Can't Buy Me Love

by Abigail Drake

  “Sam!” I smacked the back of my friend’s head from my seat behind his driver’s one. “Why is this girl at the library? No one goes to the library. It’s smelly and musty and … no one goes to the library. And, it’s Friday night.”

  “Finn Murphy,” his girlfriend/ball-and-chain/pain-in-the-ass scolded me. “You be quiet. Lara is my friend. You’ll like her. Just flash those pearly whites at her and sing her a tune.” She had the nerve to wink at me.

  I only tolerated Olivia because of Sam, and my pearly whites were biting at the chance to tell her off. If this Lara girl was a friend of Olivia’s, she already had one strike against her. And whether she knew it or not, I knew they were setting us up. Sam did it for Olivia but probably also for himself so he wouldn’t have a third wheel around. I was open to it, though. While I didn’t really have a problem meeting girls, the quality around campus seemed a little flimsy. All the girls I’d met so far were sorority flakes. Maybe this one would be different. Maybe she liked country music. Maybe she would like our band. I mean, it could happen. Since I knew nothing about her, though, the verdict was definitely still out.

  The co-ed in question was standing on the steps of the library as our car pulled up. She looked at her watch, toward us in the car, and then once more back and forth. I glanced at my phone. We were a few minutes or so late, but nothing to do the whole look up, look down thing about. The show couldn’t start until I arrived, anyhow.

  The time issue was quickly put to rest, though, as I got a better look at Olivia’s friend. She had long, platinum hair—blonde like a Barbie doll’s. Wearing jean shorts and a red T, her figure wasn’t super skinny, but she also didn’t appear to have the beer gut some of the other girls did. And her eyes were a mystical turquoise shade like one of the nearby rivers on a sunny day.

  Well, so far, so good, I thought. I took a swig of my beer and watched as she opened the back door. Scooting closer to Bryan, I patted the now empty seat to the left of me.

  “I’m so ready!” This new addition to our carpool surprised me with her enthusiastic entrance, and I felt her leg momentarily graze mine. “So, which one of you is the singer?”

  “I am.” I reversed the ball cap on my brown head of hair so I could see more of her and less of the rim. “He’s just added baggage.” I punched my friend and guitarist, Bryan, in the arm.

  “Yeah, right.” Bryan shook his head causing his tiny black curls to slightly bounce.

  “Liv, do the introductions,” Sam directed as he started driving once again.

  “I’m Olivia.” Olivia thought she was being funny, or cute, or something as she looked back and waved to us. She wasn’t.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  The newbie next to me thought Olivia was funny. Oh boy, I thought. Strike two.

  “Lara, Finn, Bryan.” Olivia pointed to each of us in a row as she said our names.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lara inched her leg away from me as if repulsed, but, yet, she sounded nice and genuine. “So, what songs are you going to sing?”

  “Some R.E.M., Springsteen, James Taylor. But, we mostly do country covers,” I answered.

  “Great. That’s what I grew up on. I remember when my brother first sang ‘Tractor’s Sexy.’ I laughed my head off thinking there was no way that song was legit. And, if it was, who would listen to it? Then, I became a fan.”

  “Yeah, that’s Kenny. We do a lot of Toby—‘Whiskey Girl?’” I threw out a Toby Keith title.

  “Ragged-on-the-edges girl,” she recited part of the lyrics, making me think maybe I was too hasty with the last strike.

  “So, what do you think?” Bryan chimed in next to me. “We’re thinking one of us should add glasses to break up the look. We picked these up at a thrift shop.”

  Bryan put on the pair of studious glasses and tilted his head in a couple different directions. He then handed them to me. I tried them on and leaned a little so this Lara girl could get a good look.

  “Well, you,” she said nodding at Bryan. “They look good on. You,” she directed her glance then at me. “Not so much.”

  “Ha!” Bryan openly laughed.

  “You might do better putting on a cowboy hat, too, instead of a ball cap. You look like a cancer patient instead of a country singer.”

  Geez! Well, that was a little rude or forward or… Oh, yeah, she was Olivia’s friend. Well, Library Girl just lost the point she had earned back.

