The Big Picture (8 page)

He wipes a lone tear from his cheek. “We only met last year, but she became my best friend. She loved me for who I am.”

Maxine sniffles. “You dear boy.” Her gaze latches onto mine, a look that says,
Only the lowest life form would cancel this date
.

“So you see . . . when Papa Diamatti called me, it was like a ray of hope. I put down my advanced soduku puzzle and said, ‘Brian, Superfly Math Stud — that’s what I call myself.’

“Of course.” I nod.

“Brian, this is like a sign. A sign from Felicity that it’s okay to move on.”

He steps closer. “Tonight I have hope. Tonight . . . I return to life and living — and I want to thank you for that.”

Somewhere in my head violins play. Oh, the drama. How can I tell him it’s off? I am so stuck with this. My life — ruined. I will never recover from this.

“This is for you.” He holds up a corsage the size of a small shrub.

“How . . . nice.”
Okay, God — lesson learned. Now let’s rewind to last Sunday. I won’t choose this path. This social-life-imploding path.

I feel like Jonah in the whale — full of ick and desperate to get out.

Brian’s voice squawks. “The carnations match your skin.”

They’re pee yellow.

He stands on tiptoe, and his hands aim straight for my —

“Okay!” I grab the corsage before he commits his first date foul. “I’ll just put this on in the car.” I smile through clenched teeth.

“Actually I brought my dad’s van tonight.” His fingers run under the collar of his starched, short-sleeve button-down. “It has a rockin’ bass.”

“Grrreat.” And the last nail in the coffin of my reputation hammers home. “Nash and Frances should be here any second.”

The back door creaks open, and I hear my foster parents’ voices.

Maxine flings open the front door. “You kids have fun. Out you go. Scoot!”

“Katie?” Millie calls from the kitchen, and the sound of her sandals follows.

She walks into the entryway, a smudge of potting soil on her cheek and a confused expression on her face. My foster mom adjusts the scarf covering her head and offers Brian her hand.

“Hello. I’m Millie Scott.” James appears behind her. “This is my husband, James. You must be Katie’s new friend.”

“Yes, I’m . . . Brian, er, I mean Joey Diamatti . . . No, I’m definitely Joey Farmer.”

Oh, here we go.

Millie quirks an eyebrow and turns to me and Maxine. “Why do I smell trouble?”

My date flushes a shade of purple. You can tell he’s a total novice at mayhem.

“This is Brian Diamatti.” I shrug and laugh lightly. “It’s a long story, but believe me” — I pin Maxine with a heavy stare — “this
is
Brian.” Every nerdy inch of him.

James zeroes in on his mother-in-law. “I’d like to hear this story.”

“Uh . . . you see . . .” Maxine is saved by the bell as Frances and Nash knock on the door right on time.

“I’ll have her home by eleven, Mr. Scott.” Brian pushes his grandpa glasses up his nose.

“James would prefer I come by ten. He’s strict like that.”

“Actually, your curfew is — ”

“See ya!” I silence James and push Brian toward the door, opening it to greet Frances and Nash.

“Let’s go,” I growl at my best friend. “No time for chitchat. Keep moving, keep moving.”

We’ve reached the porch when James calls me back to the door. I leave my friends openly gawking at my “hot Italian” date.

“I know you and Maxine are up to something.” He hands me some blankets for the drive-in.

I sigh. “You can trust me on this. Frances . . .” I stop myself from blaming it on someone else. “No, I wasn’t exactly honest last Sunday with Charlie about my date for this evening. It’s a huge mess. It was dishonest.” I watch the trio load into the ugliest brown van the 1970s ever coughed up. “And it has
so
backfired.”

James rubs a hand over his evening stubble. “Lying tends to do that.”

“I know.” I silently implore him not to intervene. “But now I can’t get out of it. It’s just snowballed.”

He peers over his own perfectly normal glasses. “Can’t get out of it?”

“The dude’s girlfriend died last week. He said I was like hope from heaven.” Or something like that. “Believe me, I’m about to commit social-life suicide here. If I could get out of this, I would.”

He lays his hand on my shoulder and gives a squeeze. “I am relying on you to do the decent thing and make this right by the time you get home.”

“Okay.”

“And that boy had better see nothing but kindness from you and your friends.”

“I know. Promise.” I pat his hand. “See you at ten.”

