Lucky Number Four (12 page)

How frustrating! I haven’t seen
Dora since the dinner with her family, and it’s driving me crazy.
She must be using her private entrance to her room. How can one
little bundle of energy and fire cause such chaos within me?
Several times I’ve knocked on her door, a made-up excuse to why,
but she isn’t there. Where is she? School is on break and, wait,
the coffee shop. She works mornings. I could just happen to go by.
Boy, I sound like a lovesick stalker, and maybe I am, but she
brings out feelings in me I thought were dead. She makes me feel
alive.

“Yes, I want a caramel latte with soy milk,
whipped cream—no, wait, I want—no, that is what I want,” the man
standing before me rambles on. I wait, knowing he’ll probably
change his mind again. Ben comes in every few days, and it’s always
the same old indecisiveness. He’s an accountant down the street,
and even if I didn’t know that, it would be my first guess, with
his black old-school glasses and ultraconservative black suits and
black tie. I wait patiently because I know he has a stressful job,
and the line isn’t too long right now.

“Oh my goodness, Sally, look! It’s them!” a
voice from a nearby table loudly whispers, causing me to look
around my customer. I immediately groan at the sight of my three
roommates standing in line.

“I’m sorry, Dora. I just had an awful
meeting, and I’m mentally beat.” Ben’s voice causes me to whip my
eyes back to meet his apologetic ones.

“Oh, Ben, I wasn’t groaning at you. Take your
time. It’s what’s behind you that caused it,” I reassure him.
Voices are getting louder, as the majority of the female customers
have recognized the trio. Darn. If I desert Ben right now, he’ll
think I lied to him, but I want to know what brings the Modelteers
to my coffee shop.

Ben finally gives me his order, and I pass it
to June and ask Stephen if he’ll take over for me. He does and I
make my way to the side of the shop and watch as Larry, Curly, and
Moe—yes, I watched
The Three Stooges
with my dad as a
kid—get out of line and move across the room to me. I roll my eyes
at the looks on the faces of the female audience. Colin’s eyes meet
mine, and my heart squeezes. I get a warmth that is so unnatural to
me I don’t think a thousand fans could cool me off. I drag my eyes
away from his and meet Drew’s laughing ones, but there’s also a
strange warmth in them.

“Hi, angel,” he says. “So this is where you
spend your mornings.” His voice is smooth, too smooth for me to
fall for.

“Apparently, since I’m here and wearing the
shops’ apron. Such a good guesser you are,” I say, my smile more a
grimace. I wish he’d at least look surprised at my comeback, but
that infernal grin stays on his face. I glance at Liam and his
bored look is replaced by a smidge of a smile. I skip over Colin
and move back to Drew. “So, what brings you guys in today?” I say
sweetly, knowing the glare my eyes are giving him is anything but
sweet.

“We came to escort you home and invite you to
come out with us tonight. Right, guys?” Drew looks to his two
cohorts and seems satisfied when they nod in agreement.

I hear a sigh from the table behind them and
two young girls whisper loudly that they are available, which Drew
ignores.

“I’m confused why you guys would want to
spend time with boring old me when any girl or woman would jump at
the chance to do so. Do you guys feel sorry for me? Because I’m
happy with my life, and I do have one.” I take a deep breath and
wonder at the puzzled look on their faces.

“What makes you say that?” Liam asks.

“Because I’m probably your pet project to
show poor little, plain Dora how the beautiful people live, and
frankly, I’m really not interested,” I say, trying not to burst
into tears at the possible truth in my statement. Okay so it’s that
time of the month and I’m a little grouchy, crampy, and
bloated.

“That’s bollocks!” Colin’s loud voice makes
the room quiet down, and I realize everyone is hanging onto our
every word.

Great. By tomorrow I might be front-page
news: “Short, unruly red-haired barista adopted by generous star
models, their way of making her life more bearable.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy my boss
pointing to his watch and mouthing “quitting time,” which makes me
relieved that I can escape this nightmare. Without a word, I grab
my backpack from behind the counter and push by the trio, avoiding
eye contact. Once outside, I take a deep breath and jog down the
street. The tension I’m feeling is slowly replaced by the rhythmic
pounding of my feet on the pavement. I absolutely love running, and
I try to run whenever I can.

I hear quick and steady footsteps behind me,
like the sound of men’s dress shoes clicking along on the pavement,
but I push ahead and reach the subway platform seconds before the
train doors shut. I turn and watch as my followers reach the
platform, looking a little out of breath. I wave as the train
shoots past them, and then I’m lost in the tunnel.

