Fiancé at Her Fingertips (19 page)

Debra took a sip of her ginger ale and pulled a face. “Don’t sweat it. We all make mistakes,” she said. “By the way, I’m speaking from personal experience. Very recent personal experience.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I hope you’re not in here to drown your sorrows, though. It’s a bad idea. Recent personal experience, you know.”

Debra nodded and held up her glass. “Ginger ale,” she said.

Burger Boy toasted her. “Cola. Straight cola.”

“Cheers.” She clinked his glass.

“I don’t suppose your being here has anything to do with that couple taking the dance floor over yonder.”

Debra followed the direction of his nod. Sadness tinged with overwhelming regret coiled itself around her heart and
choked off every other emotion that threatened to dull the misery of watching her very own Fiancé at Your Fingertips dance cheek-to-cheek with a midget Barbie doll. She sighed. Maybe it made a certain sideways sense. Ken and Barbie. The gag-gift guy and the calendar girl. Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.

Debra sniffled.

“Here.” Burger Boy handed her his hankie. “Never been used,” he said.

Debra blew her nose with a loud honk. “Thanks,” she said through a pinched nose. “You know, I never cried over men before I met
him
. I never drank. I never shoved people in water hazards. I never stole keys or broke into apartments. I never did the bunny hop before I met him.”

“The bunny hop?”

“You’d think I’d be happy, wouldn’t you? Thrilled to be liberated from my mythical man. Free of that con artist. Free of the Fiancé at My Fingertips.”

“He’s your fiancé?”

“In another life.”

“So, what’s he doing out there with her?”

Debra’s eyes teared up. “Dancing.” She sniffled again. “Dancing cheek-to-cheek. Or, in their case, chin-to-top-of-head.” She blew into the hankie again.

“And you’re just gonna sit here and watch?”

“What can I say? I’m a masochist, Burger Boy.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. By the way, what is your name?”

Burger Boy stuck out his hand. “Bob. Bob Millet,” he said.

She whimpered, touching the hankie to her nose. “He was right about that, too.”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

“He dumped you?”

“I dumped him.”

“You dumped him? Why?”

“For a lot of very good, very sane, rational reasons. I just
did it in a very wrong way. I wanted to tell him I’m sorry, assure myself that he’s all right. Of course, he looks perfectly all right from here, doesn’t he? A-okay. Fine and dandy. Okey dokey, artichokie. In the pink. Peachy keen, jelly bean—”

“C’mon.” Bob grabbed her hand.

“What are you doing, Bob?”

“We’re going to dance, of course.”

“Dance? I don’t think—”

“Great. Let me do the thinking. Remember before when I was being a real jerk? He came to your rescue. Right? Well, he would have. When I opened the door and saw the two of you, the look that fella gave me scared the bejeebers out of me. He had murder and mayhem in his eyes, I tell you. Now, if he thought I was trying to, uh, take certain liberties again, well, naturally, he would come to your aid.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Of course, you’ll have to forgo the kung fu this time around. We want you to appear weak and helpless. Let’s see. We’ll kind of sidle up alongside them.”

“I don’t know—”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Jussht one dance.” Bob’s speech slowed and slurred, but gained decibels in volume. He pulled her toward the dance floor.

“I do not want to do this!” Debra yanked on his arm.

“That’s good. Keep it up!” Bob whispered. Then, louder, “Aw, c’mon, baby. Let’s get down tonight!”

“Please!” Debra resisted in earnest when she saw they had gained Logan’s attention. He looked straight at them over the top of his partner’s head. Not difficult, of course, when you were dancing with an elf. Debra gave him a trembling smile. He frowned at her, his brows almost meeting in the middle.

“Please let go of me! This is not a good idea! I just want to leave,” Debra said, and dug in her heels. Her new Italian open-toed shoes skimmed across the dance floor like water skis. Burger Bob, determined to make his mea culpa, tugged on her arm.

“Would you please let go?” Debra hissed through clenched teeth.

“Good. Good,” he encouraged. “Keep that going.”

While the other couples were dancing close, arms and bodies entwined, Debra and her bound-and-determined-to-make-amends dance partner were playing tug-of-war.

“Let go!”

“One dance!”

“I want to go!”

“I want to kick up my heels!”

“I want to kick you!” Debra gave one mighty twist and a tug and tumbled backward. She landed on her backside at Logan’s feet. She was grabbed beneath her armpits and hauled to her feet.

Before she could turn to face Logan, another patron had cornered Burger Bob.

“Is this man bothering you, lady?” he asked, grabbing Bob’s shoulder.

“Buzz off, buster,” Bob said. “You’re buttin’ in.”

