The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (38 page)

“
Cassim is stupid,” Angel said.

“
And it would cost him his life,” Johnny said.

Angel opened one eye.

Johnny nodded. “The forty thieves showed up outside the mountain while Cassim was inside.” He paused for effect. “They opened the mountain with the magic words. Cassim ran out swinging a sword back and forth, but there were too many thieves to fight. Forty to one odds aren’t very good, huh?”

Angel shook her head.

How gruesome do I make this?
“The thieves cut up Cassim into little pieces and left him at the entrance to the mountain as a warning to anyone else. Ali Baba found him all in pieces like that, and he found a tailor to stitch Cassim’s body together so he could give Cassim a decent burial.”

Angel opened both eyes. “He paid someone to sew his brother back together?”

Johnny nodded.

“
That’s stupid, too,” Angel said.

I appreciate your concern, kiddo, but I have to agree with Ali Baba.
“But Ali Baba loved his brother. He didn’t want to bury him in pieces, like a puzzle.”

Angel rolled her eyes. “Do all your stories have puzzles in them?”

They kind of do.
“This one does. Anyway, the thieves came back to the mountain and didn’t find Cassim’s body parts, so they knew someone else knew about their secret stash of treasure. They sent spies into the city to find the tailor who sewed Cassim’s body back together, and the tailor led them to Ali Baba’s house.”

Angel turned over and nestled her head into her pillow. “And Angel learned that it’s okay to steal from thieves, to write down magic words so she wouldn’t forget them, and never trust anyone who sews people’s bodies back together. The end.”

“
There’s much more to this story, Angel,” Johnny said. “I haven’t told you about the little servant girl who saves Ali Baba’s life at least five times.”

Angel closed her eyes. “And Angel learned to hire little servant girls to save her life five times. The end.”

She’s worn out. Four hours of research, a half an hour of jumping jacks and interpretive dance … Yeah. She’s done.
“I’ll tell you the rest some other time. You get your rest.”

Johnny went downstairs. “She’s napping.”

“
I’m surprised she can,” Gloria said. “No more soda from now on, okay?”

Johnny nodded.

“
And did she have fries, too?” Gloria asked.

Johnny nodded.

“
No more fries,” Gloria said.

Johnny nodded.
No more fun.

“
I admire your persistence,” Marion said, cutting her eyes at Gloria. “Like Gloria, Angel is a tough nut to crack.”

Like mama like daughter.
Johnny shook his head. “I’ll just use factual stories from now on. I may have to subscribe to
National Geographic.
”

“
At least she’s listening,” Marion said.

“
At least
she
gets a story,” Gloria said. “When am I going to get more pages, Johnny?”

“
Soon,” Johnny said.

“
Tonight?” Gloria asked.

“
As I’ve been telling you, I want to give them to you all at once,” Johnny said. “I want to give you the whole enchilada.”

Gloria stared him down.

“
And I ought to have it all done by … the end of the week.”
Provided I actually start on it!

Gloria sighed. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long.” She stood. “I need to take a nap, too. All that shopping.”

“
We didn’t buy a single thing,” Marion said.

“
We were shopping, Mama, not buying,” Gloria said. She kissed Johnny on the cheek. “Have a good shift.”

“
I’ll try.”

Gloria left the kitchen and trudged upstairs.

“
Don’t keep her waiting too long, Johnny,” Marion whispered.

“
I won’t,” Johnny said. “I just need to tie myself to my chair and finish the thing.”

“
I don’t just mean about your silly book,” Marion whispered. “I think Gloria is already tired of the schedule you two are on, and that rubber band is getting awful frayed on her finger. She told me it was a placeholder. You have something to put in its place?”

Johnny stopped breathing. A train horn sounded somewhere in the distance.
Not exactly an organ, but still …
“You don’t mean …”

“
You have my blessing, you know,” Marion whispered. “I can’t think of a better man for her and Angel.”

Johnny’s heart stopped. “Oh. Um. Thanks.”

“
Breathe, Johnny,” Marion whispered. “You can’t die here in my kitchen.”

Johnny exhaled and sucked in a large gulp of air. “You think she’ll say yes?”

Marion smiled. “You won’t know unless you ask.”

I knew that,
Johnny thought. “But isn’t it too soon for me to do that?”

Marion put her face in her hands. “No, Johnny. It’s not too soon.” She dropped her hands. “In fact, I think it’s necessary.”

“
Necessary?”

“
It’s your time, Johnny,” Marion said. “Use it or lose it.”

Johnny tried to smile. “I’ve never bought a ring before.”

“
Just don’t get one out of a gumball dispenser or buy one at OfficeMax.”

Johnny nodded. “I won’t.”

“
Soon, yes?” Marion asked.

“
Soon,” Johnny said. “Yes.”

