Finding Cupid

by B. E. Baker

  I hold up my hand. “I’m rubber and you’re glue. Everything you say to me bounces off of me and sticks to you.”

  But Rob doesn’t laugh like he usually would. “It’s not funny. You’re hiding and it’s killing me to watch it.”

  I fume. “Hello Pot. I’m kettle. You’re black.”

  “Fine. I haven’t been on just one date,” Rob says. “I’ve been on hundreds.”

  I gasp. “When? You’re always at home when I call, or hanging out with me.”

  He stares at me flatly. “Exactly.”

  “You just said these aren’t dates.”

  “I said I would move on if I could, and I meant I’ve been wanting to move on with you. These dinners, or going to movies, or getting ice cream, they aren’t dates for you, but they are for me.”

  I have no idea how to reply to that.

  “I’ve loved you for years, G. I don’t expect you to respond, because I realized something tonight. You don’t love me like that, not even a little bit, and you never will.”

  My mouth drops open. I have no idea how to respond.

  “You lit up when you saw that tall guy. In a way you’ve never, ever done when you saw me. I never even saw you look at Mark that way, if I’m being honest, which clearly I am tonight. That realization hurt, but thinking of you shutting down for the rest of your life hurts more. I love you too much to let that happen.”

  Rob stands up and tosses a hundred dollar bill on the table. “I’ll always be here for you Geo, but I’m done pining. You should move on, too.”

  I’m not sure how long I sit at the table, staring at that hundred. When I finally stand up and walk out, I don’t notice much about the people or cars around me.

  How could I have been so blind? Rob, who’s basically an older brother to me, who taught me to ride a bike, who I told about my first kiss with Mark, who held me while I cried on his shoulder in the hospital for months, who has taken me to dinner to sob about my mom for years, Rob loves me?

  I only feel guilt that I never even noticed.

  I am a horrible person.

  When I get home, I try to finalize some suggestion pages for Mary, but I can’t focus on them. I keep glancing at my closet, wondering what I should wear tomorrow. On my date with Trig.

  Because Rob’s right. I’m looking forward to it. But Rob’s wrong that Mark would be pleased. I’m sure Mark’s looking down at me right now in disgust. I know I would be.

  And even knowing that, I still feel an embarrassing amount of excitement about seeing Trig tomorrow. I might have even checked my phone fifteen times to see whether he’s texted me yet. I stand up and get a big glass of water. I clean up my family room. And my bedroom.

  When my fingers get too itchy, to avoid texting Trig, I text his sister.

  WORE THE BOOTS TONIGHT. LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I’M LUCKY TO BE YOUR CHARITY CASE.

  Brekka texts back right away. TRIG TOLD ME HE RAN INTO YOU AND THE BOOTS LOOKED AMAZING. GLAD THEY’RE GETTING SOME USE.

  So much for my thought that he hasn’t texted me yet because he’s driving. He’s already texted Brekka. I want to ask her what else he said. I want to push for information, which is totally unlike me. I suppress the urge. Sort of.

  SHOULD I SEND YOU THAT PREPAID POSTAGE NOW?

  I had to text her back. It would be rude not to, and that’s not about Trig. Although it is kind of beating the dead horse of what was only a mediocre joke to begin with. Actually mediocre was probably generous.

  I hate this kind of social stuff.

  BETTER YET, COME BACK OUT FOR A VISIT.

  I grin. I’VE KIND OF GOT A WEDDING TO PLAN.

  WEDDING, SCHMEDDING. COME SKI.

  YOU CAN’T EVEN SKI. I text, and then I wish I hadn’t hit send. Did I just offend her?

  YOU CAN SKI FOR ME. I MAKE TRIG DO EVERYTHING I CAN’T. BUT THE THINGS HE CAN’T DO BECAUSE HE’S NOT A GIRL, MAYBE I’LL MAKE YOU DO THOSE.

  LIKE WHAT? I ask.

  LIKE GO ON A HOT DATE.

  She knows. My fingers hover over the keys on my phone. I want to ask her what Trig said, but her loyalty is clearly to him. This is a really dangerous conversation. Brekka’s really nice, but I need to keep in mind she’s with the enemy.

  I text back and hit send before I can change my mind. I HAVE ONE PLANNED FOR TOMORROW.

  Two can play the vague game. Chew on that, Brekka.

  I HOPE THE GUY IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU.

  ME TOO, I text back.

  WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WEAR?

  I tap my lip. NO IDEA. NOT SURE WHERE WE’RE GOING YET.