“Oh, yeah?” said the well-meaning buttinsky. “The way I see it, the lady doesn’t want to dance.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, the way I see it, you need to mind your own business and take a hike.”

“You gonna make me, Porky?”

Debra wasn’t sure who threw the first punch; all she knew was that all of a sudden fists and bodies were flying all around her. Debra tried to separate the two men. “Stop this! Bob! Please stop!” She yelled for help. “Please, someone help me!”

Several men pulled the buttinsky off Bob. Debra ran to him. “Are you hurt?” she asked, appalled at the sight of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

A hand reached out and picked Bob up like a rag doll and hauled him to his feet. Debra looked up at the hand’s owner and winced, waiting for Logan to let loose on her. A muscle bunched in his cheek. He looked down at her.

“I think your boyfriend here should call it a night before the hotel decides to call the cops,” he said.

Debra stared at the stern face of her former fiancé.

“W-what?”

“If you will excuse me.”

Before she could explain about Burger Bob, offer her apologies, and beg for Logan’s forgiveness, he was gone. She watched in numb silence as Lawyer Logan exited the lounge with Tinkerbell on his arm.

“Okay. What gives?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. Not yet. It’s too soon.”

“Let me get this straight. You call me up and ask me to travel across the state in the middle of the night and you don’t want to talk about it?” Suzi stomped on the accelerator and sent her cute little white ragtop into the passing lane. “Give me a break!”

“I can’t think about it right now.” Debra pushed her hair out of her eyes. “It’s too horrible. I did things this weekend I am not proud of. When I think of all those horrid things I said and where I said them, I want to crawl under my bed and hide.”

“With all those dust bunnies? You must feel awful.”

“This is nothing to joke about, Suzi,” Debra said. “I inflicted pain on someone. Serious pain. Someone who didn’t deserve it. Not the way I did it. Someone who, other than making me question my sanity, has been nothing but kind to me. I’m sewage, Suzi. Oozing, rotting, smelly sewer slime.”

“Okay, that’s enough. You lie back and leave the driving to me. You can fill me in on all the gory details at lunch on Monday. I’ll be sleeping all day tomorrow. You know how grumpy I get when I don’t get my rest, and I must be at my best to face Battle-ax Bev come Monday.”

Debra leaned her head against the headrest and let the cool night air blow over her. Suzi was right: Tomorrow was
soon enough to process everything that had happened and decide on an appropriate course of action—finding a good psychiatrist. Tonight she was too damned tired and too damned disgusted with herself to make any sense of this mess called her life. Tomorrow was a new day, with new opportunities to question her reason. Until then she’d do a “Miz Scahlett” and worry about it all tomorrow. Her eyes drifted shut.

The next day dawned dark, drizzly, and depressing. Debra tried to sleep in, but the scene at the award ceremony kept playing in slow motion on the DVD player in her head. She saw a young woman of reasonable intelligence accepting a man’s invitation for a weekend in the city.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

She watched as this amazing man set the lucky young woman up at one of the finest hotels in Chicago, squired her around town, kept her fed and watered, then invited her to meet and mingle with the biggest players in the legal profession in the state. And then his former girlfriend had shown up—along with a certain little green monster called Jealousy, and what had Debra done? Debra wanted to cover her eyes and block out the carnage to follow. She’d performed the equivalent of a public flogging, without even letting him speak. And while it appeared the lovely Catrina had been there to pick up the pieces, the maliciousness of Debra’s actions weighed heavy on her conscience. And on her heart.

She covered her head with a pillow. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she mumbled again.

She spent the whole day moping about the house, a pathetic, bathrobed waif who never ventured far from the phone. But the anticipated call from Logan did not come.

By Sunday afternoon, Debra was puzzled. By Sunday night she was worried. By Monday morning she was starting to become irritated.

Okay. Logan was furious with her. Fair enough. Still, he hadn’t even checked to see if she’d made it home in one
piece. For all he knew she was still stranded in Chicago, at the mercy of the Burger Boy.

If he had inquired at the front desk, he’d know she’d checked out at the crack of dawn, much to the bleary-eyed desk clerk’s consternation. And when Logan checked out, he would have found out she’d paid for her own room. Her eyes had crossed when she saw the amount, but you couldn’t very well permit someone whose reputation you had publicly torpedoed to pay your room bill, could you?

Debra let McGruff out for his morning sojourn, showered and dressed, and headed to work. Tanya was at the reception desk, licking the remnants of mocha cream from her lips.

“Any calls yet?” Debra inquired, thinking maybe Logan had tried her at the office.

Tanya gave her an annoyed look and flipped her work area light on. “Who would be calling this early? It’s not even seven thirty.”

