The Boyfriend List

by Novelle, R. S.

  Shaking his head, the man clicked his tongue. “Oh honey.” Putting both hands on his hips, which he cocked to the side, he stood back to look at her. Reagan’s eyes widened expectantly, still unsure if the expression was good or bad. But finally, the man clapped his hands together and exclaimed excitedly, “You look fabulous!”

  A relieved gust of breath whooshed from her lungs as she watched the guy practically jumping up and down with enthusiasm. “Really?” Reagan smiled in his direction, but couldn’t take her eyes off her own reflection in the mirror. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh.” He agreed. “And you’ve got the body for it girl. Work it.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis, then promptly sat down on a nearby stool, crossing his legs and resting his hands delicately over his knees. “Where are we going?” He asked, ready to dish out the girl talk.

  “My best friend’s black tie birthday party.” Confidence was slowly returning to her voice.

  “Perfect. Perfect.” He gave a couple of nods of approval on her selection for the event. “But you can’t go just like that. You need to accessorize a little, Love. Come with me.”

  Waving a hand at her, he quickly moved around the store, draping her with necklaces, putting shoes in front of her to compare them with the dress, and holding earrings up to see how they matched. After a few minutes, Reagan was beginning to feel as though she was his little live doll, and she didn’t half mind it.

  Trotting back toward the dressing room to examine the finished product, Reagan stood in front of the mirror feeling exactly like a movie star – minus the expertly done hair and makeup of course. But still, she had a good imagination.

  “Now you’re ready for your best friend’s black tie birthday party.” Standing behind Reagan, the clerk was admiring his own work. And as she smiled into her reflection, she couldn’t have agreed more with his sentiments. This was it!

  She quickly changed, and passed everything she’d been wearing into his capable hands, which he promptly rushed to the checkout desk before she could change her mind.

  Bumping the shop girl out of the way with his hip – who merely scowled in irritation with her arms crossed over her chest - the clerk began ringing up each of Reagan’s new items. As he scanned the last one, he hit a button on the register and called out her total. “That’ll be six thousand, three hundred and eighty-two dollars.”

  A fist of astonishment reared back and hit her full force in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her lungs. “Excuse me?” That price definitely wasn’t in her student budget. Clearly there must’ve been some kind of mistake, she thought. That was more than most people she knew made in a month! And this was only a little hole-in-the-wall boutique on campus, not a major fashion label. Yes, Reagan decided, there definitely was a mistake to be found.

  When the clerk repeated himself, his voice was decidedly more prim. “Six thousand, three hundred and eighty-two.” It was becoming clear to him from Reagan’s expression that his newest customer was not of the means he’d originally assumed, and he might not be getting that big commission check from the sale after all.

  “I think an extra zero was added in there by mistake?” Reagan suggested in all seriousness.

  Looking at the register, then back at Reagan, the clerk shook his head, “No. No mistake.”

  “Then the register forgot the decimal after the eight.” She was trying too hard now, and she could feel it.

  “Sorry Love. No such luck.” His face fell in disappointment. “Didn’t you look at the tag before you tried it on?”

  Reagan shook her head that she hadn’t, and a frown of frustration furrowed into the corners of her mouth. It would be the last time she’d make that mistake, that was for sure. As she racked her brain to come up with a solution – or at the very least, a suitable escape plan – she was quite literally saved by the bell when her phone began to ring. Plucking it from her purse and using it to indicate she had an emergency on her hands, she politely excused her way out of the boutique.

  But as she glanced back after opening the door, she noticed the clerk was already restocking her selection, and it was clear they’d seen right through her act. Trying not to be too shaken with disappointment that the dress wasn’t coming home with her after all, she focused her scattered attention on the call. “What’d ya find for me?”

  “Hi to you too.” He jokingly said.

  “Sorry, lots on my mind.” Reagan breathed deeply and began again. “Hi.” It came out overly enthusiastic.

  “Hi.” There was a brief, but thoughtful, pause on the other side of the line. “You okay?”

  Reagan sighed. “No. No, I’m not okay, actually. I found the perfect dress for Petra’s party in a little store on campus. It fit perfectly, it looked perfect...but the price was not perfect. So, I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I have nothing to wear to this thing and you know how she is about details. Everything has to be... perfect.” She sighed.

  “How much was it?”

  “Six thousand dollars.”

  “So, no dress?” Ian sounded confused, and Reagan was confused by his confusion. Did he have six thousand dollars for a dress? Because if he did, they needed to have a little conversation about that.

  “No. No dress because I don’t have six thousand dollars. I don’t even have six hundred dollars, my scholarship isn’t that generous and neither is my mom. She’s already complaining about paying for my transmission. And now I don’t have anything to wear and the party’s three days away and I have no idea what I’m going to do.” Reagan stopped to take a deep breath before she exploded. “So there you have it. I’m boyfriendless, dressless, and energyless at this point.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I would’ve loved to see you in it.”

  “You don’t even know what it looked like.” She half laughed.

  “Yeah, but I’d love to see how you look when you feel perfect.”

  Reagan had to roll the comment over a couple times before she really understood the depth of it. He hadn’t said when she looked perfect, like most guys she knew would’ve. He’d said when she felt perfect. He’d said that, right? Or maybe she was imagining it...

