Boyfriend From Hell (Falling Angels Saga) (12 page)

“Who says?”

“Danny Tambor, that’s who!”

Matt shot me a look filled with odd surprise before saying: “I hate to tell you this, Megan, but a quarterback has to know how to throw, and you don’t.”

“The only reason I can’t throw is you’re a lousy teacher,” I accused and stomped off.

The following Saturday afternoon, Danny came over as he’d done the previous week, and they began throwing the ball. I positioned myself near where Danny was standing.

As soon as he drops a pass, I’ll be ready,
I thought.

They chucked the ball back and forth for a long, boring half hour, while I oohed and ahhed at every catch Danny made. Occasionally he looked over and smiled in my direction. But he didn’t drop one pass.

“You’ve got a great arm, Dude. Let’s do this again sometime,” he said, as he prepared to make one last throw.

One last throw!?

“Hey!” I suddenly heard myself saying.  I couldn’t believe it. Did I just yell “hey” at Danny Tambor? I guess I did, because both Matt and Danny were staring at me.

“What’s up?” Danny said.  But this time when he spoke, it was different. He wasn’t smiling. Instead, his face had twisted into a self-possessed smirk.

“She thinks she’s a quarterback,” Matt called. “Let her throw one.”

“Really?” Danny said his eyes glaring mischief. “A quarterback, huh?”

I nodded. Held my breath. Even though I’d never done it before, I was going to throw a perfect spiral, and Danny would be mine.

He cocked his head to one side. “Maybe next time. We’ll see.” Then he threw one last pass to Matt before disappearing down the street.

I was devastated. I’d been in secret love with Danny Tambor for just one week, and already I’d been dumped.

Matt drifted over, offered me the ball. “Wanna throw?” His voice was soft and sympathetic.

I shook my head.

“You really do got a good arm.”

“You told him,” I said suddenly and without warning, my words coming in a hot rush.

“No, I didn’t.” He took a nervous step back.

“Yeah, you did. You told him I liked him.” My words were emotionless and flat—the words of a ten-year-old who had lost the will to live.

He stared at me for a long while, his eyes betraying him every second.

“Danny’s a jerk,” he finally whispered. “I won’t throw with him anymore if you don’t want me to.”

And that was the crushing end of my first childhood crush.

#

Matt was now staring at me skeptically. We were standing in my kitchen, him in his usual spot, munching Cheerios from the dispenser.

“What?” I said, trying to act nonchalant.

“It’s deceitful, that’s what.”

“Of course it’s deceitful. Do you honestly think my mother would dump Armando if we didn’t trick her into it?”

He shook his head, and I found myself back-peddling.

“This is the good kind of deceit, Matt. The kind people thank you for later.”

“Megan, you promised. You promised you wouldn’t get in the way of your mother having a relationship.”

“That was before she started dating a gigolo.”

“Give it up already,” he said, shaking his head again. I could hear his disappointment.

A flash of anger shot through me. “So, what am I supposed to do? I was at his house, Matt. The man is leading a double life, a life my mother knows nothing about. We have to expose him.”

He stopped chewing, his brown eyes boring into me. “And if we don’t find anything incriminating on this date, you’ll stop these ridiculous accusations and leave them alone?”

I met his gaze with stony silence.

“It’s the only way I’ll agree to it, Megan.” He snapped the lid of the cereal dispenser shut. There was a finality to it.

“Fine!” The word exploded from my lips like a projectile. “But we’ll find plenty. You’ll see.”

He nodded, but his face was filled with doubt.

#

The night of the big dinner, Matt arrived early with a smile on his lips—and Erin on his arm.

“Oh, hello,” I said, opening the door. I was taken aback seeing the two of them standing there, guarded smiles on both their faces.

Erin spoke first. “Hi!” Her voice was an octave too high of forced cheer. “I was just leaving Matt’s and thought I’d drop by and see what you’d been up to. We haven’t spoken in so long.” Her eyes dropped along with her voice. “So, here I am. Hi,” she repeated nervously.

“What a pleasant surprise,” I drawled, matching her phony cheer. I could fake happiness with the best of them. “Come on in.”

There was a frost looming between us. The joy in our voices did nothing to melt it. They entered, and we stood in the foyer.

