“What?” Remi speaks first. “That can’t be legal. I can’t believe he did that.”
“You need to be safer,” Jenn adds. “Always check the plate and the make of the car to make sure they match what’s on the app.”
“No. It’s not his fault. He tried telling us. It was my fault.” Okay, yes, I should definitely not have shared this story. “I was crying over some jerk I was barely dating. I was a hot mess. Over the top. My friends were too busy worrying about me and then it just happened. I’m sure he just felt bad and was playing the nice guy by taking us all home.”
“Hmm. And that’s when he asked you for your number?” Jenn raises a brow. What part of this story do they actually know? Just the part where I said I’d help him?
“No, not exactly.” I am desperate to stop talking, but at this point I’m pretty much screwed. I need to finish. “He asked my friend Amanda for my number. She told me. I emailed him. He emailed me back. We met for coffee, and I thought it was a date,” I say sheepishly. “It wasn’t. He told me the real reason he wanted my number and that’s kinda how it all happened.”
“Ew. I don’t like that story.” Remi frowns at Jenn.
“Me either. That took a bad turn.” Jenn gets up and paces the room. “You thought he was asking you out, and he was actually asking you to meet him so you could help him and give him dating advice. How is he such an arrogant, oblivious asshole sometimes?”
“I don’t know.” Remi chomps on her thumbnail, just as annoyed as Jenn. “You should have thrown a coffee in his face and stormed out.”
“I thought about it.” I don’t look too good in this story either. Why on earth did I open this can of worms? I don’t even know these girls. “But then he offered to help me become more assertive and I just... I don’t know… I agreed.” I hold my hands out. “But honestly, you can’t blame him for not being interested in me. Like I said, I was a hot mess that night.”
“Oh please.” Jenn waves me off. “The Barclays love hot messes. Just ask this one.”
“Hottest. Mess. In. Town.” Remi points to herself with each word.
“And my brother fucking loves her,” Jenn finishes. “But we cannot do the two-year thing again,” she says to Remi, then swallows, looking lost in a moment of her own.
“Oh God no, absolutely not,” Remi replies. “But maybe we should make sure, just in case, before we get ahead of ourselves.”
“Speed round?” Jenn nods.
“Speed round.” Remi nods back.
They may as well be speaking in tongues. I have no clue what’s going on.
“Henry’s ex’s name is?” Jenn starts, directing the question toward me.
“Oh, uh. Sasha,” I answer.
“God, I hate that he still talks about her.” Jenn makes a sound of disgust. “And the last time he brought her up?”
“Um, our first date.”
“He hasn’t mentioned her since then?” Jenn zeroes in on me with furrowed brows.
I think back to our dates and even phone conversations just to make sure.
“Nope, nothing since that first date.”
“That’s. Good,” she replies. “Really good.”
“Henry talks about work all the time?” Remi jumps in.
“No, not really. Occasionally, I guess.” This is so weird.
“Interesting.” Both girls nod.
“When Henry discusses golf, it’s A. Obnoxious. B. Torturous C. Mind-numbing D. All of the above?”
“Actually….” I scratch the back of my neck. Lost and uncomfortable. “None of the above.”
“How much was his long nose putter?” Jenn asks.
“No. How much was his car?” Remi one-ups Jenn’s question.
“Yes, good one.” Jenn nods at Remi approvingly.
“I don’t know. He never told me. And I don’t know what a long nose putter even is,” I say, confused and a little scared. Both girls gasp.
“He’s never discussed nor showed you his long nose putter?” Jenn’s eyes are wide with shock.
Long nose putter? Is that slang for his dick?
“No, I’ve never seen it.”
“Okay, well, we know him for sure, but I think we already knew that,” Remi says to Jenn. I’m still out of the loop. “Now let’s see her.”
“The flowers on the first date were, fill in the blank.”
“Way too much,” I admit. “But I was able to tell him that. We talked through all the weird stuff; that was part of the plan. And maybe they weren’t even really that bad now that I look back.”
“Your second date was…?” Jenn leads with another fill in the blank.
