Project Produce (18 page)

***

An hour later, we both leaned back in our chairs at my kitchen table in utter and complete agony.

“Hypothetically, I’d call that a tie,” I moaned as I untucked my nice, dry T-shirt from my comfy sweats. “You didn’t tell me you could eat like that.”

“I didn’t know I could.” He groaned, and untucked his own T-shirt. “Man, you can eat more than most men I know.”

I shot him a half-hearted glare. “Thanks, I think.”

“You’re cool, Mac. I like you.” He smiled at me.

“Hey, how could you not, right?” I grinned.

“Absolutely.”

“So what do you normally do next on your other dates?” I asked.

“Thought this wasn’t a date?”

“It’s not, I’m just curious. What would be your next move if you were on a real date?”

“Still trying to figure men out?” His eyes narrowed.

“Something like that. You gonna answer my question?”

“Well, I’d thank her for a great evening, and I’d ask if I could call her sometime.”

Aha, here it comes
. I smirked. “And then you’d blow her off, right?”

“No, I’d call her like I said I would.”

My smirk faded. “But after you finally got some action, then you’d blow her off, right?”

He stared at me for a full minute and then finally said, “Not all guys are like the bastard who obviously did one hell of a number on you.”

I frowned but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Callie speechless. That’s a first.” He chuckled, stood, and then excused himself to use the bathroom.

I hated to see the evening end. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. I knew other men who came into the store back home and bought girly mags, and they were somewhat normal. I should confront him about the suspicious people that had been following me and the evidence I’d found in his apartment, but I didn’t want to ruin the evening. I’d actually found myself enjoying Dylan’s company. Maybe a bit too much. And a part of me didn’t want to know the truth.

When he reappeared, I said, “Well, I hate to call it a night, but I’ve still got a headache. I’m going to take some more aspirin and go to bed.” I stood. “Thanks for dinner and for taking care of me.”

He studied me, his jaw working overtime as though he wanted to say something, but all he said was, “You’re welcome. Thanks for a great evening. Maybe I can call you sometime?” He tried for a smile without much success.

I stared at him for a long moment and then decided what the heck? “Why not?”

Nodding, he walked to the door and looked me square in the eye. “I
will
call you.” Then he let himself out. Maybe this friend thing could work after all.

***

“Did you get it?” I asked the Angels as I glanced around the cafeteria during lunch on Thursday. Several eyes fixed on me, and a few goofy smiles floated my way.

I’d become quite popular around campus, known mostly as Produce Lady. One girl I didn’t even know had stopped me earlier today and asked if I could give her any advice on how to improve her relationship with her boyfriend since his produce was definitely affecting his personality and their sex life. I hated standing out, but I’d take being known as Produce Lady over Porn Queen any day. And I had to admit it felt good helping other women even if I really didn’t know what I was doing.

“Got it,” Red answered. “And I had a ball doing it.”

I’ll bet she did. I took the file of research from Red and flipped through the pages.

“Yeah, cuz your date was a cool cucumber.” Brownie shook her head. “I got stuck with a shriveled-up pickle. Weirdest guy I ever went out with. He was so desperate he irritated the crap out of me with compliments and gifts. Crappy ones, too, like he could have picked them up last-minute at a gas station.”

“I liked my guy. He was sooooo cute.” Blondie giggled.

“Who wouldn’t like a zucchini who looked like Ashton Kutcher? But I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. He’s probably been with half the campus.” Red cringed. “How could you ever trust a guy like that or believe his answers to your questions?”

I looked up and heard a voice in the back of my head say,
See, I told you so
. I had to remember that men--zucchinis in particular--could not be trusted. Besides, I hadn’t forgotten about Dylan’s issues. He made a great friend, but that was all I could let him be. Because when he strayed, which I knew he would just like Bob had, it would hurt way too much.

“Yeah, well I’d date him. Trust me, after a pickle, I’d settle for just about any guy. Except another pickle.” Brownie shuddered.

“Thanks, ladies. I appreciate your help more than you know.” I stood.

