Virtually Mine: a love story (7 page)

Doink!
There it was. The IM delivered Kate’s
answer
: I’d like to try an Imaginary Boyfriend. I think.

Charlie gulped. He gulped so hard that
his Adam’s apple crashed into his too-tight tie. It was actually happening.

 
Samantha sat at her desk, wordlessly perusing Kate’s profile.
Charlie spread pictures of numerous Imaginaries out on her desk. He tried to
remember if he’d ever stood in her presence so quietly for so long. He felt
like he should say something; then, he felt like he shouldn’t.

Charlie did his best to reserve judgment
about people, but something reminded him that Samantha Raznick really was one
of those women his father had warned him about from the pulpit, all during his
adolescent years. The good Pastor Butters had preached many a sermon, his gaze
often drifting to his only son, especially when he’d read cautionary Proverbs
about such femme fatales, their voices dripping with honey as they lured their
unsuspecting prey to certain doom.

Charlie shuddered. He reminded himself
that Samantha had never once been inappropriate with him, at least not in
that
way. He’d explained to his dad that the company’s dealings were strictly above
board. But there was still something about the woman at the center of it all
that kept Charlie ready to run screaming at any given second.

“So,” Samantha finally began, “she wants
to make her boyfriend jealous.”

Charlie’s voice cracked. “Ex-boyfriend.”

“Ah, to be young and vindictive.”

“Well, not so much to get back at him as
to get him back.” Charlie spread out the many potential Imaginary Boyfriends’
photos that he had pulled. “I was thinking we could go with—”

Samantha leaned forward, ignoring
Charlie’s attempt to make a selection. “Charlie, do you find this girl to be
pretty?

“Yeah,” Charlie replied.
“She’s...incredibly, you know...wow...in that department.”

Sam rifled through Charlie’s assortment
of photos, an uninspired scowl on her face. “You really think a pretty girl is
going to go for one of these? Where’d you get them, the putz file?”

Charlie balked. “She did say that
personality is the most important factor.”

“We all say that, so we won’t appear to
be shallow.” Unceremoniously, she tossed the entire array into the trash. “Go
with the new guy. Eric.”

Charlie nodded. He started toward the
door, and then turned back. “Don’t you think, I mean for her, he’s a little,
you know—”

“Yummy?”

Charlie wandered back to Samantha’s desk.
“She’s just kind of, that is, she seems to be more the type who’d go for, I
don’t know. Maybe, the boy next door.”

Sam rose to her full height. In her
five-inch heels she towered over him. “We are dream brokers, Charlie. Nobody
fantasizes over the boy next door.
 
Not
unless he looks like this.” She plopped Eric’s photo into Charlie’s sweating
hands. “I recommend that you send something personal first. A card with a
snapshot and some kind of gift. That is, before you call her.”

Charlie’s throat went dry. “I call her?”

Samantha shook her head in a way that
pummeled Charlie’s confidence. “We’re only renting his image.
 
Of course, you’re the one who calls her. You
supply the actual voice, hopefully a scintilla of personality to pepper it up.”

“The voice, right,” Charlie
acknowledged.
 
“But what if she recogni—
What I mean is, what if my voice sounds—”

“Create a character,” Samantha replied,
her impatience growing. “Go over her specs and be the guy she wants. Look, are
you sure you can handle this?”

“Sure. Yeah.” The words came out much
less convincingly than Charlie had hoped.

“Then handle it,” Sam replied as she
showed him out the door.

Back at his Operator’s station, Charlie
sat, sifting through photos of Eric. Clearly, these pictures were intended to
look like snapshots, as if taken on the spur of the moment. Truth be told, he
questioned how could anyone look so good no matter the situation or angle. Some
people were just more photogenic than most, Charlie decided.

Other than school photos only a mother could
love and a smattering of candid shots from his growing up years, there were
relatively few photos of Charlie in existence. He wasn’t really sure if it was
because his parents weren’t exactly camera bugs or if he didn’t provide
sufficiently inspirational subject matter. Seeing so many great photos of Eric
made Charlie wonder.

