So Not Happening (14 page)

“At Chili's?” Lindy asks, her eyes wide.

“No. How about some pizza?” And he takes us to Tony's, my favorite pizza place in all of Manhattan.

We three scoot into a booth and give the waiter our drink orders. “So, Bella-” Dad interlocks his fingers. “I, uh, had plans for tonight that I couldn't exactly get out of.”

I lower my menu and stare at my dad. “I'm here for two nights, and you're going out?” I feel so wanted. “Who is she?”

“Bells, you know I'm glad you're here, honey.” He reaches for my hand. “This is not just a date though. It's more like a business appointment. It's important.”

Right. Important. Glad you have your priorities straight.

“I'll be out tonight, and then I'm all yours. I thought tomorrow you could take Lindy shopping.” He waggles his eyebrows, a sure sign that (a), he feels guilty; and (b), he'll be loaning me his credit card to make up for it. And then maybe you girls can go to your favorite salon—you've been complaining about a manicure lately. And after you get all beautiful, we'll go out to dinner and catch a show.” His eyes twinkle.

“Wicked?”
I clap my hands in glee as he nods. “Oh, thank you, Daddy!” And I plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
Wicked
is just
the
best musical in the history of theater. I've only seen this retelling of
The Wizard of Oz
like ten times. But I love it. I have all the songs memorized.

After dinner, we take a cab to Dad's.

“So everyone in New York City lives like this?” Lindy points to the rows and rows of apartments as we climb out of the cab. “I mean, where are your yards?”

Dad and I laugh, then help our native Oklahoman inside.

“Bella!” Luisa barrels through the living room and wraps me in her strong hug. “Country life suits you.” She pinches my cheeks. “Your face has color.”

It's probably a rash from the gym Dumpster I was in a few days ago.

I introduce Lindy to my former nanny. Lindy sticks out her hand, but Luisa pulls her into a bear hug too. “I like this one.” Luisa clasps Lindy's chin. “This one is nice; I can tell already.”

Yeah, Luisa has never quite warmed up to my friends. I don't know why.

“Your friend Mia left a message.” Luisa follows Lindy and me upstairs. “She said to meet everyone at the club at nine thirty. That's awful late for my Isabella to go out, yes?”

“No, it's not. I'll be fine.” And I cannot wait to see everyone. And dance my butt off

“I changed the sheets on your bed, so it's all ready!” Luisa scurries ahead of us and flings open my bedroom door.

“Augh!” Lindy clasps her heart and freezes in her tracks. “What is
that?”
She points to the mural over the bed. The evil cherubs.

“Don't worry. They won't come down and get you.” I don't think.

And that?” She points to the matching red chairs in the corner.

“Um, they're supposed to be lips.” I shrug. “The theme of the room is love. At least that's what my dad's designer said.” I say the theme is Designer Smoked Too Much Crack.

“Do my girls need anything?” Luisa turns on the lamp beside the queen-size bed. The lamp in the shape of Shakespeare's head.

“We're just going to get ready and head out for Viva's.” I open my suitcase and start pulling out my party clothes. “Dad's got a date.” Luisa and I share an eye roll. She mumbles in Spanish all the way out the door. “Get changed, Lindy. It's time to see some New York nightlife.”

Her eyes glow with excitement. She wheels her small suitcase into the bathroom. Seriously, she has such restraint. All she came with was this carry-on. Me? I brought my whole Louis Vuitton luggage collection. A girl never knows when she's going to need something!

While Lindy's in the bathroom, I quickly slip into a funky chic dress and some heels and plug in my flatiron for a touch-up. When my phone pings with a text, I giggle at the name of the sender. Hunter.

Can't wait 2 C U. I've got a Sprite w/ur name on it.

He's so sweet. Why can't all guys be as gentlemanly as Hunter? Like Luke the spastic editor.

“Okay.” Lindy opens the door. “I guess I'm ready.” And steps out, wearing Abercrombie cargos and a plain red t-shirt.

“Um . . . are these your party clothes?” I can hear Mia and the girls already.

“Yeah.” Her spine straightens. “What about it?”

I plaster on a smile. “Because we want people like Matt to notice you're a girl.”

