Heartstrings and Diamond Rings (18 page)

Brandon had assured her that Zach was a regular altar boy where his background was concerned. There was the smoking thing, but if he truly was quitting, could she really hold that against him? No. Of course not. Still, she found herself glancing down at his coat pocket for a telltale bulge of a pack of cigarettes. Fortunately, she didn’t see one.

No longer a smoker. Well dressed. Clean background. Good job. Those were good things. So why did she have such a bad feeling?

Fool me twice, shame on you. Fool me three times…

Or whatever.

She took an extra‑deep yoga breath and walked over to him. “Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “You must be Zach. I’m Alison.”

“Alison. Hello.” He gave her a smile, took her hand, and pulled her into an air kiss.

An air kiss. God, she hated those. But what could she expect? He’d invited her to a gallery opening. Flamboyantly artsy people abounded, and he appeared to be acquainted with a few of them. The only other people she knew who air kissed all over the place were…

She froze, memories sweeping through her of Richard Bodecker, Gay Biker in Denial. What if Zach was gay? Gay and not facing up to it?

No. She had to cut this out. He was clearly heterosexual. Richard had never looked quite right on that Harley, but she could see Zach hopping aboard one and zooming off into the sunset.

“I was thinking of grabbing a drink,” Zach said. “Would you like one?”

“Uh…yeah. Sure.”

They walked to the cash bar, where a smiling bartender waited to take their order.

“What would you like?” Zach asked her.

She wanted a martini, but martini glasses were designed for maximum spillage.

Not good on a first date.

“Chardonnay,” she said, then had the most terrible feeling he was going to order the same thing.
Please don’t order white wine, please don’t order white wine…

“Vodka and tonic,” he said.

She let out a silent sigh of relief. It wasn’t Fat Tire ale, but on the heterosexuality scale, it was at least neutral. Not that there was anything wrong with gay men. She just couldn’t see marrying one.

Zach paid for the drinks, leaving the bartender a nice tip, and then they strolled toward the exhibit.

“So you work for a nonprofit agency?” she said.

“Yeah. It’s tough, though, with the economy and all. Charitable contributions are really down.” He shook his head sadly. “But it’s such a good cause. Our beneficiaries are saving lives every day. They could save more if only we could get more people to give.”

That made Alison feel weirdly guilty, as if she should be cleaning the cash out of her wallet and handing it over.

“Brandon told me you’re in marketing,” Zach said. “That’s very interesting.”

Interesting? Did he mean truly interesting, as if he wanted to hear more? Or did he mean interesting in the way some people did when they were too polite to say it sounded boring or weird? She’d done that herself more than once, most recently on her first date with Randy when he told her he still had a closet full of Star Wars action figures.

Good Lord. Shouldn’t she have pulled the plug on that relationship right then and there?

“Yes. I’m in marketing.”

He smiled and nodded, but he probably hated that. After all, he worked for a nonprofit agency. He probably thought marketing was all about manipulating people into buying things they didn’t need or even want, money that would be much better spent on philanthropic causes. Tweaking the packaging on a sugar‑filled lump of empty calories was hardly in the same league as raising cash for cancer. Hell, Spangler’s products probably
caused
cancer.

She waited for one of those judgmental eyebrow arches. She didn’t see it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking it.

“A marketing company?” he asked. “Or the marketing department of a single company?

“I work for Spangler Sweets,” she said.

“Ah,” he said with a big smile. “Mallorific bars. I love those.”

“Yeah, me too. They’re my favorite.”

She wasn’t sure, but when she glanced away for a moment, she thought she saw his gaze go toward her hips. Just for a split second. One of those eye flicks you don’t want somebody else to see. What was he doing? Checking for a few Mallorific bars bulging her hips from the inside out?

Then she heard a man’s voice behind them. “Excuse me.”

Alison turned around to see a tough‑looking guy in a uniform.
Oh, God. No, no, no!
Here it came. In the span of a nanosecond, she imagined him grabbing Zach, slamming him against the wall, handcuffing him, and then dragging him away in a police car because he was an art thief or a forger or something equally vile, leaving her with nothing to do but plot murder for hire. And guess who the target would be? Was his name
Brandon Scott
?

But the man simply held out a wallet to Zach, a man she could see now was a gallery security guard, not a cop. “I think you left this at the bar.”

