by Heinzer, HB
Colton is standing in the corner, watching out the window for Rain’s arrival. That sassy red-head is lucky I love her like a sister because I’m seriously ready to slap her into next week over this crap. Telling me I need to find a woman was one thing, but sending my application in to a dressed-up popularity contests for the young and elite was something entirely different. On the list of things I never wanted to do in my life, this little stunt hit a few of them; go on a blind date, give a woman any expectation of more than one date and put my private life on display topping the list.
“Jon’s going to be The Bachelor,” Colton howls. Laugh it up now, pretty boy. We’ll see how easy it is once I knock your teeth down your throat.
“The fuck?” Travis stammers, out of the loop and thoroughly confused.
I flop back into my leather desk chair. Since inheriting the house, I haven’t done much with most of the furnishings because I’m not here often enough to care. My chair is my throne. I fucking love my chair. “Rain entered me in some bullshit contest,” I grumble. “Apparently, you’re looking at one of the most eligible bachelors of the Northwest.”
Now it was Travis laughing his ass off. “That’s pretty fucking sad if you’re the best we’ve got. Then again, I guess that gives the rest of us a shot.”
Colton bolts out of the room, no doubt to warn Rain that I know what she did and don’t appreciate it. The worst part is I am losing my will to stay pissed off at her with every minute that passed because she really is like a sister to me. Her heart was in a good place, even if her little plan sucked.
“Tell me about it,” I laugh, taking a long draw off my beer.
Travis stretches out on the sofa across the room, one long leg crossed over the other. “So, is it really that bad? I mean, they just take some pictures of you and put them in the magazine, right?”
Most Eligible Bachelors of the Northwest is nothing new. The magazine does this feature every year. Most years, we would gather around and have a good laugh at the buttoned-up yuppies with their smug smiles in awkward poses. This is the first year the magazine decided to stir things up a bit with the addition of a matchmaker feature.
“Fuck, that’d be easy. Maybe we could head down to the beach and I could show them how I prefer to work,” I joke, knowing there was no way the magazine would do a feature of me relaxing on the beach with nothing but my notebook. And I do mean nothing.
“Um, no thanks. Don’t need to scare off everyone with pictures of your junk hanging out.” Travis throws a pillow at me, narrowly missing the half-empty bottle next to my computer. “So, why is it such a huge deal? Who knows, it could be good for the band, having a new sex symbol since Bradford went and got himself married.”
Not wanting to misquote the email, I pull it back up on the screen. “To assist you in the process, we have paired you with three of the Northwest’s most eligible bachelorettes based on the answers given on your application,” I read in my most feminine voice. This is going to be a fucking nightmare. “Sounds less like a photo spread and more like a bad reality show if you ask me.”
“Come on, it might not be so bad. If they’re the most eligible women, they can’t be dogs, right?” Leave it to Travis to find the bright side.
My concern has nothing to do with their looks and more to do with their expectations for whatever it is they think is going to happen after we spend a few hours together. Okay, so maybe it has a little to do with their looks, but mostly it’s about not wanting a woman trying to hog tie me and run off to Vegas in the middle of the damn night.
A soft knock on the door interrupts me as I start to explain why this is a disaster waiting to happen. “Hey Jon,” Rain says meekly. I crook my finger, summoning her over to my desk.
“Yeah,” I huff. “You wanna tell me what the fuck this is about?” I point to the email on my screen.
“Oh, come on,” Rain says in the prissy little whine that is becoming all too familiar. It seems that being in love is having an effect on her as well and I don’t like it when she pulled out the pouty lip. “It’ll be fun! You’ll get to go on a few dates, maybe meet some women whose clothes aren’t instantly falling off their bodies and see what happens.”
I take a few deep breaths, trying to remain calm. Grabbing her shoulders, I turn Rain so she is looking directly at me. “If and when I decide I’m ready to settle down, I’ll be sure to let you know. Until then, I’d appreciate it if you would kindly butt out of my sex life. Got it?”