Are you saying I don't look like one?”

Tread carefully. “Lindy, you came to me because
you
said you wanted help looking more feminine. If that's going to happen, you can't get offended every time I try to make a suggestion. Tomorrow we'll go shopping”—on Daddy's money, thank You, Lord—“and I'll show you exactly what you need.”

“I don't know, Bella.”

“It will be fun.” I toss my lip gloss back in my purse. “Let's touch up your makeup”—as in put more on your face besides Chapstick—“and hit the club.”

I pay the cabdriver and all but drag Lindy to the door of Viva's. “Come on, you can do this.”

“My face looks like a clown.”

“You look amazing.” And she does. Turns out Lindy has some enviable hair wrapped up in that ponytail. And lips that would make Scarlett Johansson jealous.

“Have I mentioned I'm not much of a dancer?”

Clearing the bouncer, I pay our cover and walk in. “Is Matt?”

“Yeah, he's totally got skills.”

“Then tonight you'll learn how to dance.”

“Bella!” Mia and two friends rush me, squealing my name. We clutch each other in a group hug and jump up and down.

I cling to Mia like a fabric softener sheet on a sock. “Oh my gosh. I have missed you guys!” We pull apart, and I introduce them to Lindy.

“Hi.” Mia smiles prettily. “I like your lip gloss. Is it MAC?”

Lindy blinks. “No. It's pink.”

The girls dissolve into giggles.

“Come on, Lindy. Let's get something to drink.” And I lead her to the bar area. Aren't they great?” I ask, pointing to my friends.

“Oh yeah, they're . . . something.”

“Bella! What's up?”

“Colton!” I bump knuckles with Hunter's friend. “Just the guy I was hoping to see. This is my friend Lindy.” He holds out his fist for her. “And this guy right here is the best dancer in the city.”

“Oh, go on, girl. Get out of here.”

“No, seriously.” I pay for our drinks and hand Lindy her Coke. “My friend would like to learn some basic moves. Can you handle that, Colton?”

“Anything for you, Bella. Come on, Lindy. Let's get started.”

Her eyes widen like he's offering to push her in front of a moving train.

“If you want Matt, you gotta do the work.” I jerk my head toward Colton. “He's the best. Take advantage of the opportunity.”

“I'll go easy on you.” Colton pulls a hesitant Lindy onto the floor.

And I walk upstairs, sipping my Sprite, the bass of the song sending my head to bobbing. I stand on an open balcony and overlook the dance floor. Colton is laughing at something Lindy said. Her body is stiff and uncomfortable. And so far the girl has no rhythm.

Hands cover my eyes, and a deep laugh rumbles near my ear. “Don't tell my girlfriend, but I was wondering if you'd like to dance.”

I giggle and turn around. “Hunter!” I throw my arms around him and just hold on. His hands find my face and he leans down, his lips on mine.

Seconds later we pull apart, but I rest my forehead on his. “Tell me I never have to leave here.”

He runs a hand over my hair. “Sorry, Bel. Can't do that. But I wish I could.”

I take a step back, keeping his hands in mine. “Why haven't you called me this week?”

“I talked to you Monday.” He plays with the hoop in my ear.

I swat his hand away. “That was four days ago, Hunter.” I try to keep the hurt out of my voice, but it comes through anyway.

“You know how crazy the first few weeks of school are.”

My eyes narrow. “Yeah, I'm sure it's been a very stressful time
for you”
Are you kidding me?

He pulls my chin up with his hand. “We knew this would be hard.”

“But we also knew we'd have to try.”

“Are you saying I'm not trying?”

I look away and stare at the dance floor. “I don't know what I'm saying.”

“Don't tell me you've found yourself a cowboy in Oklahoma.”

My lip curls and I return my attention to Hunter. “Don't be small-minded. That's a stupid stereotype.”

He steps back and holds his hands up. “Whoa, what is this? I'm just kidding. Somebody sounds a little possessive. Maybe you
do
have another guy.”

“Oh yeah, Hunter, I've found someone else. After I sat in a few trash heaps for the paper, then did my new list of chores at the house, and my hours of AP homework, plus the time I've put in helping Lindy, I managed to find a moment or two to cheat on you.” My anger could incinerate this whole club. “Do you
want
me to see someone else?”

