Miss Match (11 page)

I’m dinking around on my computer Friday night, looking through old account records to see if anything that worked for other clients might work for Beth, when I get an IM notification.

I can’t say why, but I’m having a hard time getting into Miss Match mode these days. I must be getting lazy or something. I mean, I haven’t even closed out Derek’s account yet, and Maddie accepted his invitation to homecoming twelve days ago. Not that I’m counting.

“Sasha, I’m leaving!” Mom hollers down the hall. “Don’t wait up.”

Having a mother in the dating scene is totally bizarre. But hey, I’m just glad it’s going so well so far. I peek out my window and see an old black BMW in the driveway.
Holden looks dapper in a long gray trench coat, and Mom looks darling in her fuzzy faux-leopard jacket and black ankle boots. Is that a white long-stemmed rose she’s sniffing? Oh, wow. Props to the prof!

I’m about to power down my laptop when I get an awesome idea. I should work it out that Brian Goldman goes to the Brownnosers concert. Yas will be totally in her element, and Brian will definitely notice what a hottie she is shakin’ her stuff on the under-twenty-one dance floor. After Miss Match works her magic on him, he’ll surely ask her to homecoming.

Even though she hasn’t come out and admitted it, I really think Yasmin’s into Brian. And she wants to go so bad, she’ll definitely accept. It’ll be a done deal in a matter of a couple of hours. Perfecto!

Hey! While I’m at it, I might as well get Beth and Jasper to go to the concert, too. That way I can hit four lovebirds with the same arrow, so to speak. Dang, I’m good.

I e-mail Beth right away and tell her the plan. Next, I look up Jasper’s contact info on Beth’s account. I pick up the phone, and after pressing the caller ID–masking code, I dial his phone number.

“Hello?” a guy answers.

“Is this Jasper?” I ask, trying to make my voice sound womanly.

“Uh, yeah. Who’s this?”

“This is Micki Monroe from 97.1 ZHT. You’re on the air, Jasper. I’ve got great news for you. You’re our Friday night winner!”

“Huh? What did I win?”

“You won a ticket to the Brownnosers concert tomorrow night!”

“Who?”

“Brownnosers.”

“Never heard of ’em.”

“Well, after tomorrow night you won’t be able to forget them. They’re the hottest new band to cross the Utah border, my friend. Now hold the line and we’ll get your info. And thanks for listening to 97.1!”

“I don’t. But thanks anyways.”

I wait a moment or two and then say, a bit more calmly: “Jasper, we’re not on the air anymore. May I please get your last name?” “O’Neill.”

“I’ll have a ticket waiting for you at the Depot’s will-call—”

“Wait!” he interrupts. “Did you say one ticket, or two? I mean, it’s not like anyone wants to go to a concert by himself.”

Right. Yas did say she won two tickets, not just one. I clear my throat. “Good point. That’s right, we radio stations usually give tickets away in pairs. Okay, Jasper. Two tickets it is! Have a grrrrreat time!”

I hang up the phone and grin. That was a piece of cake. So easy, in fact, I do an encore for Brian Goldman.

Brian is quite a bit more excited about being a “big winner” than Jasper. It makes me want to be a deejay so I can hand out free concert tickets to unsuspecting listeners. Oh, and nonlisteners, in Jasper’s case.

Beth writes me back and says she’s free but will have to find someone to drag with her so she doesn’t look like a total loser. I guess this band doesn’t exactly jibe with her Goth lifestyle. Ah, the things we do for love.

While I’m online, I hit the Depot’s website to order the tickets.

Oh no.

How can this be? I mean, my plan was going along so well until now. How the heck am I going to get six tickets to a sold-out concert?

First thing Saturday morning I grab the ticket Yas left for me out of the milk box. Too bad I don’t know any magic tricks to make this baby multiply into six. After breakfast, I drive to the Gateway and go directly to the Depot ticket booth. There’s got to be
some
thing I can do to get my hands on some Brownnosers tickets.

The ticket guy looks up at me, and recognition flashes in his chocolate eyes. “Miss Match?”

“Shhh!” I shoot him a warning glare and look around, making sure no one heard.

Poor kid’s got red face issues. “I’m…sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so surprised to see you here.”