“Oh!” Zach said, taking it from him. “Thank you.”

The guard smiled. “You folks have a nice evening.”

Okay. So maybe a SWAT team wasn’t gathering outside preparing for an assault, but after Greg, she decided she’d better keep her guard up.

Zach nodded at a painting with random red, white, and black blobs. “What do you think of that one?”

She thought it looked as if a zebra had fallen into a blender, and then somebody had dug out the contents and slapped them onto a canvas.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about modern art,” she said.

“Just think about how it makes you feel.”

That was easy. Nauseated.

It was probably a trick question. As if there was a right answer, but she didn’t have a chance in hell of coming up with it. He was probably an art snob trying to flush out an art moron.

“How does it make
you
feel?” she asked, seeing if she could do a little flushing of her own. She waited for him to say something about how the painting was a commentary on the magnificence of nature, or how it represented mankind crying out in a figurative wilderness, or maybe go the other way and say how tedious and pedestrian and altogether
jejune
it was and therefore not worthy of his time.

“Actually, it kinda makes me feel depressed,” Zach said.

Alison blinked with surprise. Depressed? That was second on her list, right after nauseated. After all, a zebra
had
died for the cause. Maybe they had something in common after all?

After their casual stroll through the exhibit, they sat down to dinner at a nearby café. It was cozy and candlelit, which contributed to Alison’s growing feeling that maybe this date really was going well. She tried to keep her hopeful thoughts at bay. After all, she’d been so sure about Greg, too, until they were fitting him for an orange jumpsuit. And David had seemed absolutely normal, right up to the opening ceremonies of the Psycho Games he was playing with his ex.

Stay on your toes.

But then, as dessert arrived, Zach knocked her right off her toes.

“I’ve had a wonderful time tonight, Alison,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “I have, too.”

“I feel like we have a real connection,” he said.

Alison started to fall right into a swoon, but caught herself at the last second. “Yes. I think we do, too.”

“I thought we’d go out and have a good time. A few laughs. What I didn’t count on…”

“What?”

“I didn’t count on lightning striking.”

Lightning striking.
Her heart
kathumped
. This was good. This was
big
.

“You’re the girl next door, Alison. And I mean that as a real compliment. I just want to have a normal life with a nice home and kids.” He paused. “And a wonderful partner to share all of it with.”

More
kathumping
, followed by some weird little fluttering thing that made her feel as if she just might pass out.

“And because you weren’t really into all that modern art,” he said, “I kinda hoped…”

“Yes?”

“That it means you’re more traditional. That maybe you like antiques. My aunt died a year ago and left me some midcentury furniture. I’ve started reading up about it. I’d like to collect more.”

“Yes. Yes! Me, too. I love antiques. Right now I’m living in a condominium, but one day I’d love to live in an older house. Someplace historic.”

“That sounds
great
,” Zach said, his smile so broad and so genuine that Alison want to grab his face and kiss him senseless.

My God, this man really is wonderful. And Brandon is wonderful for introducing me to him.

It had finally happened. She’d finally paid her karmic dues, and now there was nothing ahead but smooth sailing. The glass of white zinfandel she’d had with dinner had traveled north to cloud her eyes with the most pleasant rosy glow, and every time she blinked, things felt even more fluffy and wonderful. And when Zach reached across the table and took her hand, she knew she’d finally made it over the mountain. Not a damned thing she saw made her think there was any reason at all that—

“Aaargh!”
Zach yanked his hand away suddenly, clapping his hands to the side of his head as if he had the migraine of the century. Alison recoiled, her back slamming into the chair behind her.

“What’s the
matter
?”

“I can’t do this!”

“Do
what
?”

“Be with you one second longer without telling you!”

“Telling me
what
?”

Zach paused, gathering his thoughts, all of which Alison knew were going to cause this lovely date to go straight to hell. She tried really hard to tell herself he was only going to confess that he hadn’t been able to quit smoking after all. But no. She could tell this was something more, and she did
not
want to hear it.

“See,” he began, “back when I was a teenager…”

“No!”
she said. “Here’s the deal, Zach. Whatever you’re getting ready to say, if you’ll keep it to yourself, not just for now, but for eternity, I’ll buy you a whole truckload of Marlboros. We can take up smoking together. Just you and me. Won’t that be nice?”

