Heartstrings and Diamond Rings (13 page)

“We were talking about our jobs,” Alison said. “I was telling you about this boss I used to have who—”

“Now they’re laughing,” David said. “Stacy looked over here, and then she said something to the rest of them, and they’re laughing. And Janet is laughing more than the other two put together.”

“But you’re over her, remember? So does it really matter?”

He laughed nervously. “No. Of course not. Old habits, huh? So…tell me about your boss. I could tell that was going to be an interesting story.”

He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand, giving her his undivided attention. So Alison launched into the story, which was another one of her staples on a first date because it really was funny and most guys laughed. But as she got to the most amusing part of all, she saw David’s gaze drift over to the table full of women. He jerked it back, but then it drifted again.

“David? Would you like to meet up another night? You know—sometime when your ex‑wife isn’t sitting across the room?”

“Of course not! I told you. Past history. Water under the bridge.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well, I am.”

“How long has your divorce been final?”

“Five weeks.”

Alison nearly choked. “Five
weeks
? And already you want to date other women?”

“Yes,” he said, frowning. “Like I said, I am
so
over her. So why waste another minute of life? And life was hell with Janet, let me tell you. One time I stayed out all night drinking with my buddies, and when I got home, do you know what she’d done? She’d piled my
Playboy
collection on the patio and set fire to it!”

Stayed out all night?
Playboy
collection? Maybe she was on Janet’s side on this one. “What nerve. Gee, maybe you were right to divorce her.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! Divorce is too good for her!” He took a heavy gulp of wine. “I got her back, though,” he said, revenge lighting his eyes. “I flushed her tropical fish down the toilet.”

Okay. This was getting weird. Particularly since the fish flusher still couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the pyromaniac.

“Look at that,” he said, coming to attention. “They’re laughing again.”

“I’m sure somebody just told a joke, or something.”

“It’s time I gave her a piece of my mind.” He pushed his chair away from the table.

“Uh…David? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Should she really have to explain why not?
Really?

“Because you’re on a date with me, but you’re fixating on your ex-wife. Sorry, but that’s a little weird.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?
I’m over her.
” He rose from his chair. “I’ll be back in a minute. Then we’ll go back to having a nice date. Okay?”

She had news for him. That ship had sailed.

He strode toward Janet’s table, only now Janet was getting up, looking really pissed, and walking away from him. She strode toward the front of the restaurant and disappeared around a corner with David storming after her.

Alison was stunned. World War III was on the horizon. Thank God they were taking it outside.

She sat there for a moment or two more, wondering what to do. No, wait. There was no wondering here. It was time to go, preferably before David returned and this charade began all over again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was regretting that one more date hadn’t worked out, but she was so fixated on putting as much distance between her and the fish flusher that, at least for now, she just didn’t care.

She grabbed her purse and headed for the front door of the restaurant, stopping off at the ladies’ room before the long drive home. She went inside, turned the corner from the dressing area to the bathroom stalls, and heard voices.

“I hate you,” a man’s breathy voice said, “You know I hate you.”

“I hate you, too,” a woman’s voice said. “Why do you think I divorced you?”

“You didn’t divorce me. I divorced you!”

“It takes two to split, you bastard!”

David? And his lovely ex-wife, Janet? Cussing each other out in a bathroom stall?

But then there was more heavy breathing. A grunt or two. A little moan here and there.

What the hell?

“But you know I can’t live without you,” Janet said. “I hate you, but I can’t live without—oh, God, yes.
Yes!
Like that!”

Alison looked under the door to see only one set of feet. Male feet. So what had happened to Janet’s feet? Alison tried to visualize the exact configuration of body parts, but that particular X-rated puzzle was still in pieces.

“You like that? Of course you do. You’re a bad girl. You’ve always been such a bad girl. You like it dirty, don’t you?”

“Yes. Dirty.”
Gasp.
“Make it
dirty
.”

And it didn’t get much dirtier than doing it in a bathroom stall.

“I saw you with that woman,” Janet said. “Do you want her, David? Do you? Or do you want me?”

“You. I’ve always wanted you.”
Gasp, gasp, gasp
. “Even when I hate you, I want you. Christ, it’s a curse!”

“Yes, David. Do it to me. Do it hard. Oh, God, that’s good…so good…so…
aaaghhh
…”

More gasps. More groans. More screams.

