“It’s got so I can’t let you out of the house alone,” Al said, glaring at me. “You’re becoming very bold, know that?”
“Look who’s talking,” I said. “You’re the one who picked him up, not me. I wonder if his underpants are plaid too, to match his kilt. I’d sure like to find out.”
Al shook her head and tch-tched at me. “You have to admit he was pretty cute,” she said. “A true Scottish gentleman. I dig that lassie routine, but I’m not sure he’s Ms. Bolton’s type. I bet she’d go more for the pretty type, like the guys in the Ralph Lauren ads.”
“That type is very, very boring,” I said. “They never smile and you know why? Because they’re worried their tie is crooked or their socks don’t match. Or their hair isn’t on straight. They’re not interested in you, their interested in them.”
“How about if we suggest to Ms. Bolton she put one of those ads in the personals column in the paper?” Al suggested. “You know, ‘caring nonsmoker, into sunsets and red setters.’”
“Talk about blind dates! That’s about as blind as you can get, I figure,” I said.
“They usually say ‘photo a must,’” Al went on. “That’s so you know what you’re getting into. But suppose you’re ugly as sin, your nose is all over your face, and you’re snaggletoothed. What then?”
“You send in a photo of your beautiful sister,” I said. “And the guy falls into instant love with her and writes back saying ‘How about Saturday night?’ What then?”
“Problems, problems,” Al said airily. “Let’s cross here. I want to check out the puppies in the pet shop. If my mother would let me, I’d take the brown-and-white one with the curly tail.”
But the pet shop was gone, along with the puppies. In its window a big sign said
FREE OFFER! SEE INSIDE! TIGHTEN YOUR BOD!
FURM, TONE, IMPROVE YOUR SHAPE!
JOIN AL’S HEALTH CLUB.
FREE OFFER! SEE INSIDE!
A man with a big belly stood in the doorway, yelling at the moving men.
“Watch it! Break that and it’ll cost ya!” he hollered.
“That must be Al,” Al said. “Not only is he an entrepreneur in the fitness game, he’s also a heck of a speller. Check ‘firm.’ Should we tell him?”
“I like it that way,” I said. “Check the abs and the gluts,” I whispered. “How about the pecs?” Al whispered back. That cracked us up.
The man with the big belly wandered over to us. “Let us in on the joke, girls.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Al said.
The fat man’s lips moved in a twitchy way. Was he smiling?
Al has this theory that if you address people as ‘sir’ they immediately like you because they think you respect them.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” she said again. She’d been reading The Return of the Native; that’s the way they talked in Thomas Hardy’s day.
Sure enough, I noticed that every time she called him sir he looked a little less threatening. His was a face that only a mother could love. That was one of my mother’s expressions, some of which are quite good. Al gave them another shot of “Begging your pardon, sir,” which I figured was overdoing it. By the time she’d finished with him, he wore a big smile; probably a first for him.
“What’s on your mind, girlie?” he asked Al.
“What happened to the pet shop?” Al said. “It was here only last week. We came to see the puppies, sir.”
That was it for the sirs. The guy was soft as a grape by now.
“Gonzo,” he said gruffly. “The guy can’t handle the rent raise. He’s gotta pack up his pooches and split. It’s no skin off my nose. I’m in for a bundle, all this high-class machinery. Borrowed from my mother-in-law. She gives me a break, charges ten percent interest instead of her usual twenty. What a sweetheart.
“Hey!” he hollered as the moving men carried a big machine across the sidewalk. “That’s a cross-country ski simulator,” he told us proudly. “All that and more is what you’re gonna find inside. You want a free tryout, you got it. You from around here?”
We nodded, although it wasn’t really our neighborhood.
“Inside we got our tanning machine, you wanna glow all year long,” he said. “We also got available shiatsu and Swedish massage. Not to mention an Olympic weight room complete with a roto curl bar and a squat rack.”
“Hey, neat,” Al said.
“What’s a squat rack?” I asked but got no answer.
“Sounds good, sir.” Al dealt the coup de grace with her final sir. He was hers.
“Come by tomorra, why dontcha? Just ask for me and you’ll try our equipment, then spread the word that Al’s is the best of the best.”
“All right, boys.” He turned his attention to the moving men. “Let’s see if the two o’ youse can handle this one here.”
“What’s a squat rack?” I said again as we headed for home.
“How do I know. A rack you squat on, I guess,” Al said.
“You think we should take him up on it?” I said.
Al shrugged. “Why not. What’ve we got to lose.”
Buy Al’s Blind Date Now!
About the Author
Constance C. Greene is the author of over twenty highly successful young adult novels, including the ALA Notable Book A Girl Called Al, Al(exandra) the Great, Getting Nowhere, and Beat the Turtle Drum, which is an ALA Notable Book, an IRA-CBC Children’s Choice, and the basis for the Emmy Award–winning after-school special Very Good Friends. Greenelives in Milford, Connecticut.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1986 by Constance C. Greene
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0444-2
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Just Plain Al: The Al Series, Book Five Page 11
