The Starter Boyfriend

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The Starter Boyfriend Page 17

by Tina Ferraro


  “Remind me again,” she prompted that next evening, holding the fruit bowl on her head while doing a hip-thrusting salsa through the dining room. “I am the only cool step-parent at Sunset Beach High?”

  “Better than that,” I said, grabbing her waist to wiggle my way into a conga line. “You are the only totally cool one.”

  “Totally cool!” she cried out. “That’s me!”

  She waved her free hand at my dad, only to have him saunter his way up front to lead us in the shaking of an imaginary maraca.

  Making me think that Jennifer wasn’t joining our family as much as we were becoming hers. Which was also totally cool.

  * * *

  Jacy dropped by the softball table during morning break that next day to ask if I wanted to hit Mickey D’s with her at lunch.

  Across from me, Flea’s head jerked up. She and I had plans to split the caf’s special later, an oversized taco salad.

  “Thanks,” I told Jacy. “How about another time?”

  Jacy held my gaze a beat longer than necessary, telling me she’d sized up the situation. “You got it.”

  I bit back a smile, but my eyes didn’t follow Jacy as she wandered off, nor travel to Flea. They went instead to Saffron a couple seats over, who sat crunching carrot sticks as if in acts of protest, probably steaming mad that our lives were continuing on without her direction or permission. (Ha!)

  But hours later, pulling the dress bag from my backseat, I wasn’t exactly a happy camper myself. I just hoped I could pass the dress off to Phillip quickly, and keep our chilly encounter to a minimum.

  Crossing the parking lot with the dress cradled between my outstretched arms, my mind drifted back to the afternoon I’d tried the dress on, to the admiring look on Phillip’s face and even the mirrored reflection of my own. I remembered how the dress had made me feel different, prettier, smarter and more in control. And I marveled at how something as simple as fabric and notions could effect a person’s whole self-image. Almost like therapy. Retail therapy.

  I’ve loved retail on both sides of the counter. Too bad I’d screwed up and lost the best chance I had at making some kind of career out of that, huh?

  The sight of the window display took that, and all other rational thoughts, from my head. For it was empty. Darkened and empty.

  “Hello,” I called out, forcing myself through the doorway.

  Phillip repeated my greeting while stepping out from behind his desk. Instead of making a move to take the dress from my arms, he walked right on past.

  I turned to see him flipping the “We’re Open” sign to “We’re Closed.”

  Everything inside me tensed.

  “I want you to answer something for me, Courtney, truthfully,” he said, then pointed to the display rack for me to hang the dress. “When you took the mannequin out to the beach the other night, was it really for safety reasons? Or were you taking him on a date?”

  The hanger made a solid clunk as it connected with the rack, but I’m pretty sure my own gasp was even louder as I whirled in his direction. “Safety—really! I wouldn’t have taken it if it wasn’t important.”

  “All right,” he said and shrugged. “Because these past few weeks, sometimes when I’d find you beside the mannequin, well, I thought you were seeing more than was there. Like the mannequin had become sort of real to you.”

  I nodded; I couldn’t help myself.

  “Like a fantasy boyfriend.”

  Emotion grabbed hold of my throat. While my father and Adam had made noble efforts at recognizing Tux and what he might mean to me, Phillip had hit it on the head. “I called him my starter boyfriend,” I croaked out, then laughed. Not because it was at all funny, just crazy. “How did you know?”

  “Let’s just say you’re not the first teenager to be confused about your life, and to act out in an unusual way.” He sat the stool beside the alteration pedestal. “I’ll bet you didn’t know I was a football star in my day? Right here at Sunset Beach High.”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s how I got my limp, trying to crawl my way out of a huddle. That aside, I had a great life. So great, in fact, I developed a fear of high school ending. Meanwhile, my grandmother had moved in with us for what would be her final months, and proceeded to teach my sister and me her lifelong love of sewing. Which I thought was pretty pointless and stupid at first.

