"I could give you a ride home," Tom said to me.
I hesitated for a moment. Maybe this was my chance. I imagined Tom pulling into my driveway; we'd sit in his car for an hour as I amazed him with my clever conversation; he'd take me in his arms and—Okay, maybe not. In reality, I'd spend the whole drive trying to think of something to say besides "nice car" and "nice weather," plus Hannah would be mad at me for letting Megan down; my hair would dry in some crazy formation like meringue gone wild; and I wouldn't get any more details about Tyler. Not that I cared. That much. Really.
"No, thanks. I better go." As I followed Hannah back to Bugsy, I turned and waved goodbye to Tom, wishing I'd said something better, something that made me sound a little bit interested. I should have at least given him my phone number. I could've written it in mustard on a paper plate—or in sunscreen on his impressive muscles.
When we got to the parking lot, Megan sat in the back seat. Hannah gets to drive Bugsy? Things must be bad. It wasn't until we were passing Meadowood Mall that I realized I was still wearing Tom's shirt.
Chapter Sixteen
MARGARITA MADNESS
I pulled into the Mexican restaurant's parking lot in a bad mood, especially for a Wednesday. No Gideon. No luscious lips. No long lashes. No wild black curly hair. No toxic toenails. Helen had helped me carry the cakes into the kitchen, making small talk. A couple of older ladies whispered about me. I'd wanted to ask about him, but I didn't want to appear interested/desperate/stalkerish. After all, he pretty much thought I was a big-nosed freak who obsessed about feet.
Finally, after coming back into the kitchen for the third time, Helen said, "Gideon's studying music at Stanford for the next two weeks." She smiled. "I could tell by the way you kept looking back toward his room that you wanted to know."
Was I totally staring at his door? Oh, God, Jory, get a grip. Why do I even like him? He's a total goofball who plays the violin. Dorky, right? And he's not all that good-looking because of the nose thing. We could never breed. Plus, he's some kind of delinquent because he got kicked out of school. Hopefully, Megan would talk some sense into me over lunch. Though I had a feeling it would be all Tyler this and Tyler that. Hannah had been talking with Megan all week and bugging me a thousand times a day to talk to her myself. So here I was at the Mexican place. Ready to talk. Actually, I felt kind of relieved that Tyler didn't like me because he didn't like girls. That meant it wasn't a looks thing.
I didn't see Bugsy parked outside, but I went in to get a table anyway. Megan waved me over from a booth by the windows where she was sitting with two older guys in suits, all of them sharing a jumbo margarita with four straws. One of the guys scooted over and made room for me as Megan gushed, "Guys, this is my bestest friend Jory. Jory, these are the smartest law clerks ever. Tony and Michael. So finish your story, Tony." She looked up at him, practically batting her eyelashes.
I tried to catch Megan's eye, but she stared at Tony while sipping through her straw and nodding as if his legal mumbo jumbo were actually interesting.
I sat there feeling young and stupid with my childishly braided hair, Minnie Mouse T-shirt, and jeans. Then again, Megan acted a little too mature. What was she thinking?
"Isn't that amazing?" Megan asked. "Tony's working on the big fraud case with—" Megan clapped her hands over her mouth. "I better not say too much."
"Don't worry. I don't understand any of it." I looked at my menu but couldn't focus on the words. The Michael guy jiggled his leg up and down next to me. Was this whole thing creeping him out too?
"I don't understand it either." Megan laughed and pushed the margarita over to me.
"No, thanks," I said. "I have enough trouble driving that floral atrocity of a van without any additional impairment." So now Megan was drinking not just after work but during her lunch break? "And we're only seventeen. It's kind of illegal, you know." I hated acting like a bitch, but she pissed me off. I had come prepared to talk, console, be a good friend. Not deal with uncharacteristically drunk Megan.
"Oh, come on, Jory. That's never stopped you before." Megan made a loud sucking sound with her straw, like a little kid getting every last bit of a milk shake. "It's yummy."
The waitress came, put down some chips, and took our orders. Tony ordered another jumbo margarita, but Michael ordered a Coke, and I asked for an ice water.
"So why didn't Tyler come to lunch with you?" I asked.