  WHAT KIND OF GUY HASN’T TOLD YOU? ROB? TEXT HIM RIGHT NOW AND TELL HIM THAT’S RUDE.

  Is it possible Trig told her he saw me, but didn’t tell her we had a date?

  WHY DON’T YOU TELL HIM FOR ME.

  WAIT, HOLD THE PHONE. IS TRIG TAKING YOU OUT? she asks.

  When I don’t reply, dots appear. I sip on my water.

  BECAUSE HE SHOULD KNOW BETTER, she says. I HAVE FAILED YOU, BUT NEVER FEAR. I’LL FIX IT. ALSO. Love eyes emoji. THIS IS VERY EXCITING.

  Twenty seconds later, my phone bings with a text from Trig. I laugh out loud. I might be a little in love with Brekka.

  APPARENTLY YOU’VE BEEN TEXTING MY SISTER. I GUESS THAT MEANS YOUR DATE’S OVER?

  IT WASN’T A DATE, I text.

  I WAS TRYING TO GIVE YOU SOME TIME TO BE POLITE. BUT JUST SO YOU KNOW, THAT GUY LURVES YOU.

  Trig might be more insightful than I give him credit for. In any case, I’m not discussing Rob with him.

  I’M HOME.

  WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? He sends me the same heart eyes emoji his sister just sent, which is frankly kind of odd.

  GRANNY PANTIES AND A FOOTED SLEEPER.

  MY FAVORITE, he texts back. SPEAKING OF CLOTHING, I FIGURED YOU MIGHT WANT TO KNOW WHAT TO WEAR TOMORROW.

  MIGHT BE HELPFUL. I sip more water.

  FOOTED SLEEPERS ARE ALWAYS A GOOD OPTION. BUT THAT MIGHT BE BULKY UNDER YOUR NEW BOOTS.

  I snort the water out of my nose. MIGHT BE AT THAT.

  The dots appear and I patiently wait. DINNER AND A MOVIE IS A LITTLE BORING FOR ME.

  WHAT DID YOU HAVE IN MIND? I ask.

  IF YOU’RE ABLE TO GET AWAY EARLY ENOUGH, WE COULD GO SKYDIVING. LAST TIME I ONLY SPRAINED YOUR KNEE. I FIGURE IF I’M LUCKY, I COULD AT LEAST BREAK YOUR ANKLE.

  HARD PASS. In fact, I should be begging off from this date entirely. The fact that he thinks I might go skydiving…

  I WAS KIDDING.

  I sigh in relief.

  HOW ABOUT A BRAZILIAN STEAKHOUSE? I HEAR CHAMA GAÚCHA IS DECENT.

  SURE. I LOVE THE GUYS WITH SWORDS, I text.

  PERFECT. SHOOT ME YOUR ADDRESS AND I’LL PICK YOU UP AT SIX.

  After that, I brush my teeth and climb into bed. I’m drifting off when Mark’s face floats to the surface. Rob might think Mark would want me to move on, but how could Mark want me to move on? It’s so unfair that he’s dead, and I’m going out to fancy dinners.

  Without him.

  I dream that night about a chess game between Mark and Trig. They keep making the wrong moves, and I yell at them both, but neither of them can hear me.

  Because I’m dead instead.

  When I wake up, I wonder what it means, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what.

  12

  Trig

  I love puzzles, always have. It may be one of the reasons I’m so good at my job. Which is why, when Geo handed me a puzzle piece, I jumped on it right away.

  The Phineas Enrollment.

  I spend two hours looking for anything that Geo could have been talking about and turn up nothing that might fit. There are public schools in Boston and California by that name, but even if she had a kid at fifteen, the child would only be eleven, so that can’t be it.

  Phineas is apparently a character in a dumb Disney cartoon, but how would that factor into anything? And what does that have to do with an enrollment? Some kind of Disney class or experience
? Would that cost a small fortune?

  I search medical trials for back surgeries on the off chance it has something to do with Rob, but honestly if it had to do with that, I’d have heard of it before. I’ve spent countless hours over the past few years obsessively looking up medical options for Brekka. Plus, Rob definitely acted like he was offering Geo a favor, not the other way around.

  Finally I text Luke. HOW MUCH ARE YOU PAYING GEO FOR ORGANIZING YOUR WEDDING?