  “It’s okay. Why were you calling again?” Surely not to hear me moan about my pathetic existence, she reprimanded herself.

  “I found some information on your dream guy.”

  “He’s not my dream guy. I mean, I don’t really know yet. Ya know?”

  Ian gave in and laughed good-naturedly. “Right. Anyway. Turns out the guy’s a senior, has had six appearances in the local paper for his stupendous soccer achievements, drives a BMW X6 that daddy paid for, and has gotten two speeding tickets in it that I know of. He has no pets, no siblings, and more importantly for you, no girlfriend at the moment. Actually, I couldn’t find proof that he’s ever even had a girlfriend to tell you the truth. Oh, and his Facebook wall is really, really boring by the way. If you ask me, this guy hasn’t had much of a life.”

  Reagan would’ve liked to point out that no one had asked him, but refrained and teased instead…

  “Well, not everyone can be as exciting as you, Ian.”

  “That’s very true.”

  “Thanks for doing that. That was cool of you.” But as Reagan looked toward traffic to cross the road, she caught from the corner of her eye a very distant glimpse of Brett. Speak of the devil... He was leaving the athletic building, still in practice clothes, with a gym bag draped over his shoulder. And though he appeared to be going in the opposite direction Reagan was headed, he was alone. She’d be going way out of her way, way out of her way, but it was worth the chance. Who knew what kind of opportunity it could open up... “Let me call you back later,” Reagan finally said, “I just saw something I want to check into.”

  “Okay.”

  The hint of disappointment she heard in his voice lingered with her for a while after she disconnected the call.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The irony of her situation hadn’t escaped
her. Reagan realized she was not only fully participating in the exact scenario she’d argued against with Petra only days before, but was willfully taking it to the next level as she crossed the street and fell right into Brett’s path behind him. Though she was probably about ten yards back – safe enough that no one would ever catch on – she knew what she was up to, and if she was going to be perfectly frank with herself, the decision had her questioning her own sanity...

  Still, she couldn’t deny the adrenaline rush of being that much closer to finding out if she could check off one or two more qualities from her list. It was the principle of it at this point, she decided. The quest to find the perfect man hounded her, and she wanted to know if in fact he existed, or was just another myth concocted from romance books and sappy movies. From what she’d seen so far, if there was going to be a candidate for perfection anywhere in the world, it would be Brett. She was certain of it.

  So why was Ian’s checklist still lingering in the back of her mind? All the qualities had been marked off already... at least, all the ones she’d been brave enough to verify. She wouldn’t have to stalk him because she knew everything there was to know about him. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe she knew too much, and the knowledge was working against her now. And that’s where books and movies got it right. On paper, Ian looked perfect and in the movie version of him, there wouldn’t have been time to show every time he farted on the couch or his history of being a habitual flirt. The audience could easily fall in love with him because they didn’t know he was incapable of holding down a relationship for longer than a month, and therefore prone to breaking their hearts...

  Or was he? He’d held down a relationship with her for the better part of three years, hadn’t he? Albeit, a very different kind of relationship without any of the nice fringe benefits. But still, shouldn’t she let that count for something?

  It was a mute point, she decided. Despite Petra’s biased observations, Ian had never shown an interest in Reagan like that. It was a waste of time even considering him as an option. She might as well throw his list away.

  Becoming caught up in her thoughts was an easy distraction as they bounced around inside her head, gathering confusion and resentment as she went back and forth between them. It was too much to focus on at once, and before she’d realized what’d happened she completely lost sight of Brett. The scattered crowds had loomed in around them, and he’d disappeared into the activity. “Seriously?” Her rhetorical question was directed only at herself, before she began to mutter, “This can’t be happening.” And if not for the quiet, muffled laughter at her back, she would’ve thought she was the only one who could hear.

  Not the case, Reagan quickly found out. Turning sharply on her heel, she found the perpetrator was a gangly, skinny man who was standing – or rather hiding - behind a hot dog stand. The faded gray shirt that hung from his bony shoulders drooped low over blue shorts that were just a little too long. With purchase in his hand, he was eyeing her closely, clearly entertained by her one-way dialog.

  But his comic appreciation for her little tantrum wasn’t sitting well with her.

  With eyes blazing hot in anger – not only at his rude interjection, but at the entire culmination of the events leading up to this moment – she stalked toward him. It had been the wrong time on the wrong day to laugh at her, and she could feel the animosity pulsating through her. One more word from him, and she was about to completely and totally snap.

  “What are you laughing at?” The words tumbled out in more of a sharp accusation than a legitimate question.

  He said nothing, probably the wisest choice he’d made by far. But rather immediately broke eye contact and pretended like he hadn’t heard her, while he busied himself by focusing intently on the ketchup packets in his hand. Reagan, however, wasn’t fooled.

  “No really.” She pressed. “What are you laughing at?”

  This time he did look up, but merely to shake his head and lift his hands in surrender. Fully equipped with all the right phrases to guarantee an apology, Reagan began walking toward him. She was tired of being someone else’s entertainment at her own expense, and this time she wasn’t going to allow it. This time, she’d let it be known that Reagan Carter was not to be messed with. “You think it’s okay to laugh at someone who’s having a bad day?”