“I’ll check my e-mail. If Logan calls, put him right through. Okay?” Debra asked.

Tanya picked up her pencil and scribbled on a note pad. “If a Mr. Logan calls, put him right through. Got it. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday doesn’t begin for another fifteen minutes, and I’d like to answer a certain call of nature.”

Debra grabbed her messages from Friday and ignored Tanya’s grumbling about people with no personal lives overcompensating in their professional ones. She tore through the messages, noting nothing of import. She checked her accumulated e-mail. Nothing from Logan. There was, however, an e-mail from Suzi.
China Palace at twelve thirty? Come
prepared to spill your guts
.

Debra e-mailed back her confirmation, then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning snapping up the phone on the first ring and checking her e-mail every ten minutes.

At twelve thirty-five she walked into the Oriental restaurant and spotted Suzi at a corner booth. She hurried to join her friend, and pinched her nostrils together when she saw
Suzi was already digging into a generous plate of garlic chicken.

“Whew! Garlic at lunch? Is this wise?” Debra dropped into the seat opposite and fanned herself with a menu.

“It is if you’re having your yearly performance evaluation with Attila the Ton, old Battle-ax Beverly herself, and if you’ve been tipped that the report is not glowing. Hence the garlic breath.”

“Ah. You and Beverly are still at it, huh?”

“Let’s just say ol’ Battle-ax has no sense of humor and leave it at that.” Suzi shoveled another forkful of chicken and rice in her mouth. “I would have ordered for you, but I wasn’t sure what you felt like.”

“Watching you put that away, my first inclination would be Tums, but I’ll settle for a couple of egg rolls and a Coke.”

“Don’t have much of an appetite yet, huh?”

Debra sighed. “I guess not.”

Suzi signaled the waitress and Debra gave her order. “So, Deej, I’m all ears. Fill me in.” Suzi chewed.

Debra sighed again. “Do you want the short or long version?” she asked.

“The CliffsNotes will do fine,” Suzi said.

Debra took a deep breath. “Well, for starters, listen to this. I humiliated the Illinois Bar Association’s Man of the Year. In front of a banquet room full of judges, politicians, and fellow attorneys, I ambushed the guy, Suzi! Bang! I blew him away. Call me Desperado Debra. No wonder the poor guy acted as if I were persona non grata on that dance floor. If it hadn’t been for that fight, I don’t think he would have acknowledged me at all.”

Her friend stopped chewing. “Fight? What fight?”

“Burger Boy. And
he
didn’t help matters, dragging me across that dance floor like some whacked-out Fred Astaire.”

“Burger Boy? Fred Astaire?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. He was simply trying to make amends for being drunk and disorderly and accosting me earlier—”

“Drunk and disorderly?”

“It was reasonable to assume at the time that Logan would intervene to assist me, especially since I agreed I wasn’t going to use those moves on him, like I did before.”

“Put the moves on who? The Man of the Year?”

“No! Bob.”

“Bob? Who is Bob?”

“Burger Boy. And then I landed on the floor, and he picked me up, and I thought I would have the chance to explain and apologize, but then the altercation began and I had to separate Burger Bob and the buttinsky, and by the time the fight broke up, he was leaving with the elf.” Debra looked at her friend. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, what do you think?”

“I think I’m still trying to figure out who you put the moves on, how you came to be picked up, who picked you up, Burger Bob or the elf, and why, if you were picked up,
I
had to haul my cookies out in the middle of the night to drive you home.”

Debra blew out a long, noisy breath. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said. I don’t suppose I can blame you. It’s all so sordid. So unsavory.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” Suzi said. “So, did you shop till you dropped?”

“No.”

“The Sears Tower?”

“I got sick.”

“A boat ride?”

“I threw up.”

“Never say you threw up at the Cubbies game!”

“No, but I did insult the umpire rather loudly. And I may have thrown some popcorn.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Wait. Buttered or unbuttered?”

“I told you, the whole weekend was an unmitigated disaster.”

“Well, what did you expect with a bunch of stuffed shirts? Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“Well, there was Catrina, and Burger Bob, of course. I guess I haven’t explained about him. He was there for a meeting of Burger Boy franchisees.”

Suzi’s eyes grew wide, and she licked her lips. “Burger Boy burgers? Oh, I love those! Was he cute?”

“Who?”

“Burger Bob!”

“Cute? I don’t know. He’d obviously eaten too many of his own burgers. He sort of reminded me of Winnie the Pooh.”

“Ah, the warm and cuddly type, huh? Are you going to see him again?”

Debra shrugged. “He said he had a burger with my name on it if I ever got to Peoria. Why are you so interested in Burger Bob?”