“Eleven.” James steps back into the house. “I have a feeling you’re going to need that extra hour.”

Chapter nine

I SLAM MY VAN DOOR shut. “You totally Photoshopped your picture.”

“What do you mean?” Brian revs up his engine. It may have a fine sound system, but who could hear over the choking noises of the motor?

“I mean your picture looked a lot like Orlando Bloom.”

Brian beams. “I am proud to say that picture was me.”

“Yeah, morphed with the photo of one very famous actor.” This is so what I deserve. “You know, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Perhaps — ”

“I can’t thank you enough for asking me to this party. Even if it is under dubious pretenses, I’m thrilled to be going.”

I glare at my date, who drives his van to Bubba’s Big Picture as cautiously as any senior citizen.

“Just to have a few hours in which I won’t think about . . . Felicity. You’ll never know. It’s a huge gift.”

With a sympathetic nod, I focus on breathing through my mouth so his dangling air freshener doesn’t asphyxiate me. Number one, those things
never
smell anything remotely like pine. And two, why would
you
want
your car to smell like a big, tall, sappy tree?

With longing and regret in my eyes, I watch in the mirror as the familiar scenery of my neighborhood gets farther behind us. Maybe I should’ve stayed home. Millie’s been wiped out with her intense chemo this week. Probably needs my help.

For the next few minutes, I steam. And think. And inwardly freak out.

Every time I get brave and open my mouth to call off this ill-planned charade, Brian launches into another tale of Felicity. Seriously, I think the poor guy needs some grief counseling.

Frances leans forward from the back seat. “Okay, Brian, er, Joey, I should say. Just to review, be vague about how you met. Say something about Maxine and your grandpa. No elaborate stories though.”

Yeah, because we wouldn’t want to lie.

“And you and Katie are just friends, but you want to make it clear you are really into her.”

Brian’s eyes rove my way. “I can do that.”

“Do you have any last minute questions?” Frances asks.

“No. I think I’ve got it. My name is Joey Farmer. We met through our grandparents. And we’re friends, but I should subtly make it known I’m interested in her.”

Right. And no snorting.

“I think he’s going to do just fine, Katie.”

Of course. Now if only I could snap my fingers and turn him into a six-foot-tall hunk. I glance over at him. He tries to engage Nash in a conversation about a computer game, then sticks his hand out the window to signal a turn. A half-mile before the street.

Yeah, Charlie’s really gonna be jealous of this. Look out. He’ll probably feel so threatened, he’ll want to fight Brian for me.

“Sure, I play some video games. My favorite is
Guitar Hero
. Love that one. How about you?” Nash calls from the back.

“Never heard of it,” Brian says.

“How about some
Madden
?”

My date shakes his head. “Who?”

I sink into my brown seat. Let’s just get this over with. Quickly.

Brian navigates the beastly van down the drive that leads to Bubba’s Big Picture. We wave at Wanda Carlson, who has worked the ticket booth since before she had grandchildren, and she waves us on through. I’m glad Charlie rented out the drive-in tonight so there’s no awkward “who pays” moment.

We cruise on through, and I fight to catch my breath as something clutches at my chest.

I think it’s humiliation.

“Brian, when Charlie asks about playing in Nash’s band, just tell him you’re off duty tonight.”

He turns off the engine and pushes his door open. “Fear not, my fake date.” His smile does nothing to soothe me. “I happen to be able to rock out with the best of them.”

“That’s great, but I don’t want you to — ” With the slam of his door, I’m cut off. I reach for my door handle, but it won’t budge. My breath catches. I’m stuck in here. I’m stuck in this stinky, carpet-lined van. Get me out. Must . . . get . . . out . . .

“Push on the door.” Brian yells from the other side.

I lean into it, but nothing gives.

“Push harder!”

I push until I’m grunting like a body builder.

Then I rear back and heave myself into the door, pulling the handle with all my might. “The stupid thing won’t — ”

I feel myself dropping as the door releases, emptying me to free-fall.

Right on Brian.

“Oomph!”

We both tumble to the ground.

“Well, aren’t you two cute?”

I lift my head and see Chelsea Blake standing over us. And next to her — the birthday boy himself, Charlie.

I shove myself off Brian as Chelsea’s giggles echo in my ear. “I um . . . uh . . .” I can’t think of a thing to say. I turn to my left and see Frances, and I beg her with my eyes to intercede.

