Boyfriend From Hell (Falling Angels Saga) (7 page)

“Exactly,” I said.

Again he smiled at me, his eyes crinkling.

All right, I thought. Let the connecting begin.

It was as if he’d read my mind, because he shot me a knowing look, opened his mouth about to say something when…

“Here we go.” Tran’s mother, Mrs. Phung, swept into the room, carrying a tray laden with soft drinks, glasses, a bowl of tortilla chips, and salsa dip. “I hear somebody’s thirsty,” she said through the hint of an accent.

“That would be me,” I replied. “Thank you.”

“Help yourselves.” She set the tray down in the middle of the table and stood there.

“Thanks. We can take it from here,” I said, hoping she’d get the hint to leave. I popped the top on a soft drink.

“So, you’re Tran’s friends?” she said with a satisfied smile. “You must be special. He never has anyone over.”

So much for getting the hint. Couldn’t she see there was a gorgeous boy sitting across from me, and I was desperate to be alone with him?

“Ice cubes,” I suddenly said. “May I have some ice cubes for my drink?”

“They’re already plenty cold.”

“I know, but I always like ice,” I added, smiling apologetically.

She looked at me for a moment, and I almost thought she was going to say:
“No ice! They’re cold enough.”
But instead, she returned the smile. “Okay. Anything for Tran’s friends. Be right back.” She scurried from the room.

We were alone again. “Wow,” I said with a chuckle. “Guess we’re his best buddies.”

“Whose best buddies?” Tran was reentering the room with a fresh stack of math problems.

“Umm, nobody’s,” I said. I shot Guy an exasperated expression. He shrugged.

“Okay,” called Tran as he returned to his seat. “You guys ready to get to work?”

Sullenly, we both nodded.

#

Normally, I like surprises. Surprise birthday parties; surprise tickets to see my favorite pop star in concert. These were the kind of surprises I enjoyed. Unfortunately, that’s not the kind of surprise my mother dropped on me several days later. 

“I think I’m going to start seeing Armando.”

It was a weekday morning. We were buzzing around. I was getting ready for school and she, for work. We were both in the bathroom jockeying for mirror space, doing our makeup, when she dropped the bomb.

I didn’t respond. I was applying eye-liner, which was new for me, so I pretended I needed to concentrate.

“You don’t approve? I thought you liked him.”

“Yeah, he’s nice.” I was finally able to choke a few words out.  “I just thought you weren’t into the sports car types.”

She giggled, as if she was holding onto an enormous secret she couldn’t wait to unload. “I don’t like judging books by their covers, but I must admit I was pleased to discover the Porsche wasn’t his. It belongs to a friend. Mando drives an old Volvo,” she said happily.

“Sensible,” I said.

“Yes.” There was a brief silence. “So?”

“Are you asking for my permission?”

“Sort of.”

I guess I should have seen it coming. But I honestly couldn’t fathom why a man like Armando would want to go out with my mother. I’m not saying she’s a loser. My mother is far from a loser, but she’s also far from the Armando type.

“Just be careful,” is all I said, and I meant it. I couldn’t get the way she smiled at him that night at the gallery out of my mind. She really liked him. I didn’t want to stand in the way of that, but I didn’t want to see her hurt, either. Thoughts of Armando being a gigolo reentered my mind.  

“You’re worried about me getting hurt, aren’t you?”

“No!” I lied. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She stopped what she was doing and wrapped her arms around me. “You are so special, worrying about me. If it makes you feel any better, I’m worried about me, too.”

It didn’t.

“We’ll take our time. Okay?”

What could I say? My mother was about to start dating a handsome, cool guy who had great taste and lots of money. “Okay,” I said and forced a smile. I found myself wishing Miller was still in the picture.

#

Later, at school, I shared the dating news with Erin. We were at our lockers between classes when I told her.

“Con artist?” she said, and laughed. “You can’t seriously think the man is a con artist?”

I sighed resignedly. “No, I don’t. But it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing against my mother, but she just doesn’t seem to be Armando’s type.”

“It’s sort of like me and Matt, isn’t it?  I mean, who’d a thunk it? But here we are.”

