I sat beside her on the sofa, thinking hard. No bar, no online dating service, no doctors, no speed dating . . . and only four days left before my romantic weekend in Key West. Out of desperation I said, “How about if we both go?”
She turned to stare at me. With her mouth full of bread she said, “Seriously?”
“I’ll arrange it so we can meet the same nine guys, and then we can compare notes afterward and make a choice.”
She swallowed her food. “What are you going to tell Marco? He’s not going to be thrilled about your meeting nine single guys.”
“Once I explain everything, he’ll be fine with it. He wants you to find someone to be happy with, too, Nikki.” She had no idea how much.
“You know,” she said, perking up, “it just might work.”
“So you’ll go?”
Nikki smiled, her dimples deepening. “Yes.”
Before she had time to rethink her decision, I ran for the phone and dialed the number in the ad. “Hi, I’d like to register two people for your speed-dating event this Thursday.”
I wrote down the info, registered the two of us, and hung up. “Okay, here’s the scoop. According to the event organizer, Carmen Gold, there won’t be a problem getting into the same group. All we have to do is show up at the restaurant at seven o’clock Thursday night with our credit cards in hand.”
“
All
we have to do? Are you kidding me? I have to find something to wear.” Nikki rubbed her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement for the first time in weeks. “This could be fun. Great idea, Abby!”
I hoped Marco saw it that way.
“You’re going to a speed-dating event?” Marco swung his feet off his desk and sat forward. “Why?”
I’d stopped by Down the Hatch on my way back to Bloomers to tell him what I’d signed up for, and found him in his office, his nose buried in the sports section of the newspaper. I went around behind his chair to massage the muscles in his shoulders. That always mellowed him. “I’m going along to screen the guys. Nikki begged me, Marco. How could I refuse?”
He leaned back to gaze at me speculatively. “She
begged
you?”
“Well, she didn’t get down on her knees, if that’s what you mean.” That was a little diversionary tactic I called fudging.
“How will the guys know you’re there only to screen for Nikki?”
“I’ll tell them up front.”
“What about the safety issue? Is every client given a background check?”
“I doubt it, but I did look at the Cloud Nine Web site, and their policy is to prohibit any personal information from being exchanged during the event. Besides, I didn’t check your background before I went out with you. Did you check mine?”
“Sure.”
“What?”
“Kidding.”
I gave his shoulder a playful push. “You checked me out, didn’t you?”
“We’re talking about you and Nikki subjecting yourselves to the scrutiny of nine strangers, not what I may or may not have done in the past.”
Changing the subject was apparently Marco’s diversionary tactic.
“Think about it, Marco. Is meeting someone at this event any different from hooking up in a bar? No. And with nine guys to choose from, Nikki can’t miss. Plus there’ll be a mixer afterward where she can meet even more guys.”
“What will you be doing during this mixer?”
“Checking out every guy she talks to. That’s my role.”
“Want some advice? Let Nikki meet guys herself. You don’t need to hold her hand. If she’s not brave enough to go alone, then maybe it’s not meant to be. Don’t force her.”
“I didn’t force her. I merely suggested she attend; then she leaped on the idea of me going along.” I leaned down to murmur in his ear, “Besides, I’m doing this for us as much as for Nikki. You don’t want me to be all worried about her when we’re down in Key West, do you?”
Marco pulled me around to sit on his lap. “No, I don’t want you to be worried, but I’m still not sold on the idea. How soon is this event?”
“Thursday evening.”
He leaned his head toward me to kiss me, then stopped. “Wait. We’re leaving early Friday morning. That’s cutting it close, isn’t it?”
“I’ll have my bags all packed and ready to go Thursday afternoon.”
“
Bag
, Abby. Not
bags.
We’re traveling light, remember? Carry-ons only? No waiting at the airport carousel? No lost luggage? Besides, it’ll be hot down in Key West, so you won’t need much, just a bikini, some sunscreen. . . .” He paused to think. “Yep, that should do it.”
“Silly. I can’t wear a bikini all the time.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow. “I know.”
Oh, baby.
This was going to be quite a weekend. “Just think,” I said, winding my arms around his neck. “Five days from today we’ll be sunning and funning down in Key West, Nikki will have found a new guy, and everyone will be happy.”