"Tyler's back kissing butt at the office." Megan broke into guffaws. "Get it, Jory?"
Megan ignored my dirty look, so I turned to Michael. "So you're in law school?"
"Yeah, I go to UCSF, and Tony's over at Hastings."
"So—" I crunched on a chip. "You must have to study a lot."
Tony reached around Megan's back to grab a chip, but she leaned forward and bit it out of his hand. He laughed and kept his arm around her. Michael jiggled his leg faster.
"I want to do real lawyer stuff and not all these copies, copies, copies." Megan pouted.
"You can help me with some of my cases," Tony said. "You're a smart cookie." He squeezed her shoulder.
When the waitress brought the second margarita, Megan flapped her straw in her mouth and aimed it toward the glass, missing twice.
"Maybe you'd better wait until you eat some more." I pushed the basket of chips toward her. "Try the guacamole."
Megan shook her hair into her face. "Nooo. I'm watching my figure." Since when did Megan turn down junk food?
I didn't exactly want to launch into the alcohol-has-so-many-empty-calories speech Mom had been mumbling for a week now. At least the Raw Food Diet had morphed into fruit for breakfast, veggies for lunch, and carbohydrates for dinner. I could deal with spaghetti. Still, I looked forward to my carne asada burrito with extra sour cream.
"So, I kind of thought the whole two-martini-lunch thing was only in the movies—old cinema club—type movies." I looked at Michael, who glanced back at me.
"Should be," he mumbled.
"We're not drinking martinis. Gross! These are totally harmless." Megan sipped for several seconds, looking right at me, mascara smudged under her right eye.
"We thought we'd go by my condo after lunch before heading back to the office." Tony winked at Megan.
I glanced at my watch. I had another fifty minutes before Katie expected me back for the afternoon flower deliveries. "How long do you get for lunch?"
"We're taking an executive lunch." Tony sipped some of the margarita. "When the cat's away, the mice will play."
"Our boss is out of town." Michael filled me in, crunching on a piece of ice. "But I know that he still expects those cases to be researched when he gets back." More leg jiggles.
Tony ignored Michael while he and Megan had a sword fight with their straws, only calling a truce as the waitress set the food on the table. When my napkin dropped on the floor, I bent down and saw Tony play footsies with Megan. How old was he anyway? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Older? He had a mustache. Ick!
Megan toyed with her food while Michael and Tony talked about different cases that could support a libel suit Michael had to write about for the Law Review. I silently devoured my burrito, wishing I could enjoy it more.
After Tony paid for lunch, Michael said he had to head back to the office.
"Watch out for your friend," he whispered to me as he held open the restaurant door.
I nodded. "Meg, maybe you should get back to work too," I said, trying to sound sensible. Actually, I tried to sound like Megan!
Ignored.
Megan tugged on Tony's arm. "Come on, I want to see where you live."
"We may even have time for a dip in the pool," said Tony, grabbing Megan's hand as she stumbled off the curb in the parking lot.
I looked at my watch. In twenty minutes Katie would be lining up flower arrangements and delivery directions by the back door. It took ten minutes to drive to Katie's shop from here.
Tony steered Megan toward a light blue Prius. "You can follow us."<
br />
I attempted a flirtatious hair flip, not very effective with braids. "Oh, can Megan please ride with me? I've got something to ask her. Just a few minutes of girl talk?"
"Jory, Jory, Jory," Megan said calmly. "Aren't you over Tyler yet? I'm sooo over him."
I hustled Megan to the front seat of the van, pushing her inside. "Meg, isn't this guy a little too old?"
Megan leaned across my lap and blew a kiss to Tony as he pulled in front of us. I grimaced as alcohol-and-bean breath wafted into my nose. I followed Tony's Prius down the street, feeling like an accessory to a crime.
"I'm so through with high school boys. Tyler can have them all. I'm sticking with men. Mature men."
If I'd said the same thing in this situation, nondrunk Megan would never have let me get away with it. How mature was it for a guy to get an underage girl drunk at lunch and take her to his condo? Sounds more like a recipe for date rape. Blah, blah, blah.
Instead, Megan said, "Do you think he means skinny-dipping?" Major giggles. "'Cause I didn't bring a bathing suit to work."
