A Twist of Date (3 page)

Patti guffawed. “See? You were never going to listen to me. So much for your word.”

Oh, great. I had already given my word. I’d be acting like my mom if I backed out. “Fine.” Stomping out to the living room, I picked up my purse. “Where are my keys?”

“Huh-uh. Not good enough.” Patti grabbed hold of my arm and whipped me around. “I want the title.”

My heart stopped and I bit my bottom lip, hoping Patti couldn’t see the fear that was surely visible all over my face. “It’s in the box on my bookshelf.”

My entire body went numb as Patti disappeared into my room, then came back a minute later with a small pink slip. 

“Sign it over to me.” She slapped it down on the coffee table along with a pen. “If you don’t follow my advice, and I mean to a T, you can kiss Betty good-bye.”

With my left hand clutching my chest, I took the pen in my right and poised it over the slip of paper. I paused, knowing Betty—my only true ally—would be safe in Patti’s hands. Well, as long as I did what she said.

I’d been friends with Patti for fifteen years and I trusted her completely. She may be rough around the edges, but she had my best interests at heart. Although, she wouldn’t hesitate to keep Betty if I failed to keep my end of the deal.

Holding my breath—and hoping this was the correct decision—I swirled big loopy letters on the bottom line, signing my beloved Betty over to Patti Hartley.

Patti looked way too satisfied as she picked up the pink slip, folded it, and pointed it at me. “You’ve got more balls than I thought, Melanie Porter.”

Balls? I didn’t want balls. Unless they were Brad’s, that is. Tall, broad-chested, gorgeous Brad. I wanted him back. Now, I wanted Betty back, too.

Even more, though, I wanted to find my soul mate. He had to be out there somewhere, and I certainly wasn’t having any luck on my own. Tearing my eyes from the piece of paper clutched in Patti’s hand, I stared up at her.

She yawned, then covered her mouth. “It’s late. We’ll discuss the dos and don’ts of your love life over breakfast.” She headed for her room, then stretched and yawned again like a satiated feline. “Make that over lunch. I need time to get the good together.”

Helpless to do anything else, I went back to my own room, threw myself down on my bed and hugged a pillow. It smelled like Brad’s minty-scented hair gel. My nostrils burned as I remembered my plan to buy him unscented gel for his birthday. But I couldn’t buy him new gel now. He was gone, and good riddance. If a man didn’t want to stick around, better to find out now rather than later.

Besides, that was the last time I’d date the wrong type of guy. By this twist of fate—or, I should say, this twist of date—I’d follow the star of singledom’s advice, which will lead me to Mr. Right.

At least, I hoped.

Chapter Three

The next day, I maneuvered Betty backward into a tight parking spot outside Cherie’s Café in downtown Sac. After circling the block twice in search of parking, I was running late for my lunch with Patti, and determined to squeeze Betty into this rinky dink space no matter what.

Turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction, I shoved the car into drive and inched forward, then thrust the gearshift into reverse again. As I spun the wheel the opposite way and rolled backward, my cell phone went off.

C
hirp! Chirp!

While the car was still rolling, I noted the number, and jerked Betty to a halt. Throwing the gearshift into park, I groaned. “Oh, great. Just what I need right now.”

I tapped the flashing green button on my cell, then mustered up false enthusiasm for my stepmother. “Hi, Janet!”

“Melanie, sweetheart, must you shout?” Janet’s voice was laced with disapproval.

Attempts to please Janet were futile, but I couldn’t seem to give up trying. Quitting was my mom’s thing, not mine.

“Sorry.” I lowered my voice, then stepped out of the car. “Is this better?”

“Much.”

Long pause. Janet likes to make people wait. It’s her thing. That way, everyone knows how important she is. It is not a good idea to speak during these times. It only serves to aggravate Janet, which would be made apparent by a longer pause and then some reference to the fact that she’d been speaking—even if she hadn’t been.

“Listen, sweetheart.” Short pause. “Your father and I would like to have you over for dinner tonight. Kaitlin has something important she’d like to share with the whole family.”

