CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dear Ms. Storm,

Your survey was great and I’ve enclosed my answers.

Since you’re obviously searching for Mr. Right, I have a tip to offer for after you find him. The secret to a happy marriage is to have separate checking accounts. Each of you needs your own money that you don’t have to account for to the other, even if it’s only a tiny amount.

So many couples argue over money and I’ve found this to be a great way to avoid that trap.

Please let me know when you find Mr. Right. I’d love to hear back from you.

Yours truly,

After Davin’s dire hints about Stephen, I almost ran to his bedroom, although I like to think my stance was more dignified than a true sprint. When I opened Stephen’s bedroom door and peeked inside, everything appeared to be perfectly normal.

Stephen stood in front of his easel, painting his soul out. The room was, as usual, strewn with his various books, dirty laundry, and assorted miscellaneous dishes and discarded sneakers. It was a bedroom that even my mother would have been unable to keep clean.

Davin must have been delusional. Stephen was fine. But just in case, I asked, “You okay?”

“Fine. Just busy.” He barely turned his head to acknowledge me and his paintbrush didn’t seem to break stride.

There was nothing worrisome here. Nothing to create concern in even the most obsessive of parents.

Wesley had merely done it to me again.

I quietly shut the door, leaving Stephen alone with the muse that so often stole my sweet son away. I headed back to the living room, only thinking a little about Davin and about waiting. I most definitely was not going to think about his lips.

In order to get my mind off Davin and the whole wanting-more routine, I checked the time. It was only half past seven. A quick call to Goodwill ascertained they were still open. Less than fifteen minutes later, I arrived and entered the store.

Within seconds, I found myself wailing, “What do you mean you don’t have my skillet?”

“We sold it,” said the saleswoman.

I checked her name tag. Maybe the personal touch would help. “Meg, can you check, please, because I called ahead? I made sure you had it. The woman I spoke with said she would put it aside for me.”

“I don’t know who you spoke with, but the skillet sold less than an hour ago.”

“Are you positive?” I felt a hot flash coming on and desperately wanted to remove every stitch of my clothing. Perspiration streamed from my forehead. I didn’t care how old my mom had been when she went into menopause. I was too young for it.

My face must have become bright red, because the saleswoman added defensively, “I sold it myself.”

I felt like banging my head on the counter that separated us. This could not be happening. “But it wasn’t your skillet to sell. It was mine. Someone stole it from me and gave it to Goodwill. There has to be a mistake.”

“I’m so sorry.” Meg patted my hand to comfort me. “There’s not much I can do, except, you know what? The woman who bought it comes in all the time. The next time she comes in, I can ask her to call you.”

A sense of relief washed over me. Or maybe it was because the hot flash had abated. My skillet couldn’t be gone forever. I had to get it back. Without it, I was like a sailboat without a sail, a target without a bull’s-eye, a book without any pages.

Within a few minutes, I gave Meg my contact information. While I didn’t leave the store in a perky mood, there was a chance, at least, that ultimately my skillet would be returned.

The woman who bought it would come in, get my number, call me, and readily agree to sell me back my skillet. Then everything would seem more right in my world.

Maybe I’d even find the perfect traveling salesman to fulfill my sexual fantasies and pay Stephen’s tuition.

Anything could happen.

Right?

I’m always nervous about introducing a good friend to other good friends for the first time, especially when I introduce someone to Connie, Susan, and MaryEllen. Introducing Mandy, who’s gorgeous, gorgeous, and more gorgeous, felt like a huge risk. Luckily, Mandy is not only beautiful, she has brains and a hilarious outlook on life.

On our usual night out, I asked Mandy to come with me. Connie, Susan, and MaryEllen adored her. And MaryEllen particularly loved the free booze.

“What are we going to do with all these drinks?” asked Susan as she eyed the tray of watermelon martinis the server, Samantha, was delivering to our table.

We were seated at our favorite table by the plate glass window at our favorite neighborhood bar. Susan, of course, was drinking water because she was due to deliver in just over three weeks.