“You’re not staying to eat?” asked Blondie.

I’d never been part of the popular crowd in school because my parents never let me go anywhere. It felt good knowing they wanted me to stay. I smiled at her, then I sighed. “Can’t. Got a date with a pickle.”

“You poor thing.” Brownie reached out and squeezed my hand.

“You don’t know the half of it.” I hobbled out of the cafeteria, still sore from getting hit by Big Betty and in no mood to do what had to be done. Heading to the lecture center, I didn’t stop until I reached the last door on the right. It was open.

Knock! Knock!

“Who’s there?” Professor Butthead asked from inside his office. He chomped on a dripping sandwich with his shiny balding head bent over a stack of papers.

“Callie,” I answered, standing in his open doorway, wondering how the students would feel when they got their graded quizzes back stinking of rotten eggs.

He raised his head, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and gave me a cocky smile, goopy yellow egg salad pooling in the corners. “Callie who?”

Callie Not-Gonna-Let-You-Win, that’s who, you pickle
. “Callie MacDonald. I’m here to update you on my project if you have a minute.”

He glanced beyond me. “Come in and shut the door, please.” I entered, and once I sat in the chair across from him, he continued, “I don’t know. Maybe this topic is too difficult for you.” He paused. “Maybe you should try a different course. I’m sure I could get you transferred if you’d like.” He licked the egg salad away from the corners of his fat lips, and I tried not to gag. I would never eat egg salad again. In fact, I’d lost my appetite completely.

“I don’t want to take a different course. I’ve invested too much time in this project, and I think I deserve a chance at pulling it off.”

He sat back and rubbed his protruding belly. “Really. So the research is going well then?”

“The research is going great.”

“You found all your subjects to interview? Because if you need a--”

“A pickle? No I’ve got it covered, but thanks for the offer.”

A look of confusion puckered his face. God, would I love to explain it to Baby Dill, but I wasn’t so sure he could wrap his gleaming noggin around the subject.

“A pickle? I wasn’t offering lunch, I was offering--” he started to say.

“To help?” I cut him off. “That’s sweet, but no thanks. I want to show you I deserve a good grade even though you don’t like me.” I blinked at him, feigning innocence.

His eyes narrowed. “I would never fail you just because I don’t like you.” He frowned. “Not that I don’t like you.”

Yeah, right
. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply that you would do something like that. I mean, that would be wrong.”

He scowled. “Maybe I should--”

“Congratulate me? Why, there’s no need for that, Professor. Dr. McCreedy already did. She thought it a bit unorthodox when I interviewed her to gain a woman’s perspective, since she’s the head of this department, but she was impressed with the way I’m handling this topic.”

His eyes widened. “You didn’t--”

“Give her a copy yet? No, I promised her I’d give her a copy of the final report with my grade on it.” I smiled wide. “She’s interested in seeing the finished product. In fact, she mentioned conducting a real study and possibly publishing my findings. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, great. You’re a real--”

“Hard worker, I know. But thanks for noticing, and thank you so much for assigning me this topic. Well, I gotta run.” I dropped a folder full of research on his desk and thought,
Try failing me now, Pickle Boy
.

“Wait just a minute. We’re not done with this conversa--”

“Oh, take your time, Professor. I’ve got copies at home. I can see that you’re busy--”

Knock! Knock!

“Who’s there?” Butthead snapped.

“Minnnn-dyyyy,” a sing-song voice called out.

“Mindy whoooo-oooo?” I sang back, receiving a glare for my efforts and a pause from the other side of the door.

“Looks like your next appointment is here.” I jumped up and opened the door before Butthead could get his hands on me. He looked ready to strangle me or explode, his face was so red. As I slipped out the door, I waved at Ms. Brownnose. “Hi, Mindy.”

Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, her cheeks a bright pink as her gaze darted back and forth between Butthead and me.

“Don’t worry, he’s all yours. I’m on my way out.” I looked back at Butthead. “I’ll just leave my progress report with you to go over at your leisure. Thanks for your time, Professor. See ya, Mindy.” I turned around and marched out of the room with my head held high.