He shook his head sadly. “Alison, Alison, Alison…that’s what I like so much about you. You have such a wonderful sense of humor.”

He thought she was being
funny
? Oh
, hell
, no. She’d risk lung cancer ten times over to avoid hearing what he was about to tell her.

But, damn it, he told her, anyway. And just like that, one more date had gone to hell.

And Brandon was going to hear all about it.

B
randon took a sip of his beer and tried to concentrate on the game he and Tom were watching on the TV over the bar at McCaffrey’s. It was a battle he was losing. All evening he’d been imagining Zach quivering through his date with Alison. His hands trembling. And finally he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. He’d pull out a Marlboro, light it, take a deep drag, and blow out the smoke in a long, satisfying exhalation. Then, months after quitting cold turkey, he’d start chain-smoking again like a prison inmate.

Prison? Good Lord, don’t even think it.

No.
He had to stop worrying. Instead, he closed his eyes and visualized Alison telling him how wonderful Zach was.
Ahh.
That was much better than her beating on his door to tell him what a disaster their date had been. This was going to be her perfect date, leading to her perfect man, leading to her perfect life.

All at once, Tom smacked him on the arm. Brandon’s eyes shot open wide. “Hey! What are you—”

“Here comes trouble.”

Brandon whipped around to see Alison walk through the door. For a split second he hoped for the best. Then he saw the look on her face. A woman with first date infatuation wouldn’t be striding toward him with that crazed expression, as if she’d been to hell and back and had barely lived to tell the tale.

Brandon turned on his bar stool. She stopped in front of him. With a deep, angry breath, she smacked her purse down on the bar and skewered him with an angry glare. “You weren’t home. I figured I’d find you here.”

He braced himself. “Uh, yeah. Here I am.”

“Brandon? Do you know what the definition of comedy is?”

He had no idea where she was going with this. He only knew he didn’t want to go there with her. “What?”

“Comedy is pain. Plus time.”

“Uh…I don’t get it.”

“What it means,” she said, “is that maybe sometime in the far, far future, perhaps when I’m approximately ninety years old, I might look back on what happened tonight and laugh.”

“So it was…funny?” he asked hopefully.

“Will you pay
attention
?” she snapped. “Have sixty years passed since I went out with Zach?”

“Uh…no.”

“Then it’s not funny yet, is it?”

“Hard to say,” Tom said. “Comedy’s like that. What’s tragic to one person might be really funny to another. I read an article in
Scientific Mind
about the way people process—”

Both Alison and Brandon turned to glare at him.

“Uh…I think I’ll go play pool now.”

Tom grabbed his beer and slid off the stool. Alison climbed onto it. She looked over at Tony, who was working behind the bar. “Hey, Tony!”

Tony looked over his shoulder, and the moment he saw the look on Alison’s face, his usual congenial smile vanished. “Yeah?”

“Bring me a vodka martini. And keep them coming until I tell you to stop or I lose consciousness, whichever comes first.”

Tony flicked his gaze to Brandon.
I don’t think I’d want to be you right now.
Brandon gave him a look in return.
I don’t want to be me, either.

“Okay, Alison,” Brandon said, “why don’t you tell me—”

She held up her index finger, stopping him. A minute later, Tony set her martini down in front of her. She picked it up. Started to drink. Kept drinking. Drained the glass. Smacked it down in front of her. Tony’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Don’t just stand there,” she snapped. “Bring me another one.”

Tony spun around and did as he was told. Alison slowly turned to face Brandon. “So, Brandon,” she said with eerie sweetness. “Would you like me to tell you about the man you set me up with?”

No, ma’am, I most certainly would not.
“Uh…sure. Go ahead.”

“You set me up with a man,” she said, “who decided tonight that he definitely wants to go through with his sex change operation.”

For at least the count of five, those words refused to penetrate Brandon’s skull. They just meandered around, looking for an entry point, but the door to his brain was locked solid.

“Come again?” he said.

“Sex change operation,” Alison snapped. “What part of that do you not understand?”

“I understand what a sex change operation is,” Brandon said. “But Zach? No way. The man plays
rugby
, for God’s sake.”