“Happy birthday, Charlie!” She engulfs him in a friendly hug as I help a stunned Brian up from the ground. “This is our friend . . . Joey Farmer. Joey, meet Charlie and Chelsea.”

Brian dusts his hands off on his black jeans, rights his glasses, then smiles his rubber-bandy smile. “Nice to meet you. Hey, you two are a cute couple.”

My face falls. What?

Chelsea giggles some more. “Oh, that’s so sweet. Did you hear that, Charlie?” She tosses her blonde hair. “I’m so glad you’re here, Joey.” Her words are for my date, but her eyes are on me. “You guys are cute too.”

Oh. My. Gosh. If she were a cat, she’d be purring.

Charlie frowns.

At least I think he frowned. Please tell me that was a look of unhappiness that crossed his face at the mention of Brian, er, Joey, being my boyfriend.

“We’re just friends,” I gush. “Totally friends. Just two amigos here. Compadres. Platonic companions, just — ”

“But that’s how all the great romances begin, right?” Brian throws a meaty arm around my waist and hoists me to him. I look down and find him beaming at me. “I think it’s okay to tell these two our little secret, snookie-doo.”

Snookie-doo?
Gonna hurl. “I — ”

“Have you two known each other long?” Charlie’s face is neutral.

“Uh . . . no, not really, I — ”

“In our hearts, it feels as if we’ve known each other a lifetime.” Brian winks at me.

“No, it really doesn’t.” I grit my teeth. “We’ve barely — ”

“Had time to process our feelings.” He makes a grab for my hand. “Yet they’re so strong, so true. Words cannot describe what this lady right here means to me.” My date is now channeling Jack Black. “I can’t
imagine letting this one go. No way.”

And for his finale, Brian snorts in a guffawing crescendo.

“We’re just gonna get the blankets.” I jerk Brian by the arm and lead him behind his van. “You!”

“What? Not enough? I can amp it up a bit.”

I clutch my hands to keep from strangling him. “Not
enough
? Too much! Too much, Brian.”
Inhale. Exhale.
“Look, I appreciate your coming tonight, but I was very clear you were to pose as my friend. Not my . . .” A chill chases up my spine. “Ew! Just nothing. Let’s just drop all the acts, okay? Continue being Joey Farmer, but just be yourself. No more embellishments.”

“But I could — ”

“No.” I jerk the van doors open and reach for the blankets. “Just be you — with a different name.”

His head bobs in a nod. “Okay. So that was too much?”

“Just a bit.” I hand him a blanket.

“Everything okay back here?”

I slam the door shut to find Charlie standing near.

“Uh . . .”
Other than the fact I’m trapped inside a dating nightmare, yeah, things are pretty good.
“I forgot to tell you happy birthday. So . . . happy birthday!”

“Thanks. I’m glad you came. Katie, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about — ”

“This town has the coolest drive-in.” Brian steps between us. “I heard it was going to be shut down though. Such a waste.”

“Maybe we can talk later?” I stare at Charlie, willing him to give me an indication that Chelsea means nothing to him, that he’s ready to tell me what all the secrecy is about.

Chelsea, in her tiny khaki shorts, walks herself to where we are. “Hey, sweetie,” she coos. “You have lots of guests to greet before they start the movie.”

Sweetie?
Make me vomit.

Without thinking, I link my arm through Brian’s. “Yeah, we should
get settled. We don’t want to miss a thing.”

“Katie, wait — ”

“See you later.” And I pull my date along and join Nash and Frances.

“I knew you’d come around.” Brian pats my hand. “Few can resist my charms.”

I glare. “Is this before or after you send them the Orlando Bloom picture?” I jerk my arm back and pass a blanket to Nash and Frances.

Ten minutes later a young, feather-haired Michael J. Fox struts his stuff as
Back to the Future
begins.

“Hey, Charlie said the snack bar is open and it’s all on him tonight. Wanna go get something to eat?” Frances glows in anticipation of endless free popcorn.

“Definitely.” I jump up, grateful to get away from Brian, if for just a few minutes.

“I’ll go too!” My date is on his feet, moving faster than a superhero.

“No, that’s okay. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll get it.” Of course it could take me a while. Like a few hours.

“I insist on going. I’ll help you carry stuff.”

He walks ahead, and Frances and I follow, resigned to our fate.