“It’s okay, Caden. No harm done. So, how are things with you and…”
Come on, Miss Match. You’ve got to remember who you fixed him up with.
“…Ashleigh?”

He smiles.
Whew.
“She’s great. We’re going to homecoming next weekend and everything.”

“Cool.” Does everyone have to keep pounding it in that I’m the only person on the planet not going to homecoming? Well, Yasmin isn’t going yet, but that’s a big ol’
yet.
When I’m finished with Brian, she’ll be golden.

“Oh, I wanted to thank you for referring my service to Derek.”

Caden laughs. “Oh yeah. Derek. I met him at the athletic club. That boy has high aspirations, but hey. I thought if anyone can get the job done, it’s you. So how can I help you?”

“Well, you see, I need six tickets to the Brownnosers tonight.”

He shakes his head. “No can do. It’s been sold out for weeks.”

I exhale loudly. “It’s really important, Caden. I’m working tonight, if you catch my drift. Just think how tragic it would’ve been had a little thing like tickets gotten in the way of me fixing you up with Ashleigh.”

He purses his lips and wiggles his mouse to activate the computer screen. “I’d really love to help you out, especially since you’ve done so much for me…but there’s not a single ticket left.”

“Isn’t there something I can do? Do employees get free tickets? Maybe I could apply for a job here.”

“No, that won’t work. We have a pile of apps a mile high.” He reaches for a Kleenex. When he’s finished blowing his nose, he says, “But I just thought of something…”

“Tell me!”

“JMR is one of the sponsors, and they’re having a big contest down at Pine Woods Mall today. They’re giving away tickets. I heard about it on the radio last night.”

I go up on my tippy-toes. “Awesome!”

Caden cranes his neck to see the clock behind him. It’s ten forty. “I think it starts at eleven, though.”

“Wish me luck!” I say, then haul ass through the shopping center. I don’t even have time to ask or worry about what the contest is. I’ve got to blaze if I’m going to make it across the entire city of Salt Lake in twenty minutes.

A huge, rowdy crowd swarms the JMR store, gathering around orange cones. Jace Evans, one of the ZHT deejays, is on a small stage. He’s wearing his trademark snowboarder goggles and a putrid green Hawaiian shirt. He taps the mic several times and then announces, “We’ve got five and a half minutes till we’re live, folks. Will the contestants please line up at the north side of the fountain?”

I shove through the throng. About twenty or thirty people in all sorts of swimsuits are lined up by the fountain. I tap the guy at the back of the line, a guy who happens to be sporting a super-sized Roxy bikini. With green and yellow butterflies. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“We had to change into a swimsuit off JMR’s clearance rack, which was pretty picked over.” He shifts his top and grimaces. “Now we’re just supposed to wait for instructions.”

I ask, “What do you win?”

“Tickets to the Brownnosers concert tonight. Other stuff too.”

“That’s cool.”

“I’ve just
gotta
win a ticket to the concert. The Brownnosers are my all-time fave
band, but I didn’t have enough money to get a ticket when they first went on sale, and by the time my paycheck came, it was already sold out. I’ve been a fan of the Brownnosers since, like, forever!”

I swear, the kid would still be blabbing on had Jace Evans not intervened. Jace’s voice booms, “Two minutes, folks.” Shoot. It’s not enough time to change into a swimsuit.

When it appears no one’s watching, I poke my nose down the front of my hoodie. Black bra. Doesn’t look much different from that purple bikini top that gal with the dreadlocks is sporting. Then again, that girl has the cutest figure. I don’t.

Oooooooh, man. What a numbskull not to check if there were tickets available! Dumb, dumb, dumb!

Well, I’ve already gotten myself into this mess. I can’t give up now, not even in the case of my extreme body anxiety. If these people don’t like the way I look, it’s their problem.

After taking a deep and very shaky breath, I peel off my hoodie and yoga pants, tucking my purse underneath. I hide behind Roxy guy in my black bra and panties, bit
ing the heck out of the inside of my cheek.
Please, God. Don’t let anyone I know be here. I’ll go from being Maddie’s Little Sister or Yasmin’s Friend to That Chick Who Wears Her Bra and Panties in Public.

