Love Inc.

by Yvonne Collins

  Whatever he’d planned to say to me never came up, and I decided to leave well enough alone. Just the same, I can’t help asking him now if we can stop for coffee and hang out a little longer.

  Rico shakes his head. ‘Can’t tonight. Promised to help Pete install new speakers in his car. Which reminds me, do you notice anything different about Daisy?’ He doesn’t wait for my answer. ‘New shock absorbers. I can change the size of the constriction valve to stiffen up the suspension.’

  ‘Cool,’ I say, as if his words made sense. ‘Did you do it yourself?’

  ‘Of course,’ he says. ‘No one else touches Miss Daisy unless it’s life or death. Besides, I had to fill my lonely Saturday afternoon. My girl was too busy to see me.’

  Rico describes the installation in detail, using terms like ‘velocity-sensitive,’ and ‘hydraulic damping’ that would normally send me rushing into my fantasy TV show to develop a new recipe. But as we weave through the twinkling lights of Austin’s evening traffic, I stay in the moment, smiling over the two words purring in my ears:

  My Girl.

  ‘I’m so jealous,’ Kali whispers, as Lauren rattles on about her boyfriend, Trey. ‘Do you know how rare that is?’

  Syd has removed her jacket to reveal a vintage London Calling T-shirt. I actually know a lot about ‘80s bands like the Clash because Dad is a big fan. At least, he used to be. Since we moved, he only listens to jazz. He must think that’s a cool, single dad thing to do.

  ‘Yup,’ Syd says, pulling a collapsible bowl from her knapsack and filling it with water for Banksy. Dieter didn’t look thrilled about the dog’s return, but Father Casey’s word must be the law at St. Joe’s. ‘Eric found it for me on eBay.’

  ‘Is Eric your boyfriend?’ Kali asks. ‘Mr Complicated?’

  ‘Hey,’ Simon says. ‘Rude dudes. Lauren’s talking about Trevor. Can you keep it down?’

  Kali, Syd, and I smother a laugh. ‘For the record, her boyfriend’s name is Trey,’ I say.

  ‘Since when do you care about the Shopaholic’s love life?’ Syd asks.

  ‘Nothing wrong with a little shopping,’ Evan joins in. ‘A trip to the mall can cure what ails you.’

  Kali stares at him. ‘You really are stoned.’

  Dieter claps three times. ‘Let’s stay focused.’ He looks more human today in a golf shirt and jeans, although the jeans have been ironed and the fluorescent lights reflect off his polished loafers. ‘Lauren was telling us how hard it was to bump into her mom and her new boyfriend over the weekend.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lauren says. ‘Because Trey was with me. I don’t know what I’d do without him.’

  I expect Syd to mock this, but she’s staring down at her T-shirt, absentmindedly tracing the lettering. Evan is so riveted by this that when Syd finally looks up, she says, ‘Eyes off. Or lose them.’

  Dieter claps again. ‘Let’s wrap up for today.’ He opens his briefcase and pulls out the tourist map of Austin I made, along with a sparkly, fuchsia scrapbook. No mystery about who put together the presentation for the opposing team.

  Holding one in each hand, Dieter says, ‘And the winner of the Transitions Fall Session Scavenger Hunt is … everyone.’

  ‘It was a tie?’ Kali asks. She reaches for the scrapbook and flips through it. ‘What the hell?’

  She passes the scrapbook to Syd and me to check out. The only photo that corresponds to the scavenger hunt is one of Simon pushing Lauren into the fountain at UT. Most of the other pictures are of Simon and Evan posing with salesgirls in high-end stores. The final shot features Lauren standing in front of the Barton Creek Mall sign, flanked by Simon and Evan, who are loaded down with shopping bags.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask, trying not to jump to conclusions.

  ‘These jokers wouldn’t take the scavenger hunt seriously, that’s what happened,’ Lauren says. ‘Two hours of their screwing around – and wet clothes – and I’d had it. So I went to the mall, and I couldn’t shake them.’

  The guys joined her in the shops when they realised Lauren was the ticket to hitting on pretty salesgirls. Judging by the photos, they grabbed dinner together and closed out the mall.

  ‘Simon has a good eye for a bargain,’ Lauren says, looking sheepish.