Tears well in Rain’s. What the fuck is that about? I have seen Rain cry a few times in the past, but not many. Off the top of my head, the only times she had broken down were when she found out her mom died and when we all doubted her after our former bitch of a manager, Tanya, planted cocaine in her apartment. Why is this making her lose it?
“Sweetie,” I start, trying to channel my inner nice guy. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you but this isn’t exactly my scene, not to mention the fact that we’ve been over this plenty of times. I’m not looking for a wife right now. Hell, I’m not even looking for a second date right now.” The fact that she won’t look up from the ground kills me. She’s not a child who’s getting in trouble, but she needs to know she over-stepped her bounds “Hey, it’ll be fine.” I throw my arm over her shoulder, praying her tears wouldn’t start falling.
Colton walks into the office just in time to see the first tear tumble down Rain’s cheek. He looks from Rain to me, then to Travis and back to Rain trying to figure out what had happened while he was in the can.
“Everything okay in here?” He asks, pulling Rain away from me and wrapping his arms around her. I would never admit it to them, but they do seem to have something amazing between them. I don’t see that type of connection in my own future, but I am elated that they finally got their shit together.
“Yeah,” Rain assures her husband. “We’re good. Jon found out about me sending an application in for him for that magazine feature. Now he’s pissed at me.”
Colton shakes his head. “Babe, I told you not to do that.” He looks over her head to see me glaring at him. Just as I was about to speak, he subtly shakes his head, pursing his lips. Something is different with them but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it is. Rain isn’t usually the type to get this upset over something that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things and Colton is being extra protective.
***
Dear Mr. Meyers,
My name is Olivia Joseph and I’ll be assisting you throughout the rest of the process leading up to our feature series. If you need any changes made due to scheduling conflicts, please be sure to let me know at your earliest convenience.
Because we understand how busy both you and the women you will be spending an evening with are, we have asked the ladies to choose the location based on something that will tell you about them. This will hopefully also create a more relaxed meeting for you.
I have your first date scheduled for Wednesday evening at 8:30. You will be meeting with Katherine Alvarez at Metrovino. She has selected this location because she appreciates good wine and is always on the lookout for the best atmosphere in the area due to her job. She has assured me that this is a place which caters to a wide range of clientele and will provide a relaxing atmosphere in which the two of you can get to know one another.
When you arrive at Metrovino, let the manager know who you are and she will take care of everything.
I will be forwarding information on your second date as soon as the details are finalized.
Sincerely,
Olivia Joseph
Just. Fucking. Wonderful. Thanks to Rain and this crazy scheme of hers, I am going to have to sit around drinking wine while listening to some trust fund baby tell me all about her woes.
I grab a beer out of the fridge and run up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom. Even after two years, it does feel like my bedroom. It is still my grandparents’ bedroom. If and when the day comes that I care enough about a woman to let her see my house,
I will have to get a new bedroom suite. No way in hell am I going to fuck on the same bed they had slept in for so many years.
There is nothing in my closet appropriate for a place as trendy as Metrovino. While I don’t usually give a shit about things like that, this is more than just a date. It’s unique publicity for the band so I need to give the appearance that I care. I highly doubt management will appreciate my ripped jeans and t-shirts with the sleeves cut off. The only nice outfit I own is the one Rain’s brother bought for me when we attended her mom’s funeral and it doesn’t seem right to wear that on a date, even if the previous occasion fits the way I feel about what I am doing.
Screw that. If Rain wants me to start dating, she can go shopping. Knowing how much she hates the mall, I make a list that will keep her in her own personal hell for at least a few hours and text it to her.
Minutes later, my phone rings. “What the fuck did you say to her?” Colton asks as soon as I answer.
All I can do is laugh. She must not be taking my request well if her reaction warranted a call from the man of the house. “Hey man, if she wants to torture me, turnabout is fair play. I told her I need her to go shopping for me.”