"Maybe I should take you back to work." I watched Tony's brake lights flash as he slowed around Virginia Lake. "Or you could call in sick. That would probably be best."
"I called in sick all last week." Megan pulled her hair over her face. "Plus, they saw me today so they won't believe me."
"Tell them your mom is sick."
"What, and my dog ate my homework too?" Megan brushed all her hair back. "We're going to Tony's. I'll sober up in the pool."
Tony pulled into the condo parking lot, and Megan jumped out of the van before I'd even stopped all the way.
"Let's swim!" She yanked her blouse up, exposing her stomach.
Tony pushed her shirt down. "Not here. I've got a suit you can borrow inside."
I glanced at my watch. If I left right now, I could get back to Katie's with a few minutes to spare. Megan followed Tony into his condo, where he gave us the official tour: faux leather sofa, recliner, basic TV setup, clean kitchen, small glass-top table with four chairs, unmade bed, socks and underwear on the floor. Box of condoms on the bedside table!
"You can change in my room." Tony handed Megan a bikini and headed into the bathroom to change into his suit. "I wish I had another—"
"That's okay, I'm not much of a swimmer." My gaze caught the clock on Tony's microwave. Ten minutes. Should I call? Sorry, Katie, but I took an executive lunch with a couple of promising lawyers. Sorry, Katie, just had to take a swim break after an hour-long lunch. Sorry, Katie, but I've got to make sure my drunk friend doesn't get date-raped by her coworker.
Why didn't Reno have more traffic? I should just leave. Megan deserved everything coming her way, right? But I thought about the frat party and how Hannah had appeared like an angel down in that smelly basement.
Megan came bouncing out of the bedroom, twirling around in the skimpy bikini. What kind of creep keeps a spare swimsuit handy? And who'd worn it before Megan? And what kinds of diseases did she have?
"What do you think?" Megan's long hair fanned across her back.
"Fits like a glove." Tony looked her up and down. "Just your size. Amazing."
"I'll be right out." My voice cracked. "I've got to make a call."
My stomach tightened into knots as I watched Tony and Megan jump into the pool, holding hands. Megan bounced back up, laughing and adjusting her skimpy top. Tony didn't take his eyes off her, or his hands.
I had no choice. I dialed Katie's number, even though part of me considered dialing 911, or Megan's mom, or even my mom.
"Hello, Katie? I am so sorry, but there's a horrible accident blocking traffic. I'm stuck right behind it so I'm going to be a little late."
I felt my nose growing with every word.
Chapter Seventeen
CHEERS AND CHEETOS
I lay on my bed, paging through my July magazines for noses to put in my Nice Nose Notebook. I carefully cut around a brunette model's artfully blown hair, then pasted her into the notebook with a glue stick. Mom and Dad argued in the kitchen, probably about the Raw Food (With Pasta) Diet (day 11). Mom's knife slammed against the cutting board as she diced vegetables.
I turned my music down to listen: same old stuff. Well, if you'd get that promotion, we could move up to one of those houses on Grubstake, Buckaroo, or Cutting Horse. Look, if I don't get that promotion, we may not be able to stay in this house. We moved too soon. Again, I bowed to your pressure so you could belong to the right book club. Speaking of clubs, you had no right to spend all that money on golf last month. That's business. Well, so is the book club. When those ladies tire of redecorating their houses, who do you think will finance their next mortgage? My social connections are every bit as important as yours. Dad said something really low. Mom stormed off into her bedroom. Dad slammed the door to the garage. The lawn mower started up.
I cranked up the Yeah Yeah Yeahs louder than necessary and cut the numbers 1, 8, 4, and another 8 out of the magazine. The amount of money I'd saved for my new nose. The tiny numbers stuck to my fingers as I tried to glue them near a particularly cute girl with freckles. I figured my new nose would be stuck with freckles, unless I could travel to Europe for some special skin treatment. I imagined myself as Perky Freckle-Nosed Model: I'd live in a cute townhouse somewhere with a golden retriever that I'd walk through the town square with my rugged outdoorsy boyfriend. We'd go hiking in the mountains, and I'd have a whole wardrobe of soft sweaters. What would my plaid-shirt-wearing guy look like? I flipped right past a guy whose hair looked like Tyler's. Maybe someone with dark hair...
