Miss Match: a Lauren Holbrook novel

by Erynn Mangum

  “We did call.” I’m tripping along behind her like a little lost dog. “We called Ruby’s house. Several times. And we never . . . ah . . .”

  We enter a living room. That is, I think it’s a living room. All I see is beige, beige, beige. On the walls, the carpet, the couches, even the entertainment center.

  I think of the scene in The Ten Commandments where Charlton Heston is sent to the desert and the sandstorm kicks up and everywhere he looks is just brown.

  What a depressing color.

  No wonder Odella has a moniker like that.

  “This way, Laurie,” she snaps and thumbs to an old-style bar door. She pushes through it and I follow, blinking.

  I stop blinking for just a moment when I step into the kitchen but quickly start again. My contacts are beginning to dry out.

  Ruby is crumpled on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, aimlessly stirring a china teacup with something green in it, staring at the oven door. Her hair is a wavy, tangled wreck, she doesn’t have any makeup on, and she wears a bright red robe over some flannel polka-dot pajamas. A four-inch mountain of Kleenex grows on the counter beside her.

  “Uh, Ruby?” I creep up beside her.

  She drags her eyes off the oven and blinks red-rimmed eyes repeatedly at me. “Laurie?”

  Oy. I refrain from saying it out loud. She looks like she was trampled by a high school marching band and then dropped into the tuba.

  “Hi, Honey,” I say, my voice warm and syrupy like Hershey’s chocolate sauce. “What happened?” I sit down beside her, wrapping an arm over her shoulders, pushing the strong-smelling, inedible-looking tea out of her reach.

  Her eyes fill. “He likes me,” she whispers.

  Not the response I’m expecting.

  “Okay,” I say slowly, rubbing her shoulder. “Then why . . . ?”

  “He sat there last night and told me straight to my face that he likes me!” Her voice is choked and full.

  “Ruby, I’m not seeing what the problem is.”

  “We were sitting there after dinner at this little dessert place and he held my hand and told me he likes me and I . . . I . . .” She bursts into tears, covering her face.

  I look up at Odella, who stands with arms crossed, leaning against her cabinets. “She threw up,” Odella supplies unemotionally.

  “Oh, Sweetie.” I hug Ruby tighter.

  “I can’t believe it! I was so embarrassed. And I threw up a lot too. I felt sick the whole way home and I just couldn’t look at him.”

  “What did he say?”

  She waves a hand, bleakly. “He said he hoped I felt better.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  She closes her eyes in pain. “I fell asleep in his car. When I woke up, I was here.”

  “In Odella’s house?”

  Odella nods. “The man came banging at my door at ten last night, wondering if I had a spare key to Ruby’s because he couldn’t get her house key to work. Naturally, I don’t. I don’t believe in having spare keys lying around for every burglar in the neighborhood to break into everyone’s house as he pleases.”

  I nod, only half-listening to her ranting.

  Ruby rubs her swollen eyes and sighs. “I botched it, Laurie. The one guy I’ve ever really liked and I ruined it!” She dissolves into yet more tears.

  I look back at Odella, who hands me another Kleenex box without a word.

  A thought hits me and I feel like throwing up just thinking about it.

  “Uh, Ruby?” I cut into her sobs, rubbing her back.

  “Wh-what?” She shudders, mopping her nose and eyes with a Kleenex.

  “You didn’t, I mean, you two didn’t go to Halia’s, did you?”

  She blinks and nods. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “Oh boy.” I pull my hand away and rub my own face. “Ryan and I went there for lunch yesterday.”

  “So?” Odella demands.

  “So they’re hiding a corpse in the back. It’s what they make the carne adovada with.”

  Ruby’s sobbing gets louder. Odella just stares at me blanch-faced.

  “You’re not serious,” she finally says.

  “No, not really. But I do think the restaurant is not cooking things properly.”

  Ruby begins wailing.

  “Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry!” I put both arms around her now and she tucks her head on my shoulder. I feel her tears soak through my shirt. “I just naturally assumed you’d go to Vizzini’s. I don’t know why, I just did.”