“Manly sport notwithstanding, he wants to be a woman, and he wants to be one
now
.”

“No,” Brandon said, shaking his head wildly. “No way. That’s just weird.”

“You think that’s weird? That’s not weird. That’s the
normal
part. You haven’t heard anything yet.”

“There’s
more
?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just getting started.”

Tony set another martini down in front of Alison. She drank half of it in one gulp.

“Wait a minute,” Brandon said. “If he’s going to have a sex change operation, then he’s interested in men. So why did he agree to go out with you?”

“Ah,” Alison said, holding up her index finger. “That’s where the freak show begins.”

Brandon braced himself. This was definitely going to be one for the record books.

“Wrap your brain around this,” Alison said. “He wants to become a woman, and then he wants to
date
women.”

For the span of several seconds, Brandon looked at her dumbly. When light finally dawned, his eyes shot open wide.

“Are you telling me the man is having a sex change operation so he can become a
lesbian
?”

“Wow. You catch on fast. It took me a full minute to get it.”

“No. No way. You’re making this up. You
have
to be making this up.”

Alison held up her palm. “As God is my witness, the man wants nothing to do with penises, his or anyone else’s, ever again. See, he told me he’s always felt that penises were very threatening. Even his own. Every time he gets an erection—”

“Alison!” Brandon said. “You want to spare me here? Just a little?”

“Hey, all you have to do is hear about it. I had to live through it.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. My grandmother met him at one of his agency’s cancer research benefits and added him to her database. He looked perfect on paper, so I met with him face-to-face. I asked him every question I could possibly think of.”

“Here’s a question you forgot. How about, ‘Hey, Zach. About your sexuality. Have you ever considered becoming a woman and then dating women?’”

Brandon sighed. “Guess I’d better add that to the questionnaire.”

“At this rate, the damned thing is going to be twenty pages long.”

“I still don’t get what he hoped to accomplish by going out with a woman while he’s still a man.” Brandon winced. “Did I just say that?”

“He said he was still denying wanting the operation right up to the moment he went out with me. When he met me—get this—he said it made him realize how much he wants to become a lesbian. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere. I’ll let you know when I find it.”

“I can’t believe you hung around long enough to hear all that.”

“You don’t understand. I was stunned into paralysis. Not that I have anything against lesbians, but I’d have to fall out of a closet if I were going to marry one.”

“Speaking of that,” Brandon said, “I really don’t get it. What’s your rush to get married? You’re still young.”

“Thirty-one is not young. Look at these crow’s feet around my eyes,” she said, pointing. “I’m getting gray hair. And I can practically feel my eggs drying up.” She sighed. “Sorry. Inappropriate. Forgot you weren’t a woman.”

“No problem. After this evening, I think we’re all a little gender confused.”

Alison took another long sip of her martini and then set it down with a body‑heaving sigh. “You realize if I were still paying you for the privilege of going on dates like this, this might be the time I’d ask for my money back. For real.”

“I know you find this hard to believe,” Brandon said, “but I’m actually pretty good at matchmaking. I’ve missed a few times, but it’s been normal missing. They just didn’t have the right chemistry. Nothing like this. I mean,
nothing
.”

Alison let out a dejected sigh. “Then maybe it’s me.”

“You? How can it be you? I’m the one picking the men.”

“You don’t understand. I’m cursed. My love life has always been crazy like this. You just got caught in the vortex.”

“So you’ve had dates before now that were a little strange, too?”

“A little strange? Get this. I thought my last boyfriend was going to propose, and instead he wanted to know if I’d arrange a threesome for us with a friend of mine.”

Brandon just sat there, dumbstruck.

“I can’t believe I just told you that.” She looked down at her glass. “Thank you, vodka.”

“What else?” Brandon asked. “Now that the vodka is talking.”

“Well, let’s see. There was the guy I dated for two years who owned a Harley dealership and decided he was gay.” She paused. “Wow. Plain old gay sounds like no big deal after what happened tonight, huh?”

“He owns a Harley dealership and he’s gay?”

“Zach plays Rugby and he wants a sex change operation?”

Good point.

“Lemme ask you something, Brandon,” Alison said, her words starting to run together.

“Yeah?”

“You think a person oughta go to a restaurant and blow his nose on a cloth napkin? Just a big ol’
honk
right there at the table?”