27

Johnny didn’t have enough money for the kind of ring he thought Gloria deserved, and he didn’t have a credit card to his name. He found the perfect ring for Gloria—a stunning, $4,000 one-carat diamond solitaire—and then tried to open an account at Henebry’s Jewelers.

“
We can give you only a five hundred dollar credit limit, sir,” Harold told him.

“
That’s all? Why?”

“
Your credit rating is too low,” Harold said.

“
How can that be?” Johnny asked. “I have no debts since I paid off my student loan a few years ago.”

Harold shrugged. “Maybe that’s the problem. You don’t have a long enough record of paying back your debts.”

“
But I have no debts, Harold, none.”

Harold held up his hands. “My hands are tied, Mr. Holiday.”

Johnny was, as usual, confused. “You mean that because I have no debts, I can’t get a higher credit limit.”

“
Right.”

What is this crap?
“I’m too ‘rich’ and careful with my money to get credit?”

“
Yes.”

“
So you only give credit to the poor and wasteful?”

Harold hesitated. “There are many factors that go into determining your credit limit, sir. Your job, for instance. Your weekly take home pay is pretty low.”

Because I didn’t include my tips on the application, measly as they are, to keep the IRS off my back.
“Look, I promise to pay you back.” Johnny felt the weight of the tip money in his pocket, accumulated and not spent for over three years. “I can even put some cash down if that will help.”
But only about $900, and I was saving that to spend on “my girls” this Christmas.

“
How much can you put down?” Harold asked.

“
About a thousand,” Johnny said.
If I have a couple good tip nights this week.
“With your credit limit, that leaves you … twenty-five hundred short.”

I can do the math, chief. I went to Tech.
“I am putting a twenty-five percent down-payment on this ring, Harold. Most people don’t even put ten percent down on a house or car these days. I am committed to this ring, you understand?”

“
I’m sorry,” Harold said.

“
Isn’t there anything you can do? I want this ring.”

“
Well,” Harold said, “you could get her a simple wedding band and promise her a diamond once you can afford it.”

That would suck lots of big and little rocks.
Johnny shook his head. “That’s like giving someone a tricycle and promising to upgrade them to a Vega.”

“
What?” Harold said.

“
Nothing.” Johnny sighed. “So what kind of a diamond ring can I get for fifteen hundred?”

Harold pulled out a tray of rings. “You could actually get a nice bridal set for that price.” He pointed at several sets. “These run about twelve hundred.”

Johnny knew he would need a microscope to see the diamond. “That’s not a full carat.”

“
No. It’s about a third.”

A third of a
fourth
. Man, this sucks. I’m not buying these. Nothing but the best for my sweet patootie.
“Thanks for your help, Harold. You can untie your hands now.”

Johnny didn’t want to get Gloria another placeholder, but he had to have something to give her. He stopped by a pawnshop on Williamson Road and found a very nice one-carat diamond solitaire.

“
Only slightly used,” the tattooed man said. “Looks brand new, doesn’t it?”

Johnny wasn’t superstitious, but there was something unromantic about buying a dysfunctional engagement ring from a man who had tattoos of pit bulls running up and down his muscular arms.

“
Do you know her ring size?” the man asked.

Johnny extended his pinkie. “About that big.”

The man slipped on the ring. “Seems to fit pretty well.”

Johnny examined the ring and saw the phrase “Forever, my love” inscribed on the inner band.
Nice sentiment,
Johnny thought.
Too bad it didn’t work.
“A full carat, right?”

“
Near colorless with minor inclusions,” the man said.

This meant nothing to Johnny. “And that means …”

“
Whoever originally bought this ring knew his diamonds,” the man said.

He just didn’t know his girl.
“How much would a ring like this go for new?”

“
I won’t lie to you,” the man said.

I’m in a pawnshop, chief. I expect you to lie. Don’t lie about not lying.

“
This probably went for four, maybe five grand.”

Bingo.
“And now?”

The man consulted a little notebook, checking the number on the tag with a list of numbers on the page. “I’ll take … twelve hundred.”

But I don’t have twelve hundred, and I doubt you’d give me a line of credit.
Johnny backed away from the display case. “Is this where I try to talk you down?”

“
You can try.”

Johnny believed that the slam-dunk method was best to use in any situation. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his roll, slapping it on the glass display case. “Nine hundred, and that’s my final offer.”

The man smiled.

Oops. I should have left two hundred in my pocket.

“
A thousand,” the man said. “And that’s my final offer.”

I have no more money to my name, chief. Should I offer the Vega? No, the price of the ring will go up instead of down.
Johnny nodded and decided to tell the first truth that pawnshop had ever heard. “Nine hundred is all I got.”

The man remained silent.

“
Really,” Johnny said. “Look outside at what I drive.”

The man took a quick look at the Vega. “Had one of those once. Rusted through the second I drove it off the lot. Didn’t know they were still on the road.”