Just then the ladies’ room door opened and a woman walked in. As if it were just any old day in a restaurant bathroom, she walked toward the stall next to where the action was. Just then, Janet let out an orgasmic moan that rattled the walls, mingling with David’s grunts of satisfaction.

The woman leaned away quizzically, her brow scrunching up. She turned to Alison. “Is there a
man
in there?”

Alison leaned over and spoke in a confidential whisper. “Yes. I think she’s sick and he’s helping her.”

“Yeah? Sounds to me like she’s horny and he’s screwing her.” Then she proceeded into the adjacent stall and closed the door behind her.

Okay. That woman might be able to pee with a live sex show going on next door, but that was a line Alison just couldn’t cross. Instead, she left the restaurant, drove down the street, and used the bathroom at a McDonald’s. Then she washed her hands, looked in the mirror, and wondered:
This is a first date. How did I end up here?

She got in her car to drive to Brandon’s house, where he was going to give her an answer to that question, or else.

B
randon had just about fallen asleep in front of the TV when he heard somebody banging on his front door. Tom got up and looked out the peephole. “Uh-oh.”

Brandon came to attention. “What?”

“It’s Alison.”

Brandon grabbed his phone and looked at the time.
Crap.
Too early. She clearly wasn’t dropping by to tell him what a screaming success her date with David had been. He jumped out of his chair and went to the door.

“Go back to the den,” he told Tom.

“You sure? If she starts swinging that purse, you might need some backup.”

“Will you just
go
?”

As Tom left the room, Brandon opened the door to find Alison standing on the porch, her arms folded and her mouth set in a grim, angry line.

“We need to talk,” she snapped.

“Uh…okay.”

“Is Tom home?”

“Yes.”

“Then come out here. I don’t need to hear anything more about whale noises.”

She turned around and sat down on the porch swing, her arms folded, glaring at him. The night was hot, and cicadas were screeching madly in the trees. Brandon had a feeling that in a moment Alison was going to be doing some screeching of her own. He closed the door and walked over to sit down beside her, bracing himself for the onslaught.

“I assume this is about your date with David,” he said.

“You think?”

“Okay. Tell me what happened.”

“Well, let’s see. David had sex on our first date. It just wasn’t with me.”

“What?”

“He saw his ex-wife at the restaurant. He followed her into the ladies’ room. Turns out it’s not just something they made up for porn movies. You really can do it in a bathroom stall.”

Brandon sat back in disbelief. “He did his ex-wife in a bathroom stall while he was on a date with
you
?”

“Wow,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “Sounds even worse when you say it.”

“He told me he hated women like her. That she was cheap and slutty and she cheated on him.”

“Which quite obviously turns him on.”

“He told me he was over her.”

“He told me he was over her, too. About sixty-seven times. Then he met her in stall number two. Judging from the pillow talk, he hates her but he can’t live without her. It appears the feeling is mutual.”

“So you listened to the whole thing?”

“At first I was in denial. Then I was in shock. Then I had to pee, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it there, so I went to a McDonald’s. What a way to end an evening.”

Brandon started to tell her that sarcasm really didn’t suit her, only to realize that right about then, it kinda did.

“Maybe he was trying to prove to himself that he was over her,” Brandon said.

“Well, if that’s the case, he blew it big time, didn’t he?”

Okay. He was in trouble now. It wasn’t going to take three strikes. Alison was going to call him out at two. He tried to think of any excuse for his failure that he could possibly think of, but he couldn’t come up with a damned thing.

“I’m sorry, Alison,” he said, shaking his head. “I checked out that guy from top to bottom. His questionnaire was great. Didn’t have so much as a parking ticket. He sounded like the perfect match for you.”

“The guy has been divorced only five weeks,” Alison said. “You didn’t think
that
was a big red flag?”

Brandon drew back. “Five weeks? That’s
all
?”

“So he didn’t tell you?”

“God, no, or I never would have set you up with him!”

“Don’t you think that would have been a really smart question to ask?”

Yes. It would have. So why hadn’t he thought of it?

“Do you know this is a man who flushed his wife’s tropical fish down the toilet?”

“What?”

“But only in retaliation for her piling up his
Playboy
magazines and burning them.”