  Ruby shakes her head vehemently, banging her forehead against my chin.

  Ahw. Pain shoots up my jaw and pounds in my brain.

  She blows her nose. Once. Twice. A third time and then uses the shredded Kleenex to soak up her cheeks. “You mean . . .” Her voice wobbles. “You mean it wasn’t me?”

  I’m not comprehending. “What?”

  “It was the food? It was the restaurant’s fault?”

  “Yes, Ruby.” My voice is back in Hershey mode.

  Fresh tears drip down her cheeks, staining her face red in the meantime. “This is wonderful,” she croaks, leaning forward and burying her head in her arms.

  I exchange a puzzled glance with Odella.

  “What is?” I ask.

  Ruby lifts her head. “I thought it was me. I thought I’d gone and gotten a stupid virus or something. Or that Nick telling me he liked me was too much for my stomach and I wasn’t built for marriage.”

  I rub her back, trying very hard not to laugh at her misery.

  “But now you say it’s the restaurant’s fault?” Her voice squeaks like she’s in puberty.

  I can’t decide if that is a question or a statement. So I just keep patting.

  Ryan would have been proud of me.

  Odella frowns as Ruby keeps crying. “I’ve dealt with this long enough. Her purse is in the guest room. Her keys are in there.”

  “Guest room is which way?”

  She rolls her eyes like I should know where the guest room is. “Never mind. I’ll get it.” She stalks from the room, curlers bouncing.

  I take the teacup from the counter and set it in the sink, then swipe Ruby’s mountain of Kleenex into the trash can I find under the sink.

  I see some disinfectant in the cabinet, pull Ruby’s head off the counter, and wipe down the whole of it, just in case she has the flu instead of food poisoning.

  “What’s happening?” She hiccups.

  “We’re leaving. Come on, Ruby, stand up.” She stands and suddenly gasps. I drop the spray bottle and grab her arms. “What? Pain? Where?”

  “Work!” she shrieks. “Oh my gosh! What time is it?”

  “Ten thirty.”

  She screams. “I had an appointment! Oh my gosh!” she says again.

  “Look, Honey, don’t worry about it. Brandon and I covered it. Come on. We’ll get you cleaned up and then you can go to work.”

  Odella reappears with the purse.

  I shoulder the bag and smile sweetly. “Thanks for taking care of her, Odella.”

  “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she says, huffing. “Men.”

  Apparently, this one word is the curse-all and end-all for Odella.

  I wrap an arm around Ruby, still rubbing her shoulder, and lead her back through the sandstorm and out the front door. Odella follows us and stands on her porch watching as I help Ruby back to her house.

  “I would like that robe and pajama set cleaned before she returns it,” Odella calls after us.

  A sudden realization pinches my spinal column and I look back. Odella has her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face.

  “What time do you usually go into work?” I call to her.

  She grumpily responds, “Seven.”

  I smile. “Thanks, Odella.” There is hope for the woman yet. Any workaholic who can take a good four hours in the morning to console a wounded neighbor has a good chance of bec
oming normal.

  I unlock Ruby’s front door, escort her inside, and point her toward the shower. She goes into the bathroom and I dig through her too-neat closet to find something girly and feel-good she can wear.

  I finally find a cute flippy skirt and a bright pink top in the back of her closet.

  She comes out of the bathroom in a robe twenty minutes later, looking remarkably better. Her nose and eyes are still slightly swollen, but the redness has receded and her eyes have cleared some.

  “I feel horrible.” She falls on her bed.

  “Not now. Get up, Ruby.”

  She moans tragically. “I have an awful headache. And I can’t believe I spent the night at Odella’s.”

  “You did her a favor by getting her back into the world of the lost and needy. Get up.”

  She sits, cradling her head in her hands.

  I hand her the outfit. “Get dressed and dry your hair.”

  Thirty minutes later, she looks somewhat professional, and we leave. I drive straight to Merson’s and buy us both extra-large coffees while she waits in the car.