Mom flung her bedroom door open and yelled, "I'm going to Port of Subs to get sandwiches to bring to the game. Who wants one?"
Finn and I banged into each other in the hallway.
"How pathetic is this, huh?" Finn covered the phone receiver with his hand. "I'm so desperate for real food."
Finn and I both ordered Italian combo sandwiches and chips.
"So who's on the phone?"
"Who else?" He grinned. Kayla Neal's ditzy duplicate: Emily Wellington. "Sorry, babe. Hey, let me call you back. Buh-bye."
"How long have you been on the phone?" I asked. "Did you ignore any call-waitings?"
"Who calls you, Jor? Megan's pissed at you and Hannah doesn't really use the phone much because she likes to be present in the moment." Finn imitated Hannah's little nose-scrunch thing.
"Shouldn't you be in your room grunting and talking to yourself in the mirror to psych yourself up for your little game?"
Finn grunted and made a weird face. He still looked good. Genetic freak!
Back in my room, my stomach grumbled just because I was imagining sub sandwiches. Fresh-baked bread. Actual meat. Crunchy deep-fried Cheetos. I clipped out a photo of a hamburger and glued it next to a skinny model with a beautiful face but an even better evening gown.
"My elegant nose and I love to eat hamburgers," I said in a dramatic voice.
"What are you doing?" Megan stood in my doorway.
I flipped my notebook closed and shoved it under my pillow. "Nothing. How did you get in here?" I sat on my pillow. Please don't ask me about the notebook. "What's up?"
Megan's eyes looked puffy and red.
"Fired." Megan put a wadded-up tissue to her nose and blew. "They fired me."
"Because of—Well, it was kind of stupid, right? To, you know, drink like that?" I sort of enjoyed watching her fall apart. Even her perfect hair looked messy as she ran her fingers through it again and again. Plus, she'd apparently forgotten that I nearly got fired for staying with her for over an hour, intervening every time Lusty Lawyer got extra friendly. I had to fake a majorly embarrassing case of menstrual cramps to get her out of his condo. And then when I'd tried to take her dripping-wet, drunk self home, she'd insisted on returning to the office. I called and called Hannah, but she never answered her cell. "You should've listened to me, maybe."
"I know." Megan flopped down on the end of my bed and sobbed into her ar
ms. "I've completely screwed up. Now I'll never be a lawyer. They'll never give me a recommendation; they'll probably make sure that everyone knows I'm a total alcoholic screwup."
"What about what's-his-name?"
"Warning. He only got a warning."
"But he's an adult. Shouldn't he be responsible for, you know, corrupting a minor or something?" At least both of them should get in trouble, I thought.
"It's not like he forced me to drink, Jory." Megan slid off the mattress and sat with her back against my bed. "I knew exactly what I was doing. The thing is, I simply didn't care."
"I know. But he still ordered the drinks, right? And you are under age."
"Yeah, but I'm not a top student from the UCSF law school. Now I never will be." Tears poured down her face. "I'm going to end up living alone in a hotel room teaching piano and drinking too much whiskey every night, like that wretched Judith what's-her-face."
I moved next to Megan. "Oh, my God, Meg. That's totally my fear too."
"Really?" I watched a tear drip around her lip as she smiled. "God, that movie sucked. All during the movie I wanted Tyler to put his arm around me, or put his hand on my knee. I imagined how we would be during a movie and how afterward we would walk to the car, holding hands, and go out for nachos, or maybe walk along the river, talking and laughing about the movie. How stupid was that?"
A jealous twinge tightened my stomach. Stop, Jory. This is Megan. Megan who got you through algebra, helped you make extra-credit español enchiladas from hell, and stood up for you when Zoe Locke made fun of your bra during gym in ninth grade.
"Not stupid." I took a deep breath. "He's really, you know, good-looking and flirtatious."
"Oh, Jory. And I even almost ruined our friendship. Over a stupid guy! I knew you liked him, but did I care? No! I'm a bad, bad friend." Megan blew her nose. "He's not worth it."
My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters Page 12