“Chug ‘em.” Connie tossed back one of the three martinis sitting in front of her on the table.

Mandy is a man magnet, hence all the free booze. Since our arrival, drink after drink had been delivered, all bribes from hopeful men. Hopeful-to-meet-Mandy men, I mean.

“Who are these from?” Mandy asked Sam.

Sam was our favorite server and knew us all by name. She pointed to a handsome stockbroker type by the bar.

Mandy held up her drink, mouthed, “Thank you,” then turned and totally ignored him. Like she’d done with the last three guys. A couple of them had actually approached her, but she’d quickly sent them on their way. She was only interested in nerds and they weren’t the type who sent drinks to women in bars. “They aren’t the type to actually be in a bar,” Mandy explained. “Unless there’s some kind of computer bar?”

It seemed to be a rhetorical question. At least none of us could answer it.

MaryEllen asked, “How’s the salesman hunt going?”

I shook my head. “I’ve been sneaking down to the ballrooms and convention area every day this week, but haven’t seen one guy I’d be willing to hold hands with, much less do the horizontal boogie with.”

Mandy shook her head. “There are plenty of cool guys at the hotel. I think you’re feeling burned after your date with Aiden.”

“What was wrong with him?” asked Connie.

Susan started humming a few bars from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Connie slapped her forehead. “I forgot.”

“I’ll never forget the faces he made in the mirror.” I opened my mouth in a shocked expression. “Surprise.” Then I frowned. “Sadness.”

We were all giggling, probably not because I was so hilarious, but because we’d consumed plenty of gin.

And speaking of which, Sam returned with yet another round of drinks.

“‘Elp, ‘elp,” said MaryEllen in a falsetto voice from the corner of her mouth. “This is your table. I’m drowning in watermelon martini.”

“I think it’s time to cut you off,” I said. “Give hers to me, Sam.”

“Not on your life.” MaryEllen grabbed the glass Sam set in front of me. “I’ve still got my esses.”

“Hey, I deserve extras. I went to see my dad yesterday.” I tossed back more martini.

“That bad?” asked Connie.

“Visiting with Dad wasn’t, but prison is sooo depressing.”

“He’s feeling down?” Susan looked concerned.

“Not him. I’m the depressed one. It’s all the other visitors. Lawyers, bondsmen, families without teeth …”

MaryEllen was taking a drink and she snorted. For a moment I thought she might be the one drowning in watermelon martini rather than the table, but she got it together again. “No teeth?”

“Not everyone, but it gives you the general motif. One woman had two toddlers. They’d never seen their father outside prison.”

“That’s awful.”

“It is. But on the upside, I have business cards for any number of criminal attorneys, and one bondsman promised me special discount rates should I ever need his services.”

Connie proposed a toast, “To discounted bond services,” and we all drank to it.

Over Mandy’s head, I noticed a man who appeared to be heading our way. “Don’t look now, Mandy, but I think you’ve caught another fly in your web.”

Connie glanced up and bit her lip. She cleared her throat. “So, Jill,” she said hurriedly, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I met the perfect salesman for you.”

“You did?”

“I invited him to join us tonight. The fly is Greg Walker. He sells Purple People Movers. They’re sort of like Segways.”

“Only purple,” piped in MaryEllen.

“Are those the things that—” I didn’t have time to finish my question. Greg had arrived at our table.

Feeling a bit annoyed that Connie would invite him without asking me first, I shot her a glare. What if I’d already found the perfect salesman?

As she introduced us, she mouthed, “Trust me.”

I wasn’t prepared for unwarranted trust, not when I considered her own bad taste in men.

Connie sat to my left and Greg pulled a chair in to my right. He said, “Looks like it’s raining martinis. You ladies celebrating something?”

“These are from Mandy’s admirers.” Susan glanced at Greg, then looked at the men watching us (or Mandy) from the bar. “Now that you’ve joined us, it’ll probably encourage all of them.”