  But instead of getting the apology she desired, the guy simply picked up his bag, threw the remainder of his hot dog into his mouth and ran. Standing wide eyed, she watched him fly over the grass toward the large red brick building that housed the law school. She’d scared him off, she mused to herself. That had to be a first for her, and she kind of liked the feeling.

  “Do you think it’s okay to run off someone’s business?” The man operating the simple cart was looming down at her, but there was a glint in his eyes that gave him away. He’d been entertained by her performance, Reagan was fairly confident in that.

  “He’d already paid hadn’t he?”

  After receiving his simple shrug in reply, she allowed her eyes to fully roam all the offerings that the little cart supplied. A sudden whiff of warm bread and tangy mustard reminded her of just how hungry she was getting. A snack probably wouldn’t be a bad idea, her plans for the day were thoroughly thrown off anyway. Flashing a beaming pageant smile up at the man, she ordered a salted pretzel and soda, then equipped herself with a few extra packets of mustard.

  “That’ll be ten dollars.”

  Reagan gaped at him in disbelief. “What?”

  “Ten dollars.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  The man’s face grew solemn. “For the pretzel and soda.”

  “It’s just a piece of dough.”

  “Yeah, ten dollars worth of dough.”

  “What is it about today?” Reagan exclaimed to herself as she dug into her purse and pulled out the cash. If she continued at this rate, she might have to start looking for a job after all.

  After gingerly brushing away a bit of the heavy salt with the corner of her napkin, Reagan took the first bite and felt immediate relief. Not even a little dry, though the benefit of mustard wouldn’t hurt, it was perfectly chewy and absolute heaven. But she needed to feel productive again, so she’d have to take her snack on the road and start making her way back to the apartment. The homework she’d been putting off this week in order to accommodate her little mission was quickly piling up, and Reagan could feel it weighing on her shoulders. Situating herself so that the soda was in her left hand, and what was left of the pretzel was in the right, she stepped away from the cart.

  Away from the cart, and right into the path of a man walking his rather large canine friend. By the time Reagan had realized what she’d done, the leash had been loosely wrapped around her feet.

  “Oops.” She looked down at her predicament, then up into the eyes of the stranger. An embarrassed smile quickly shot out from her lips. “Sorry about that.”

  Though she tried to step out, the circle only grew tighter around her ankles as the friendly animal came closer to sniff out his new companion. It was a cute dog, but the cuteness was lost on Reagan as it zeroed in on the smell of the pretzel instead. Instinctively, she pulled the food closer to her body, and the dog inched up even more.

  “It’s his favorite treat.” Somehow, the fact that Reagan was tangled in the leash and his dog was preparing to hijack her food was a nonissue for the guy. He was smiling down at the creature as he explained the animal’s odd behavior, but had yet to offer Reagan even the simplest form of assistance. Heck, she was even getting the vibe that she was going to have to pay for her freedom with her ten dollar pretzel!

  While Reagan simmered in her annoyance, she glanced over at the vendor, hoping to recruit him for help in this mess. But found, as she’d half expected she would, that he was smiling broadly, enjoying the show far too much to help.

  Having nothing else she could think to do, she sighed and played along.

  “What’s his name?”

&
nbsp; “Dover.” The man responded with pride.

  “Dover.” She repeated out loud, then looked him square in the eye as she cooed to him. “Well Dover, you’re not getting any of my lunch little buddy. No you’re not.” But Dover merely tilted his head and crooked one ear up into the air as if to say ‘That’s what you think’.

  Just to be sure there were no hurt feelings between Dover and herself - in case she wasn’t being delusional and Dover had managed a response - Reagan held her soda precariously against her chest with her elbow, testing it to be sure it wasn’t going to spill before bending down until she was at the dog’s level, ready to give him a pat on the head.

  At least, that had been her intention. But most of Reagan’s intentions weren’t working out to her benefit this week. She’d miscalculated the animal. Significantly so.

  The short story: Dover made a direct leap at her pretzel, and Reagan stumbled backwards. The only place for her to go was down, thanks to the leash around her ankles that no one had helped her get out of. But never again would anyone be able to convince Reagan that dogs do not understand English. That little guy had understood every word she’d said, and had risen to meet the challenge. Literally.

  After landing squarely on her satchel, successfully crunching everything inside, Reagan laid sprawled on the pavement, stunned, and almost amused. She wasn’t aware enough yet of what had transpired to feel angry, but she was extremely aware of the brown, sticky, syrupy drink that was running down her chest and hands, and she hated every second of the feeling. In an effort to remedy his mess, or just quench his thirst from the afternoon snack that had been quickly devoured, Dover made his way over to her, his wet tongue lapping up what soda hadn’t soaked into the thread of her clothes. He even provided a big wet kiss to her cheek in thanks before running off again.

  When Reagan was finally able to sit up, she found both owner and dog were quickly running in the opposite direction so as not to be associated with the catastrophe that had just taken place. She reached for her now empty cup and threw it in their general direction, missing them completely.