The “whole family” consisted of the four of us. Why my stepmom referred to us so formally was beyond me. And what had the magnificent Kaitlin done now? Sneezed? I, on the other hand, could be on my deathbed and would be lucky to get served a TV dinner. But such was life with a can-do-no-wrong stepsister. Fact was, they were family and Janet made Dad happy. “I teach class at six-thirty this evening, but can be at your house by quarter to eight.”

“Well, we were hoping to have dinner at seven.” Long pause and a sigh.

Janet knew my work schedule but consistently planned dinners during my classes, making me feel guilty for not being able to arrive on time. I put a hand over my eyes, then peered through the mirrored window at Cherie’s Café to see if I could locate Patti while I waited for Janet to speak. “I just can’t get to your house any earlier,” I finally said. 

Pause. “All right then. Seven-forty-five it has to be.”

Knowing Janet expected appreciation for modifying her oh-so-important schedule, I made an attempt to score some points. “Thanks for changing the time for me. I’d really hate to miss Kaitlin’s good news.”

Silence. No points—not even half a point.

“Okay,” I said, annoyance leaking into my voice despite my best intentions. “Well, see you tonight.”

“We’re looking forward to it.” Silence, then, “Bye now.”

“Bye, Janet.” I ended the call and sighed. At least it had been relatively painless as far as our conversations went.

Probably not as painful as lunch was going to be with Patti laying down the ground rules of what I could and couldn’t do with my own love life. Knowing my hard-core friend, I’d bet my vintage CD collection there’d be more couldn’ts than coulds. 

I turned to glance at Betty one last time. She sat along the curb, looking all shiny and blue with her black top up. “Don’t worry, Betty. I’ll never let Patti get her hands on you.” 

Then I reached for the entrance door and took a deep breath. I could only imagine what Patti had in store for me.

****

I found Patti at a table in the center of the crowded restaurant. Apparently her dating rules didn’t require a private, corner booth—hopefully that was a good sign that they wouldn’t be too harsh.

“Hey.” I sat down, then reached for my water with lemon to calm my nerves.

“I ordered the usual for us, so we could get right down to business since I have to be back at work in an hour.” Patti’s smile looked sinister. That, or I’d seen too many horror movies.

“Okay.” My stomach clenched as I unfolded my napkin, then placed it in my lap. “Lay it on me.”

She lifted a piece of thick, linen stationery, then cleared her throat. “The Boyfriend Bylaws, by Patti Hartley.”

Sheer terror sliced through me at her unusually formal tone. And, um, bylaws? What did she think, this was a piece of legislation to be ratified into California law?

“Rule number one.” She eyed me pointedly. “No giving out your phone number until approved to do so.”

I raised my hand, like a student in one of her seventh-grade classes. “Can you clarify that?”

“What’s to make clear? If I don’t say yes, then you don’t give it out.” She enunciated each word as if she were talking to a particularly slow student.

I dropped my hand. Apparently Patti wasn’t an avid supporter of the “No question is a bad question” philosophy. My throat went dry. “Say I’m at the gym and a really nice guy asks for my phone number. What if you’re not around? Can I give him it to him?”

She seemed to think on this as the waitress placed my pasta marinara in front of me. After due consideration, Patti shook her head. “It’s not a good idea to date where you work.”

My brows shot up. “Why not?”

She stabbed some penne pasta with her fork. “If the relationship doesn’t pan out, it could create an uncomfortable work environment.”

“How would—” My mouth froze, and I cringed. Brad. I’d have to see him over and over again at the gym. Ugh. I bit my lip, remembering how he’d showed off to me by benching one seventy-five, when I knew from previous spying that he normally benched one-fifty. Brad had no qualms about dating where he worked out.

Oh, no. What if he gave someone like Erica “the eye,” benched one-eighty and asked her on a date? Erica loved PDA. I’d be forced to watch them all lovey-dovey day in and day out.

Swallowing her food, Patti tilted her head. “Brad?”

I nodded. “You have a valid point.”

