Not My Type : Golden Girls 1

by Veronica Adler

  “You’re planning on obsessing about my love life for the rest of your life?”

  “Are you planning on staying single for the rest of your life?”

  That wasn’t the plan. It had never been. I had a feeling that the older I got, the harder it was becoming to find a woman I thought I could spend my life with. Falling in love didn’t require you to be a particular age; I felt like that was the way it was going to be for me, though. As if I had missed the chance.

  When I didn’t answer her question, Emily glowed with a ‘gotcha’ look on her face.

  “Are you still planning on going skydiving this weekend with Ian? Because I know someone—”

  I held up my hand to stop her. I was going skydiving with my best friend this weekend and I didn’t want to turn that into a date. My adventures were for my peace of mind, like meditation. The last thing I wanted was to turn those into dates, knowing that I had to be on my personal best when all I wanted was to stop thinking.

  “Exactly how many single women do you know?” I asked.

  “Would you rather I set you up with someone I met in line at the grocery store?” Emily demanded, raising her eyebrows.

  “If I have a choice, I would rather you didn’t try to set me up with anyone.”

  Emily rolled back her shoulders, her face taking on this pitying look, which I didn’t understand. I wished she would go bother Sienna. This was a terrible way to appreciate me for being a nice sibling.

  “Look, I am doing this for your good. You work all the time, when are you supposed to meet someone? I told you this before, and I am telling you again, you are not meant to end up with a doctor, or lawyer, or financial guru, or someone with an equally stressful job. Take my advice, and trust me. I will not guide you wrong,” she said earnestly.

  My leg was shaking under the desk. I put my hand on my thigh, willing my leg to stop jumping. Emily grimaced, the look on her face telling me she knew her words were stressing me out and my body was reacting to it. It started happening right around the time my parents got divorced. I started taking out my anger in small ways which didn’t help matters, and then it got so bad the only way I could think of to make it better was to go away.

  “Never mind all that,” Emily said. “My second reason for coming here is to tell you that you have won. Again.”

  At first, I was confused, then I realized what she was talking about.

  “You’re kidding. Again?” I asked, laughing lightly. I felt the tension ease from my body.

  “Uh, yeah. It bugs me.”

  I laughed loudly. All the cousins, including us, made a bet each time someone in the family brought over their significant other to a family gathering. We guessed how long the relationship would last and whoever came the closest to the breakup date won. It was morbid, and mean; we played The Price is Right with relationships. The only way it still worked was because no one minded and took offense. Least of all me; I had won the last two times.

  “David and Nadine broke up?” I asked.

  “Violently. In front of people. We all went out about two weeks ago, and they broke up in the middle of the restaurant. I couldn’t contain my laughter! I felt like such a terrible person. She threw soup at him.”

  “Soup isn’t so bad.”

  Emily tilted her head to the side. “Have you ever had hot soup thrown at you?”

  “No. Then again, I have never broken up in a public place.”

  “Anyway, you have won. So don’t be surprised when a large amount of money shows up in your bank account. What do you plan on doing with it?”

  “The same thing I always do,” I said.

  Emily threw her head back and groaned. “Ugh. Why can’t you do something exciting with it?”

  It had never occurred to me to do something exciting with it, or use it on myself. The best thing I could think of to do was to donate the money. I didn’t want to feel any guilt about it later on.

  “What would you do with it?” I asked.

  “Go on vacation, probably?”

  “I work for the money I use for vacation.”

  “But this is fun money,” Em persisted.

  I made a split-second decision. “Fine, I will split it between you and Sienna.”

  A couple of days later, I was grabbing coffee with Dr. Sinha when I saw Eve Darling again. She was standing in line behind me and I caught her reflection in the mirrored mosaic behind the counter. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was her. It could have been another blonde woman who shared a resemblance with her. I had been thinking about her enough that for a moment I thought I had either conjured her or I was seeing her where she wasn’t.

  Until her eyes met mine and she whirled around, away from me. I could still see her reflection in the glass of the entrance door. She mumbled a quick curse word.

  “You do realize I can see and hear you?” I asked in amusement. Some part of me was concerned about the excitement that rose inside me at seeing her. I wanted her.

  There was no denying that. I had spent a lot of time thinking about her, more than I should have about a stranger and the reason was obvious.

  I turned around, watching Eve’s back rise and fall. She was wearing tight, high-waisted jeans that curved over her ass in the most delectable way. Her hair was in a high ponytail that bounced and almost hit me in the face when she turned around to face me. She splashed on a fake, bright smile on her face.

  “It’s you,” she said.

  I snorted. “Your enthusiasm is killing me.”

  She raised her hands in a “what are you going to do about it?” gesture.

  “You can’t blame me for not being enthusiastic. There are about 1.5 million people in this city and for some reason, we keep running into each other,” she said.

  I slid my hands into my pants pocket and stepped away from the line to let the next person in line order. Eve, despite not wanting to see me, followed me as I stepped away.

  “Are you saying its fate?” I asked.

  Eve frowned. Her eyes shone under the lights and she arched her brow mockingly.

  “You believe in fate?”