I don’t want to go back to the apartment and
face the music. What if I’m wrong? What if they really want to hang
out with me? No! They’re just rich little boys with a new toy, and
I wish I had my old life back. My feet eventually lead me back to
the loft. Thank goodness Brad isn’t on duty, so I make it to the
elevator unnoticed. I use my key to enter my own door.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I was intending
to go home in the morning, but I begin throwing clothes in my
overnight bag. I take the stairs instead of the elevator to my car
in the underground garage. It’s kind of spooky—one of the
fluorescent lights is blinking and then softly explodes, plunging
my car into darkness. Drew’s parking spot is still empty as I pass
by, quickly unlocking my doors. I shiver, but I don’t think it’s
because of the cold. I think it’s the creepy feeling I’m being
watched. I hold my breath until I’m clear of the garage and on my
way home.

Home sweet home … my safe refuge from this
crazy world, well, kind of. Walking into the house, my sense of
smell is ensnared by deliciousness and I follow the trail to the
kitchen. My dad is standing at the sink, apparently dancing to
something only he can hear. I hesitate, not wanting to scare him,
and then I notice the ear buds. I wait patiently, giggling at his
ungraceful moves. I sense a presence behind me and my mom puts an
arm around my shoulders and gives me a side hug.

“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,
but I’m so glad you’re here. He’s adorable, huh? That’s why I
married him.”

“You married Dad because he can’t dance?”

“Well, there’s that too, but his all-around
charisma. I mean, look at him. Any woman on the planet would just
love to eat him up.”

“Ewww. Mom, that’s so wrong on several
levels.”

She laughs. My dad hasn’t noticed us as he
continues to awkwardly gyrate. The sun is shining through the
window, highlighting the red in his hair.

“So?” my mom asks as she gently guides me
away from the kitchen door and into the living room. Pulling me
down beside her on the couch, she waits.

“So, I came home early.” I watch her eyebrows
go up and I know she’s intuiting again. “Okay, my life is a mess.
It used to be so normal. I worked, went to school, came home for
dysfunctional Sunday dinners, and listened to my best friends have
sex every night. Now I live with three famous male models, and one
of them makes my stomach hurt. I know they just feel sorry for me.
They want to take this pitiful, short, red-haired, average-looking
dork under their wings,” I groan while gesturing to myself.

“Oh, is that all? I thought something was
really wrong. Honey, those guys really like you. You’re funny,
loving, and beautiful all wrapped up in a petite package. I know
for a fact you make men drool.”

“Yeah, right. Zombies maybe. And you’re my
mom. You have to say I’m awesome because it’s in the parental
contract.”

“Let’s get back to the one who makes your
stomach hurt. It’s Colin, right? Tell me I’m right. I so hate that
I can’t read family.”

“Yes, it’s Colin, but he’s been hurt, and by
a beautiful model at that. So what chance would I have?” I look at
her, feeling so inadequate. Even when I caught that SOB ex of mine
with his slut, I still didn’t feel this way. Why does there have to
be such perfect specimens in the world?

“Have you given him a chance?”

I shake my head.

“Well then, you don’t know, do you? I have a
couple of things to tell you about Drew and Liam. Henry had a long
discussion with me the other night and made me miss my favorite
show,
Rizzoli & Isles
. And your dad forgot to tape it or
DVD it, or whatever it’s called nowadays. Anyway, they both need
your help. He said if you hadn’t blocked them with your negative
thoughts, you would see that. Honey, did you hear what I just said?
No, of course you didn’t. Now pay attention. Liam and Drew need
you. So you need to tune into them and figure out what they
need.”

“Are you sure? I mean, is Henry sure? They’re
perfect. Perfect faces, perfect bodies, perfect life—”

“Those are facades. Look below the surface
and you’ll see.”

“How long have you been here, Sweet Pea?” My
dad’s voice makes us turn our heads to see him grinning at us.

“Long enough to see your smooth moves, Daddy
Dear,” I say as we all break out into laughter.

“It’s good to have you here early. Your job,
as usual, is to keep your mother out of my kitchen,” he says,
taking my mom by the hand and pulling her into his arms and
planting a kiss on her giggling lips. I swear, if I ever find a man
like my dad, I will definitely marry him. Though in my short life
experience, I know they are hard to find.