  “After she died, I really missed her,” he added, scratching at his chin. “I found myself stealing into her room sometimes and playing with her sewing machine. Just because it made me feel closer to her. Soon enough, I’d created this cool zombie Halloween costume. Next thing I knew, I was making them for the whole team. Which the guys loved—but only because I got my sister to cover for me, to say she made them. Because macho football players did not sew, right?

  “And therein lay the rub: the one thing that was giving me the most peace in my changing world would also give me the most grief if people ever found out.”

  Hearing Phillip found solace in needlework was hardly a shock, but I’d never considered when or how he got so good at it, and I was incredibly touched that he was sharing it. Especially after I’d done a big, fat nothing to deserve his confidence, let alone friendship.

  “I got my start in custom fabric furniture,” he went on. “Eventually moving on to this shop. It all worked out for me. And it will for you, too. Especially now that you’re ‘over’ the mannequin.” He narrowed his eyes. “You are over it?”

  “So over!” I spread my fingers out in front of me. “How did you figure it out?”

  “Your tension would just fall away when you got near the thing. And then I’d see you sort of fawn and flirt, telling me you were imagining it to be your boyfriend. When you announced you had a Homecoming date, I was so happy for you, hoping a ‘real boyfriend’ might help you to move on from the fake one.” His eyes widened. “Even though, honestly, I thought you had more chemistry with the surfer boy than the jock.”

  “You’re right,” I blew out on a breath, my fingers coming up to my warm cheeks. “About everything. The chemistry with Adam, the hiding inside the fantasy that Tux was my boyfriend. Wow, Phillip, thank you for seeing all that, and for understanding, and sharing. I’m only sorry I let you down the way I did.”

  He did a quick shrug. “Thing is, I’ve missed you around here, kiddo. It’s too quiet. Too boring.”

  He smiled, and I did, too.

  “If you can promise me that nothing like that would ever happen again—you’d never use your key after-hours, you’d never take any of my property out—I’d be willing to give you another chance. I think we make a pretty good team.”

  “Oh, Phillip!” I cried and threw myself at him in a hug so hard I almost knocked him off the stool. “Thank you! Thank you! You have my word.”

  “I take it that means yes.”

  I squealed. “Yes! I can’t tell you how happy I am to come back. To have your respect again, and this job.” I swallowed hard. “Not because I’m trying to hide from anything anymore. Because I love this job, and I’ve been realizing how much I’ve been learning from you, about fashion and retail, and, well, people. You’re kind of like college-before-college for me, helping me figure out my future.”

  A smile teased at his mouth. “Well, since you put it that way, I have no choice but to welcome you back, huh?” Then his smile fell away. “But no more messing around with my mannequin?”

  “I promise,” I said and crossed my heart. Because in addition to respecting my soon-to-be-boss-again’s wishes, I knew I no longer needed Tux.

  Sure, I still did not have a boyfriend. And my unrequited crush on Adam was bigger and badder than ever. But during the course of the past few days, I’d realized that a boyfriend—real or otherwise—didn’t guarantee happiness or social status or even peace of mind. Besides, those were all things I could earn on my own, if I lived my life right.

  “Good,” Phillip said, “because the mannequin’s coming back next week from the
repair shop. But not alone. Loaning out the dress to you got me thinking about trying the gown business again, too. So I ordered a female mannequin, too.”

  A smile took over my face. “You got Tux a girlfriend?”

  Phillip laughed. “Don’t go getting all weird again, Courtney.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, then gave him a quick hug. “I promise. I just think it’s funny. See you on Monday?”

  “Perfect.”

  I practically danced my way out of the shop, knowing while Tux and I would once again be “working” together, we would truly start our relationship all over again. I would go back to being a normal human being, and he a factory-made mannequin, and leave it at that.

  I had my job back!

  Plus, my dad and Jennifer would be married very soon. And I was on better than ever terms with Flea and my teammates.

  Who needed fantasy when reality was this good?