“A lot more fun than I expected.” I smile. “He brought me a donut.” No clue why I tell them that.
“Wangy’s Day at the Beach,” Jenn says, and I can’t help but cover my face and laugh.
“He told you about that?” I ask, still grinning.
“It’s hanging above his fireplace,” Jenn says. “Where’s yours?”
“In my bedroom. I hung it on the wall.” Mine doesn’t have a wang on it but it does remind me of Henry every time I see it.
“You hung it with a nail?” Remi asks. I nod, and they exchange looks.
“Henry’s taste in music is?”
“Awesome.” We’d listened to his playlist on the way up. I even have some of the same songs programmed into my playlist, but for some reason they sounded even better blaring through his speakers, seated next to him.
“A 90s girl, nice.” Jenn shrugs before getting back to business. “Have you kissed?”
It takes me a second to form the lie before saying it.
“No.” My face heats up, and I look down at the floor, hoping to mask any visible pink skin, glad not to see their reactions.
“Mmmhmm,” Jenn murmurs.
“Mmmhmm,” Remi agrees, pacing in front of me. “After this arrangement is over, do you plan on remaining friends?”
“No,” I say automatically. “I don’t think so. Probably not.” That’s all I need to say to answer the question, but my lips keep flapping. “It wouldn’t really be a good idea. Besides, he’s going to be dating people and I’m going to be dating people and yeah, definitely no. I mean, friends is just not a good idea and….” Oh God, I’m stuck in a ramble and I don’t know how to get out. “We might see each other at like, well no, probably not, but we’re just not going to be friends.” Stop. End it. Stop talking.
“Okay, well I got what I needed.” Remi looks at Jenn, and they exchange Cheshire grins.
“Me too.” Jenn lifts her hand; Remi smacks it. “So now we just have one question left.”
I’m terrified. My lungs fill with air that’s desperate to spill out but can’t because it’s trapped behind my wall of fear.
“Which one of us gets to do your hair for your date tonight?”
One-Trick Pony
“Are you gonna tell her at dinner?”
I startle as Jenn walks into the office. She comes over to the desk and hops up on top just as I minimize the screen on the laptop. I was perusing the menu at the restaurant we’re going to tonight, and the last thing I need is for Jenn and Remi to show up sporting Dad’s old suits and fake mustaches so they can spy on us—something I wouldn’t put past either of them.
“Tell who, what?” I snip.
“Tina, that you like her,” she snips back in the same tone.
“Please stay out of it. If I wanted your advice, I’d ask.” I look up, searching for the Ethel to her Lucy. “Where’s Remi?”
“She’s doing Tina’s hair. Her rock beat my scissors.”
“Wonderful. I don’t need to worry that she’s up there getting her hair bleached and dyed purple, do I?”
“Excuse me. Rude.” Jenn tosses her light purple locks over her shoulder and sniffs. “Besides, we would never touch that virgin hair.”
“What?” For some reason I stand up only to sit right back down. Did she just say virgin? “Wait... what?”
“I said virgin hair.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s never been dyed or relaxed or treated in any way. You don’t see that very often. Your girl is all natural. Hair, nails, lips, boobs. She’s the real deal.”
“Of course she’s the real deal,” I bark out quickly, and Jenn laughs. She set a trap and I fell right in, saying exactly what she wanted me to. How on earth did I wind up here with only Jenn and Remi? These two will be of no help to me. This was nowhere near what I had in mind when I wanted Trick to come meet the family. “Can you go? I need to think.”
“Fine. I’ll go, but think about this.” My sister is relentless, and I wish that the mystical dream god, Ryan, had wished her story first so I could have a little peace while figuring out my own. Yet, I am curious as to whether she does have any sage advice that could help me with Trick, so I give her my full attention. “You only get zero chances of the…,” she states in a philosophical tone. “No, wait, it’s… you don’t make any shots without a… basketball?” She scrunches her nose and taps her lower lip, staring up at the ceiling. “Count your chickens before they’re ready?”
