by Andrea Ring
Paper rustles to my left, and I turn to see a scary goth guy folding up the front page of the Wall Street Journal. He has a foot-tall, green-tinged mohawk and more piercings than a pin cushion. Huh. Our eyes meet. I want to look away, but his eyes are perfectly rimmed with black liner, and I’m fascinated that there’s no sign of smudging.
Scary Spice grins, and my eyes grow wide.
He laughs.
“You’re Leni, right?” he asks, setting the paper aside and turning his chair toward me. He holds out his hand. “I’m Clark.”
I shake his hand before I can conjure up a response. But my training runs deep.
“It’s nice to meet you, Clark,” I say.
We’re still holding hands. And Clark is still smiling. And I cannot think of a single thing to say.
His green eyes twinkle. He squeezes my hand gently and pulls back.
“I think we were both expecting someone a little different,” he says.
“We were?” I say automatically, and we both laugh.
“Linda said you were, and I quote, ‘a studious, bright young woman eager for knowledge and nothing more.’” Clark leans back in his chair and lifts one ankle to his knee. The buckles up the length of his combat boot jingle.
“Linda?” I ask. “You mean Dr. Jones?”
“That is her name, last time I checked.”
“Oh, well, yes, I could certainly use your help,” I fumble.
Clark smiles. “I thought you’d be a total nerd.”
I want to frown, but I keep my face thoughtful. “Is that because you study philosophy and you’re a nerd?”
Clark tips his head to me. “Point taken. We are both more than we appear to be.”
“Are we? We don’t know anything about each other.”
“Let’s remedy that,” he says. He sips his coffee, watching me. “You shop at the mall on the weekends. True or false?”
“False. I don’t shop unless I need something. You listen to the Smiths. True or False?”
“False, although I do like Depeche Mode. You have a mirror in your purse. True or false?”
“False. I don’t even carry makeup. You’re an anarchist. True or false?”
“False. I’m a Libertarian. You collect purses. True or false?”
“False. I own exactly one purse, and the question offends me. You have a Prince Albert. True or false?”
Clark raises a pierced eyebrow at me. “A sweet, innocent little nerd like you knows what a Prince Albert is?”
I grin. “True or false?”
Clark grins back, and that smile I thought so sinister five minutes ago now seems sexy.
“My aunt will kill me if I answer that,” he says.
“She’s your aunt? She didn’t tell me that.”
“She hates to admit we’re related,” he says.
“Really?” I say, thinking that the Dr. Jones I’ve come to know doesn’t seem that close-minded.
“No. Not really.”
Dedication
To Christina. I have the time to write because of you.
About the Author
Andrea Ring was born and raised in Orange County, California. At age eight, she wrote an essay proclaiming she wanted to be an “auther” when she grew up. It only took her thirty years to realize her dream.
She enjoys beating her four children at Boggle, reading science fiction and fantasy, and eating bacon. She hates to exercise, but loves taking walks with her family through Old Towne Orange. She's lucky to be married to the love of her life.
Her favorite ride at Disneyland is Indiana Jones.
Her favorite movies are The Princess Bride and Better Off Dead.
She thinks every book should contain a love story.
Did we mention her love of bacon?
Visit her website at http://www.andrearing.net.
Copyright Page
SYSTEMATIC Copyright © 2014 by Andrea Ring
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Originally published in 2014 by Square Gorilla Press. http://www.squaregorilla.com.
ISBN 978-0-9893825-8-8
Cover art and design:
Jay Walsh, http://meanoiche.blogspot.com
Acknowledgements
Jay, you’ve done it again. Thank you.