“I thought it was time you two buried the hatchet,” Matt said. He was holding her hand. The sight of their fingers intertwined sent tiny plumes of rage spiraling through me.

As I said before, Matt is not the hand-holding type.
What has she done to him?
My cheeks began to redden.

“Hatchet? What hatchet?” On the outside, I was the picture of confused serenity.

“You guys haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“We
haven’t?
” I asked. I turned to Erin, all wide-eyed and wonder. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I have.” There was sadness in her voice. “I’m really sorry you got grounded, Megan. But I want you to know it wasn’t me who told on you.”

“I never said it was,” I replied, my words stiff as dried timber.

“Megan, can’t you move past this?” Matt asked. He was still clutching her hand.

Was she tethered to him like a kite? Did he think she was going to fly away?

“There’s nothing to move past,” I said. “You two are my best friends. I’ve just been… busy lately.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt you. I hope you know that.” Erin was staring at me with soulful eyes.

I nodded. I wanted to forgive her, I really did. I missed her laughter and all the goofy good times we shared. I missed her intelligence, and that she was the only one who laughed at my jokes. But seeing her standing next to Matt turned my heart to stone.

“What do you say?” Matt’s eyes were hopeful.

I managed to choke back the anger and found a smile. I realized I couldn’t think of myself tonight. Tonight, I needed Matt to have a clear mind for Operation Eliminate Armando.

I faced Erin. “Friends?” I asked softly. The word was dust on my tongue.

“Of course we’re friends,” Erin cried.  “I couldn’t bear this silence one more day.” She threw her arms around me, drawing me closer, and I felt the tension draining from her.

My eyes moved to Matt. He was smiling at us like a proud parent. I returned the smile, all the while thinking:
“See, she’s not flying away. You don’t have to hold on so tight.”

#

When Armando arrived, Matt and Erin were still standing in the foyer.

“Well, hello,” he crooned, in a voice smooth as velvet.

“Hi. I’m Erin.”

“Yes, Megan’s friend. I’ve heard about you.”

She looked at me, curious. Had I told him she was a back-stabbing little minx or my best friend?  My eyes betrayed nothing.

“Erin, Armando. Armando, Erin,” I said, nudging her  toward the door. “Erin was just leaving.”

“Oh? Why doesn’t she join us for dinner?” He turned to her, all charm and good looks. “The more the merrier.”

“That is sooo sweet,” I drawled, overdoing the syrup in my voice. “But I’m sure Erin has other, more important things she’d rather do.”

I shot her a look implying I was letting her off the hook. But of course, I didn’t want her along. And it had nothing to do with being jealous.  I knew how clingy she had become when it came to Matt, and I needed him to be focused on the operation, not needy,
clingy
Erin.

“Actually, I was just gonna go home and watch a couple of movies on DVD.”

“Wow, DVDs! That sounds pretty darned exciting. Enjoy.” I put my arm around her shoulder, preparing to usher her out when…

“Megan. I think your friend is saying she’d like to join us.”

“No, she’s not.” I looked in her eyes. “You’re not, right?”

“Well…”

“There, it’s settled,” Armando interrupted. “I know you are one of Megan’s very best friends. I would love to have you join us, and I am certain Suze would, too.”

Erin’s eyes moved to mine, not sure how to respond.

“You can watch those DVDs another time,” I said with a forced smile.

Delight bloomed across her face. “Okay, I’m in.”

Terrific!  Just terrific,
I thought. Just what we need to throw Matt’s focus and ruin the operation.  Needy,
clingy
Erin.

#

No matter how roomy they may appear on TV, a Volvo is not meant to seat five—at least not comfortably. For our drive to dinner Mom sat up front with Armando, leaving me, Matt, and Erin to squeeze into the backseat. To top it off, I sat in the middle. You heard me, the dreaded middle seat. And believe it or not, it was my choice. I needed to separate the
love birds
so Matt could stay focused.

I recalled when I was in the Girl Scouts. We’d go on outings in Mrs. Calendar’s ancient station wagon, all of us calling
‘shotgun’
as we stood waiting for her to unlock the doors. None of us wanted to sit in the middle. The middle seat has a big fat invisible L stamped on it, and every young person in America knows it. Yet today, I willingly sat in the loser’s seat.  Anything to keep Matt focused.