  ‘Dieter, they blew off the exercise,’ Syd says. ‘Our team solved every single riddle and we’ve got the pictures to prove it. We won, fair and square.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘We kicked ass. You can’t declare all of us winners.’

  ‘In life there are winners and losers, and the losers have to learn to accept it,’ Kali says. ‘Isn’t that the lesson here?’

  Dieter shakes his head. ‘You spent time together. You got to know each other. You’re standing up for each other now. Therefore, you’re all winners.’ He starts packing up. ‘End of lesson.’

  ‘We were robbed,’ Kali says, leading Syd and me through the basement corridor into the kitchen of St. Joe’s. ‘Instead of running around and wracking our brains over those stupid clues, we could have spent the day shopping, too.’

  ‘Except that we wouldn’t have,’ I say, hopping up onto the counter to watch Kali open cupboards and drawers to collect Styrofoam cups and plastic cutlery. ‘We had to blackmail Syd as it was.’

  ‘I admired your ingenuity,’ Syd says, refilling her water bottle for Banksy. ‘But right now I’m wondering about Kali’s morals – stealing from a church?’

  ‘I’ll replace these with eco-friendly alternatives,’ Kali says. ‘I think God and Father Casey would approve.’

  She hands a box to each of us and picks up a third. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Isn’t this stuff going to end up in a landfill anyway?’ I ask, as we climb the stairs and take the main hallway toward the exit.

  ‘Nope, because we’re taking it to the Maternity Ward. That gorgeous guy we met uses reclaimed objects for his art.’

  Syd shakes her head. ‘He only does giant boob jobs, and I’m not sure there’s a big market for them.’

  Kali isn’t listening, because she’s peeking into Father Casey’s office. ‘Check it out,’ she whispers.

  Father Casey is sitting in an old leather club chair across from Dieter, who’s slouched in a matching chair, one leg slung over the arm. Dieter is gesticulating wildly as he tells a story that includes a fall into a fountain and a giant splash. They’re still laughing as we continue on down the hall.

  ‘So the hard-ass routine is a front,’ Kali says as we clear the church grounds and head up the street to the bus stop. ‘He’s probably writing a book about us.’

  Syd doesn’t comment, because she’s dropped behind us to stare into an electronics store.

  Kali and I stop and look back. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I see someone I know,’ Syd says. ‘In line at the register.’

  ‘Mr Complicated?’ Kali asks, reading Syd’s expression. ‘Should we wait for him?’

  Syd shakes her head and joins us. ‘No. Let’s go.’

  As we pass the store’s parking lot, I’m the one who stops. ‘Hey, that’s my boyfriend’s car.’

  Kali glances down at the plates and looks at me strangely. ‘But that’s my boyfriend’s car.’

  Syd looks from me to Kali and back to the car. Her voice is raspier than ever when she says, ‘Miss Daisy.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Kali asks, clutching her box of contraband kitchen supplies so tight that it collapses and Styrofoam cups spill into the street. ‘I don’t get it.’

  Syd grabs each of us by the arm and pulls us behind a pickup truck. ‘Give it a minute. You will.’

  ‘But—’ Kali starts.

  ‘Get down,’ Syd says, setting her box on the ground and crouching.

  Rico comes around the corner, wearing faded jeans and an old cowboy hat. He’s whistling a tune I don’t recognise.

  ‘It’s Rico,’ I say.

  ‘It’s Rick,’ Kali says.

  ‘It’s Eric,’ Syd finishes.

  Unaware t
hat three sets of eyes are peering at him over the bed of the truck, Eric unlocks the driver’s door, rolls down the windows, and tosses a bag and his hat onto the passenger seat. Then he unties his sneakers and takes them off before sliding behind the wheel.

  When he pulls out of the lot, still whistling, we crumple to the pavement.

  Kali jumps up and kicks the tire of the pickup truck. ‘Rat bastard!’

  I’m still trying to digest the news. The Rico I know would never do something like this. The Rico I know is loyal and loving and sweet.

  The Rico I know doesn’t exist.

  What seemed like the truest, best thing in my life was a terrible lie.

  We stand beside the truck as Syd scrolls through a dozen pictures on her cell phone. Most of them are of her with Rico, posing cheek to cheek. There’s even a picture of them with two people who appear to be Rico’s parents.