Lately, Erin had developed the annoying habit of turning every subject we talked about into a conversation about Matt and her. Chemistry, calculus, food, makeup, even the weather; no matter where we started, all roads led to Erin and Matt.

“Erin, I’m talking about
my
problem here,” I said, in an attempt to get her back on the subject.

“I know. I am, too. I mean, Matt and I seem to be worlds apart—him being popular and me being smart—and yet here we are.”

Do I point out that neither I, nor my mother, nor my problem were anywhere in that sentence?

“By the way, I’m going to be late to math lab this afternoon.” She lowered her voice. “I want to drop by track practice. I love ogling Matt’s legs in shorty shorts.” A secretive smile creased her lips.

“Yeah, umm, cool. And thanks for listening to me go on about my problem with my mom.”

“No prob. What are friends for?”

Riight.

That afternoon when I got home from school, Armando stopped by. My mother wasn’t due home for a few hours, but he wanted to surprise her by dropping off her favorite flowers—peonies—and have them sitting on the table in the foyer when she got home. How thoughtful.

“So, my mom tells me you guys are an item.” My voice rang with fake cheer.

“Yes, yes,” he said. His turned serious. “But do not worry. I am not trying to compete with you. It is clear you are your mother’s heart, and that is how it should always be.”

I know he was trying to make nice and let me know he wouldn’t try coming between us, but his easy way and sexy accent did nothing to ease my mind. I heard myself say: “I’m not worried. I’m happy. I mean it’s good for me, too. I’ve always wanted to have someone to go to the father-daughter dance with.” This was true. When I was much younger, I had dreams of my father returning and going to the dance with me on his arm.

I didn’t plan on going to any father-daughter affair with Armando. I knew that a handsome playboy like him could not possibly be interested in children. So, of course, I reminded him when he decided to date my mother, that’s just what he was getting. I know. It was horrible of me. But it wasn’t planned. The words just tumbled out of me like a row of dominos. And once the first one fell, the others couldn’t help but follow.

“Father-daughter dance?”

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go, but I never had a… you know.” I left the unspoken word,
father,
floating between us.

“What an honor,” Armando suddenly said. “You would take
me
to this dance?”

“Umm… Sure.”

“I would love to go. No. I would be
honored
to go. When is it?”

He seemed way too sincere. There was laughter in his eyes.
Is he teasing me?

“Umm… In the fall. I guess we missed this year’s.” My confidence in the plot was fading fast.

 “I guess we did. Too bad. Maybe next year, huh?” There seemed to be a hidden taunt just beneath the surface.

He is teasing me.

“Yeah. I’ll let you know when,” I said, my voice withering.

His laughing eyes dove into my soul. “You do that. In the meantime, do you mind finding a nice vase for these flowers?”

My cheeks blushed red hot. I was so embarrassed by what I’d done, I wanted to run from the room and hide. “No problem. Why don’t you help me pick one out.”

“My pleasure.”

The first thing my mother saw when she walked through the door was the flowers.

“They’re beautiful!” she cried. “How did he know how much I love peonies? Did you tell him?”

“Nope, wasn’t me.” I was still reeling from my earlier embarrassment. “You probably told him yourself and forgot.”

“No. We’ve discussed a million things, but never flowers. I have to call and thank him. He is so special.” She snatched up the phone, and began punching in his number.

At the time, I didn’t think anything of how Armando came to know so much about my mother. Looking back, I wish I had.

That night I had another dream.  I again thought I heard someone in my room.

I sat up, suddenly wide awake. Through the darkness the digital clock winked silently back at me. 3:30 a.m. The room was empty, a collage of familiar shadows, everything in its place.

It’s just the house settling, I told myself. Old houses make creaky noises all the time.

I lay back down, had just shut my eyes, when I heard it again. This time the sound came to me more clearly. It wasn’t creaking. It was the sound of laughter—soft masculine laughter.
Is Armando here?

I jerked upright, a chill knifing through me. I recalled the laughter in Armando’s eyes that afternoon.

The sound of the laughter grew.

 I shut my eyes tight, just as I’d done as a little girl when boogey men lived under my bed.