  “Bro, you look fine in the baseball hat,” Sam offered from the driver’s seat.

  “Really?” I didn’t want to let it show, but I was seriously taken aback. I would never tell someone they looked like a cancer patient or make any kind of derogatory comment about their appearance—at least not to their face.

  “Now, who are you going to trust?” the pretty but abrupt blonde continued. “Someone who is your friend and is obligated to tell you that you look good or someone who you don’t know and has no reason to lie to you?”

  “You want some of my beer?”

  I didn’t know what else to say. This girl had been talking a mile a minute since she’d first entered the car. She either needed a beer or she’d already had one too many. I tipped my bottle toward her.

  “What? I’m not good enough to have my own?” she questioned.

  Oh, geesh. How long was this car ride, I internally sighed. “I’d get you one, but they’re in the trunk right now.” Once again, I tried to be gentlemanly and hand her my beer.

  “No. I don’t know you well enough to share a drink with you.”

  Fine. It meant more alcohol for me. And I felt like I was really going to need it with how the evening had begun. I brought the bottle up to my lips before saying, “Then tell us something about yourself.”

  She let out a long, breathy sigh, and I wondered whether it was because of the subject or about me. “Well, let’s see, you know where I go to school.”

  “Major?” Bryan, thank God, tagged in on the conversation once again.

  “Computer Science.”

  “That’s what my girlfriend is into, too.”

  “Oh, does she go to school here?” Lara asked.

  “No. Community College,” my bandmate answered. “Well, there should definitely be jobs available in that field. Everything is electronic. Unless the computers take the jobs,” he joked, but it probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

  “I just want a job. I’ll move anywhere. Totally not home bound.” There was a flash of dark blue in those eyes instead of the pure turquoise, and it made me wonder if home was even an option. “I’d love to be near a big city. Feel the rush . . . the pace. Not just moseying along in the local mall.”

  All right … okay. This girl confused the heck out of me. It was like we were on a see-saw. The scorekeeper was going to need a rest. Maybe it would come down to a judge’s decision at the end of the night.

  “Yeah, me too,” I spoke. “Not my whole life, though. It’s a young person’s life. What age do you think suburbia hits?”

  “Thirty-five?” she ventured, and I couldn’t help but think that sounded so ancient.

  “Lara,” I said. “How come we haven’t seen you around campus before?”

  “I only transferred in last year and have been trying to make up credits. But, I’m still gonna be a whole semester behind on graduation.” She spoke softer that time and shifted her eyes downward.

  “Well, that’s part of it.” Olivia laughed from her broomstick in the front seat. “She’s also part tech worm, part vampire. She can’t get off her computer long enough to have a social life.”

  It was quite noticeable by the piercing of Lara’s eyes that she didn’t care for her friend’s comment. So, in consolation, I offered her my beer again. And, this time, she took it. It was a solid swig, but she obviously didn’t like the taste. Her nose scrunched up like it was pure bitter, and she handed the bottle right back.

  “Well, no matter, it’s nice that you’re out with us tonight,” I offered in more of an effort to counterac
t Olivia’s poor social graces than anything else.

  Lara did a quick ‘blink and you’d miss it’ smile and said, “Thanks,” as we pulled up to the venue.

  I started setting up everything for the night’s performance. Sam and Bryan helped, too. Olivia and Lara had their heads bundled together in girl talk. But, the whole night, no matter how many times I tried to get Miss Faulkner’s attention from the stage, she didn’t once look at me. She didn’t even dance. She may-as-well-have stayed in the library on her tablet or whatever.

  I decided the ruling was a draw. She obviously wasn’t into me, and I didn’t have the patience for a stuck-up, too-good-for-music, princess. I purposefully switched seats with Olivia for the ride back. And when the night ended, I wished her well like any other stranger I would pass on a random street miles and miles away from home.

  I saw Lara on campus a few days after the show. She was walking by herself near the art building. I waved to be polite. But she didn’t even look my way. My friends laughed at the blow-off, and I went right along with them. My original assessment of her had, obviously, been correct. Next time, I wasn’t even going to wave.