  Kali gropes in her bag for a CD. On the cover is a photo of Rico standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, and his chin resting on her head.

  As it turns out, Rico has three identities and no conscience.

  ‘I think I’m going to faint,’ I say.

  Kali pushes me down and puts my head between my knees. ‘Breathe,’ she says. ‘It’s just a guy.’

  Tears sting my eyes as I think about Rico driving off in Miss Daisy, completely oblivious to the devastation he’s left in his wake. My sweet, considerate boyfriend managed to keep not one, but two other girlfriends without raising any red flags.

  I wasn’t even important enough for him to tell me his real name. Because if Syd knows his family, Eric has to be his real name.

  Only an expert cheat could be that good. And only a desperate sap could be so blind. I’m a terrible judge of character. My parents ruined me. I’ve been so determined to have a stable relationship in my life that I invented one. Therapy is exactly where I belong.

  Now that I’m looking, I realise the signs were everywhere. He was often too busy to see me. He didn’t call when he said he would. He didn’t like talking about his friends or family. And he never planned too far ahead.

  ‘I made him cookies,’ I say.

  ‘Peanut butter and chocolate?’ Kali asks. ‘I loved those.’

  ‘He gave you my cookies?’ Somehow that hurts more than anything else.

  ‘He said his mom made them,’ Kali says, gathering her things. ‘Well, Rick – Eric – is a douche bag and I’m going right over to his house to tell him so.’ She takes a few steps and turns back. ‘Where does he live?’

  I’d laugh if I could. Instead, I rest my head against Banksy’s side and he gives me a sympathetic nudge.

  ‘Making a scene at his house isn’t payback,’ Syd tells Kali.

  ‘Got a better plan?’ Kali asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ Syd says. ‘I do. I’m going to hit Eric Skinner where it hurts the most. And you two are going to help.’

  He loves me, he loves me NOT. He loves me NOT. He loves me NOT. He—

  ‘Zahra? What are you doing here?’ Saliyah is standing in the doorway of the bedroom looking worried. Obviously the signs of my crying jag are quite visible. I’d planned to do a makeup repair job before everyone got home, but they’re early.

  After leaving Syd and Kali, I found myself on the bus heading to Anderson Mill, where I knew I could be alone for a while since everyone was supposed to be at the mosque hearing a guest lecturer. All I wanted was to lie on my old bed in my old room, but of course my room now belongs to my grandparents. So instead I’m in Saliyah’s room, on the twin bed I use when I’m here, with my laptop open in front of me.

  ‘What happened?’ my sister asks. ‘Is Dad OK?’

  ‘He’s fine,’ I say, motioning for her to close the door. ‘How come you’re home early?’

  ‘Nani got into an argument with some lady she knew from Karachi. I think it was over a recipe, but they were talking so fast I couldn’t keep up.’ She leans over me and stares at the barnyard scene I’ve created on my laptop. ‘Why did you stick Rico’s head on a worm’s body?’

  ‘Actually, it’s a snake,’ I say. Pointing to the Rico-faced animal above it, I add, ‘And that’s a jackass.’

  Saliyah coils herself onto the other bed. She’s shot up a couple of inches since I moved out. She might end up taller than me, and I’m five-foot-eight – taller than my grandparents and Mom. ‘So you two had a fight,’ she says.

  Closing the laptop, I roll over on the bed and bury my face in the pillow. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘I bet he tried making some moves on you,’ she guesses. ‘Did you slap him?’

  If only it were that simple. ‘I’d love to slap him,’ I mumble into the pillow. ‘Because he cheated on me.’

  ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘That’s bad. Did you catch him with the other girl?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I repeat. Because I can’t. I’m barely holding it together as it is. Getting here on two buses without sobbing in public was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. This was the single worst day of my life – worse even than the day my parents split, I think, because I never wanted to throw up then. Today I had to sit on the bathroom floor for an hour, just in case.