  “Bless you,” she fawns when I climb back in. She pops the plastic lid off and inhales. “Whatever Odella tried to make me drink was disgusting. Tasted like grass.”

  I park in front of the studio a moment later.

  We both stay where we are. I look over at her. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and she’s staring sadly out the windshield, probably not seeing anything.

  “Hey, Ruby?” I say gently.

  She jerks. “What?”

  “You need to know that if Nick’s the right guy, he won’t care about what happened.” I’m reaching for her arm again.

  She sighs. “I keep telling myself that. Let’s go inside, Laurie. I’ll feel better if I’m doing something productive.”

  “You can do my laundry for me later if that will help.”

  She suddenly smiles at me, leans over, and kisses my cheek. “You’re the best, Laurie. Ryan’s a lucky guy.”

  “But . . . he . . . we —”

  She gets out and shuts the door on my stutter. I’m sure Ryan and I will face grave afterlife consequences for our deception.

  I rub my head and slurp my coffee, clambering out after her.

  Hannah opens the door for us. “Hi, Ruby.”

  Ruby smiles bravely. “Hannah.”

  Hannah’s voice is sugary. “Can I get you anything?”

  Ruby thinks for a moment and shakes her head. “No thanks. When’s my next appointment?”

  “In ten minutes.”

  “I’ll just go get the studio ready.” She leaves quietly.

  Hannah looks at me, eyebrows raised. I smile tersely at her and set my coffee on the desk.

  The bell rings over the door just as Hannah opens her mouth.

  “Is Ruby here?” Ryan tears into the place. “I tried calling her all morning and she didn’t answer at her house and she didn’t answer on her cell and when I called here earlier no one answered.” He rakes a hand through his curly hair, his eyes frantic. “It’s not like her.”

  “It’s okay, she’s here,” I soothe. “She’s in the studio.”

  He hugs me. Very tightly. My spinal column is protesting loudly and I get a mouthful of his coat when I try to breathe. “Thank God,” he says and exhales hard. Stepping back, he levels a look at me. “What happened?”

  “Yeah, what happened?” Hannah says.

  “Well,” I start slowly, milking it, “there’s good news and bad news.”

  “What’s the bad news?” Ryan asks.

  “Nick took her to Halia’s last night.”

  Ryan closes his eyes. “Oh no.”

  “She threw up just as Nick told her he liked her.”

  Hannah shakes her head. “Poor thing! What’s the good news?”

  “I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico.”

  “Laurie!” Ryan yells, but a grin sneaks onto his face.

  Hannah giggles.

  “No, the good news is that her neighbor, Odella —”

  “Oh. I met her. Scary woman,” Ryan says.

  “Yeah. Anyway, I think her blood’s beginning to warm up, so there’s hope for her. She took care of Ruby last night.” I lower my voice. “She even let Ruby borrow pajamas and a robe.”

  “That’s really nice,” Hannah says.

  Ryan melts into one of the chairs in front of Hannah’s desk. “Man.” He groans, massaging his temples. “I was really worried.”

  “Well, you’re a good brother.” I smile at him, feeling sticky. He’s slumped over in the chair, his brown hair is a curly wreck, and he’s got two-day scruff on his chin. He looks forlorn and little, like the ice cream cone he just bought melted before he got a chance to eat it.

  “I think I’ll go see if Ruby needs help,” Hannah says slowly, looking smugly at me and disappearing.

  Smooth, my eye.

  I watch her go, shaking my head, and drop into the chair beside Ryan.

  He looks over at me from under his hand and smiles. “Thanks for going to check on her, Laur.”

  I reach for my coffee. “I feel guilty that we didn’t tell them not to go to Halia’s.”

  “Yeah. Oh well. Not a lot we can do about it now. Nick’s a good guy, right?”

  I have to grin.

  He answers his own question. “Right. So he’ll be nice about it with Ruby.”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  Long pause. Ryan’s absently stroking his scruff, staring blankly at the desk. “You think they’ll get married?” he asks quietly.