“La, la, la, la.” I attempted to drown it out, but the laughter increased, louder and more raucous. There was no shutting it out as it bounced around inside my head.  I began rocking back and forth—
please stop, please stop, please, God, make it stop.

I woke up with a start, bolted upright, my sweat-drenched nightgown clinging to my clammy flesh. Blessed morning sunlight streamed through the shutters. The digital clock winked a hearty 6:30.

What a spooky dream
, I thought, as I got up to get ready for school. It was then I noticed the faint odor of incense.

#

The county-wide mathlete championships were being held at Salesian High in Phoenix, a forty-minute ride from Glendale. Even though Tran, Guy, and I were the only ones competing, Mrs. Brewster thought it was a good idea for the rest of the team to come along for support. So Saturday morning the entire team converged on the school parking lot where we crammed into a mini yellow school bus and began the trek to Salesian.

Erin and I sat together. Guy was on the aisle across from us.
Perfect,
I thought. It was as if we were sitting together—almost.

“Listen up, people,” Tran barked as the bus pulled out. He was patrolling the aisle like a football coach before the big game. He moved to the front of the bus: “This is an important meet. We win this, we’re onto the regional championships. Let’s put our game faces on, people.”

Guy drooped the corners of his mouth into an exaggerated, cartoonish frown. Only I saw it. A loud guffaw escaped my lips.

Tran’s eyes moved to me. He folded his arms across his chest like an angry parent. “Barnett, you got a problem?”

The rest of the team sat silent.

“No. Umm… I was just agreeing with you. Game faces. Game faces all the way to Salesian. What a wonderful idea.” I tried looking serious, putting on my game face, but as soon as Guy saw that Tran wasn’t looking he made another face. A soft ‘
ha!’
slipped out before I could catch myself. Tran’s eyes screwed into me.

“Ha, ha—hi, there!” I said with a weak wave of my hand.

“Barnett, you gotta be serious about this!”

“I
am
serious. It’s just that Ga…” I caught myself. I couldn’t implicate Guy. He wasn’t my boyfriend yet, and if I snitched on him he might never be.

“Ga-what?” asked Tran, his face twisted into a scowl.

“Um… Ga-night?” The entire bus erupted with laughter. Everyone that is, except for Tran, who was now staring darts at me.

“Mrs. Brewster,” he called. “I think we should use one of the alternates. Megan’s not game ready.”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m game ready.”

“Come sit down, Tran,” Mrs. Brewster replied calmly from the back of the bus.  “Here, sit with me. You’re not supposed to be standing while the bus is moving anyway. I’m sure Megan will be fine.”

As Tran headed for the back, he stopped and leaned into me. “If you can’t take this seriously, we don’t need you.”

“I am taking it seriously.”

“You think I don’t see through you?” He shot a quick glance in Guy’s direction. “You’re like glass.” And with that he took off for the rear.

My cheeks were burning—not from embarrassment. I was angry.

“Didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Guy said, all apologetic.

“Yes, you did,” I grumbled.

A devilish smile appeared. “You’re probably right.” He laughed. His laughter was like a healing elixir, draining the tension from my shoulders as the anger seeped out of me. I couldn’t help but join him.

“You’re bad,” I chided.

“You’re probably right about that, too.”

We didn’t say much more to each other for the rest of the trip, but there was a tension—yes, sexual—between us that I couldn’t help but notice.

While Guy and I chatted very little, Erin and I talked all the way to Salesian… Well, Erin talked. About school: “Matt and I are thinking of taking some classes together next semester. I know I’m in honors, but with me helping him, I think he could do the work…” About me and Guy: “You two make the cutest couple… Well,
almost
the cutest couple…” Even about world events: “Ugh! There’s so much war in the world today. I sure am glad Matt’s too young to go into the army. He’s such a hero, you know he would.”

It was pleasing that my two best friends were dating—pleasing but annoying.

#

The Championships were held in Salesian High School’s auditorium. Salesian was one of the largest high schools in Phoenix. Schools from the entire West Valley were competing, ten schools in all. The winner would go to the regional championships.

The large hall was already beginning to fill with geeky spectators and their parents when we arrived.

“Look,” called Erin. “There’s Matt.” Matt was seated alone near the back. When he saw us he waved.