  “I like to think that there are some things that happen for a reason, whether good or bad.”

  Eve looked over her shoulder, towards a dark-haired girl sitting at a table in the back. Eve held up one finger, telling her to wait. I looked towards Indra, who was talking on the phone. I had to get back to her. We had to work together every day and while I didn’t expect us to be friends, I did want to build a good rapport with her.

  “And are we good or bad?” Eve asked.

  “What do you think?”

  She shook her head, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, and I think she smiled. Just a little. When she turned back to me, the smile had disappeared, if it was even there.

  “I don’t think anything. I think I should stop running into you because our first encounter was kind of humiliating for me.”

  “It was equally as humiliating for me,” I countered. “I don’t go around spilling coffee on women.”

  Eve wrinkled her nose, tilting her head to the side. “Did I see your cupcake underwear, in a grocery store of all places?”

  “Okay, that was…I thought the cupcake underwear was very on-brand for you. It was cute.”

  She snorted. “Cute, sure.” She looked back at her friend, who was watching us with her chin resting on her hand, a curious smile on her face. “I should get back to my friend.”

  “Right, of course.” God, I hoped it sounded as casual as I wanted it to, and not at all sullen. There was an easy solution to our problem and as I opened my mouth to suggest it, Eve was already turning around to walk away, shooting me a curious look over her shoulder.

  I watched her talk to her friend, who was smiling widely. Eve quickly grabbed her purse and ushered her friend out of the coffee shop. Her friend waved goodbye at me, her excited blue eyes meeting mine for a moment before she disappeared out the door. Eve stopped at the door, glanced at me momentarily.
Our eyes met briefly and I saw many questions in hers, but someone was waiting to get into the coffee shop. Eve walked out, leaving her questions unasked. And leaving me wishing I had taken the chance to ask her out.

  Chapter 5 - Eve

  “We want to go with the lemon cake. It’s unexpected as a wedding cake, and so are we. Feel free to ignore my mother. It’s my wedding.”

  The bride looked radiant with joy and happiness. I jotted down her request in my notebook, under the title Stevenson-Baker Wedding. Normally, I never met with my clients. There were so many special orders that I didn’t have the time to meet with each, individual client and get their preferences. I had them meet with the manager/my assistant, Sheila. I was always reluctant to do flavor choices because if the flavor didn’t turn out just right, I wouldn’t be satisfied, even if my clients were.

  I was meeting with Ainsley mostly because her presence provided a much-needed distraction. After the morning I’d had, a distraction was much needed. I could feel Sheila’s gaze on me from where she stood behind the counter, talking to one of the customers. She was talking to him and focused on me. It bugged me.

  So, I’d burned a tray of cupcakes. And talked loudly at one of my employees when they had gotten the buttercream consistency wrong, which for me was the equivalent of yelling like Gordon Ramsay. I didn’t burn cupcakes, and I didn’t scream at my employees. I was the best boss in the world. I even had a coffee cup to prove it!

  I was distracted, and disoriented. The last time I had this feeling, I lost out on a guest judge spot and flashed my underwear in a grocery store. I should have realized something untoward was going to happen today.

  “The lemon is a good choice,” I said to Ainsley. She beamed at me. She was positively glowing with love and excitement. I was a little jealous of my client. I admit I wasn’t actively looking for a man. At this point, I was sort of hoping that I wouldn’t have to do much and my perfect man would just fall in my lap. Hah.

  Ainsley began talking about the wedding venue, her momzilla of a mother who wanted to control every aspect of the wedding, and how much she was looking forward to her honeymoon. It reminded me why I never met with clients, especially brides. They needed someone to vent to.

  I was just about to tell her that I had a ton of work to do, and couldn’t stay there all day when something over her shoulder caught my eye. A woman was standing outside the bakery, waving her hand at me wildly. She had the world’s biggest grin on her face and giant sunglasses that made her look bug-eyed.

  “Oh my god, who’s that crazy woman?” Ainsley asked, following my gaze.

  “That’s my mother.”

  Ainsley’s ear turned red and she turned wide, apologetic eyes on me. “Sorry.”

  “Trust me, I would think the same thing.”

  “Um, I should be going. I have another meeting. Thanks for meeting with me,” Ainsley said, gathering her purse and pink wedding binder. “You’ll be in touch?”

  I agreed, and Ainsley walked out just as my mother walked in.

  “Evie!” She cried, holding her arms out wide. The customers looked up, and around, noticing the commotion. I hated the attention, but I stepped into my mother’s arms and she engulfed me. She smelled of gardenias and turpentine. An odd mixture that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling back.

  “Oh, I just came to see you,” Mom said casually, waving her hand in the air.

  “You drove two hours just to see me?” I asked. My mother hated driving. It was a chore for her.

  “Yes.”

  “You hate driving. It’s too boring.”

  “Kelly told me about these wonderful things called Podcasts. It’s like radio, but with stories instead of songs. You should try it! Kelly and I are listening to a true crime one and it’s grueling. We’ve started a Podcast club where we get together every week and talk about that week’s episode.”