“Just curious, that’s all. By the way, who’s Christina?”

“Catrina, not Christina. You know, the size-zero Barbie doll.”

The waitress brought Debra’s order, and she stared at the greasy vegetable rolls. Her stomach revolted and she pushed them toward her friend.

“Still queasy, huh?” Suzi snared one with a fork. “No sense in wasting good food.”

“Suzi, I can’t tell you how I felt when I first saw Catrina. I felt gut-punched. Knock-the-air-out-of you, double-you-over stomach-socked. She took my breath away. There she was, with her tiny, tanned, toned body and shiny, sleek, dark brown hair. And talk about hot! You wouldn’t believe her reaction when she saw me. Her eyes almost popped right out of her head.”

“I beg your pardon?” Suzi had stopped chewing again.

“Those short, perfect, no doubt waxed little legs. Why, even
I
couldn’t dance cheek-to-cheek with her. Now, you— you might be able to.”

“Dance with her?”

“And that voice. It was the sultriest, sexiest, most provocative voice I’ve ever heard.” Debra cleared her throat and dropped it several octaves to feign the silky tones of her rival. “‘This is the first time I’ve done anything like this, so please bear with me.’ Ugh. And that Plum Passion lipstick all over—”

“Listen, Debra.” Suzi put her fork down and began to wring her hands. “I…uh…I don’t, uh…think I, uh…need to hear anything else.” Her friend pushed the unfinished plate of food away.

“What’s wrong, Suzi?”

“Debra, I’m your friend. I know you’ve had some bad experiences with men. All right, ‘bad’ may be a bit of an understatement, but, hey, that’s no reason to take a radical step like this!”

Debra stared at her friend. “Radical step? What are you talking about?”

“Okay, men are swine. We know that. We can work with that. But I have to believe that somewhere in this vast jungle of humanity there are good men out there hiding, waiting for us to stalk them out into the open, where they will become fair game. I have to believe that. You have to believe that, too. So, please, please, don’t go pulling an Adam and Steve—or I guess that would be Madam and Eve—on me!”

Debra picked up Suzi’s glass of iced tea and smelled it. “What are you talking about? Madam and Eve?”

“All I’m saying is, because this last loser didn’t work out—”

“Now, I wouldn’t exactly call him a loser—”

“Not a loser? He was two-timing you, wasn’t he?”

“I’m not sure if that is the case here—”

“Why are you defending him? He got her pregnant, didn’t he?”

Debra’s heart fell to her ankles. “What?”

“If that’s not two-timing, then I’m Saint Joan of Arc!”

“She’s pregnant? With his baby?”

“Duh. She’s given birth. A bouncing baby girl. I thought you knew.”

“A baby? They have a baby together?”

“We thought that was why you dumped him.”

Debra shook her head. Stark depression settled over her like a heavy blanket. “I didn’t know,” she said. “And it wasn’t on the profile.” She traced a water drop down the side of her glass. “A child. He has a child.”

“Now, Deb. While you’re well rid of that rat, it’s no reason to swear off all men. I never cared for ol’ Super Trooper much anyway. There’s something a little ‘yeesch’ about a man whose idea of a fun first date is looking through his old scrapbooks.”

Debra looked up. “Super Trooper? You’re talking about Trooper Thomas?”

“Who else?” Suzi’s cell phone rang and she ground her teeth. “Ye olde Battle-ax, if I’m not mistaken,” she said. “Can’t even eat in peace! Hello? Beverly?” Suzi pulled a face. “Yes. Yes. I’ll be right there.” She snapped the phone shut. “Gotta run. The mystery man who is slated to be our new CEO has called an emergency meeting of department heads and assistants. Great way to impress the new boss— greet him with garlic breath. I wonder if I have time to stop for breath mints? Here.” She threw a ten-dollar bill at Debra. “Pay my tab, will you? And we
will
continue this discussion later.”

Suzi left in a flurry before Debra could warn her that she had egg roll all over her face. Debra shook her head at the flip-flop nature of her conversation with Suzi, and signaled for the check.

When she returned to the office, Tanya anticipated her question.

“No messages from Mr. Logan,” Tanya advised.

“Not Mr. Logan, Tanya,” Debra said. “Logan. Logan Alexander.” Debra frowned when Tanya picked her pad up again and began writing.

“I thought you said a Mr. Logan.”

“No, Tanya. Just Logan. The Logan who’s been calling for the last two months. The Logan who takes me to lunch. The
Logan who sends flowers and cards and candy. The same Logan who has made me doubt my sanity. That Logan.” Debra couldn’t read what was behind the weird look she got from Tanya.