Hunter just stops. Says nothing.

His eyes fuse with mine. “What's going on with us?” He braves a smile. “Bella and Hunter do not fight.”

“I don't know.” I shake my head and run a hand through my hair. “This wasn't how I pictured our little reunion.”

He tucks a stray lock behind my ear, his hand sliding down my jaw. “I'm sorry I haven't been good about calling. I know you've had a tough few weeks, and I haven't been there for you.”

“And I'm sorry I snapped at you.”

“Why don't we start over?” The dance floor lights flash in his brown eyes.

He spins me around and his hands cover my eyes.

“Don't tell my girlfriend, but I was wondering if you'd like to dance.”

I swivel on my heel and wrap my arms around his neck. “I'd love to dance with you.”

chapter eighteen

I
'll see you ladies at dinner, okay?” Dad kisses my cheek and hands me his credit card.

I swear I hear angels singing the “Hallelujah” chorus. Oh, credit card! How I've missed you. Your plasticky goodness. The zipping sound you make when the clerk runs you through a machine. The rattle of a long receipt being spit out by a boutique register.

“Go easy on me today, okay?” He points to his card.

“But, Dad, I haven't shopped in forever.” Ever since Mom married Jake and somehow I got financially cut off. So unfair.

“You've only been in Oklahoma two weeks.”

“But in my heart... it's an eternity.” I push Lindy out the door before my dad goes back to his idea of curtailing my spending and teaching me a lesson.
Hmph.
Whatever. It's teaching me misery, is all. And causing me to lust in my heart—over other people's clothing.

I step outside onto the front stoop and breathe in the familiar Manhattan air. Ew. Maybe I shouldn't breathe too deeply. We are a little smoggy at times.

A yellow cab speeds us away, like a chariot taking me to heaven. Shopping—oh, I could just burst into song. The closest I've come to shopping lately is squeezing the melons at Wal-Mart with Mom. And that's just indecent, if you ask me.

“Okay,Lindy. Our first stop is Marco Ricci's salon. While Marco's working his magic on your hair, I'll be getting a manicure and a pedi. Then we'll switch.” Dad totally called in a favor to have my stylist work us in on such short notice. Marco's usually booked, like, a year in advance. Maybe Dad's giving him a discount on a new nose or something.

“I don't know.” Lindy fingers her ponytail. “I kind of like my hair.”

“But it's not about what you like. It's about what
Matt
might like.” I thought we established this last night when we stayed up 'til 2:00 a.m. talking. I felt like Dr. Phil, coaching Lindy toward a new vision of herself

The taxi pulls up beside Marco's, and I have to force Lindy out of the car and into the salon.

Lindy plants her feet in the lobby and just takes it all in. The pink walls. The techno music. The ladies in the chairs sipping champagne.

“Um . . . isn't there a Supercuts or a Regis somewhere?”

A squeal has me clutching my ears.

“Profanity! Profanity!” Marco, head to toe in black, scurries from behind the front counter, his beret bobbing on his head. “Who is zees you bring to Marco?”

I swallow. “This is my friend Lindy.” I elbow her. She doesn't move. “Greet Marco,” I say through gritted teeth.

She tries to shake his hand, but he clutches his hands to his chest.

“Do you know who I am, leetle girl?”

Lindy shakes her head. “N-n-no.”

“I am Marco Ricci”—his hand sweeps the room—“hair arteest.” He leans forward, his pinched face inches from hers. “Dream maker.” He draws himself up, his spine as straight as a hair pick. “Now would you like to greet Marco again?”

With rounded eyes, Lindy looks to me. And back to Marco.

Then she drops herself into an awkward curtsy.

Laughter fills the entry as Marco doubles over and howls. “Zees girl you bring me—she is priceless.” He grabs a shaking Lindy by the shoulders. “Kees, kees.” And smooches the air beside both cheeks. Then his face sobers. “Oh, we have work to do, no?”

“Yes,” I say. “Now you're the expert.” I know this man so well. “But I was thinking maybe some blonde highlights. Four or five inches off. Some bangs.”