Love and Lists (Chocoholics) (5 page)

“I’m sorry, did you just say your boyfriend ditched you to go shoe shopping?” my mom asks her.

Charlotte sighs and crosses her arms in front of her. “He didn’t ditch me. I told him he could go because I was tired.”

“You don’t really mean shoe shopping right? You meant to say shopping for sports equipment or a new surround sound system, right?” Aunt Liz asks.

“He told us his favorite book of all time was
Under the Rainbow: The Real Liza Minnelli
. I’m pretty sure shoe shopping would be right up his alley,” Mom reminds her.

“Has Rocco gotten the memo yet that he’s gay?” Aunt Liz questions her.

Tyler starts laughing hysterically and reaches his hand up to fist-bump my aunt.

“Seriously, Mom? Are you judging him? That’s really low,” Charlotte complains.

“I’m not judging him. Some of the best people I’ve ever met are gay. I just don’t particularly want my daughter dating someone who’s gay.”

Charlotte stomps her foot and growls at Liz, and I have to tell myself not to get too excited. I love seeing her get fired up. Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes sparkle. Now is NOT the time to get a boner.

“He is NOT gay! He’s just … he’s in touch with his feminine side.”

Tyler snorts and Charlotte shoots an angry look in his direction.

“Honey, he doesn’t have a feminine side. He has a vagina,” Aunt Liz informs her.

Before Charlotte can go completely ape shit on her mother, a loud banging sound comes from the living room followed by a bunch of cursing. A few seconds later, Aunt Jenny walks in with a scowl on her face.

“You really need to get that French door to the backyard fixed, Liz. All the humility has made it stick and it doesn’t open very easily.”

“Ahhhh yes, the
humility
in the air. We’ve humbled the door into not opening for people,” Aunt Liz replies.

“I’m going to bed. Gavin, don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night. Make sure to invite this new girlfriend of yours so I can meet her,” Charlotte says as she walks behind me and pats me on the shoulder before she leaves the room.

I hold my breath until I hear the click of her heels taper off down the hallway and the door to her bedroom close.

Turning around in my seat, I smack Tyler in the arm once again.

“Owww! What the fuck was that for?!”

“Girlfriend? Supermodel hot? Bendy?” I whisper through clenched teeth.

“The bendy part was a bit overkill, but it totally worked. She was insanely jealous,” Aunt Liz says with a nod of her head.

She wasn’t jealous. We’re friends. Best friends. She’s irritated because she found out about it from Tyler in a room full of people instead of directly from me. When she started dating Rocco, she sat me down and told me, just like a good friend does. I should have taken her aside alone and told her about my girlfriend.

Oh my God, what the fuck am I saying? I don’t have a girlfriend!

“Gavin, you have a girlfriend?! Oh my gosh that’s so exciting! I have condoms in my purse if you need them. They’re the kind with insecticide so they totally work,” Aunt Jenny tells me.

“
Spermicide
, Jenny. Spermicide. Sweet Jesus,” Aunt Liz complains.

“Gavin’s cock has roaches, pass it on!” Tyler laughs.

“It’s all fun and games until you assholes start talking about my son having sex. Gavin doesn’t need condoms,” Mom informs everyone.

“Are you ready to be Nana Claire right now? Because I’m too young and pretty to be Gammy Liz. If he’s going to be having sex with my daughter, he will damn well wrap his shit up!” Aunt Liz yells. “Jenny, give him your condoms.”

Aunt Jenny starts to walk over to the counter where her purse sits but stops when my mom speaks.

“Jenny, you take one more step in that direction and I will rip out your ovaries,” Mom threatens.

Aunt Jenny freezes again and holds her hands up in the air like she’s under arrest.

“Throwing away all of the condoms you found in his top dresser drawer didn’t stop him from having sex with Shelly Collins in the twelfth grade. Quit being a twat and let him have the damn condoms,” Aunt Liz adds with a roll of her eyes.

You know, sometimes I think I’d like it better if my mom had absolutely no friends at all. Especially friends that she tells everything to and that also happens to be the mother of the woman I’m in love with. Talking about my one and only sexual encounter on prom night that only happened because I found out Charlotte lost her virginity the week before to the bass player in my band obviously wasn’t my finest hour. And the fact that my mom and Aunt Liz have already picked out their grandparent names is disturbing. Gammy Liz???

“We are never to speak again of my son having sex. EVER!” Mom warns.

“Thank you,” I mutter gratefully with a sigh.

“Instead, we should be talking about what his girlfriend will be wearing tomorrow night,” she states.

Oh my God.

“Make sure she wears something totally slutty,” Aunt Liz tells me.

“And make sure you watch Charlotte out of the corner of your eye so you can see the look on her face,” Mom adds.

“Um, are we forgetting something here? I don’t have a girlfriend,” I remind them.

“I got your back, bro. I’ve got the perfect woman for you,” Tyler tells me.

“You don’t know any women. You only know hookers. You are not setting my son up on a fake date with a hooker.” Mom glares at him and practically growls.

“Hey, that was one time and it was an honest mistake. She was right outside the bar asking people if they wanted to go on a date. Who turns down an offer like that?” Tyler asks.

“Someone who doesn’t want to get VD,” Mom tells him.

“I had Chlamydia once. It wasn’t so bad. Antibiotics cleared it right up,” Jenny says, still standing by the counter with her arms up in the air.

“Tyler, I am trusting you to find my son a nice girl that you DO NOT have to pay.”

Tyler salutes her and then rests his hand over his heart.

“Your wish is my command, my beauty. Is there anything else I can do for you on this fine evening?”

Mom rubs her temples with her fingers and starts muttering under her breath about cyanide tablets and firing squads while Aunt Liz and Tyler discuss the girl he’s going to hook me up with tomorrow night.