Colton laughs hysterically at my statement. He knows better than anyone how she feels about shopping. When he tried to send her away for the day to pamper herself and buy some new outfits for their honeymoon, she threatened to call off the wedding. Knowing Rain, she might have meant it. “Damn dude, you really hate me that much? You know damn well she’s going to make me go with her.”
“Sorry bud, keep your wife in check and I won’t have to take drastic measures,” I chuckle. I can just imagine Colton walking through the mall deciding what I was going to wear on three dates with random rich bitches.
“I’ll try to remember that. Guess I had better fire up the bike so we can make you look pretty,” Colton says sarcastically. He hangs up before I can think of a witty comeback.
This is totally going to suck.
Coming October 2013
“Mi Vida Loca over and over
Welcome to my crazy life.”
Pam Tillis
Some mornings, when you wake up, you can just tell that it is going to be “that kind of day.” I wake up to warm rays of sunshine spilling across my face. I want to keep my eyes closed and enjoy the warmth, but something is digging into my hip. Reaching beneath the sheets, I contort myself in search of the offender. Squinting my eyes against the brightness, I closely examine the hairy pink creature, sleepily recognizing the blurry lines of Strawberry Shortcake. Damn those kids’ meals!
If I am sleeping with Strawberry, then that means my littlest munchkin must be in here with me too! As I move to my side to nibble munchkin belly, I notice the alarm clock beside the bed. I use the term alarm clock loosely because obviously I have slept through its racket! Throwing off the covers, I jump from the bed. I let out an ear-piercing yelp that could serve as a panic alert for the neighborhood! Buried in the heel of my left foot is Orange Blossom, Strawberry’s best friend. I know I have said this before, but it bears repeating: Damn those kids’ meals!
I have to pee, but I have three kids to wake, dress, feed and get to school. Based on the clock, I will have to take the tardy walk of shame and see the school secretary’s look of disapproval. I choose the bathroom because honestly, I have a three-baby bladder. I am going to pee whether I go to the bathroom or not!
As I wash my hands, I try not to notice the sad, droopy, dark bags around my eyes or the new grains of salt scattered among the dark hairs on my head. Thank goodness, we are late, or I could spend hours pointing out each blemish on my body. Do not get me started! I am pretty sure I said we are LATE!
Hurrying from the bathroom, I pluck munchkin number three from my bed. Let me introduce my Maggie. She is my baby. She is the last precious gift from my husband…literally! He loved to give me gifts that keep on giving. Sarah Margaret is almost three. She reminds me of a woodland sprite. She has this head full of beautiful caramel blonde curls and the largest, brightest green eyes that are always sparkling with laughter and mischief. Her button nose tips upward on the end and her smile – well, her smile can revive even the heaviest of hearts.
As Maggie grips my neck in a chokehold, I run down the hall. Tossing open the door I navigate to the bed of munchkin number two. I hope that buried somewhere in the clutter of stuffed bears and blankets is the warm little body of Bekah. Haphazardly flinging bears at a breakneck speed, I finally unearth the top of the blankets. Throwing them back, I discover a warm little body curled around a ball of fur.
Lest I forget, munchkin number two is my Rebekah Elizabeth, and she is by far the most serious five year old I have ever met. I swear she already has frown lines between those piercing yellow-green eyes. She is such a worrywart! Last week one of her cute little friends told Bekah that she had lice. Do you think Bekah came to me and discussed this potential problem? Well, duh, no she did not. What she did do though was worry and mull over the problem all afternoon and into the evening. While I was giving Maggie her bedtime bath, little Miss Worry Pants took matters into her own hands. Needless to say, her almost waist length auburn curls are now the cutest little bob ever seen. I swear I honestly was not trying to scare the kids or revive the dead when I found Bekah’s hair all over the kitchen floor. I may have screamed and yelled a little, but really, what would you expect me to do?