  Chapter 26

  Taking slow, measured maid of honor steps down the aisle on the country club bluff that Saturday afternoon, I concentrated on the sunshine, the piano notes, the smile on my father’s face up at the altar, and the glee that had been radiating in shimmery waves off the bride as she awaited her entrance.

  I was pretty sure the space station astronauts could track me in my pole dancer pink dress with their naked eyes, taking my go big or go home mantra a bit too far. But hey, why not scream the awesome news of my dad’s and Jennifer’s nuptials to the heavens above, right?

  As soon as I came to a graceful stop just left of the minister, I exchanged grins with best man Chuck, then turned with the entire congregation to the opening “dum dum de dum dum” of the Wedding March.

  I looked down the aisle to see Jennifer appear in a puffy white cloud of taffeta, waltzing toward us on her father’s arm. I beamed out a smile at her, and watched as she crept slowly closer.

  On her right I spotted Flea and Mrs. Hernandez, on her left was Adam’s mom and sister. That’s when I noticed the ushers at the back. Ushers—plural. Which was weird because while Wedding A had called for two (Jennifer’s nephew and Adam), Wedding B, of course, was one man short.

  Still, there were two. And the second one looked surprisingly, suspiciously, alarmingly, astonishingly like Adam.

  Well, what Adam might look like from a distance if he got all cleaned up and combed his hair. But he had a surfing championship in Oceanside today. It was what he’d been living and breathing for as long as I’d known him!

  I stared. I squinted. I think I might even have frowned a little. Then Jennifer finally strolled up beside me, and I had to follow protocol to turn with her toward the minister.

  Chuck caught my eye at that moment, and gave me a quick smile and a nod. Confirming to me it was Adam!

  But why? At no point over the past few days when we were sitting together in detention did he mention skipping out on the championship. Well, to be fair, the beady-eyed detention teacher didn’t give us much chance to talk. Still, he could have shot me a note or text or something.

  Forcing my head back into the ceremony, I nonetheless waited for any opportunity to glance back at the guests. As if simply catching Adam’s eye would somehow infuse me with much-needed answers.

  Eventually, the groom kissed his bride (making me burst into a mile-wide smile, for yippee, we were a family now) and they began their return procession down the aisle. Looping my arm through Chuck’s, I furiously whispered what I’d been wondering what felt like forever. “Why is Adam here?”

  “He can explain,” he simply said, then resumed his beaming at the guests.

  Big help. Finally, Chuck and I cleared the aisle, and I beelined it to Adam. Who stood off to the side, looking absolutely amazing with his hair all washed and combed and falling in casual waves around his face.

  “Hi,” I managed. The anticipation had been almost unbearable, and now the words just wouldn’t flow. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the championship?”

  “A couple things, like second thoughts about whether I was ready for that level of competition.” He ran a hand through his curls, and for a crazy moment, it was all my gaze and thoughts could follow. “Basically, Saffron pulled back that offer from her father. Which was actually a relief because I was feeling like a damned gigolo. I decided if I could qualify this year, I could do it again next year. Why not take the time to get the backing, and go into it mentally and financially prepared to win?”

  I studied his face, mesmerized by his Adonis-like looks and sudden maturity. I’d grown rather found of the slacker surfer boy, but this guy? Tuxedo Adam? Be still my heart!

  A faraway voice cut through those thoughts. “Courtney, we need you!”

  I looked over to see my dad calling to me from a cliffside bridal party shoot. Waving back, my gaze ping-ponged to Adam. “Duty calls. So, later on then?”

  “Sure. The dance floor?”

  Processing that question—with my insides screaming yes, yes, a thousand times, yes—I retained enough presence of mind to hold tight and grin. “I don’t know, Big Kahuna. Are you going to embarrass me by hanging ten and shooting the curl on the floor?”

  “Let’s just say I got moves, Beach Bunny.”

  Then he smiled—real slow. Which rained down like big surf on me, blocking basically all rational thought.

  “Okay, then,” I forced out and walked off. And steeled myself from sneaking a peek to see if he was watching. That way, I could at least pretend he had.