  I suppressed a smile at her excitement. Leave it to my mother to be excited about something people had been listening to for years.

  “I already know about Podcasts, Mom. I listen to a few of them.”

  “You do? You never told me. Tell me which ones you listen to, and we’ll listen to them together.”

  “Mom, you did not come to San Diego to talk to me about Podcasts. What’s going on?”

  Immediately, I thought of the worst, that foreboding feeling twisting in my stomach.

  Mom’s excited expression shuttered for just a moment before the smile was back in place. It was so wide she could have been doing a toothpaste commercial.

  “I did come to talk about Podcasts. Let’s talk in your office,” Mom said.

  It was something bad, I knew it. Oh god, what could it possibly be? Sheila was throwing me concerned glances from where she was talking on the phone. I ignored her looks for the moment, turning and leading Mom behind the counter, down the tiny hallway, and into my equally tiny office. It was just big enough for a desk, a chair, and two people. I closed the door behind us and whirled around to face Mom.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” I demanded.

  Mom took a deep breath, adjusted her sunglasses on her head. She reached for my hand, holding it between both of hers.

  “What’s wrong is this,” she said somberly. “This idea that we can only meet if something is wrong. Do you know when was the last time we spoke? Two weeks ago!”

  I stared at my mother, bug-eyed. Mom sniffed and stared back defiantly, genuine sadness in her grey eyes.

  “Mom!” I exclaimed. “You’re not serious? I am sorry I didn’t call, but I am busy. Why didn’t you call?”

  “For you to send me to voicemail or have Sheila answer your phone?” Mom asked. I knew she didn’t mean to sound scathing, yet that’s how her words hit me. I winced. I knew it sounded like an excuse, except I was genuinely busy. Even now I was thinking about the cookie dough cooling in the fridge and the shortbread cookies I still had to make and the puff pastry and the croissants with buttercream and jam filling. It was getting so bad I even dreamt about baked goods and oven timers.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. Really,” I said sincerely.

  “I know you’re busy. I am busy, too. One phone call once a week is all I’m asking for. I want to tell my daughter the exciting things I’m doing and I want to know what you’re doing.”

  Mom was always taking up some hobby or another. She used to be a criminal defense lawyer, a great one at that. One day, ten years ago, she woke up and decided to retire because she couldn’t see herself going to the same place of work and doing the same thing over and over again any longer. Ever since then, she’s devoted her free time to providing online tutoring sessions to law students, taking up hobbies such as cooking, pottery, gardening, painting, etc. She wanted to do everything she didn’t have the time to do while she was busy defending criminals.

  I reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

  “Thank you for coming here,” I said. “I’ll try to be better.”

  She held out her arms and I stepped into them. I was a terrible daughter. Without her and my father, I would probably have disappeared into the foster care system, unloved and uncared for. My parents provided me the safety and security that every child should grow up with.

  “Oh, honey, of course. I love you,” Mom said, rubbing my back.

  “I love you, too.” I pulled back to look at her. “I can probably sneak out for a quick lunch if you want.”

  “Yes, we’ll have lunch and talk about Podcasts!” Mom said, excitedly.

  “Awesome.”

  I grabbed my purse from the bottom drawer of my desk and walked into the kitchen to tell TJ he was in charge for the next half an hour. TJ was my second-in-command, the one I trusted to take over for me when I needed a short break.

  I donned my cardigan and followed Mom to her sporty convertible Mercedes. Something that her best friend, Kelly, had introduced her to.

  “Did I tell you Daddy and I are taking danc
e classes?” Mom asked. She wrapped a silk scarf around her head to keep her hair from flying and donned cat eyeglasses. She looked like Audrey Hepburn.

  “I have a hard time imagining Dad agreeing to that,” I said.

  “He didn’t want to at first but my arguments were better than his and I won,” Mom said airily. “Anything exciting happening with you?”

  My mind immediately conjured up every encounter with the handsome stranger, each scene flitting through my mind. I couldn’t tell my mother that. She would get needlessly excited, and about a man whose name I still didn’t know because I never bothered to ask it. Wasn’t I just the smartest?

  “Nope, nothing exciting,” I said.

  “Are you seeing someone?” Mom asked. Did she have a sixth sense? She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, though there was no music playing.

  “Like ghosts?”

  “Like a man. Romantically,” she said. Definitely a sixth sense. I could picture her rolling her eyes behind those sunglasses.

  “Nope.”

  “You know, Kelly has a son.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Nice boy. Just a little older than you. He’s a lawyer.”

  I crossed my arms and looked at her in disbelief. “Are you seriously trying to set me up?”

  “What?” Mom asked innocently. “Is it wrong to care about my daughter’s love life?”

  She pulled into the parking lot of a charming little bistro that served the best Mexican food. Mom parked the car and unwrapped her scarf. I picked up my purse from the footwell of the car and got out. I followed after her, wondering if she had taken some sort of medication before she came here. I hoped Kelly hadn’t peer-pressured my mother into self-medicating with Xanax.

  We went into the restaurant and the hostess led us to a table by the windows and handed us our menus.

  “Damn,” Mom mumbled. “I left my glasses in the car.”