Miss Match (7 page)

"We're just ... we're just ... haaaaaww!"

I can't help it. Tears fill my eyes again; my lungs sear with every
breath. Hannah joins me. Ten seconds later, Ruby kneels beside me on
the floor without a clue what she is laughing about.

After another fifteen minutes, we peel ourselves off the floor and
decide the mess can wait until tomorrow.

Then we go to dinner.

Here's what I think: Hannah Curtis and Ruby Palmer make very
good dinner dates.

I suggest Vizzini's, an Italian place just a few blocks away. We are
stuffing our faces with breadsticks twenty minutes later.

"So." Ruby twirls her fork in her spaghetti. "How old are you,
Hannah?"

"Twenty-one." Hannah smiles at me. She's cried all the mascara off
her lashes and yanked her hair back in a half-hearted knot, and though
she still wears her chopstick heels, I can't see them under the table. Plus,
either my nose has grown accustomed to her perfume, or she's wearing
a lot less.

She seems almost ... normal.

I never thought I'd say that about Preppie Barbie.

Ruby grins as well. Her brown hair has fallen from the perfectionist
waves she creases it in every day and is now soft and accessible around
her cheeks. Her eyes are bright, her movements not dictated by the clock
for once.

Ruby Palmer seems almost normal too. I figure it's Nick in her
case, though. Love tends to make normal people crazy and crazy
people normal.

"You're twenty-three, right?" Ruby directs the question to me.

"Yep,

"You and Brandon seem pretty close," Hannah says.

Ruby answers for me. "They've been best friends since they
were babies."

"Well, second grade anyway," I correct.

"Must be neat to be that close with a guy and still be just friends,"
Hannah says.

I hear something more than just speculation in her voice, but I don't
push it. "Yes and no. Guys are weird."

Ruby chokes on her spaghetti. "You've got that right." Her eyes spark
with glee. "Weird and uncanny."

"And smelly," Hannah says.

I snort loudly. I don't usually snort when I laugh, but when it comes
to either snorting or spitting a big mouthful of ravioli at Ruby, I decide
to go with the snort.

Ruby's eyes twinkle. She is enjoying this far too much. "And
unclean."

"Sloppy.,

"Primitive."

"They're just weird," I declare. Ruby and Hannah voice their
agreement.

"I'm glad you came to Bible study," I tell Hannah. "Are you going
to come again?"

"Um. Sure. Probably. I don't know."

Ruby starts laughing. "Oh, very decisive, Hannah."

Hannah grins. "Okay. I'll go."

When I went to work this morning, Hannah and I weren't really
even on speaking terms, and I didn't know Ruby could talk about anything other than tardiness.

When we leave the restaurant at eleven thirty, we leave friends.

I like having friends.

I arrive home to a cop car with its lights flashing.

Oh no. My mood goes south immediately. I throw down the emergency brake, jump from the car, and run inside.

"What's going on?" I yell the minute I open the door.

"Laurie!" Dad grabs my shoulders and presses me to his chest. "Laurie,
Laurie, thank God!"

A uniformed cop shuts his notebook. "Well, guess that's that."
He leaves.

Dad pushes me back to arm's length. "Where in the world were you?
I called and I called and I called, and you never answered."

Guiltily, I look at my cell phone. Yep, it is still in silent mode from
Bible study last night. "17 MISSED CALLS" shouts from the screen.

"I'm sorry, Dad. Ruby and Hannah and I went to dinner."

"You and who?"

There is no mistaking the incredulous gasp in Brandon's voice. He
stands from where I didn't see him on the couch.

"You went to dinner with the human stopwatch and Princess Barbie?"
His mouth is wide.

"Yes, I did." I have to admit I feel proud I put that expression on
Brandon's usually blase face.

Dad's shoulders slump and his wrinkles show more tonight than I've
ever seen them. "You okay, Dad?" I wrap an arm around him.

"I'm stressed from the evening's events."

I pat his shoulder. "Let's get you to bed."

Fifteen minutes later, after changing into my pajamas, I go down stairs and Brandon is still here. It is now twelve fifteen in the morning.

"Go home, Brandon."

"Let's talk for a few minutes." He points to the seat beside him.

I sit grudgingly. "What?"

"Did you learn anything today?"

This is what Brandon thinks he is: My conscience.

"No." I do not feel cooperative at the moment. I am tired, my ribs are
sore from laughing, and I do not want to hear from Jiminy Cricket.

"Laurie."

I hate it when he draws my name out like that.

"I stereotyped Hannah and Ruby. But so did you. I've confessed and
moved on."

He smiles. "I'm glad you had a good time."

I send him a small grin. "Thanks, Brandon."

