The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (46 page)

Well, with such a sweet invitation like that, I can’t possibly refuse.
Johnny took one hesitant step inside the house and stopped, his eyes drifting to Angel’s smile.
She only has eyes for this man, so he has to be her long-lost daddy. How … coincidental.
“Um, I’ll just …”
Stand here looking confused, angry, and flusterated. I’m good at doing that.

“
Johnny,” Angel said. “This is my daddy. His name is Paul Leffel, and he’s an archaeologist.”

No … way!
Johnny thought. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to lose it entirely, but he didn’t want the remaining marbles in his head to trip anyone. He wanted to thank the romance gods for throwing several romance novel clichés into the current scene all at once—the long-lost love returns, the meddling mother, the former lover jumping for the next man on the rebound, the father’s return to his daughter, the ex-boyfriend’s comeuppance.

Paul, however, looked dumbfounded and lost, his eyes darting past Johnny for the front door, his mouth open for the flies.
Wait a minute,
Johnny thought.
I bet he just found out he’s a daddy. Whoa. I didn’t know this was a surprise party. And the only person not surprised by all this is a scary looking woman with white hair and more wrinkles than God.

“
Um, nice to meet you, Paul,” Johnny said, looking up the stairs at Gloria, who was still frozen and gripping the banister tightly.
Don’t let go of that banister, Gloria, or you’ll fall through to the basement where you once wanted me to live.
“Angel is quite a scholar.”
I wish I could say “Open,
simsim
” right now and disappear, but I’m holding four pizzas and my breath.
He exhaled. “You, um, you look nice, Gloria.”
And they make a nice looking family, too, pretty as a picture they could put on the wall in the hallway for Marion to brag on to the next pizza delivery man. They could even share the same hairbrush. Is all his hair, um, his?

“
Put the pizzas in the kitchen
now,
Johnny,” Marion said.

Johnny nodded but moved slowly from the door to the kitchen, staring a hole in Gloria’s left hand still gripping the banister.
The placeholder is gone, too. Nice.
He entered the kitchen and spaced the boxes on the table.

Marion gave him two twenties. “How have you been?”

“
Okay.”
Well, I was okay. Now I’m just … KO-ed.

“
You don’t look okay,” Marion said.

“
Okay, I’m not okay,” Johnny said. “Happy?”

“
It’s your own fault, you know.”

Johnny’s jaw dropped. “How is it my fault?” he whispered.

Marion shrugged. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

I couldn’t reach it from the bathroom!
“Just haven’t, Marion.”

“
Uh-huh.” Marion placed him in a chair. “Sit.”

Johnny shook his head and stood. “Let me give you your change.”

Marion pushed him down. “I said sit. Good dog.”

Johnny sat and stared at his hands. Nice paws, Johnny. But why are they shaking?

“
Pastor Payton has been calling you, too, you know,” Gloria said.

Probably only wants me write an Easter play. Sure. In my present doubting Thomas state, I’m sure I could write a real hum-dinger of a play. Thomas would ask, “Why did God allow the shooting at Tech to happen, Pastor?” and the pastor wouldn’t have an answer.

“
Gloria looks fit to burst out of those slacks and that blouse, huh?” Marion said, hovering behind him. “She hasn’t worn that outfit since last Christmas. It all barely fits her.”

So she can look hot for Paul,
Johnny thought.
So she can show me what I’m missing, so she can complete the cliché of the butterfly woman emerging from her cocoon at the end of the novel.

“
What’s your point, Marion?”
What does she expect me to say? That Gloria is truly buxom? She is, but I already knew that.

“
If you haven’t noticed, Gloria has lost a lot of weight,” Marion said. “Stress will do that to a body, you know.”

I know, but if she’s busting out of that outfit, why is she wearing it? To appear more buxom than she already is? That’s not possible! I will never understand women.

Marion squinted at Johnny. “Boy, you’ve lost twenty pounds at least since I last saw you. Are you stressed out, too?”

There’s much less stress when I’m alone in the Vega.
“I gotta go.”

“
And what’s up with the beard?”

Johnny leaned forward to get away from Marion’s bobbing head. “I’m in Moses mode.”
Now let your pizza man go!

Marion whispered in his ear, “Planning on leading anyone out of here tonight?”

“
Just myself.” He looked from his hands behind him to Marion’s nose. “Well, I’ll, um, see you later, Marion.” He tried to stand, but Marion’s firm fingers dug into his shoulders.

“
It’s your time, Johnny,” Marion whispered.

“
Not this again,” Johnny whispered. “It was supposed to be my time a month ago.”

Marion shrugged. “So I’m a month off. I’m old. The calendar and I aren’t exactly friends, you know. I make deals with it, but it doesn’t even blink. And now is your time.”

“
No it isn’t. Paul’s in the other room, so it must be his time, right?”

Marion shook her head. “Paul is not having the time of his life right now, I assure you. This is his very first visit, and he’s just been introduced to his daughter. He isn’t exactly taking it too well. You see how wide open his mouth is? I won’t need those no-pest strips to catch the flies this winter.”

Am I supposed to care how Paul feels?
Johnny thought.
Um, no.