There were surfing shots, backyard pics
as grill chef at a barbeque, even one with Eric swinging a child in a circle by
his arms, just like Charlie used to like to do with the kids at his dad’s
Sunday School picnics. Kids clamored to Charlie. They didn’t care how average
he looked. They only cared that he enjoyed spending time with them. What it was
about growing up that changed all that, Charlie didn’t know.
 
But what he wouldn’t give, just once, to
spin Kate Valentine around in his arms.

As Charlie perused the
Virtually Mine
stock room’s offerings, the options seemed limitless. Kate had only paid for an
introductory level Imaginary Boyfriend, so though he was tempted to bump what
he sent her to their deluxe level, he dutifully pulled a card from the
introductory shelf. Somehow, he would make less into more.

Charlie shivered as he walked through a
set of glass doors, into the refrigerated section where a sea of cut flowers
were kept fresh. He hadn’t seen so many arrangements since his grandmother’s
funeral. Grandmother Butters had always liked roses, but something in Charlie
wasn’t sure about roses for Kate. He wandered past lilacs, lilies, sunflowers,
and spider mums, stymied by the decision. Birds of paradise were a no-brainer
for him. Those things were just plain scary.

♥   
♥    ♥

M.J. motored around the corner toward Rob’s house in her Meter Maid Mobile.
Ocean Avenue was nice, but there was just something about turning onto Palisades
Drive that felt like a world apart. These were the homes of the Santa Monica
elite, the people who’d rather pay off the parking tickets she’d write than
bother to move their cars. Manicured shrubs set off handsome landscaping. These
were lawns a dandelion wouldn’t dare attempt to invade.

Actually, M.J. liked dandelions. As a
child, she’d wiled away many an hour by plucking stems that had gone to seed.
Then, she’d blow them to see just how far her breath would carry them, out of
her not-so-weed-free yard and into the McCubbin’s fastidiously kept vegetable
garden next door.

Mr. McCubbin would fume at M.J. He’d
complain to her mother when she got off work and threaten to call the Community
Covenants cops on them. But there was something about the boundary-crossing
puffballs of airborne seeds that appealed to the adventuresome spirit in M.J.,
no matter how much Mr. McCubbin hated them. It had felt like a small victory
every time one managed to steal past his rake and sprout amidst his zucchini
squash and lima beans.

M.J. pulled over a few doors down from
Rob’s house. She checked around furtively, and then began to take off her
uniform, under which she sported colorful exercise clothes. With a glance in
her rear view mirror, she fluffed her hair and smacked her cheeks pink.

Once inside Rob’s home, curiosity got the
better of M.J. as she waited for Rob to get his golden retriever from the
backyard. She peeked around the downstairs rooms adjoining his foyer, then
wandered into a handsome office. Seeing a framed photo on the desk, M.J.
flipped it around to take a look. A gray-haired couple stood arm-in-arm,
smiling for the camera. Hearing Rob and the approaching click of the golden’s
claws on the hardwood floor, M.J. hastily put the photo down. It clattered to a
fall, but she quickly righted it, just as Rob appeared in the doorway with
Freddie.

Rob extended the dog’s leash toward M.J.
“So, here he is. Just fed and ready to go.”

M.J. grimaced, caught resituating the
photo. “Oops. I was...
 
This is a really
nice place you have here.”

Rob gazed around the ample abode. “More
than I need at this point. Except the office is good.”

“So, you live alone here?” M.J. probed.
So far, there had been no sign of a spouse, but she couldn’t help asking.

Rob shook his adorable head. “Just me and
Freddie for now. I kind of inherited the place from my mom and dad.”

M.J. nodded, putting it together. “In the
photo.”

“Yeah.” He pointed skyward. “They’re up
in—”

“Heaven?” M.J. bit at her lip as soon as
she said it. “Sorry. Hey,” she joked, “maybe they’ll meet my folks. Although,
I’m not entirely sure about my dad, to tell the truth.
 
He tended to go for warmer climes, if you
know what I mean.”