  And, I didn’t. But, I did look. The next time I saw her, it was in the cafeteria and she was huddled in a conversation with one of the foreign exchange student guys. The two looked friendly and totally involved in her laptop. When I casually asked Sam about them, he told me she was helping Oystein with his senior project for his upcoming graduation. But, maybe there was something more. He didn’t know. It was a curious pairing and one I didn’t need to think any more about. After all, it was almost summer break, and I was so ready for it.

  A little after classes resumed for the fall semester—my senior year—Lara and I met up again. But, this time, it was not during a fun-filled evening of music and alcohol, or even against the backdrop of academia. It was something nearly tragic.

  The news spread around campus like wildfire. Everybody was talking about it. A fellow fraternity brother was the one who told me . . . Sam had totaled his car. He, Olivia, and Lara were in his ancient clunker of an automobile when it somehow hit a tree. The accident had happened near campus and they were immediately taken to the hospital. No one seemed to know what was going on regarding injuries, etc., though. So, I decided to find out myself by jumping in my car and going straight to the hospital.

  When I arrived and fibbed that Sam and I were brothers (fraternity should count, right?), I discovered he had been momentarily unconscious, suffered a concussion, and had a broken arm. Olivia had broken her left foot and there was something with her lung. Their injuries meant that they were both going to have to stay overnight. Lara, in contrast, seemed to have fared a lot better with just a couple banged up knees. After giving me the details, the nurse directed me to Olivia’s room since Sam was getting some sort of treatment or whatever.

  When I walked into the room, I heard Lara, who was standing at Olivia’s bedside, say, “Sure. Sure, I can do it. It doesn’t matter.” She jumped a little and turned around when I cleared my throat. “Hi,” she acknowledged my presence.

  “Hi.” I echoed, wondering if she was still her reclusive, self-involved self. “How you doing?”

  “Better than Liv.” Her words, although spoken rather plainly, provided some much-needed lightheartedness.

  “What happened?”

  “A deer.” Olivia’s voice was uncommonly quiet and staggered. Sadly, injured suited her. “It jumped right out in front of us. I’m sure it’s not hurt, though. It’s probably as safe and as lucky as Lara is.”

  “Yeah, right, that’s me. . .lucky,” the platinum blonde responded with undeniable sarcasm.

  I ignored her loaded comment and directed my question to Olivia, “They’re keeping you and Sam, huh?”

  “Yeah. Lara’s gonna check on the cats at my place.” The sociology major had a number of felines at her off-campus apartment.

  “I just gotta find a way to get there. I’m assuming the ambulance we arrived in isn’t an option,” Lara teased.

  “Neither is the car,” Olivia grumbled.

  “I can take you.” I offered.

  Lara looked at me and hesitated before replying, “You don’t have to do that. I can call a taxi or something.”

  “Lara!” Olivia’s screech had her coughing and in noticeable discomfort. “He’s going back to campus, anyway.”

  Lara studied me with those turquoise eyes of hers. But, before she could speak, a nurse walked in and ushered us out the door. We were supposedly agitating Olivia. I wanted to say, Olivia agitated herself . . . just like she agitated the rest of the world. But, I refrained.

  “Are you sure it won’t be a bother?” Lara asked once she and I were in the lobby.

  This girl swiveled from sassy and sarcastic to innocent and sweet almost in the same breath. Admittedly, it intrigued me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But I was beginning to think she wasn’t doing it maliciously or because she was deranged in any sense. She just … she just … I just didn’t know.

  Mistaking my hesitation, she continued. “Oh, never mind. I’ll figure it out myself. I always do.” She adjusted her brown laptop bag on her shoulder, twirled on her heels, and started to walk off.

  Okay. Or, maybe I was right with my original diagnosis months before—she was stuck up. “Yeah, I guess a Jeep Wrangler’s just not good enough for you.”

  She, once again, turned toward me. “You have a Jeep?” Her eyes grew in size in the most positive way.