“This is Jace Evans, live at JMR in Pine Woods Mall. We’ve got a whole slew of contestants dressed in stylin’ JMR bathing suits, psyched to find out what their challenge is going to be. Since we’re giving away tickets to the sold-out Brownnosers concert, as well as some other killer prizes, it’s not gonna be easy. Only the most physically fit, the most daring, and the most aggressive shall emerge victorious.” He cues the music guy, and a few minutes of
Star Wars
–like music blasts through the mall.

Come on, Miss Match. Win for Yasmin. Win for Beth. Win for love.

A huge bouncer type hauls out a JMR shopping bag and pours thousands of coins into the fountain. My heart beats like crazy in anticipation.

I tune in to what Jace is saying: “When I give the word, the contestants will jump into the fountain and scoop up as many coins as they can. There are twenty-four pennies made in the year that the Brownnosers
played their first concert. Each of these winning pennies is good for a free ticket to tonight’s concert at the Depot. The remaining pennies are good for other prizes, including CDs, DVDs, MP3 players, and of course cool JMR clothes. And everyone’s a winner. The suit you’re wearing is now and forever yours.”

Roxy guy yanks his bikini bottom out of his butt crack. “Great, just what I always wanted.”

“So what year did they play their first concert?” I ask him.

“2006.” He blows a strand of hair out of his eyes, looking very determined.

“Ready, set, go!” Jace shouts, and the swimsuit people jump into the fountain, splashing and screaming like toddlers in the kiddie pool.

I scoop up some coins and sift through them, hanging on to the one penny I found. It’s a 2005. My heart sinks.

Before I have a chance to grab any more, I’m up to my elbows in bubbles.

Roxy guy, who’s been diving into the water to search for pennies, surfaces, rubbing his eyes. “Dang!”

“To make this a tad more challenging,”
the deejay’s voice blares over the commotion, “we’ve added detergent to the water. Thirty-two ounces of Tide, to be exact.”

I jump out of the fountain, scramble through the crowd, and wave at Jace Evans to get his attention. “Hey, Jace! Can I use your goggles?”

He smiles down at me. “That’s what I call game.” He pops them off and tosses them to me. “Now, bring those back, or I’ll hunt you down.”

I turn and start running back to the contest, my competitive spirit trumping my phobia of wearing my undergarments in public. But then Jace yells, “Nice panties!” and I’m embarrassed all over again.

Come on, Miss Match! You can do it!

Back in the fountain I dive underwater and weave between people’s swishing hands and hopping feet, the pennies shining at me like beacons. I check the dates of the pennies as I find them. 2000, 2005, two more 2004s. Where the heck are the 2006s?

I stand up and toss the pennies to the opposite side of the fountain, hollering, “Pennies up for grabs!” The contestants go bonkers, shoving and wading around. Leaving me room to search. For a millisecond, anyhow.

Then I find my first 2006. I want to break into a celebratory dance, but I promptly refocus. One down, five to go. Luck does come in threes, because in no time I’ve found two more.

An enormous girl sideswipes me, and I fall into the water with a big splash. “Are you okay?” someone asks, and I feel a tight grip on my upper arm. When he comes into focus, I see that it’s Roxy guy. His bikini top is untied, and his entire body is whitewashed with suds.

“Fine, fine!” I think my lip is bleeding, but I don’t care. I’ve got to find more 2006 pennies.

A skinny redhead in a striped tankini jumps up and down, crying, “I found one! I’m going to the concert!” A couple other girls circle around her, wanting to see one of the much-sought-after coins.

I swipe my hand over my lip. My hand turns a pinkish color, blood mixed with soapy bubbles. Suddenly, this whole plan seems ridiculous. If there are only twenty-four tickets to win, the odds of me finding any more are slim to none. And speaking of slim, I’m feeling like an elephant among gazelles in my bra and panties.

But I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.

As long as there’s still a chance, I’m going for it.

I plunge into the water and immediately score another winning penny. And another. Oh my God—I only need one more!

Roxy guy leaps up into the air like he’s spring-loaded. “YES!” He pumps his fist into the air. Despite my competitive attitude I smile at him, feeling genuinely happy he found one.