“Oh, Lord,” moaned Mandy. “I hope not. In this sea of men, I don’t see even one techno-nerd.”

“A woman with standards, I see,” said Greg.

She smiled at him. I played with the wet napkin under one of my martinis.

Connie mouthed, “Say something.”

I pretended not to see her.

Connie evidently doesn’t like being ignored, because she kicked me under the table.

“Ouch. Why’d you do that?”

At that point, Connie pushed one of the martinis in front of Greg and said, “Have a martini,” while grabbing my elbow with her other hand and dragging me under the table, then said, “Help me find my earring.”

“You’re not missing an earring. What the hell do you want?”

“Shh. Whisper.” Connie pulled off her earring and threw it on the carpet beneath the table. “While you look for it, you can tell me why you’re not saying anything to Greg.”

“Maybe because I haven’t had anything to say to him?” I whispered back.

“Well, think of something.” She grabbed her earring from the floor, then raised her head. “Here it is.”

I sat back up and glanced at Greg and wondered what I could talk about with him.

He was cute. While he didn’t resemble any of my favorite actors, he was attractive enough to hold his own. Maybe that was a good thing, especially after Aiden. “Connie said you sell Purple People Movers.”

“I try to. They’re catching on. You’ll see them everywhere. Even the malls.”

“Weren’t they recalled?”

“No, that was another company.”

Our conversation tapered off.

Connie threw a hand to her ear and announced, “It’s gone again!” Once more she dragged me under the table, and whispered, “Why aren’t you being nice to him?”

“I thought I was being nice,” I whispered back.

“You aren’t.”

“Has it occurred to you that I might not know how to be nice?”

“Flirt a little.”

“Now you sound like my mother,” I muttered as I came back up for air.

Greg looked at me a little strangely, not that I blame him. I could only hope he believed Connie’s cover. I said, “Earring,” and scooted my chair a little. I needed to say something to him, but couldn’t think what. There was no way I was going to use Mandy’s line on him. He was a salesman, though, so I asked, “Do you travel much?”

“Yes. I enjoy it a lot. How about you?”

“I never go anywhere, but I’d like to.”

He nodded, but didn’t add anything to our almost-conversation. At least I was giving it a try, but then Connie started kicking me again. I threw my spoon on the floor. “Oops.”

As I leaned down, I grabbed Connie and pulled her with me. “If you kick me again, you will not have a foot to walk with. Got it?”

“Sheesh. Fine.”

“What do you want?”

“Tell him you’re a chef.”

That was the moment I realized Greg had joined us beneath the table. He seemed to be groping around for my spoon. So I said to him, as conversationally as possible under the circumstances and the table, “I’m the sous chef at La Papillon Hotel and Casino.”

“Here’s your spoon,” he said, holding it out to me. “I bet you are a great cook.”

“I like to think so. How about you?”

“Can’t even make instant rice. It always ends up looking like a soccer ball.”

I laughed. “Now that’s bad.”

“Truly.”

I pointed up with my thumb. “Time to join the adults.”

I sat upright, put the spoon on the table, and straightened my napkin.

He and Connie came up, as well.

Our under-table sojourn seemed to loosen Greg up and we began chatting more easily. I liked him more and more. When he asked, “Would you like to go out to dinner one night this week?” I happily agreed.

We made arrangements and he put a tip on the table. “I need to call it a night. I’ve got an early morning meeting. It was nice meeting all of you. Jill, Connie, hope to see you both again soon.”

Connie stood and gave him a brief hug. As she took her seat again, she mumbled, “At least he didn’t sponge off us.”

Could this be some reference to the absent Mike? I knew something was up with her. “Trouble in paradise?”

She grabbed another martini and downed it in one swallow. “Mike asked for money.”

“Not a good sign. Did you give it to him?”

“Hell, no. I reminded him of his promise not to sponge off me.”

“And?”

“He was pissed.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. The only thing I’m certain about is that I’m not giving him any cash.”