  That’s where I was when Rico texted me to suggest getting together on Sunday. Eventually, I typed back three words with trembling fingers: Can’t. Too busy. I’m not sure what I’ll be busy doing yet, but Syd and Kali and I are meeting on Saturday to develop a payback plan that we’ll execute on Sunday. Rico texted back, and I kept my answer short and vague, but friendly enough, as instructed by Syd. ‘Raise no suspicions,’ she’d said. It was hard not to say more, to ask how he could do this to me, how he could be so heartless. He called me his ‘girl.’ I thought he loved me – that we had a future together. Meanwhile, he was going for the gold in the heartbreaker Olympics.

  Saliyah sits in silence for a few minutes before announcing, ‘Guys suck. Don’t they, Dewey?’ Dewey is my old gray plush kangaroo. ‘Big-time,’ she answers, using her Dewey voice. ‘Do you agree, Monkey Man?’

  ‘It won’t work, Saliyah.’ My words are muffled by the pillow. I used to put on shows for her featuring Dewey and Monkey Man, my ratty old chimpanzee. When I moved I left my collection of stuffed animals behind. They belong here, with my old life.

  ‘I don’t know if ALL guys suck,’ Saliyah continues as Monkey Man. ‘Because we’re guys, right?’ She moves from her bed to perch on mine and continues. ‘I mean, I’ve always assumed we are, Dewey. Just wait a second while I check … Nope! No nasty bits on me! Or you.’ She dances a stuffed animal onto my shoulder. ‘In fact, you don’t even have a pouch, Dewey. So I pronounce us … Gender Neutral.’

  I turn my head, and somehow, miraculously, my lips twitch. ‘Lucky stuffies. No broken hearts for them.’

  ‘I hope you dumped that cheating jackass,’ my sister says, in her own voice.

  ‘Saliyah! Such language!’ Nani is standing in the doorway, glowering.

  ‘That door was closed, Nani,’ I say.

  ‘I heard odd voices coming from your sister’s room,’ she says. ‘I was concerned.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘Can you please leave us alone?’

  ‘Who cheated?’ she asks. ‘This Vico?’ She deliberately gets his name wrong.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I say.

  Nani steps into the room, takes my sister’s arm, and pulls her to her feet. ‘Go make us some tea. You shouldn’t be hearing this.’

  Saliyah is indignant. ‘I know all about players, Nani. And Zahra needs me right now.’

  My protector tries to fight Nani off with Monkey Man, and loses the battle as my grandmother grabs the stuffed animal and throws it onto the other bed. ‘Tea,’ Nani says, shoving her out the door. ‘Downstairs.’

  Nana arrives as my sister leaves. This is getting better by the second.

  ‘Vico cheated on Zahra,’ Nani says.

  Nana shakes his head. ‘I warned you, boys are trouble. Espe
cially American boys. You need to start spending time at the mosque.’

  ‘How would that help?’ I ask.

  Nana looks surprised. ‘In every way. It’s time to think of your spiritual growth.’

  I fall back on the bed. ‘Forget it.’

  Bangles jangling, Nani grabs my wrist and pulls me into a sitting position. ‘You would also meet some fine young men there.’

  ‘Americans have no character,’ Nana says.

  I suspect his rant is really about my dad, who – in Nana’s mind – deserted his family, but I’m not up to that fight right now. ‘Nana, Saliyah and I are American, and even Mom’s an American citizen now. We have character. Anyway, I don’t want to meet any boys. Ever again.’

  Mom appears in the doorway in a salwar kameez and scarf. Even in my current state, that makes me furious. If she’s hitting the mosque in full gear on a Thursday night, my grandparents have won the war. That’s why they’re moving on to me.

  ‘Vico cheated,’ Nani tells my mother.

  I try to flop back on the bed, but she still has my wrist in a jingling vise.

  ‘Why don’t you take out an ad in the paper?’ I ask. ‘There’s no privacy in this house.’

  ‘If you behaved properly you’d have no cause for secrets,’ Nana says.

  I glare at him. ‘Are you saying this is my fault?’

  ‘I’m saying you have poor judgment, like many young girls. You need guidance.’

  ‘Not from you,’ I say. ‘You’re trying to turn me into something I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, a more responsible person,’ he says.

  I turn to my mother and say, ‘Feel free to jump in anytime.’

  ‘Let’s all calm down and talk about what happened,’ she says, pushing back her scarf and smoothing her hair. There’s a streak of gray in it that I never noticed before.

  ‘I got taken for a ride, that’s what happened. And apparently it was all my fault.’