Jace says into his microphone, “Looks like the competition is winding down, folks. If you’re holding any pennies, please bring your coins to the table to my right and claim your prizes.” Several people in ZHT tees spread beach towels around the fountain, some to step on and some to wrap around our wet, soapy bodies. The people behind the orange cones lean in to ask the contestants what they’ve won.

The fountain empties, except for a few diehards (including
moi
) who aren’t ready to throw in the proverbial towel. If there’s just one more 2006 penny in this water, I’m going to get it. I’m scooping pennies like crazy, not caring one iota about any prizes other than the tickets. There have
got
to be a few more left.

I swim around the fountain, Jace Evans’s goggles protecting my eyes. But all I spy are silver coins. I guess I should be elated about winning five of the twenty-four tickets. Right? But I wish I could’ve found one more….

“Everybody out!” the deejay orders, and Usher’s “I Can’t Let U Go” blasts from a forest of nearby speakers.

Just my luck there aren’t any towels left, and I have no clue where my clothes or purse ended up. Making my way to the prize table, I stop in my soggy tracks. Standing right in front of me, waving, is none other than Derek Urban.

I snap off Jace’s snowboarding goggles and peer down at my soapy, underwear-clad, shivering body. Oh, great. My skin is all splotchy-purple. Of all the people to see me like this, why Derek?

“Hiya, Derek.”

“Looks like you gave everyone a run for their money.”

“You watched?” Does my face look as mortified as I feel?

“Sure. It was very entertaining. You did a bang-up job on your torpedo sculls, Sasha. Coach White would’ve been so proud.”

I laugh. “Well, maybe if you vouch for me, I can get extra credit or something.”

“So, what exactly did you win?”

Thankfully, I don’t have to answer, because a little girl materializes at his side just then. He ruffles her curly blond locks. “This cinnamon-and-sugar-coated little darlin’ is Sami. My sister. She’s shopping for a new pair of boots, but we got sidetracked when she spotted the Auntie Anne’s pretzel stand.”

She’s simply adorable: big bright eyes, front teeth MIA. She smacks her lips and cocks her head at her brother. “Yeah, well,
he
needed new underwear.”

Derek chuckles. “Can’t be going around commando, you know.” I blink a couple of times, trying to erase the not-so-horrible image that popped into my mind.

“Cute suit, by the way,” Sami says, checking out my bra and panties. “Where’d you get it?”

“Er, Victoria’s Secret?”

Thank goodness the line moves up, and it’s my turn. A woman in a ZHT visor is holding her hand out, waiting for me to cash in. She takes my pennies and nods. “Not too shabby, young lady.”

I take my five concert tickets and turn back to find Derek, but he’s disappeared. Oh well. It’s not like I wanted to hang out and talk to him in my dripping wet underwear. At least the Speedo I wear for Synch Swimming covers my tummy.

The bathing-suited contestants raid the JMR store, taking turns using the dressing rooms to change back into street clothes. I search around the front of the fountain, but Derek isn’t the only thing that’s disappeared. Where the heck are my clothes? Is this somebody’s idea of a sick joke?

“How’d ya do?” Jace Evans’s smooth deejay voice comes from right behind me.

“Oh, well, okay, I guess.” I feel like the morning of my sixteenth birthday, when I was expecting a car but Dad bought me a Barney scooter instead. Well, maybe not
that
bad, but still. I’m majorly disappointed to come this far and not fully succeed.

He eyes the stack of tickets in my hand. “I’d say you did a little better than okay.”

“Thanks for letting me use these.” I smile and pass him his goggles.

“No problemo. It’s nice to see the world in its true colors from time to time. You know, instead of neon orange.”

“So, are you going to the concert?” I ask, jerking my head to get the water out of my ears.

“I was going to, but my girl’s got a ballet recital, so I’ll probably pass. Why? Were you hoping I’d be there so I could buy you a drink?”

Oh my God. I’m sure I’m blushing. “Er, noooo. I’m not legal yet. But I was wondering if you have a spare ticket?”

“Boy, are you greedy.” His words surprise me, but he’s smiling as if to add
no offense
.

“Well, believe it or not, it’s not for me.”