Brandon shook his head in disbelief. This didn’t sound like the guy he’d talked to at McCaffrey’s the other day. That guy had seemed reasonable and levelheaded, even if he was down on his ex-wife. After all, she’d cheated on him, hadn’t she? It was reasonable to Brandon that he’d be at least a little bitter. But the guy Alison was describing was just this side of pathologic.

“I guess it’s a love-hate thing,” she said. “Can’t live with her, can’t live without her. But at least they have a little passion going. That’s more than I can say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know that the weirdest place I’ve ever done it was in a bed? What does that say about me?”

“You like to be comfortable?”

“Nope. I lead a really boring life.”

“So you want me to set you up with a guy who drags you into a bathroom stall and has sex with you?”

Alison thought about that. “No. I don’t think I can have both. If I want a family man, I have to settle for a little bit of ordinary. If I want passion, I’ll end up with a guy who runs back to his ex-wife at the drop of a hat. But that’s what love is all about. Modest expectations. That way you can’t be disappointed.”

“That’s bullshit.”

She whipped around. “What?”

“Don’t settle for a life like that.”

“An ordinary life? What’s wrong with that?”

“Forget ordinary. You should be looking for something extraordinary.”

“Nope. I just want a nice, normal life with a nice, normal man. If a little bit of
blah
comes with that, so be it.”

Blah.
She hadn’t put that on her questionnaire. Maybe he needed to keep that in mind for the future.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see what kind of guy he was,” Brandon said. “I mean, I had no trouble reading you, right? So why couldn’t I read him? Or Greg, for that matter?”

“I don’t know,” Alison said. “All I know is…this isn’t working.”

That hit Brandon right between the eyes. She was right, of course. And it probably never would work. Not just his attempts to match Alison up, but the business in general. Yeah, he’d finally had a couple of successful matches, but his ad had flopped, he wasn’t finding any more new clients, and he didn’t see any way on earth to make this business the short-term success he desperately needed. At the very least, he needed to stop trying to set Alison up before he humiliated her one more time.

Brandon sighed. “Maybe it’s time I gave you your money back after all.”

Alison glanced at him, then looked away again. “Yeah. Maybe that would be best.”

Brandon was surprised at just how rotten that made him feel. Yeah, he’d just been using this business as a means to an end, but he hated failure in any form. To have to throw in the towel when he’d barely gotten started ate away at him like nothing else. He’d hit rock bottom in real estate, and now he was failing at the one thing that was supposed to help him bring that back. Where was he supposed to go from here?

“If you’ll give me a minute,” he said, “I’ll go inside and write you a check.”

When Alison nodded, he rose from the swing and went inside. He walked to his office at the back of the house and flipped on a single dim lamp. He sat down at his desk and pulled out his checkbook, only to stop and look around the room. And suddenly he was overcome with that same feeling he’d had as a teenager, that gut‑level feeling that he couldn’t do a damned thing right—a feeling that had been hammered into him by his father from the time he was five years old.

Then his thoughts took a different turn, this time to his grandmother. He remembered watching her at this very desk, her bifocals low on her nose as she pored over the file in front of her. He wondered if she’d ever screwed things up with a client as badly as he’d screwed things up with Alison. Probably not. He couldn’t imagine a guy like David getting past her.

Just write the damned check. And then tomorrow you need to shut the whole thing down and move on to plan B.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a plan B.

When he came back outside, Alison was still sitting on the porch swing, rocking it aimlessly back and forth with her toe. His grandmother had rocked that swing the very same way as she’d spent long, leisurely summer evenings drinking sweet tea and chatting with her neighbors. “
Come sit with us, Brandon
,” she’d say whenever he came home, “
and I’ll get you some tea.
”
But he’d been sixteen years old, all swagger and attitude, with a chip on his shoulder the size of a redwood tree. He’d always just mumbled something indecipherable and disappeared into the house, where he went upstairs and whacked a few pool balls around as he plotted what he was going to do when he was out of this hokey place.

But now, as he looked at this hokey place through the eyes of an adult, he saw something else. For all the trouble he gave his grandmother during the two years he’d lived there, she was the only person on earth who’d ever cared enough to give him something resembling a normal life.

He held out the check. Alison stared at it a long time before finally taking it. He waited for her to put it in her purse and walk away, and in that moment he knew just how much he was going to miss her and how much he hoped she’d eventually find the man she was looking for.