  * * *

  I did my best to be smiley and “present” throughout the photos, speeches, and first dances, but as soon as the floor opened to all couples, I put my internal G.P.S. on Adam.

  Funny thing was, he got to me first, pulling me out for a slow song made famous by one of Jennifer’s favorite 1990’s bands. We had an inept moment after he’d planted his hands on my waist while I tested mine on his shoulders and upper arms, where he laughed and I looked away.

  To bring us both back to earth, I asked what his other reason was for coming to the wedding. “You said there were a couple of things.”

  “Yeah, well, this is a life-changing event for your family, and for my dad, too, I guess. It felt right to be a part of it.”

  “Because of the dental practice.”

  “Like I said the other night, I feel like you and I have gotten closer lately. I kind of wanted to be here to share this with you.”

  “Thanks,” I managed, while a whole choir of “Awwww’s” and at least one “So sweet!” had a party in my head.

  To linger in that moment, I slid in a bit closer, pressing my forehead against his shoulder, and my nose on the northern tip of the satin notch lapel. Where I was struck by the warm, homey scent of tuxedo polyester gabardine, and just a slight hint of mothball. Nice.

  “Well, don’t you two look terrific,” Jennifer’s voice cut into my thoughts.

  I looked up to see her and my dad dancing toward us. “Hey,” I said and let out a little laugh. “Forget about us. How great is it to see you two as bride and groom?”

  Jennifer’s face went all shimmery.

  My dad smiled lovingly at her, then gazed back my way. “It’s definitely drop knee.”

  I felt my heart smack against my ribs. I knew I had to stay calm, to regroup and force out another laugh, but how completely insensitive of my dad to bring up that sore spot between Jennifer and me right now? Especially when we’d just become a family?

  That’s when I felt the rumble of Adam’s voice. “You said it, Mr. Walsh. Definitely drop knee.”

  A look seemed to pass between the guys, then my dad and Jennifer waltzed off. As if everything was all right.

  I didn’t even get the first word of my “What the heck just happened?” question out of my mouth before Adam was answering it.

  “Funny thing. My dad’s using that expression now, too. Don’t know if he picked it up straight from Jennifer or through your dad, or if everyone their age is saying it.”

  I shook my head
in utter amazement, wondering if it would end up on a sit-com after all. Wasn’t life crazy? Then I pressed my cheek back against his satiny lapel, until I realized there were still some things between us left unsaid. “So you never told me, Adam, when did you decide to go with usher duty?”

  “Just yesterday. I had my dad call your dad. But it turned out, it was too late to order a tuxedo. Thank God your boss had one in the back room that I could wear with only minor alterations.”

  I felt my eyebrows cinch together. “But we special order everything. Must have been a return or something.”

  “No, this is the one from the window. You know, that the mannequin wore.”

  My breath backed up in my lungs. Tux’s tux?

  Of course, this was the thirty-eight inch long, thirty-two inch inseam style 02116! Complete with the “silver moon” vest and tie, the satin notch lapel and satin side seamed pants.

  I should have spotted it a mile away. It’s just that for all its pizzazz and wonder, I was blinded by the boy inside.

  “Phillip didn’t even charge me. And then told me to keep it. Said it had already been retired from rentals, and with a new idea in mind for the window, he was retiring it from there, too.”

  I smiled inwardly. How much did I love that Adam was this tux’s final destination?

  “I’m not sure when I’m going to wear it again, though. Unless I go to prom or something.” He huffed out a little laugh. “If I can find someone I want to take. Hey, maybe you’d even go with me?”

  “Stranger things could happen,” I said, knowing this was just talk. “And maybe Phillip would let me borrow that blue dress again. I love that dress, and don’t tell Jennifer, but this one? Ugh!”

  “Courtney, you look beautiful in it.”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “You always look beautiful.”

  “Really?”

  His words resonated in my mind. (He thought I was beautiful!) Taking away the strength in my knees, and the last of my willpower to resist him. “Then why,” I heard myself say, “did you pull away the other night?”

 

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