Starting Now (25 page)

Robin’s eyes rounded.

“Don’t let me down now,” Libby pleaded. “The least you can do is come with me.”

“Okay, I’ll watch, but that’s all I intend to do.”

Libby grabbed her purse and took her friend by the arm, resolutely leading her outside. They found a tattoo parlor next to a porn shop. Despite its location, it looked clean. Robin hesitated and Libby had to practically drag her along.

“You need to think this through more carefully,” Robin warned.

“I am finished being the nice girl,” Libby countered, sidestepping her friend.

“The shop next door is selling sex toys …”

“Good, we might learn a trick or two.”

Robin snorted. “Like that’s going to do either of us any good.”

“Your point is well taken, Counselor.” Undeterred, Libby entered the parlor. The tattoo artist, a woman, could see that they were both nervous. After a few questions, the artist suggested they take time to think it over.

“See,” Robin whispered heatedly. “Even the tattoo lady recognizes we aren’t her usual customers. You need to consider this very carefully.”

Libby had already made up her mind, but she wasn’t going to do anything rash. They took the other woman’s advice and found a nearby bar.

“A bar is no place to make this kind of decision,” Robin argued, nearly shouting to be heard above the loud music.

“Sure it is,” Libby said. “It isn’t like there’s a church in the neighborhood.”

Three tequila shots later Robin was convinced that they each needed a tattoo.

“You’re sure about this?” the woman artist asked when they staggered into the parlor an hour later. “Both of you? I thought it was only one of you earlier.”

“I want one, too,” Robin insisted, holding up her index finger. “Only I don’t know of what.”

The woman grinned. “Okay, ladies, you got it.”

Libby went first. The tequila had done the trick. She chose a lovely butterfly for the small of her back, gasped at the price, and paid it anyway. What she didn’t anticipate was the pain. A needle repeatedly jabbed in such a sensitive area was a whole lot more uncomfortable than she’d ever imagined. Libby resisted the urge to shout out “I’ll talk, I’ll talk” for fear of frightening off Robin. Actually, her friend surprised her. She’d never thought Robin would be game for this.

“How was it?” Robin asked once Libby was through.

She smiled weakly and joked, “I should have had four tequilas.”

Robin didn’t seem to take nearly as long as Libby. She hadn’t shown Libby her design, and when she came out Libby was shocked to discover that Robin had had the tattoo placed on the inside of her wrist. In plain view. It wasn’t a picture but a Chinese character.

“What does it mean?” Libby asked her friend, staring down at the rather elaborate symbol.

“It’s … private.”

“Private,” she repeated.

“I didn’t ask you about yours.”

“Okay,” Libby said. She’d respect Robin’s privacy.

They walked back to the condo, and almost against their wills they discussed how impossible it was to understand men. The males of the species were the fickle ones. Women simply had a bad rap.

Once inside the condo they sagged onto the sofa. Libby had cried
on Robin’s shoulder about Phillip and she knew her friend was deeply discouraged by her own relationship even though Robin hadn’t filled her in on the details.

“You know what?” Libby said, slouching forward on the sofa because her back continued to pain her. Thankfully she hadn’t been able to see the needle.

“What?”

“It seems to me that if I’m a good enough friend for you to get a tattoo with, then you should be willing to share your tale of male woe.”

Robin hesitated and then shrugged. “You’re right.”

Libby sat up straighter. “Sing it, sister,” she said, slurring her words ever so slightly. She hadn’t eaten much, and the liquor on an empty stomach had gone straight to her head.

“You probably know how I feel about Roy Bollinger,” Robin whispered, almost as if she were afraid to say his name aloud.

“Judge Bollinger?”

“Go ahead and say it,” Robin muttered.

“Say what?”

“That I’m wasting my time and that he’s out of my league and that I’m acting like I’m still the high school nerd pining after the star quarterback.”

“How well do you know him?” Libby asked.

“Not at all, really. We worked together on a political campaign years ago and have been on a couple of committees together through the years. His courtroom is down the hall from mine. He always makes a point of greeting me, and not long ago we met up at a fund-raiser and … we had drinks one night. I told him what happened with you at the interview and … I haven’t talked to him since. Well, other than in passing.”