“How happy?”
I leaned forward to kiss him and his desk phone rang. Marco put the receiver to his ear and practically growled, “Salvare.”
At once he straightened, nearly spilling me onto the floor. “No, my throat isn’t sore. I’m fine. No, I haven’t been ignoring you,
Mama
. I’ve been very busy. Listen, I’ll call you right back. I know I said that last time, but . . .”
Mama Salvare. With a sigh of regret, I got up and headed for the door, wiggling my fingers at him. “Bye.”
Marco shrugged, his way of apologizing. Having been in that situation many times with my own mom, I forgave him.
Between Nikki having second thoughts about going to the speed-dating event, and Marco voicing his misgivings about
my
going to the event, I thought Thursday would never arrive. Fortunately for me, Mom and Dad were planning to spend the weekend in Chicago, taking in a play and the new exhibit at the Field Museum of Natural History. That would wipe them out until the following Tuesday. Perfect timing.
But that was next week. This week I was more concerned about Nikki backing out, especially after we pulled into the parking lot of the just-opened Wild Boar Steak House.
“It’s a barn, Abby. A giant red barn.”
“So? You’ve eaten breakfast in a building shaped like a giant glazed doughnut.”
“Doughnuts and breakfast go together. Barns and future husbands? Scary.”
“Barns and cowboys. Duh.” I opened my car door. “Come on, Nik. There’s nothing scary about a barn. Who knows? You might meet a guy in there who’ll change your life.”
The decor inside carried out the barn theme, down to the straw on the wooden floor; a hay loft for extra seating; waiters and waitresses in cowboy hats and shirts with fringe; and booths covered in black-and-white faux cowhide. The hostess pointed us toward a wide doorway at the far end of the Western-style bar, beyond a group of guys standing around trying to act cool.
Nikki poked me in the back as we threaded through them. “Is it too late to cancel?”
“You have to give this a chance, Nikki. And P.S., you look really great tonight.”
She poked me again. “What do you mean by
tonight
?”
We entered a cozy, private dining area with warm maple wainscoting below butter-colored walls, and red candles on red-and-white-checked tablecloths. The round tables had been arranged along opposite sides of the room in double lines, with a wide aisle in between. At the back was a smaller bar where all the women attendees were now gathered.
“Excuse me,” said a snippy voice from behind. “Your names, please?”
I turned toward the speaker, a woman in her late thirties who sported a tag that read CARMEN GOLD, EVENT ORGANIZER. Ironically, Carmen Gold was dressed almost entirely in silver—a silver shrug covering her black satin halter top, a silver whistle on a black silk cord around her neck, silver bangles on her wrists, a dove gray satin pencil skirt, and glimmering silver high heels. She had long platinum hair, diamond cuff earrings, and soft pink lipstick with silver sparkles in it. Even her PDA was silver.
Carmen had a heart-shaped face with hazel eyes accented by wing-shaped eyebrows, an upturned nose, double-wide mouth, and a long, sharp chin punctuated at the jawline by a large brown mole with two coarse black hairs growing out of it. Trying not to focus on her mole, I lowered my voice—heeding Lottie’s warning—to say, “Abby Knight and Nikki Hiduke.”
Carmen pressed keys on her PDA, then pointed a daggerlike pink fingernail toward a young black woman with wavy black hair, coffee-colored skin, and almond-shaped eyes, seated behind a table nearby. “My assistant will run your credit cards.”
“Carmen isn’t too friendly, is she?” I whispered.
“She redefines the word
aloof
,” Nikki whispered back. “And please, she couldn’t pluck those mole hairs?”
After we paid, Carmen’s assistant gave us name tags, our lists of guys, and our table assignments. Nikki and I quickly compared lists, relieved to see that they contained the same names.
“Remember,” Carmen said to our group, “you are to stop talking when the buzzer sounds, you are to have no body contact with anyone, and you are
never
to give out any personal information during this event. That includes last names, home addresses, work addresses, e-mail addresses, and phone numbers. This is for your protection. We’ve had some incidents in the past, so it’s very important you understand and follow the rules. Questions, ladies?”