Instead, she tore it up.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Never mind what I said before. I want you to try again.”

Brandon’s mind spun with disbelief. His first thought was that she was giving him a shot at redemption, which meant his matchmaking business might not be dead after all. His second thought was,
Are you out of your mind?

“I don’t understand. I sent you on two terrible dates, and now you want a third one?”

“I know that doesn’t make much sense, but…” She shrugged. “I just got to thinking about it, and if David really didn’t tell you how short a time he’d been divorced, you couldn’t have known what a flake he was.”

“But it’s like you said. I should have asked.”

“But didn’t just the fact that he wanted to go out on a date say, ‘Hey, I’m over my ex‑wife’?”

Brandon sat down beside her. “You actually want me to set you up again?”

“I know how much you want to make this work. It was your grandmother’s business and you want to do right by her. You just need to get the hang of it. I wouldn’t feel right not giving you another chance.”

Brandon couldn’t believe this. She needed to take that check to the bank first thing Monday morning and never look back. Couldn’t she see she’d been right in the first place? Couldn’t she see that every date he set her up on was going to end in disaster?

Couldn’t she see he was a big, fat
fraud
?

“Alison,” he said, “you’re being way too nice.”

“You know, people tell me that a lot.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I don’t
try
to be nasty, but I just can’t get it to come out right.”

“You need to stop trying. It’s hopeless.”

“Hey! I told you off pretty good the other night after my date with the drug dealer, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but then you gave me another chance. And here you are doing it again.”

“See?
See?
No matter how hard I try, I just can’t hold on to nasty.” She sighed with resignation. “It’s my tragic flaw.”

“Stop trying. I’ve known a lot of nasty people. Nice is better.”

“But that’s the problem,” she said. “I’m nice. Men don’t like nice. They want hot and sexy. They want bad girls.
Blonde
bad girls. I tried blonde once. I looked like Lady Gaga. After she’d eaten a truckload of Twinkies.”

“Are you always this down on yourself?”

She shrugged. “Truthfully? These days, yeah. Sometimes I am. I mean, look at what happened tonight. David left me to go into a bathroom stall to bang his slutty ex‑wife. Men say they want nice girls, but most of the time they’re lying. What they want is a lady in the living room and a whore in the—well, in David’s case, the bathroom.”

Brandon thought about the women he’d been with in his life. He wouldn’t have classified any of them as “nice girls.” Most of them were shrewd and savvy and a little rough around the edges. They knew the score because they were playing the same game he was. Nothing lasting, nothing permanent, nothing connecting them in any meaningful way.

And then there was Alison.

He’d never spent time with a woman like her, a woman whose only goal was to have a normal life with a nice guy, a couple of kids, and his and hers minivans. There had to be plenty of men on this planet with the same goal, so it was unbelievable to him that some guy hadn’t already grabbed her.

“The right guy is out there for you,” Brandon said. “Trust me on that.”

“I know. And you’ll find him for me, won’t you?”

She looked up at him with plaintive eyes, her lashes so long they brushed her cheeks, which were flushed pink from the warm, sultry evening. For the first time he noticed how the moonlight cast a pale golden glow on her ivory skin, making it look so warm and touchable that he imagined pressing his hand to her upper arm and dragging it all the way down to her wrist just to see what it felt like. Most men wouldn’t say she was beautiful. Not in the conventional sense. But there was something about her that appealed to him in a girl‑next‑door kind of way, and that had never been his type before.

“I’m going to try,” he said.

She gave him a smile of encouragement. “You’ll get the hang of this business. Practice makes perfect.”

“Yeah? Well, first I have to have somebody to practice on.”

Alison blinked with surprise. “But you have lots of clients, don’t you? You told me you had room for only two new ones this month.”

Shit.
He’d roped Alison in by telling her his schedule was filling up fast, and now he was telling her he didn’t have enough clients?

Time for some fast thinking.

“I have so many of my grandmother’s clients who were already in place to deal with that I thought I wouldn’t have time for many more. But if I’m going to get this business off the ground, I have to find some new clients.”

“Oh. So how did your grandmother solicit business?”

“She didn’t. She was strictly word of mouth.”

“Then you need to build a reputation as good as the one she had.”