He smiles again, stands, and pats my head like the collie I guess I
look like. "Sweet dreams, kiddo."

I climb into bed, exhausted, at ten until one. And I have to work
tomorrow! I promise myself this will not become a routine and collapse
on the fluffy mattress.

My alarm goes off at 4:20 a.m.

I jump out of bed like my sheets have turned into a sea of shrieking eels. Once my heart stops pounding in my ears, I realize it isn't a
man shrouded in black holding a knife over my bed who spoke; it's Dan
Jenkins, the early morning deejay for KGHT, the local soft rock station.

I didn't set my alarm for 4:20.

I turn off the radio and flop back on the bed.

But sleep eludes me.

Here's what I am going to do: Build a bonfire and sacrifice my
alarm clock.

Three sleepless hours later, I roll off the bed and stumble into the bathroom. A ghost of a woman meets me in the mirror, and I nod hello before
brushing my teeth.

At ten until eight, I fall down the stairs and collapse at the breakfast table.

"Laurie? Honey, are you okay?"

"Coffee." My voice is rasping like an eighty-five-year-old. "I
need coffee."

Dad pours the coffee like he works in a New York City Starbucks at
rush hour. "Here. Drink."

I slurp the thick black drink down to the bottom in one breath.

"More?"

"Please."

By the third cup, I'm beginning to regain my strength. Dad stares at
me like I'm the Spirit of Christmas Present as I unglue my head from the
table and get it firmly attached to my shoulders again.

"Much better. Now for breakfast. Sorry, Dad. I had a rough night.
Dan Jenkins woke me up at 4:20."

"Funny. I don't remember hearing the phone ring."

"He wasn't on the phone, he was on my alarm. Long story." I slap
two slices into the toaster.

"How late are you working tonight, Laurie?"

I stop spreading peanut butter on the toast. "Same as usual, I think.
Six."

Dad takes a sip of his lemongrass tea. Blegh. "Would you like to go on a dinner date? Just the two of us?"

I almost point out it is just the two of us every night until I see the
hope in his eyes. Poor Dad. I get so busy with work and friends I don't
give him enough attention.

"Sure." I smile. "I'd love to, Dad. Wow! A real date. This is the first
in a long time."

Dad's eyes light up. "Wonderful. This will be fun, Laurie-girl. I have
something to tell you, anyhow."

Now I am curious. "What?"

"Dinner, Honey. I'll tell you at dinner. You'd better eat quick if you
want to make it to work on time."

I walk through the doors of The Brandon Knox Photography Studio at
exactly 8:59 and twenty-seven seconds. Ruby will be proud.

But Ruby isn't at her usual post.

"Ruby?" I yell.

Hannah's head pops out from under the desk. "She took the
day off."

"No, I mean Ruby Palmer."

Hannah grins. "That's what I said. Brandon told me this morning. Ruby wanted the day off for something or another. A Nuggets
game?"

"I wouldn't have put Ruby in the basketball fan category." I walk
around the desk to shove my beat-up backpack in the cubby. My backpack is my one possession I'm rarely without. I got it in the ninth grade,
and it used to be a dusky gray, but I'd call it more of a splotchy gray
now. Nine years of rain, sun, and that time I accidentally went through
the car wash with the back windows open have left their mark on it.

I get a big surprise when I turn from wrestling the bag into the
cubby.

"Hannah!"

She blinks those beautiful blue eyes. "What?"

"You're wearing jeans!" I am flabbergasted. Completely.

She flips her pony-tailed head. "I didn't think you should be the only
one who gets away with it."

I congratulate her. "You have broken through the Career Woman
Mold."

Hannah sits in her swivel chair. "I got asked out on a date tonight."

"Oh yeah?" I love the conspiratorial feeling. "So did I! Who is
yours with?"

She gives me a strange look. "Brandon."

This rocks me back on my heels. Brandon asked her out? On a date?
Just the two of them?

What is Brandon thinking? Sure, I like Hannah well enough ... as
a friend. She isn't a Christian, for Pete's sake!

I sit right there on the floor behind her desk. Maybe we aren't talking
about the same Brandon.

Fat chance.

She rubs her hands together, a worried expression on her gorgeous
face. "I haven't told him yes or no yet. I don't know what to do, Laurie.
Who is your date with?"

"My dad." I rub my thumbnail. "About Brandon."

Her eyes round in worry. "I don't want to hurt his feelings, Laurie. I
like Brandon. A lot."

So far it sounds like a winning combination to me.

"So what's the problem?" I ask.

She twists her hands around and around each other before finally
throwing them in her lap. "He's my boss!" It comes out as a moan.

I blink. Then blink again.