  I dig into the front pocket of my jeans and come out with a ten-dollar bill, a paper clip, a rubber band, and a couple of loose strings. “I’ve got all this saying they will.”

  “Think it’ll happen soon?”

  “June.”

  “Why June?”

  “Ruby just seems like a June bride sort of person. June lilies and the like.”

  Ryan smiles at me. “I’m not even going to comment on that. When do you think he’ll propose?”

  I shrug. Secretly, I hope he’ll come in and do it today so I can have a restful vacation in California.

  Ryan casually puts one arm around my shoulders like he does it every day and uses his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. I pass him my coffee without question.

  He tightens his arm briefly and starts guzzling it.

  “Slow down, Kid, I want some left over.” I’m grasping for the cup back.

  He hands it over. “Thanks, I needed this.”

  “I know.”

  “You should write a book on the many uses for coffee.”

  “I’ll let you know that I have considered it.”

  He smiles at me, and suddenly I realize his arm is still around me and we are sitting fairly close to each other.

  The weird queasiness starts in my stomach again. Ruby must actually have the flu and I caught it.

  His eyes flicker and I look away. He clears his throat.

  “Uh, Laurie?”

  I bite my lip, staring at my hiking boots. “Yeah?” I must have turned the thermostat too high this morning. It is stifling in here.

  Brandon marches out of Studio One just as Ryan opens his mouth. Brandon’s lips are mashed together, but he charms his expression as he turns to face the five kids and two adults behind him. “Thanks for coming. Hannah will have the prints ready tomorrow.” There is enough sugar in his voice to manufacture fifteen bags of Tootsie Rolls.

  “Thank you, Brandon,” five little kids chime. Their parents hustle them out the door.

  Brandon waits until the door closes behind them before the smile slides from his face. He moans. “I’d forgotten why I like managing this studio so much more than actually working at this studio.” He groans again. “I’ll be in my office. Listening to the silence.”

  “OOOOOOHHHH, LA LA LA LAAAAAAA!” I start screaming.

  Brandon’s door slams.

  “Check mark f
or Friday!” Hannah yells from inside Studio Two.

  Ryan grins, squeezes my shoulders, and stands. “I should probably get back to work.”

  I stand as well. “Okay. Well, be careful. Don’t nail your thumb to the house or anything like that.”

  He’s fingering his keys, grinning. “I figured you’d say don’t fall off the roof.”

  “That too. But your balance seems to be okay. It’s just your need to pat that worries me.” I pat his arm, grinning evilly. “And that’s bad when using a hammer and nails.”

  “I’m never going to live it down, am I?”

  “Not while I’m breathing.” I walk with him toward the exit.

  “Then I hope I don’t live it down for a good long time to come.” He stops by the door. “Thanks again, Laur.”

  “Anytime.”

  I’m turning away from the door when he abruptly leans down and kisses my cheek.

  “Bye, Laurie.” He steps out the door.

  I think he freaked us both out. He strides to his truck and I stare after him, not sure if I should be frowning or smiling.

  So I stand blank-faced like a dumbstruck idiot and watch him whiz out of the parking lot like the whole place is quarantined for the Black Plague. The insides of my fingers are itching.

  Never a good sign.

  Hannah clears her throat behind me, and I close my eyes.

  “How much did you see?” I demand, whirling, scratching my fingers.

  “All of it,” she says airily.

  I turn back around, my face burning. “Just so you know, it was staged. We knew you were watching us.”

  She smiles haughtily. “Liar.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “You like him! You know it!”

  I hightail it to the studio like the bad actress I am. “Good-bye, Hannah.”

  I close the door, flip on the lights, and collapse onto the sofa.

  What just happened?

  My stomach feels like a tank full of baby guppies has been transplanted there. My cheeks burn and I can’t catch my breath.

  I cradle my head in my hands and inhale hard.

  It could just be I’ve caught something from Ruby. My face is hot because I turned the thermostat too high. And I can’t breathe because I ran from the room when Hannah caught me.

  Yeah. That has to be it.

  I brush my hands back through my hair and stand. Take a deep breath.