“
You still have that ring?” Marion asked.

“
What?”
And Gloria says that I have bad transitions.

“
Round thing, usually gold, might have a speck of a diamond on it.”

“
Yes, I still have it.”
It’s playing with the pennies in my bowl of change.

“
She loves you, Johnny,” Marion whispered. “You know it, I know it, and now she finally knows it. She’s just not willing to say it. Want to make her surer of you?”

There are absolutely no secrets in this house,
Johnny thought.
I’m sure someone is listening to us now as well.

“
Drop to a knee and prove your love to her right now,” Marion whispered.

“
Right in front of Paul? Are you crazy?”

Marion nodded. “Since the sixties.”

Johnny wanted to tell Marion that she probably had the onset of Alzheimer’s. He wanted to ask if dementia ran in her family.
How is this my time? The ring is back at the apartment. Nice timing. Does Marion actually want me to propose in front of Gloria’s baby’s daddy? That just doesn’t happen, not even in the biggest farce of a movie or romance novel.
“Paul is out there right now—”

“
Paul is just visiting his daughter,” Marion interrupted. “He’s liable to do that from time to time. Angel is his daughter as of, oh, about twenty minutes ago, and you’re just going to have to get used to the idea.”

Sucks to be him, and it sucks to be me.
“But Gloria won’t—”

“
How do you know?” Marion interrupted. “You never even asked her to marry you that night, right?” She opened the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of lemonade. “Homemade lemonade. You have to try some.”

Another nice transition.
“I’ll pass.”
Lemonade would zip right through me, dragging some milk and crackers along with it.

Marion poured him a glass and put it in front of him. “Try it.”

Johnny took a sip.
Not bad.

“
Good, right?” Marion asked.

Johnny nodded and took another sip.

“
Kind of like Gloria, huh?” Marion added more lemonade to Johnny’s glass. “Sweet and sour mixed together. And watery. Girl cries herself to sleep just about every night.”

She’s crying every night …
“Why?”

“
Oh, I don’t know,” Marion said.

Right. Marion knows everything. She should go on
Jeopardy
.

“
You’ll just have to ask her. Go on.” She tugged at Johnny’s jacket. “She’s probably still rooted to the stairs.”

Johnny stood and almost stumbled into the hallway, gripping the banister for support. Gloria sat on the bottom step, her arms around her knees. He looked at Gloria’s insensible shoes. “Are you all right?”

“
I’m fine.”

Johnny peeked at Gloria’s lips and saw a straight line. “Um, good.”

I don’t know what to say,
Gloria thought. “How have you been, Johnny?”

Johnny nodded at Paul and Angel in the living room and forced a smile. “I’m fine, too.”
Gee, we’re both fine. Guess it’s a fine time to leave.

I can’t just sit here forever.
Gloria stood and walked past Johnny and into the living room, Johnny hovering behind Angel. “Paul,” she said, “we need to talk.”

Paul nodded.

She turned to Johnny. “Johnny, we
really
need to talk.”

Johnny nodded.
That’s a powerful sentence after all. No wonder romance writers use it.

Marion walked out of the kitchen clapping her hands. “Why don’t we all do some talking over dinner? The pizza’s getting cold.”

Johnny backed toward the front door. “I’m, um, I can’t …”

Marion grabbed his arm. “I’ll take care of it. Paul?”

Paul took a step toward Marion, his hand still ensconced in Angel’s small hand. “Yes?”

“
Paul, I have to do every little thing around here,” Marion said. “If it weren’t for me, nothing would ever get done. What do you think of that?”

Paul kept silent.

“
Don’t move,” Marion said to Johnny, and she picked up the hall phone and dialed a number. “Hector, this is Marion. Hi. Um, Johnny’s car just ran out of gas in front of my house. I don’t think he’ll be delivering any more pizzas for a while.” Marion grinned and covered the mouthpiece. “He’s surprisingly happy.” She uncovered the mouthpiece. “He, um, he walked out of here to get some gas. Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage till he gets there, if he ever gets there. Bye.” She hung up the phone. “Okay, now who wants pizza?”

Angel dragged Paul into the kitchen, and when Johnny tried to follow, Marion put one hand on his chest and pointed to the bottom step with the other. “Sit.”

Johnny sat.

“
Good dog.” Marion smiled and waltzed into the kitchen.

Johnny looked over at Gloria. “Arf.”

Gloria sat a foot away from him.

Johnny looked at her left hand. “The, um, placeholder.”

I keep forgetting this man has a thing for my hands.
“Oh, it, um, broke a while ago.”
When you broke my heart by leaving and then shutting me out.
“I don’t know where it is.”

“
Cheap Chinese rubber band,” Johnny said. “Probably had lead paint on it anyway.”

“
I’m … I’m sorry I lost it,” Gloria said. She took off her shoes, threw them up the stairs behind her, and wiggled her toes. “I hate those shoes.”

“
Me, too.” Johnny folded his hands on his knees. “So, um, here we are.”
Looking like two gargoyles at the bottom of the stairs.

“
Yeah.”
I have so much to say, but I can’t find any of the words!
“Um, well, uh …”
Nice intro.
“Guess what?”