“That’s gross.”

“You bet your life it was. See, before I even met you, my dating life was filled with a gazillion million potholes. And I’ve hit every stinkin’ one of them.”

She drained the rest of martini number two, and then called out to Tony to bring her number three. He walked over and eyed her carefully.

“I don’t know,” he said. “You might want to slow down on those.”

“Oh, hell, no. I’m just getting started.”

“You can’t hold your alcohol.” Tony turned to Brandon. “She does crazy things when she drinks too much.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah? Remember the state fair incident?”

“Hey!” Alison said. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that!”

“I’m just saying that sometimes when you drink—”

“Tony?”

He stopped short. “Yeah?”

She leaned in. “If you don’t bring me another martini, I’m going to tell Heather what really happened to that god-awful shirt she bought you on your birthday, and it had nothing to do with spilled motor oil.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well, then. Martini number three coming right up.”

As he walked away, Brandon said, “Wow. You play hardball.”

“Damn right. Nothing’s worse than a bartender who won’t bring you a drink.” She paused. “Well, unless it’s a man who wants to be a lesbian.” She tilted her head, thinking. “I tried really hard to picture Zach as a woman. Couldn’t do it. Maybe after about fifty rounds of electrolysis. And if he sucked in a little helium before he talked. Because he was a pretty hot guy, you know? I’m not so sure he’ll be a hot woman, though. I’d have to think about that one.”

A minute later, Tony brought Alison’s martini, but he didn’t set it down. “You did walk here tonight, didn’t you?”

“No, Tony. I drove my car, like, a block and a half. Of
course
I walked here.”

“And I’m going to walk home with her,” Brandon said.

Alison looked offended. “You don’t have to do that, Brandon. I am
not
drunk.”

“It has nothing to do with you being drunk. I just don’t believe a lady should have to walk home alone after dark.”

Alison frown rose into a rapturous smile. “Oh, that is so
sweet
!” She turned around and shook her finger at Tony. “I want you to go straight home tonight and tell Heather what a nice,
nice
man Brandon is. Emphasize the word
nice
.” Alison leaned in and whispered loudly enough for half the bar to hear, “I’m afraid she doesn’t like him very much.”

Tony set her martini down in front of her. “Drink it
slowly
.”

She made a face at him, picked up the glass, and took a long, gulping swallow. He rolled his eyes helplessly.

“You know what?” Alison said to Brandon. “Now that I think about it, it might not take sixty years. A man who wants to be a lesbian is pretty darned close to being funny already. What do you think?”

“Yeah. It’s hilarious, all right.”

“Wait a minute,” Tony said. “A man who wants to be a
lesbian
?”

Brandon shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

“Yes, my date with Zach was indeed hilarious,” Alison said. “I’m thinking it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me. To anyone.
Ever.
And what a story, right? I bet not one woman in ten zillion has dated a male lesbian wannabe.”

“And I’m so very proud to have set you up with him,” Brandon said glumly.

“Nah,” she said, waving her hand. “You just gave me what I wanted, right? Greg without a felony warrant, and David without a crazy ex-wife.” She paused, giggling. “Except he’s Zach without a penis.”

Tony looked at Brandon. “You set her up with a man with no penis?”

“No, no, no,” Alison said, waving her hand. “He has one for now. But he’s scared of it. A man should not be scared of his own penis.” She looked at Brandon. “So I think he’s doing the right thing by getting rid of it, don’t you?”

“God, no,” Brandon said, cringing. “That’s a bad idea. A very,
very
bad idea.”

“So how about you, Tony?” Alison said. “If you were scared of your penis, wouldn’t you just whack that sucker off?”

“Uh…I think I’m with Brandon on that.”

“Men.
God.
They’re so sensitive about their manhood. You don’t see women freaking out over their vaginas.” Then she looked distressed. “Oh, poor Zach. What if he’s scared of his new vagina, too?”

Tony gave Brandon a look that said,
Time for her to go.

“I think I’d like to get some fresh air,” Brandon said to Alison. “There’s a lot of that on the walk home. How about it?”

“But I haven’t finished my drink yet. Hold on.”

Brandon winced as she grabbed her martini glass and drained it. Then she slid off her bar stool and started for the door.