  Maybe the amount they’re paying her will give me an idea. Could it be some kind of college or course offering she wants to take herself? Maybe she has aspirations that differ from running her own event planning company. She said she knew Paisley from Emory, so she’s probably already graduated from undergraduate. Grad school? She seems to love her job, but she’s not exactly forthcoming.

  Luke takes his sweet time to reply, which I assume means he checked in with Mary to make sure he could share with me. He’s such a goodie two shoes. Be a man, Luke.

  A HUNDRED GRAND. WHY?

  COUSIN WANTS TO DO A WEDDING. WANTED TO KNOW THE GOING RATE. Lie lie lie. Can’t let Luke know I’m borderline obsessed with his adorable wedding planner.

  IN COLORADO?

  I only have two cousins and they’re both married already, so I hope Luke drops this or it might get awkward fast. I really should have thought up a better lie.

  NAH, NEW YORK. At least that’s true.

  I THINK WE MIGHT BE OVERPAYING HER, BUT SHE WAS RELUCTANT.

  Pay dirt. Reluctant to plan weddings, that I knew. But just because of the ex-fiancé and her own failed attempt? Or is there more? ANY IDEA WHY?

  NO, BUT MAYBE MARY CAN FIND OUT. WANT ME TO PUSH?

  I doubt Mary’s going to be able to poke into this Phineas thing without tipping my hand. In any case, I’m seeing Geo tonight, so if I need to push, I’ll be better off doing it myself.

  NAH, JUST CURIOUS.

  HEARD YOU’VE GOT A DATE TONIGHT.

  MAYBE I SHOULD POST DETAILS ON FACEBOOK, I text. MIGHT SAVE YOU ALL SOME TIME.

  MARY’S EXCITED, WHICH MEANS I GET TO HEAR ABOUT IT. PART OF BEING ENGAGED. MAYBE YOU’LL FIND OUT.

  NO RINGS FOR ME, OLD MAN. THANKS FOR THE HEADS UP, THOUGH.

  A hundred grand. I tap on the desk of my hotel room with a pen. That could be tuition maybe. Or a multi level marketing buy in? Or a cult payment. Or the cost of a different type of clinical trial. But for what? What about an art institute? I search frantically for every stupid idea that strikes my brain, but still find absolutely nothing that looks promising.

  Zippo.

  After another hour of fruitless searching, I still have no idea what Geo could have been talking about. Nothing about this girl is easy. I call up one of my investigators from Nometry and explain what I heard and the few details I know.

  “Find this,” I tell him, “and keep your mouth shut about it, and there’s a ten thousand dollar bonus in it for you. Feel free to use normal working time, but get it done without Brekka finding out.”

  “My son starts college next year,” Scott says. “I’ll figure it out, and I’ll keep my mouth shut and my browser wiped.”

  “Thanks.” I hang up.

  Between prepping for my meeting in San Fran tomorrow, talking to Doug about the NASCAR bachelor party, which looks like a go, and searching pointlessly for the Phineas whatever, it’s already time to shower for my date. I don’t ask anyone what to wear this time.

  I haven’t been nervous about driving in years, but when I pull up in front of Geo’s little condo, nestled at the edge of the woods along the Chattahoochee River, my hands are shaking.

  I’m just going to help her loosen up, so why do I care? I don’t, I remind myself. Not at all.

  I force myself to walk toward her unit casually and rap on her door like it’s just a casual Tuesday night.

  When she answers, her hair twisted up into a complicated knot on top of her head, her eyes luminous, and her cheekbones so prominent I want to reach out and run my finger down the side of her face, every scrap of calm and cool I’d collected evaporates. She’s wearing a delicate sapphire blue sweater that exactly matches her eyes, dark jeans, a black leather moto jacket, and flats.

  “Is your knee bothering you?” I incline my head toward her shoes.

  “No, but I was on my feet a lot today. I didn’t want to push it.”

  “That’s smart.”

  “Is that okay?” she asks. “I can change.”

  “Of course that’s fine. You look amazing.”

  She beams up at me and my heart races. I close my eyes and breathe in and out once.

  Geo grins. “Just let me lock up.” She turns around to face her door and I can’t help following the line of her back down to where her pants hug her backside. I lift my eyes up before she’s turned around, so points for that.

  I walk her out to my car, a little nervous about what she’ll think. I offered her a ride home from the airport, but her car was parked in the lot, so this is the first time she’s seen mine. I’m usually proud of my Vantage, but for some reason, it feels ostentatious and stupid.

  Luke drives a truck. I should have bought a truck today instead of researching the Phineas whatever. A pickup truck seems like a normal guy car, something a guy might drive if he wasn’t trying too hard.

