The Starter Boyfriend (8 page)

S-curves ran down my sides. Body parts bulged where they should. But no place else.

Just for that one moment, I wasn’t simply Courtney Walsh, who had more questions about her life than answers, and who was simply stepping up to help some guy who needed a date. I was special. I was princess-y.

“Niiiice,” Phillip told me.

I just grinned.

“Do you want to wear it?”

“Yes, please!”

A grin tipped the edges of his mouth. “And have you noticed how the dress is cut to swish when you move?”

I rustled the skirt, feeling the silky material against my legs, then fake-waltzed down to the tiles in my bare feet. Gliding around the store like Maria in “The Sound of Music” in the grand ballroom, I caught sight of Tux, who was definitely “one of my favorite things.” I skipped up into the store window and danced toward him, pretending he was not only a little bit real, but that we were making eye contact.

When Phillip appeared to fill the window’s entryway, reality knocked me on the head.

“We’re the King and Queen of Homecoming!” I cried out quite ridiculously, doing a spin that landed me pressed up against Tux’s chest. “King and Queen of the World!”

I drew a quick breath and glanced back at Phillip, hoping to see him laughing. Instead, he was posed rather rigidly, his hands crossed on his upper arms, his face solidly set. I didn’t know if his brain had rankled back to the make-believe softball game or if he was thinking me immature and stupid. In either case, my thoughts scrambled for a way to make this look better.

“Can you grab my cell phone from the front pocket of my backpack, please, Phillip? You know, under the counter. I’d love you to take a picture of me right now.”

Little lines shot out from his squinting eyes.

“Of the mannequin and me,” I said, careful not to repeat the mistake I made with Adam and refer to Tux as
him
. “So I can show it to my dad. How the dress will look with my date.”

That, and let’s be honest, wouldn’t a photo of Tux and me like this make to-die-for cell phone background?

Phillip’s feet stayed planted in place. “Won’t your father be there when your date picks you up?”

Yikes. Of course. Think, Courtney, think. “Did I say Dad? I meant my mom.”

“Your mother?” His tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

There was a darn good reason for that, and there’d be a snowball fight in hell before I forwarded her this photo. “Yeah, probably because she lives in Detroit.”

He stared down for a long moment, like there was something awful fascinating on the linoleum. “I hope this doesn’t upset you, but I’d thought, you know, well, that your mother had maybe passed away.”

I mugged a grimace for his sake. “No, no, nothing like that. In fact, she called the other night and said she’s getting her life back together. I think she’d love a photo.”

“Totally.” Color brightened his cheeks. “One picture coming up. Don’t move a muscle. Either one of you.”

I laughed, shrill and hard, as he took off. Then I blew out a breath and wrapped my arms around Tux’s torso, putting my face against his, trying to tap into the calmness I seemed to get from him.

I imagined him smiling, revealing a magnificent set of pearly choppers. His breath would smell like spearmint. His kiss would leave my lips warm and tingling like a thick application of beeswax lip balm. And suddenly, my shoulders went slack. Tux’s power was working.

And how ironic was it that my make-believe boyfriend was both a source of my stress with my boss and the key to solving my problems in my life?

Phillip reappeared in the entryway. “Okay, now,” he said, holding my phone in front of his face. “Say cheese!”

* * *

Saffron’s photo appeared on my cell phone display while I was wrestling with my algebra/trig homework on my bed later, taking the place of my new Tux ‘n Me background photo. She and I had called each other’s cells before, but always for specific reasons, not the I’m-just-bored, real friend stuff. Were we about to turn that page?

“Hey, babycakes,” I said into the phone, plopping my head back on a pillow.

“Hold on, Courtney,” Saffron said almost immediately. Then raised to voice to shout, “
Yeah, yeah, Mom, be right there
!” Which was either completely legit, or the oldest power play in the book. “Sorry,” she said, returning to me. “Not a lot of time, but I’m hoping you can help me.”

So the jury on our friendship was still out. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Here’s the thing: I want to give Adam some of what you’re giving Randy on Friday night.”

My ceiling above me went wavy before my eyes. “And
that
would be...”

“A free tux.”

Okay, far better than what I thought she was implying, but still totally bogus. “Randy’s not getting his tux for free.”

“That’s not what Jacy’s saying.”

“
Oh
, like she would know?” I still didn’t even know who she was.

“She’s telling everyone that the
only
reason she’s letting him go with you is a free tux. Since his dad’s between jobs and she feels sorry for him.”