“You’ve had incidents?” Nikki asked, looking ready to make a break for the door.
Sensing that she might have to refund some money, Carmen snapped her fingers and a waitress rushed over to hand Nikki a glass of white wine. “It’s nothing to worry about,” Carmen told Nikki. “Just follow the rules and you’ll be fine. All right, ladies. Be seated please. The guys will be right in.”
Too late to back out now.
I took a seat at my assigned table, third in the line, with Nikki at the table behind me. After accepting a glass of wine from the waitress, I turned and gave Nikki a smile. “Ready?”
Nikki looked pale. “Maybe I should rethink this.”
“Coward,” I whispered. I didn’t tell her I was having a few last-minute misgivings myself. What if all nine guys were duds? Even worse, what if we found Nikki the perfect guy but he didn’t like her?
Carmen waited for a straggler to find her table, a hunched, odd-looking woman who didn’t seem to know what to do. She wore a gray wool jumper over a white turtleneck sweater with black hose and flats, and had a head that was too large for her body, shoulders that rolled forward, giving her a hunchbacked look, with skinny legs and impossibly small feet. With her limp brown hair, tiny eyes, and hollow-cheeked face devoid of color except for two poorly placed circles of pink blush, she struck me as the type least likely to attend a speed-dating event. I almost expected her to apologize for stumbling into the wrong room.
“Iris,” Carmen called impatiently, pointing to the left side of the room. “You’re seven.”
“Don’t I wish,” she cracked, sidling toward her table. “Life was so much simpler then.”
Everyone laughed as Iris made a show of slinking into her seat. Carmen merely rolled her eyes at her assistant. Then Carmen blew her whistle and the guys swaggered in from the other room.
“Okay, everyone, please remember to follow the rules,” Carmen called. “Violators will be asked to leave, and no money will be refunded. At the buzzer, move quickly to your first assigned table and to each table thereafter. We’ll take a short break in the middle so you can refill your drinks, and at the end we’ll have an hour for a mixer. Ready?”
Carmen glanced at her assistant, who then pressed a buzzer, setting the men in motion. The assistant gave Carmen a nod, then left the room just as a mousy, slightly built man with thinning pale blond hair approached my table. According to my list, his name was D.I.
I watched D.I. check the table number twice, then pull out a chair across from me and dust off the seat with a white cotton handkerchief before settling onto it.
Don’t judge him yet, Abby. He’s merely being neat. Neat can be good.
D.I. placed his hands on the table, laced his fingers, then smiled at me. “Hello, Abby.”
“Hi, D.I.”
“Call me Del. It’s short for Delroy, an old English name meaning ‘dweller in the dell.’ Ms. Gold thought D.I. sounded better, although I can’t see why.”
“Dweller in the dell. That reminds me of a song I used to sing in kindergarten—‘Farmer in the Dell.’ ”
At his blank look, I said, “You know, ‘Hi-ho, the derry-o’?”
“The dweller guards the jeweler’s cape,” he said with a straight face.
“I’m sorry? Did you say you guard the jewel escape?”
“Jeweler’s
cape
.” Del put a hand to one side of his mouth and said secretively, “It’s encrusted with precious gems and must be protected.”
My turn for the blank look. Was there a way to end a speed date early? Shouldn’t Carmen have given us whistles or flares or something?
“I take it you’re not into science-fiction fantasy games?” Del asked. “I belong to an Internet sci-fan club that meets every Monday evening. We created a kingdom called Diamondo, and the jeweler is the leader. He wears a magic cape. As the dweller, it’s my duty to protect the cape.”
I picked up my pen and wrote in tiny letters beside Delroy’s name:
Weirdo
. “But if the cape is magic, shouldn’t it protect the jeweler?”
“Only inside Diamondo.”
I reached for my glass of wine. Delroy might work for the jeweler but he was no gem.
Is that what this man has reduced you to?
the little voice in my head exclaimed.
Making bad puns?
“I’m scaring you, aren’t I?” Del asked. “Maybe I should tell you that in real life I’m an architectural draftsman. I work in Chicago and live in a condo overlooking Lake Michigan.”
I perked up. Now, that was more like it. Nikki would love a lake view. “Did you grow up in Chicago?”