my….”
“It’s a definitive pattern.” Patti dropped her hands, took a breath, then reached for her mug again.
“Apparently so.” I sniffed.
“I love you, Mel.” Patti sounded uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t want to watch you go through this again.”
This was too much to handle. I dropped onto our living room sofa and let the tears flow. I’d just turned twenty-five and had yet to make a relationship stick. I gulped a sob, wondering if I had too much of my mom in me to ever make one work.
No way. Huh-uh. I shook my head, wiped my nose, and sniffed. Brad had left, not me. I’d never be my mother. No way I’d wind up alone. I peeked up at Patti who raised an eyebrow, looking uncomfortable with my display of emotion.
She finally
came around the couch, sat, and awkwardly put her arm around me. “Bawling your head off is not the answer.”
I leaned my head on her shoulder. “How do you expect me to act when I find out my broken hearts are basically my own doing?” It’s not like I thrived off singleton status the way Patti did. I’d love to be married with kids already. “I can’t live like you and be a hermit the rest of my life.”
“Hey, I date when the mood strikes.” Patti shrugged. “Works for me. But you….” She pointed an unpolished nail. “You’ve gone through practically every available man in Sacramento.”
I thought of Matt who was available, lived in Sacramento, and had asked me out. He was sweet, smart beyond belief, and gave me goose bumps at the faintest touch on my hands.
I cleared my thoughts of Matt, straightened my spine, and stared at Patti. “You think you have all the answers, don’t you?”
She patted my head. “I can see the obvious.”
Wiping my face dry with the back of my hand, I sniffed. “Well, if it’s so crystal clear to you, then why don’t you make all my dating decisions from now on?”
“Huh?”
“I’m obviously not doing well on my own.” Maybe she could see the signs that I seemed to be missing. “So, from now on, you make all my dating decisions. What do you say?”
Patti stood, speechless, and seemed to consider it. Finally, she shook her head dismissively. “Like you’d really listen to me.”
I pushed up off the couch, crossed my arms, and stuck my chin out. “I would.”
Patti scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“If I say I would then I would. My word is my word.”
Patti paced the room, then looked at me pointedly. “If I were to put in the work for you, you’d have to follow through.”
The nerve of Patti not to trust my word. We’d been friends since junior high! But whatever. I raised my right hand anyway. “I do solemnly swear—”
“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.