Man, that felt good
.

***

Sitting at the kitchen table in my apartment and sharpening my pencil for the fifth time, I glanced at the phone. This was stupid. Friends didn’t have to see or talk to each other every day, but I hadn’t heard from Dylan in a few days, and it was Friday night. With Gloria’s crazy new schedule, I hardly talked to her anymore.

I was tired of being alone, and her matchbox-sized apartment was starting to get to me. Shoot, I hadn’t even had any more bizarre situations happen lately, either. Never thought I’d miss those. I should be ecstatic that people were finally leaving me alone, but I’d come to the conclusion that being alone was downright lonesome. I needed to get out and do something. Grabbing my list of things to do and my purse, I headed out the door.

Twenty minutes later, I cruised the aisles of the produce market with my shopping basket in hand, determined to vary my diet. I came to a stop beside a bin of zucchinis. Okay, so I was a bit curious. What harm was there in that? Glancing around, I set my basket down and picked one up. God, these things were huge. Holding it in my hands, I pictured the other zucchini I’d gotten a glimpse of and was mortified when my body responded.

“Make sure you squeeze it all over. You don’t want to get one that’s a little soft. Trust me, they’re no good,” said a male voice beside me.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I turned to look at the young man stocking the cucumber bin next to me, and his eyes sprang wide.

“Hey, you’re Produce Lady.” He looked at the cucumber in his own hand and blurted, “Not that I know all about produce.”

Is this town full of my classmates, or do the Angels just love to gossip?
I looked at his apron, and pressed my lips together.

“Okay, so I work in the produce department, but I don’t know about... you know... produce.” He tossed the cucumber into the bin and puffed out his chest. “And I’m not a cucumber, either.” He stared at the zucchini I held. “I’m bigger.” His face flushed slightly. “Anyway, I was just stocking the shelves. You need any help, ask Ben over there.”

I glanced over and watched a man with purple hair and multiple piercings stock a special display of--oh, could it get any better--pickles.

“He knows all about produce.” The stock boy beside me shuddered. “Gotta go get, you know.” His face flamed bright pink this time, and he made a hasty retreat through the stockroom doors.

I laughed.

Note to self: Cucumbers aren’t as normal as I thought
.

Still holding the zucchini in my hand, I picked up my basket and rounded the corner of the fruit section and then came to a jarring stop. There stood Dylan, looking oh-so-sexy in his trademark faded Levi’s, T-shirt, and black leather jacket, as he bent over a produce bin.

I approached him, knowing darn well something was up, but I couldn’t seem to keep from eyeing his scrumptious tush to the very last second. “Hey, you. Isn’t this market a little out of the way from your place?”

Whirling around, he blinked, his bruise barely visible and stitches gone, then he flashed a grin. “Hey, yourself. This market has the best fresh fruit.” He held up the pair of twin peaches he cradled at chest level. “Feel these. They’re perfect.”

“Can’t. My hands are full.”

His eyes dropped to my breasts and then shifted to the zucchini I still had a death grip on, and I dropped it.

He winced. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

I snatched it up off the floor. “It’s fine. I like mine soft.” His eyebrow shot up, and I cleared my throat. “And I don’t need any peaches, I already have a couple.”
Oh, God, tell me I didn’t just say that
.

“I can see that,” he croaked.

“I was talking about the ones in my fridge at home.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, it was good running into you, but I gotta run. See you around, Mac.”

“Bye,” I called to his retreating back, relieved that he’d left. I always made a fool of myself whenever he was around. Still, what a strange conversation that had been.

A short time later, I left the market and scanned my list. Gloria had a birthday coming up this month. They had some good sales going on, with Valentine’s Day only a week away.

Entering Macy’s, I headed to the ladies’ department. It didn’t take me long to find the perfect outfit for her. A hot and spicy red silk dress I couldn’t afford even at the discounted price, but Gloria was worth it. It would be perfect for her singing gigs.