“Matt’s getting a new car as soon as he graduates,” Erin said from her vaunted perch by the window.

I shot Matt a sidelong glance and gave a tiny sigh. “That’s nice.”

“Then he’s going to teach me how to drive.” There was a smugness in her voice. I swear, she’d become a totally different person since she started dating Matt. I did not like this Erin
at all
.

Turning to her, I said: “I already know how to drive. Why not take driver’s ed? Then Matt won’t be saddled with having to teach you.”

She started blinking rapidly as if something was stinging her eyes. “Well… Umm… He…”

“I don’t mind,” came Matt’s voice from my left. He reached across my lap and squeezed her hand.

“That is too sweet,” Suze called from the front. “Megan’s father taught me how to drive. It was… kind of romantic.”

“I think so, too,” gushed Erin.

That shut me up. All I could think was: Please, Armando, get us to the restaurant quickly, or kill us trying, but spare me this misery.

#

It was a posh restaurant called Cicada Bistro, with tiny candles and white table cloths on all the tables.
Tres romantic
. Definitely what you’d expect from worldly Armando. As the hostess led us to our table in the back, I whispered in Matt’s ear: “Don’t forget. You’ve got to get him talking about where he lives.”

“I know, I know.” He sounded annoyed. I didn’t care. As long as he did his part.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen—at least not fast enough for me. Erin had somehow commandeered the seat next to Matt—
darn her
—and when the hostess handed out menus, the two of them began going over entrées as if they were picking out china patterns.

“I hear the crab cakes are fantastic,” Armando chimed, as he folded his napkin onto his lap like a pro.

Here was the perfect opening. I could wait for Matt no longer. I forged ahead. “Speaking of seafood, Armando’s gallery is on Seaborn Street.”

All eyes moved to me. Mine were shooting fire bombs at Matt, hoping he’d pick up on the hint.

“What does Mando’s gallery have to do with sea food?” asked Suze.

“Nothing, I suppose. I was just making conversation.” I kicked Matt under the table.

“Ow!” All eyes moved to Matt. “I uhh, just got a sudden pain in my shin.”

“Shin splints?” Erin queried, her face a mask of concern. “Runners get them all the time,” she said, so the rest of us would know she was an expert at track.

“No. I don’t think it’s shin splnts,” Matt said. He looked at Armando. “So, Armando, your gallery’s on Seaborn. Do you live in the art district as well?”

Finally!

“Yes, I have a lovely loft, not far from the gallery.” His penetrating gaze moved to me. “I can’t wait to have you all over. Perhaps we could hang some art together.” There was a tiny smirk dancing at the corners of his lips.

Oh my God! He did know it was me at the house. And now he’s toying with me.

“Do you live there with your mother?” I said, meeting his gaze.

“Megan!” Suze snapped. “What kind of question is that? Apologize this instant!”

“It’s just that when we were at the art opening that night, I saw an older woman I swear could be Armando’s mother.”

I turned back to him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I’m afraid that is not possible.”

“Oh? Do you know the woman I’m talking about? I think she said her name was Señora Marisol.”

“I do not know of whom you speak,” he replied in a voice like velvet, smooth and comforting, yet it could not hide the fury in his eyes. I was on to him and he knew it.

“Are you sure?” I said, not backing down.

“Megan! What has gotten into you?” Suze called.

“Positive,” he replied, the word short and stabbing.

“I think I should have gone home and watched those DVDs,” said Erin uncomfortably.

I had him on the hook. I couldn’t let go. I continued. “Dark hair streaked with gray. Looks like an escapee from a horror flick. She was at your opening the other night.”

“I believe you are mistaken, my dear. I do not know a Señora Marisol.”

“No, I’m not. She was there. And she knows
you
.”

“Okay, that’s it! I’ve had enough embarrassment for one night,” Suze said, rising. “Megan Lilith Barnett, we’re going home.”

We took a cab. Armando offered to drive, but Mom insisted we go alone. She put Matt and Erin in a separate cab, and then we found one of our own. The ride home was shrouded in silence.

“He’s not who you think he is,” I said after a while, my shrill voice piercing the still of the cab.

“Not a word until we’re in the house,” was her only reply. She sat looking straight ahead, hands folded neatly on her lap. Not once did she look at me the entire trip.