Slipping Maggie to my back and scooping Bekah into my arms, I head back down the hall to the missing piece of our family puzzle. Peering into my oldest daughter’s room, I find myself a little confused at its emptiness until I catch the scent of toasting bread. Thank God, someone has her act together! Lugging the girls toward the kitchen, I catch a whiff of my nectar of life, COFFEE! Bless Katie’s heart. That girl sure does know her mother! She always remembers to turn the coffee maker on for me.
Katie would be deeply offended if I should dare think to call her munchkin number one! At six, almost seven years of age, sometimes I think she is light years ahead of me in wisdom and maturity. As my oldest daughter, Kathryn Anne is the one who is old enough to remember all of the twists and turns that life has brought our way these past several years. When I look into her turquoise eyes, I see the remnants of an old soul peeking back at me. Thankfully, that old soul wears a happy smile most of the time.
When Katie turns away from the toaster to look at me, I know for sure that I am in enormous trouble. Her deep mahogany curls swing out from her head like the chair swing ride at a summer carnival. Her mouth molds into a frown, and I swear that Katie has borrowed Bekah’s furrowed brow. My heart hitches as I realize she is wearing her Daisy Scout uniform. Of all days for me to sleep late. It is Girl Scout day, and Katie is one of the girls who is speaking during the assembly at school. She has spent the last few days maniacally researching her topic and practicing her speech. As she opens her mouth to speak, sparks shooting from her turquoise eyes, I am already feeling like a disappointment to my girls today. This feeling is one that has overwhelmed me many times in recent years.
Before the words can leave Katie’s lips, we all turn as we hear a familiar - do not mistake familiar for welcome on my end - greeting from the front door. “Yoo-hoo! Is anybody home?” Maggie and Bekah scramble down my body and rush toward the door. As I turn back toward Katie, I catch a glimpse of a smirk before she smoothes her expression. I let out a choked gasp and closing my eyes in disbelief, I hiss “Oh tell me you did not! You are in soooo much trouble young lady.”
Katie gives me that deceivingly innocent look and peers over my shoulder. “Good morning Grams. Thanks for coming to pick me up. You know I cannot be late today of all days. My speech props and book bag are by the front door. Just give me a second to brush my teeth and we can leave.” What does that hooligan do then? She takes off down the hall at the speed of light leaving me to face my arch nemesis! Where oh where did I put my Supermom cape today? With the piles of laundry I have yet to get to this week, I probably should not p
ose that question out loud!
Standing before me is none other than the one and only Mrs. Channing Kennedy Tidwell the Second. She is glaring at me with that superior look on her face that years have honed to perfection. I hold back a sigh, knowing that no matter what I say, this discussion will not be ending in my favor. “Good morning Mother Tidwell, it appears that once again you have come to my rescue and saved my damsels from distress.” I breathe deeply through my nose. I can tell by the daggers shooting from her eyes that she caught my subtle sarcasm. Needing coffee now more than ever, I cautiously turn my back to Her Majesty and make my way to the cabinet to retrieve a coffee cup. Looking back over my shoulder, I ask her, “Care for a cup?”
With a vicious huff, she haughtily grounds out, “I would never deign to poison my body with such vileness. How you can tolerate such sludge is beyond me. Why if my Channing was here, he would agree with me!”
“Mother Tidwell, please, do not involve Tripp in this. That always makes my heart hurt, and this day has already started on the wrong foot already. Besides, he drank a pot of coffee himself each morning. He alone was responsible for introducing me to coffee in the ninth grade, so that makes him solely responsible for my addiction too!” I let out a soft laugh trying to bring some happiness into the conversation.
Obviously, my impromptu thoughts do not impress Mother Tidwell. Turning from me in dismissal, she calls down the hall to Katie and then turns back to inform me that she will be back in 15 minutes to take the other two girls to school. “Maybe you can use that time to make sure they are both ready. Lord knows you should be able to handle that!” With that snide remark, she haughtily exits the kitchen and walks with Katie out the front door, firmly closing it behind her.