“That’s why you hired me. A shame we didn’t make this deal a couple weeks ago, eh?” Patti turned her attention back to her neatly typed paper. “Rule number two. Must obtain permission to accept any date invitation. That one clear? Good, moving on—”

“Actually.” I raised my hand again, and started to sweat. “What if I’m at a bar, having an amazing conversation with some gorgeous guy, and he asks me out to dinner?”

“You have a cell?”

I clutched the napkin in my lap. “You know I do.”

“Then shoot me a text. I’ll be available twenty-four seven for consult.” Patti frowned, then waved her index finger. “Strike that. Don’t call between midnight and eight a.m. I need my sleep.”

“But how can I—”

“Your problem. Not mine,” she said, with a barely concealed smile.

My brows came together, tightening so hard it hurt. Then, I promptly relaxed my facial muscles. On top of everything else, I didn’t need squint lines.

“Number three.” Patti glanced up, probably to make sure her student was paying attention.

I gave her a thin smile and thought about how good it would feel to freeze Patti’s underwear like I’d done in junior high. 

Patti turned back to the beige, watermarked sheet. “No bringing up marriage, kids, or the future.”

My fake smile faded. After freezing Patti’s underwear, I’d short sheet her bed. “How can I forge a lasting relationship without talking about the future?”

“Just concentrate on forging the relationship for now.” She flicked her eyes back to her list. “Four. No going to first base without authorization.”

No big. Brad had pretty much skipped first base anyway. “All right.”

Patti studied my calm reaction, then reached for her giant purse, pulled out a pen, and scribbled on the paper. “Rule number four has been modified. No going to first base, or any
other
base, without authorization.”

What was Patti, a mind reader? “How can I date someone if I’m not allowed to—”

“Figure it out. Your way obviously wasn’t getting you anywhere.” Patti raised an eyebrow, then turned back to The Boyfriend Bylaws. “
Numero
five. No scribbling your first name with some guy’s last name. Ever.”

My face heated. “How’d you know I do that?”

“The pad by the kitchen telephone, genius.”

Oops. I tilted my head to the right, and my ponytail flopped to the opposite shoulder. “Is that it for the rules? Please say yes.”

“Last but not least, number six. This is the rule that I may add new rules as I deem necessary.” She handed over the dreaded paper outlining her rules, which were enumerated using various colors and fonts. “Here you go. Memorize it, live by it, and happy dating.”

The Boyfriend Bylaws felt like lead in my hand. “Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome.” Patti finished off the last of her pasta. “Don’t look so grim. This was your idea, remember?”

My eyes scanned the rules again. “That’s right. I’ve got balls.”

“Big ones.” 

“Just what I always wanted,” I said, wondering if Patti’s boyfriend bylaws would be my dating salvation or my doom.

Patti popped her last bite of garlic bread into her mouth, and I turned away from barely-touched plate to gaze around at the lunchtime crowd. My eyes froze on a familiar face seated at a back corner table. “Matt.”

As if he’d heard me, he glanced up, and winked.

My face automatically broke into a smile.

“He’s cute. That’s the guy who works at the front desk of Totally Fit, right?” Patti said. “Who’s the girl he’s with?”

“What?” My eyes shot to the girl I hadn’t noticed, sitting across the table from Matt. She looked oddly familiar. She had long, sandy-brown hair and glanced over at me with a curious stare. I turned back to Patti. “I have no idea who she is. He must be dating someone new.”

My stomach knotted. How could he act so interested in me yesterday morning, then go out with another girl the next? A surge of jealousy flooded through me as she leaned forward, said something, then exchanged a smile with him.

Without thinking, I blurted, “They seemed awfully chummy for a first date.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Of course.” I fixed an intent look on Patti. “Matt can date the entire Sacramento Kings cheerleading team, for all I care.”

“Uh-huh.” Patti appeared bemused as she handed her credit card to the waiter.

Whatever. Finding Matt with another girl was exactly why I’d said no to dating him in the first place. Reminding myself of that, however, didn’t make me feel one ounce better.