If Libby felt miserable before, hearing this made her feel even worse. Could it be that the disastrous interview had also blown Robin’s budding romance with Roy? It hardly seemed possible that a man would lose interest in a woman over something that trivial.

“Oh, Robin, I feel terrible.”

Again Robin shrugged as if it wasn’t any big deal. “I don’t think that was it … apparently he just isn’t interested enough in me to call me.”

“You say you chatted with him at the fund-raiser?”

“We were in line for the bar when we talked. It wasn’t like he sought me out or anything.”

“What about when you went to have drinks with him?”

“That was it. We both ordered a glass of wine and chatted briefly and that was all there was to it. He hasn’t called me since. I think I scared him off.”

Libby sincerely doubted that. “What did you do?”

Robin looked as if she was about to cry. “That’s just it. I didn’t do anything. I was almost afraid to talk for fear of putting my foot in my mouth. The thing is … I like him so much and I … I’m uptight around him and probably send all the wrong messages.”

Libby chewed on her bottom lip. “Okay, let’s reason this out.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Robin asked, her voice high-pitched and panicky.

“What do you have in common, other than the fact that you’re both attorneys and you both work in the same building?”

Robin rubbed her palms together. “Well, we both like the same wine—pinot noir.”

Libby tapped her finger against her lips.

“What are you thinking?” Robin asked.

“Did you thank him?”

“Thank him?”

“For finding a job lead for me?”

“Well, sort of …”

“Wouldn’t a bottle of really wonderful pinot noir be appropriate? I mean, he did you a huge favor. The least you could do is show your appreciation.”

“Yes, but …”

“In fact, why don’t I buy the wine? My treat for everything you’ve done for me.”

Robin’s eyes rounded and then went back to normal. “You really think I should give him a bottle of wine?”

“Why not?”

Robin cocked her head from side to side as she mulled over the suggestion. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Phone him,” Libby insisted. She stood and retrieved the portable phone she kept in the kitchen.

“Now? It’s after nine!”

Libby thrust the receiver at her friend. “Trust me, he’s still up. Do you have access to his home number?”

Looking a bit chagrined, she nodded.

Libby was on a mission now. She had the feeling this was going to work out nicely for Robin, very nicely indeed. If only one of them could find love, she wanted it to be Robin, especially after what Libby had done to mess things up for her friend.

Robin retrieved her purse, which she’d left by the front door, and brought out her cell. “I have his information listed under my contacts.”

“That’s positive thinking,” Libby said, and gave her a thumbs-up.

“Wishful thinking, you mean.” After pressing the button on her cell, Robin immediately disconnected the line. “I can’t.”

“Robin,” Libby pleaded, gesturing with her hands. “You can and you will or I’ll call him myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me, Robin Hamlin,” she threatened.

Swallowing tightly, Robin tried again, this time turning her back on Libby as she waited for the line to connect. “Oh, hi,” Robin said. “This is Robin … Oh, you recognized my voice … Of course, we do talk now and again. Fine, fine, thank you for asking. And you?”

Libby could only hear one half of the conversation but she found even that half highly amusing. Robin barely sounded like herself. Clearly she was tense and nervous and out of her element.

Her friend walked to the far side of the condo and looked out the picture window. She seemed to think that if Libby couldn’t see her face, she couldn’t hear her, either.

“I wanted to thank you,” Robin continued. “Oh, please, it would be my pleasure … No, I insist … Unless of course you’d rather I … 
Okay, sure. I was thinking about a bottle of wine. I could have it delivered.”

Libby tossed her arms in the air. The point was for her to take the wine to him herself. Apparently Robin needed even more coaching in relationships than she did. Libby hadn’t realized how much she’d learned over the past few weeks.

“Yes, how thoughtful. Yes, I’d enjoy that. Okay, where would you like to meet? Yes, I know where that is.” She glanced down at her watch. “See you then.” She ended the call and then very calmly turned around. “He suggested we meet for drinks.”

“When?”

“Tonight … at nine-forty-five at this bar close to the courthouse. I’ve never been there but I know about it.”