  “Uh, yeah.” I could have, should have, just stood there and let her say the next thing. I should have made her feel awkward, because, after all, I was the one offering to do her a favor, and she was the one being all weird about it. But, I couldn’t. I blamed that partially on the good southern boy in me, but, part of it, damn it, was her. “C’mon, Lara, I’m a good driver. Better than Sam.” I smiled to let her know I was teasing, and she actually smiled back.

  “Okay, thanks. If you’re sure. And, seriously, anyone is better than Sam,” she played along. “So, that’s not saying much.” Again, she was sweet and sassy and . . . confusing.

  Without any further debate, we started walking toward the exit in sync. That’s when I heard her stomach growl. Being a good few inches or so shorter than I was, she looked up at me with obvious embarrassment.

  “Tell me that sound is from hunger and not that you are going to upchuck or anything. I don’t want to have to wash and vacuum the seats.”

  “Finn Murphy!” She smacked me straight on my bicep.

  It took me by surprise—the sudden action, the force of the blow, and the fact she even remembered my name. I actually stumbled on one foot. “Youch. You’ve got a mean right hook.”

  “Sorry,” she immediately apologized. “Bad habit.”

  With the Jeep just a few steps away, I pressed the key fob and debated about opening the door for her. No. No, I told myself. This wasn’t a date. Geez. God. She … no.

  “C’mon,” I said getting into the car.

  Once we were in and started down the road, I heard her tummy rumble again. “Here.” I picked up my phone, hit speed dial number nine, and handed it to Lara. “Order a large. I’m feeling mushrooms and sausage, but get whatever you want on your half. Do you know Olivia’s address? Have it delivered.”

  She shook her head as if startled. “I do but—Oh, uh, hi,” she switched from speaking with me to the person on the other end of the phone at Pizza Pit Stop.

  “A large with mushrooms, sausage …” I prompted.

  She repeated my words and then said, “and the other half . . . just plain, I guess.”

  Plain. Hmmm. Nope. Not plain at all. But, I didn’t know what type of pizza would best describe Lara Faulkner. Maybe one where the sauce was on top of the cheese, because she was so damn confusing.

  When she got off the phone, she said to me, “I don’t have any money.”

  “I didn’t ask you for any. My treat. Anything so your stomach quits distracting me. It
doesn’t even have a good tempo.”

  She laughed quickly then. And I did, too. It was a nice change and feeling.

  “So,” I asked wanting to keep our conversation going and light. “What were you all doing, anyway? Where were you going when Bambi gave you the little detour?”

  “Bambi.” She tilted her head back to the head rest and let out a sigh. “Oh, geez, like I don’t already feel bad enough.”

  When she didn’t offer any more, I bit. “Why? The deer is fine, and you weren’t driving the car.”

  “No, but I’m the whole reason we were in the car in the first place.” She paused again. It didn’t seem like it was her natural inclination to give out information. When I made a point of looking her direction, though, she continued. “My laptop . . . it was freaking out. And since it is under warranty, I thought I should take it to the store. And, well, I don’t have a car . . . and Olivia offered.”

  “She offered Sam,” I corrected very well knowing how the super couple worked.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Can’t do anything apart those two.” I partially grumbled.

  Lara looked at me, scrunched her eyes as if in an internal debate and then said, “Siamese.”

  Her sarcasm was priceless. She totally got Sam and Olivia. I was glad I wasn’t drinking, because I surely would have spewed liquid out, I laughed so hard.

  “Did you get your computer fixed?” I refocused looking toward her bag.

  “Yeah. That’s the worst part. It was so easy. I could have done it over the phone.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “But, now they’re in the hospital.” Her voice dropped to a more sullen tone. “And the car is a mess. I feel so bad. It’s my fault. I, like, owe him a new car, and I can’t do that.”

  “Nope. Unless you’re some kind of undercover celeb, you can’t go buying people cars.” I teased.

  “If only.” She shook her head, the blonde hair all bundled up in a bun. “I can’t even buy pizza with my student loans.” She seemed seriously down as we pulled in front of Olivia’s apartment.