I was really looking forward to a night out with my friends, even if I have to suffer through more hours of watching Charlotte with Rocco―her flamboyantly annoying boyfriend. Now, I’m pretty sure I should just plan on leaving the country and changing my name. It would be less trouble.

“Meet me outside by your car in fifteen minutes. I’ll slip you the condoms when your mom isn’t looking,” Aunt Jenny whispers in my ear. “Just make sure you don’t use them with apple butter and grapeseed oil. It sounds like a good idea, but it’s not. Trust me.”

“Can you get me the notes from last week’s interactive design meeting? Also, book the conference room on the sixth floor for tomorrow morning at nine. We have those fifteen product testers coming in to give their opinions on the orange dreamsicle flavored massage lotion,” I distractedly tell Ava as I sort through my emails.

Ava is Charlotte’s sister and a year younger than her. Liz decided that her daughter should do something other than get spray tans and take naps on her summer break from school so she made her take an internship at Seduction and Snacks and work as my assistant. Charlotte and Ava share physical attributes. Just like Charlotte, Ava is slender with long dark hair, but that’s where the similarities end. Where Charlotte is sweet, funny, thoughtful, and amazing, Ava is … not. She’s pretty much just a bitch. Charlotte and I used to argue a lot when we were younger, but Ava and I would get into all-out brawls. Punches were thrown, things were lit on fire … it was anarchy.

I look up after a few minutes when she hasn’t answered me and see her standing there pressing buttons on her iPad, concentrating furiously.

“Ava, did you hear me?”

She sighs in annoyance but still doesn’t look up from the screen. “Yes, I heard you. Book the fifteenth floor and make notes about massages.”

Ava is the worst assistant on the face of the earth. And I can’t even say she means well because she doesn’t. She couldn’t care less about this job.

“Ava, you have an iPad in your hand for notes. Did you even type anything I said?” I ask her in annoyance.

I don’t have time for this crap. I have a ton of work to do and an illness to fake before seven o’clock tonight.

“Oh my GOD this is so hard. I just can’t do this,” Ava whines and stomps her foot just like her sister. Except when Charlotte does it, I don’t want to hurl myself across my desk and strangle her.

“It’s okay, I know it’s a lot to take in at once. Just take good notes and you’ll be fine,” I reassure her.

“Uuuughhhh! I don’t understand how anyone passes level thirty-five of Candy Crush,” she complains, still tapping away at her iPad.

I don’t even bother replying to her. I just lean forward and bang my head against the top of my desk.

I’m still banging it a few minutes later when my phone starts ringing. After five rings, I lift my head and stare at Ava.

“Are you going to answer that phone or what?” she asks in annoyance.

I will not strangle her. I will not strangle her.

“Creative Development, this is Gavin,” I say into the phone as Ava turns and walks out of my office without ever looking up from her iPad.

“You sound like a douche bag. Don’t answer the phone like that,” Tyler tells me.

“Shut up. What do you want?”

“Seriously, you should answer it ‘Dicks for Chicks, how can I help you?’”

I ignore Tyler’s suggestion and quickly close out my email when I see a customer comment about how “Claire can be taken up the ass.”

“I’m bringing your girlfriend to the bar at six-thirty. We’ll meet you in the parking lot so make sure you wear something pretty,” he tells me.

“Actually, I think I’m coming down with something. I’m not feeling so hot.”

I cough a few times into the phone to make it sound real.

“Suck it, dick nose. You’re going tonight,” Tyler states.

He doesn’t even give me a chance to plead my case before he hangs up on me and I hear the dial tone in my ear.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter as I put the receiver back.

“Hey, Gavin, you want some coffee?” Ava yells from her desk right outside my door.

All right, maybe I’ve been too hard on her. I start to feel a little bad about getting irritated a few minutes ago. I’m nervous and frustrated about tonight. And what the hell am I supposed to do with a fake girlfriend? I’m probably taking it out on Ava just a little bit.

“Coffee sounds great,” I yell back to her as I pull up my search engine and type in
twenty-four-hour illnesses that aren’t contagious or make people think you’re a leper.

“Awesome. Can you get me a Venti nonfat double shot espresso while you’re out?” Ava replies.

Abandoning my Google search, I smack my head against top of my desk and pray to God that tonight is better than today.

“I cannot BELIEVE you set me up with her. Of all the women in all the world, you had to pick
her.
”

I’m standing in the parking lot of Wolfey’s, the bar we all frequent when we have something to celebrate. I had pulled in at the same time as Tyler and my “girlfriend” and watched in horror as she stepped out of his mom’s car that he borrowed for the evening.

Right now she’s checking out her reflection in my passenger side window while I rip into Tyler.

“Dude, do you have any idea how hard it was to find a chick willing to pretend to be your girlfriend for the evening? This was the best I could do on short notice. What’s wrong with her? She’s hot,” Tyler says as we both look over the hood of the car to find her staring at us.

“What’s wrong with her is that I used to date her. And she’s psychotic. Plus, my mom hates her. If she finds out I spent a night with
her
, even if it’s pretend, she is going to lose her shit.”

The
her
in question is Brooklyn Daniels. We went to school together from kindergarten through high school, and I dated her for exactly two weeks in eleventh grade. By day three I had met everyone in her family, including an aunt and uncle who flew in from Turks and Caicos just to meet me. By day ten she’d given me three photo albums filled with pictures of herself. No, not her and I together, just her. Pictures that to this day still burn my retinas when I think about them. Where was I? Oh, yes. By day eleven she’d tattooed my initials on her lower back, by day twelve she’d given me a wedding scrapbook filled with bridal magazine clippings of what she wanted our wedding to look like, and by day fourteen she’d suggested that we go to couple’s counseling because she thought I didn’t value her. By day sixty-eight she was history.