Libby regarded her friend. “Aren’t you excited?”

“I’m terrified.”

“Robin, just be yourself. Now go home and change clothes and then call me first thing in the morning.”

She’d assumed her friend would want to dash home and dress up in something sleek and gorgeous. Instead Robin remained rooted in the middle of the room, looking lost and confused. “I … I don’t know that I can do this.”

“Robin, do you want to get to know Roy or not?”

Her friend sighed and covered her face with both hands. “Libby,” she whispered. “I’m terrified. I really like this man. I mean really, really like him, and I don’t want to blow it and I’m so afraid I will.”

“But Robin …”

“Come with me.”

Libby shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding. Bringing me along isn’t going to help your chances with him. If you show up with a friend in tow that will only confuse him!”

“No, I mean it. I need you with me.”

“Sorry.” Robin had to do this alone. “Besides, does he really want to meet the person who screwed up the job interview he arranged?”

Robin’s mouth thinned. “I don’t think he’ll make the connection,” she said, “and you owe me big-time.”

“Oh, all right,” Libby muttered, “but I need to change clothes.”

“Hurry, we don’t have all night.”

“Okay, okay.”

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. Libby changed into slacks and a light sweater and then they rushed to Robin’s apartment, where she went through three-quarters of her closet before she decided on a peach-colored outfit that suited her beautifully.

“It’s the first time I’ve worn it,” she confessed on their way out the door. “My mother gave it to me for Christmas one year and I tossed it in the closet. It was Mom’s way of telling me to get a life.”

“Look at you now,” Libby teased. “You have a life. I have a life.” A semi-life, anyway. They were out on the town. Robin had a date, although she was determined to pay for the wine and was so nervous she needed Libby there to hold her hand. Baby steps. That’s what this was. Baby steps.

They arrived a few minutes after the agreed-upon time and poor Robin was nearly in a panic. Judge Bollinger already had a table. He stood as they approached, otherwise Libby wouldn’t have known who he was.

A high school football hero? That was the way Robin viewed the judge? He was short, a little pudgy, and balding. Beauty was definitely in the eyes of the beholder, she decided.

“This is my friend …” Robin said, offering an introduction. “I hope you don’t mind that she joined me.”

“Libby Morgan,” Libby supplied and extended her hand.

He shook it, seeming unperturbed. “The more the merrier. Ladies, please sit.”

Robin nearly collapsed into her chair.

The waitress stopped by the table and took their order. Two glasses of pinot noir and one glass of sauvignon blanc for Libby.

“This is my first time here,” Robin confessed.

“Actually it’s mine, too,” Roy said and then added, “since they changed the name. The business has been sold a number of times through the years.”

“My first time, too.” But Libby could see that neither one was listening to her.

“Sally and I …” He hesitated. “Sally was my wife. I lost her to colon cancer a couple of years ago.”

“I am so sorry,” Robin whispered, her voice quivering.

Libby swore Robin was about to burst into tears. The poor girl really had it bad.

Their wine arrived and Libby took a few sips. She glanced at her watch. “I don’t mean to rush off but …”

Under the table, Robin grabbed Libby’s knee and squeezed so hard that it demanded all of Libby’s strength not to cry out in pain.

“I … suppose I could stay a while longer,” she said from between gritted teeth.

Robin thanked her by mouthing the words.

Libby was glad she did stay. Over the next hour, Robin started to relax. The second glass of wine helped. When Libby next suggested it was time for her to leave, her friend didn’t object.

“Talk to you tomorrow,” Libby said as she reached for her purse and stood.

“Right,” Robin said.

Libby planned to phone Robin first thing in the morning.

Because it was a beautiful evening, as it often was in August in the Pacific Northwest, Libby decided to walk to her condo. Her lower back ached from the fresh tattoo and she felt lonely and wished she could be with Phillip. If she wasn’t able to set matters straight, she supposed she’d get over him and move on with her life. But she really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. What she felt for him, even after not seeing him for so many days, was unlike anything she’d experienced before. It was scary to think about losing him. If nothing else, this long period of unemployment had taught her she was a survivor.