  “Holy moly, is this a Vantage?” she asks, running one hand over the hood reverently. “I’ve seen them on the road once or twice, but I’ve never been this close to one.”

  I cock my head sideways. “Any interest in driving?”

  Her eyes widen. “Uh, no thanks. I’d be way too nervous. But feel free to gun it off the line.” She winks.

  “There’s always next time,” I say. “You can drive it whenever if you change your mind.”

  She gulps. “Maybe.”

  For some reason, at her acknowledgement there might be another time, my lungs fill with too much air. I open the door for her and she slides into the seat, rubbing her hand over the black leather. Her nails look different.

  “Did you paint your nails?” I ask.

  She blushes, and I’m kind of proud of myself for noticing. She cared enough to do her nails. That’s a good sign, I think.

  She squeals with delight every time I floor the gas pedal, even if it’s only a hundred yards of acceleration. It’s like I’m in high school again, and I love it.

  “Rob is never going to believe this,” she says.

  My satisfaction melts away. “Why not? Can’t he afford one?”

  She shrugs. “Probably, but he’s way too practical.”

  I knew I should’ve bought that stupid truck.

  Her hand slides over mine. “I’m sorry I mentioned him,” she says. “It seems to make you mad.”

  I shake my head. “Nothing will make me mad tonight. I’m on a date with Geo. The girl who never dates. Talk about whatever you want.” Like the Phineas enrollment. Or your innermost hopes and dreams.

  What is wrong with me? I need my mojo back.

  When we reach the churrascaria and I toss my keys to the valet, Geo squeaks. I turn to look at her. “What was that?”

  “You valet this car?” She makes the sign for crazy by winding her finger around and around by her ear. “Maybe I will drive it after all. I can’t possibly endanger it as much as that college kid will. He has braces. Did you notice the orthodontia?”

  I grin. “Life’s too short not to play with your toys, and I’m not going to hike all over the place just because I have a nice car.”

  “I guess so,” she says.

  I take her hand in mine as we walk into the restaurant, and she doesn’t pull away. When I give them my name, the hostess tells us our table’s already waiting.

  “I guess you never have to wait for a table,” she mutters.

  “Not on a Tuesday night, I don’t.”

  She glances sideways at my smirk and squeezes my hand. My heart races.

  Her phone bings and her lips part. She lets go of my hand to dig it
out of her tiny black purse. “Sorry, but I set it to silent unless it’s from a priority client.”

  I shrug. “I don’t mind.”

  She swipes to open it, and bobs her head. “It’s Mary. I sent her the paperwork and my written evaluation on Vail and she and Luke are going to go another direction.”

  “Why?” I ask. “Did you hate it?”

  She grins at me. “Not at all. I recommended it highly, actually, but.” She swivels her phone toward me and shows me the text.

  YOUR WRITEUP WAS GREAT, Mary says, BUT YOU GOT STUCK THERE. LUKE AND I HAVE BEEN TALKING IT OVER. WEATHER IN SNOWY PLACES IS TOO UNPREDICTABLE. I’D RATHER NOT WORRY WE MIGHT GET SNOWED IN ON EITHER END.

  After we sit, she texts Mary back and forth for a few minutes. “I’m almost done,” she says. “So sorry about that. We’re just on such a short timeline.”

  “I think we’re a go for the NASCAR weekend, by the way,” I say.

  She beams at me. “That’s great news. Thank you so much for helping with that. I think Luke will enjoy it, and Mary said race cars don’t make her nervous.”

  “Good news all around. Where are you taking the girls for the bachelorette party?”

  “Probably Miami. Not completely sure, but something at the beach.” She glances down at her phone and frowns. “Or maybe not. Now Luke and Mary want me to check out Hawaii for the reception. And Mary would rather not do a beach wedding and bachelorette weekend on the beach too.” She waves the phone at me. “See? Weddings suck.”

  I laugh. “I bet you can handle it.”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s a pain, though. It’s interrupting my first date in years.”

  “Where in Hawaii?” I ask. “Because I’ve got a meeting there on Friday morning.”

  “Maui, I think.” She taps away on her phone. “Although they didn’t say.”

  “I’d recommend Kauai myself, especially if they want scenic nature for their photos. Plus, that’s where my meeting is and you could come along. Save them the price of a ticket.”

  She lifts one eyebrow. “You’re going to be here in Atlanta until you leave for a meeting in Hawaii?”