“Okay, basketballs and chickens, wonderful words of wisdom, oh wise one.” I get up from the desk in order to urge my sister out or else she’ll never leave. I open the door and swoop my arm outward, but instead of one girl leaving, two more walk in.
Trick is dressed in a fitted red dress with delicate straps exposing smooth creamy shoulders and rounded curves I never knew existed. Her hair has been lifted into a wild mane of black curls. My blood pumps until it throbs. My pretty little Trick has transformed into a sex kitten. Everyone else in this room must go. Now.
“Oh my God, you look amazing!” my sister squeals before I can get a word out. She runs over to inspect and touch, asking Remi what products and accessories were used. While the two girls fawn and discuss, Trick’s eyes connect with mine. The blue orbs look to me for approval, her skin a muted shade of the red dress she’s wearing. I smile at her even though my insides are playing an uncontrollable loop of humina humina and I’m working hard to keep my tongue from rolling out of my mouth and down onto the floor.
My jacket is slung over the desk chair, and I slide back into it, buttoning up and adjusting my tie. I’m underdressed in a custom gray Tom Ford next to the gorgeous woman I’m lucky enough to take out tonight. I’m nothing but smoke next to her bright flame.
“We better head out if we’re going to make our reservation.” I reach for Trick. My fingers glide against her smooth skin and instantly retract. Fire burns. The touch of her sizzling skin throws me for a loop. Why are there so many loops with Trick? All the research in the world could never leave me prepared enough for her. My hand wanders absently over the buttons of my suit jacket, and I cool down with thoughts of a snow-covered golf course, since there is no stiff denim to hide behind tonight. “Shall we?”
“Yes, I’m excited,” Trick says as we make our way toward the stairs.
“Don’t forget, you said we could all do breakfast in the morning,” Jenn yells after us.
“But we understand if you want to sleep in,” Remi adds insinuatingly, and I place my hand behind Trick, careful to only touch her dress, not her skin, and pick up the pace to distance us.
“I’m sorry about them. This was not what I had in mind when I wanted you to meet the family,” I say once we’re out of earshot. “Hope they weren’t too bad.”
“They’re great. Intense but really fun.” She takes a breath. “But I was a little confused. They know about this whole arrangement with us but they… I don’t know. Never mind.” She laughs off whatever she was gonna say and pulls something from her purse. “It’s cold, but my coat does not go with this dress.” She unfolds the delicate material she retrieved and wraps herself up in a black pashmina.
“You’ll freeze,” I warn her. The dress is small; the air is cold.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, but the second we open the door and step outside, a big gust of wind lifts the thin fabric.
I have two options. Go in and force her to wear her coat whether it goes or not, or be her coat stand-in while escorting her to my car, which thanks to the click of a button is already warmed and waiting.
With my arm draped over her, the walk to the car is too short. I open the door and shut her in, walking slowly over to the driver side. The cool air is now refreshing and necessary.
“We have to talk,” Trick says as I buckle up. I steady my hand on the steering wheel, gripping it tight.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
“I kinda figured you’d want to.” She plays with the fringe of her wrap, twisting the soft material in her fingers. “Tonight, anything you want or need, just ask.”
“Pardon?” I choke out. “What kinds of things?”
“Anything,” she says again. Her soft scent fills the car, taking over my senses. I breathe in through my nose, filling my lungs, holding on to the sweet air for a few seconds before exhaling. “Any questions or dating advice you need, now’s the time to ask.” Her head turns to look out the window. “This is all over soon. We’re at the end.”
“The end,” I repeat, deflating, hating the way the words taste on my tongue.
“Well, the end of us. But it will be the beginning for you and someone great,” she says, causing so many thoughts to run through my mind all at once. I already have someone great. It’s you. You’re kind, funny, honest, appreciative, sometimes snappy, but I even like that about you. You’re real. Genuine. Forget this whole plan. I was a fool. “And for me too,” she continues, bringing my racing thoughts to a grinding halt. “You really helped me, Henry. Because of you, I know the type of guy I should be looking for, and when I find him, I’m going to be better equipped to assert myself.”