“Good for you,” said Susan. “He’s like a kid, testing you to see if you mean it.”

“You think?”

“Sounds that way to me.” Susan nodded. “Stick to your guns.”

Connie smiled. “You know, he said something that makes me think you might be right. He said he’d asked out of habit.”

“How’s his job search going?” I wondered if he truly planned to get one this time. It would be a first.

“He’s got a second interview scheduled at the electronic game store.”

Susan looked longingly at our martinis, then took a long drink of ice water. “Once he has an income, I’m sure things will be better.”

Sam approached, yet again, with another tray filled with drinks.

“I think we have enough, don’t you?” asked Mandy.

“I’ll clear away the old ones,” replied Sam as she began scooping them up and placing new glasses in front of us. “They’re warm anyway. These were sent by the blue-striped-suit at the bar.”

“If he’s not wearing a pocket protector, please suggest that he get lost.”

“I didn’t have the heart to tell him you aren’t interested.”

Mandy sighed. She waved at the guy, mouthed, “Thank you,” then totally ignored him. Within seconds, the suit made his way to our table.

“Hi,” he said. “You have a table full of drinks, so I figured you needed more.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I join you?”

Mandy looked him in the eye. “Do you know computer programming?”

“No.”

“Do you speak Geek?”

“No.”

“Sorry, then. No can do. But thanks for the drinks.”

Once the suit left, Susan reached over and touched Mandy’s arm. “We get that you prefer nerds. But why?”

“I’m into thumb drives, pocket protectors, and intimate discussions about computer gaming?”

I piped in, “But the suit seemed like a nice guy. He was good-looking, too.”

“Mr. Armani?” Mandy shrugged. “I’ve had it with good-looking men. They’re all about appearances, the latest hot car, and expensive designer suits.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve got a story,” said Connie.

“Same old, same old.” Mandy took a sip of her martini while we waited for her to go on. Condensation dripped from her martini glass onto the table, pooling on the polished surface. She finally asked, “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, baby.”

“Give it to us.”

She shook her head like we’d lost our marbles. “It’s not very exciting. I’ve just been hurt too many times by gorgeous yet shallow men who were only interested in being seen with me. Guys who didn’t care who I am. They were more into how my being on their arm made them look to other people.”

“Oh,” said Susan. “I have to admit, with your good looks, I figured dating was the least of your problems.”

“It’s a problem, all right. I thought I’d found the right guy. Jed. We were engaged. But two weeks before the wedding, I overheard him talking with one of his buddies about how his career would benefit from his marriage to me. His boss thought I was hot and promised Jed a promotion after the wedding.” Mandy looked down into her glass and lowered her tone. “It was after that promise that he’d proposed to me.”

“Whoa.” Connie grabbed another martini and took a gulp.

She looked back up at us, then continued, “Jed bragged about how he was going to trade in his Lexus for the latest Lamborghini—then he’d have the right car, the best-looking woman to make his peers jealous, and the right career move—all by marrying me.”

“He wasn’t just bragging to his friend?” I asked, stunned that she’d gone through such a rough time when I thought that if I looked like her all my troubles would be over.

Mandy shook her head sadly. “I called him on it and he said, ‘What do you want for me to say? That I’m marrying you for your brains? It ain’t true, babe. If you looked like a hag, I’d be outta here. You could have an IQ of eleven and I’d still marry you.’“

“What a total jerk,” said MaryEllen. “What did you say?”

“I said it was time to move on. Ever since, I only date geeks. They’re nice guys who wouldn’t be interested in me if I were as dumb as a board. They listen to what I have to say, engage with me in real conversation, and if now and then I have to help them choose to pass on the checkered slacks, it’s no biggie.”

“You obviously know what you’re doing,” replied Susan. “I’m just sorry you got hurt by Jed in the process of learning your own mind.”

“It was worth it. I’ve moved on. And speaking of which, Jill, it’s time for you to move on, too.” She raised her martini glass. “A toast to moving on!”