Rob smiled. “I was talking about
Washington State. They retired there.”

“Oh.” M.J. kicked herself. Surely, with
all of the scabillions of words there were in the English language, she could
find just a handful to say. But all that had come to her was that one
conversation-curtailing
oh
.

Rob moved toward his desk. “So, I guess
I’d better get some work done.”

M.J. found her voice again. “Here?
 
You work here?”

“Mornings, yeah. Which is why I took you
up on the whole dog walking thing...so I can, you know, work.”
 

Getting Rob’s drift, M.J. moved toward
Freddie. The beast loomed much larger up close. “The dog walking, right.” M.J.
leaned over toward the golden with as much confidence as she could fake. “So,
Freddie, want to go for a walk?”

On hearing those words, Freddie jumped up
on M.J., pawing her multi-print leggings. Unaccustomed to animals, M.J. straightened
up as congenially as possible.

“Down, boy!” Rob commanded. “He knows
those words.” Rob mouthed
go for a walk
.

“Whoa. Yeah. Okay.” M.J. laughed
nervously while Rob pulled Freddie off of her. She couldn’t help but enjoy
Rob’s closer proximity. In fact, she could hardly bear to tear herself away.

Rob patted Freddie to sit down on his
haunches. “He’s kind of a flirt,” Rob admitted. “You know, I’ve had the ‘little
talk’ with him, but he’s still such a rake. Plastic bags are in his pouch.”

A puzzled expression flew across M.J.’s
face. “Plastic bags? Oh! Right. Plastic bags. For the...uh, shall we
say...produce.” M.J. took hold of Freddie’s leash and led him toward the front
door. “Okay, we’re off.”

Rob went back to his desk and picked up a
book. “Okay.”

M.J. talked Freddie to the door, hoping
that somehow he’d understand her words and cooperate. She’d heard that dogs
could smell fear, so she did her best to mask the willies she was feeling.

M.J. sneezed.

As it turned out, M.J. realized her
anxieties about Freddie were overblown. Her confidence grew. Freddie didn’t nip
at her or bark at her. He didn’t even pay much attention to her as they walked
through Palisades Park. All that the dog remained intent upon was searching for
the perfect place to do his doggie business.

Finally, Freddie seemed to be zeroing in,
circling a particular plot of interest. Moments later, he broke out of that
orbit, took a few steps and found another spot to start yet another circle.

M.J. sneezed again, this time even
harder. “Why is this grass more perfect than that grass? Can you explain this
to me?” Her eyes started to itch the way they had when she’d once attempted to
rescue a puppy.

Suddenly, seeing another Meter Mobile
motor by, M.J. checked back to make sure that her parked one was still going
unnoticed, knowing her break time was over.
 
She clicked her fingers at the dallying dog. “Time to deploy, Freddie.
Let’s go.”

♥   
♥    ♥

Business was booming at the Doo-Wop Dinette.
 
Kate
had to hustle to keep up, but that was fine with her because it made it less
obvious that she was doing her best to avoid any sort of meaningful contact
with Dustin.

Kate knew that, eventually, she’d have to
figure out how to be in the same room with Dustin again. After all they waited
tables together in addition to being part of the same acting class. That was
it, she thought. She’d make it an acting assignment to herself. She’d act like
she was over him. She’d feign being perfectly fine.

Kate picked up an order and scooted to
the side to avoid crashing into Dustin. Frustratingly, he mirrored her move.
Again, she awkwardly tried to get out of his way, but his countermove put him
right smack into her path again. Finally, he stood still, allowing her to get
by. Nothing about this was going to be easy.

Reesa accepted a floral delivery at the
register as Kate passed by to serve a cheeseburger and fries to a man. Kate set
a lunch salad—no croutons, with a light vinaigrette on the side—before his
female lunch companion. Croutons were one thing, but why it was that women
denied themselves anything beyond rabbit food was lost on Kate at that moment.
There was no ring on the woman’s finger. She was starving herself for him, Kate
supposed. She could only hope that this particular man would prove to be worth
it.