I’ve never experienced jealousy. I’ve never had to. Born with looks and smarts, a natural in the athletic department, oldest of the family, adored by all. The favorite brother, the favorite son, presumably. Every goal I’ve set, I’ve exceeded. But first at the restaurant the night of her date and even more so now, the ugly green monster I’ve eluded all my life is rearing its ugly head.
But it’s not too late. This is fixable. I just need to assess and plan. Over dinner I can talk to her. Get the right words together and say them. And then pray there’s a chance that she’s feeling the same way. Because if not, just like she said…
It’s over. The end of us.
Trick of the Mind
“When the time is right, how do I tell the person I’m with that I’m falling for them?” Henry asks.
The questions begin. Conversation over dinner wasn’t easy. This place is something right out of an old movie. Small tables, a large band complete with male singer, and a dance floor of swaying couples. While we ate, we were entertained. But now that Mick Morales has stepped off stage, the soft hum of instrumental music in the background has made it easy to once again converse.
“How would you tell them?” I pause to think. “I’m guessing with twelve-dozen roses, a choir, and a flock of white doves being released.” I say it half-kiddingly, but Henry doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile.
“Is that how you still see me? Over the top, showing off my wealth and success. Flashy.” He refers back to the comments I made on the first fake date.
“No, I don’t. It was a bad attempt at humor. I’m sorry.” I pick up my water glass and sip to moisten my dry mouth. “I see things with you very differently now than I first did.”
“Do you? Am I someone you’d date?” Henry’s eyes are fixed on me, but I can’t seem to bring my gaze up to meet his because I know my eyes are screaming YES!
“Lots of women will want to date you. Women you are actually interested in.” He referenced an earlier statement; so can I.
“Trick.” My words knock the air from him, and his penetrating stare is broken. “I never meant— When this whole thing started—” His perfect demeanor is frazzled. “Things are different now. Even in this short time, I’m different now
. Because of you.”
“Good. That was the point of all this. I feel different too.” I pull my pashmina over my shoulders and wrap myself up.
“Are you cold?” Henry asks, one hand on his top button ready to remove his jacket and offer it to me.
“No, please, I’m fine,” I assure him. If anything, I’m feeling exposed more than cold. Covering up was a protective reaction so that I don’t expose too much. “The chicken was delicious.” I revert to small talk.
“You never really answered my question. How do I tell someone that I’ve fallen... in love with them?” Henry shuts down my chicken convo. He wants answers. That’s the whole point of this. Just because I’m in a wacked-out headspace does not mean that I can shirk on my obligation to help Henry.
“When the time is right, you just say it. I love you.”
“I love you, Trick,” he says.
“Exactly. Like that.” I hold up a finger. “Except when you’re saying the woman’s name, use her real name. Not some impersonal made-up nickname.”
“Dammit.” Henry’s fist crashes onto the table. “What’s wrong with me? Why am I fucking up so bad?”
“Stop. You’re not.” I’m taken aback by his reaction. I’ve never heard him say the f-word and place my hand over his curled fingers. “When you’re with someone for real and say those words, of course you’ll say her name. You only said Trick because you know…. That’s what this all is, a trick of the mind. It’s not real.” His hand balls up tighter under my touch, his lips nothing but two thin lines. Shoot. I didn’t mean to upset him, but I guess now that’s it coming to an end, he’s nervous. I should ease up on any negative feedback. Although, I really didn’t see that as negative.
The lights dim, and the band returns, followed by Mick Morales. He’s slowing things down, dedicating the first song to Rebecca and Jeff on their sixteenth wedding anniversary. His silky voice commands the room and gets couples on their feet, tangled together, and moving slowly to the romantic lyrics being belted out.
“Dance with me.” Henry doesn’t ask. It’s an order. But I find no flaw with it. My pashmina slides from my shoulders down onto my chair as I’m quick to my feet, ready to take his hand so he can lead the way.
Whiskey Trick Page 8