“Wow,” I said, barely knowing where to begin. I burrowed the back of my head deeper into my pillow. “Okay, the out-of-work thing sucks.” And it
might
explain why Mrs. Schiff had been totally manic about the coupon—or manic to begin with. “He’s just getting the standard school discount, nothing more. And then about Jacy
letting
him go with me—”

“Oh, don’t get too heated up over that,” she said and let out a short laugh. “I might have heard that a little bit wrong.”

It was my turn to go quiet.

“I mean, she didn’t exactly say it. She is telling everyone he’s a big jerk and his family’s, like,
poor
now. And she’s not drinking Hatorade over the two of you going together, so it just figures it’s because you’re doing him a favor she approves of.”

Another explanation still made more sense: that Jacy didn’t care about me because I basically didn’t exist..

“And the thing is,” she went on, “I know money’s tight with Adam, too, saving for his competition and everything. I just know he’d look totally buffalicious in a tux.” She let out a noise that was combo exhale/feline growl. “How about we work out a deal where, like, I pay for it, and you just tell him it’s free?”

My face went all lemon drop sour. “No way. My boss would never go for it.”

“You wouldn’t have to tell him.”

“Yeah, Saffron, I would. We keep records of everything.”

“Okay,” she murmured, although I was pretty sure it wasn’t. “So, how’s this? You talk to Adam. About the tuxes, how I’d love it if he wore one, and that silly little discount coupon. And if you can talk him into renting one—it’s not really all that much, right?—I’ll match the full cost. To you, under the table.”

Wait, what? I wasn’t desperate for money.

Oh, yeah. I’d told Phillip I was saving for St. Ansgar’s, and of course, told Flea the same. Because I could hardly admit I worked at Tux Everlasting to avoid her and the rest of my friends’ drinking. And it was no secret that my teammates talked.

This was one misunderstanding that could not be cleared up. I did what any self-respecting liar would do: I lied some more.

“Sounds good, Saffron. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Maybe even get him to go with one of the designer labels, with a microfiber dress shirt and fourteen carat gold cufflinks. The real pricey stuff. Since you’re matching his bill, of course. And I,” I said and swallowed hard, “need the money for college.”

“Go crazy, babycakes. Just make sure the pants are real tight across his butt. Just not too tight or I won’t be able to get them off him after the dance.”

A whole bunch of initials sprung to mind, like T.M.I. and O.M.G., but I covered them with a laugh and a “T.T.Y.L.”

After hanging up, I lay there on my bed, like dead weight. I knew I’d never try to collect with her on our so-called deal, but also that I’d be following through with Adam. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I almost couldn’t wait to let Adam know just how deep his girlfriend-to-be’s pockets were when it came to him, and the lengths she was willing to go to own him, body and soul.

In fact, I suddenly had an idea about to take my performance up a notch, to “show” Saffron how I was trying my best, while rubbing Adam’s nose in what a total train wreck his date would be.

I jumped off the bed, energized.
Go big or go home
.

Chapter 9

I spotted Adam shuffling into school that next morning, his hair damp and crinkly, his eyes narrowed as if in mind-melting thought. I suspected he was reliving his finest moments of the morning, when he’d pulled off some complicated surf maneuver or maintained balance in a perilous position—and was almost surprised his board wasn’t absent-mindedly dragging behind him by an ankle strap.

Playing it safe, I did the standard I-don’t-see-you-either thing.

Later, at lunch, a printed-out copy of the Tux ‘n Me picture folded and in my back pocket, I motored my chicken strips around the courtyard. The dance was at three days and counting, and if I was going to honor that so-called promise to Saffron, I couldn’t afford any more delays.

Unfortunately, Adam wasn’t easy to find. Whereas a person could go to the bank on me having lunch at the varsity softball table, Adam could be any number of places with any number of people.

It was with dogged determination and quite a few, “Hey, you seen Adam?” questions that I found him in a circle of poker players out behind the language labs.

“You!” I charged, one hand arched in a finger-point, the other cupping my lunch.

He looked up and widened his eyes with forced innocence. “Me?”

“You, sir,” I said. “With me. Now.”

He snorted a laugh, dropped his hand of cards and scissored up on his flip-flop feet. His buddies, mostly surf stoners in faded tees and dark shades, murmured real mature sounds that came out like, “whooooa” and “ooooh.”

A short guy with a zirconium nose stud went for combination syllables and words. “You in deep doo-doo,
dude
,” he said, drawing that last word out and out and out.

“Nah, Cody,” Adam rebuffed. “She’s cool.”

A sunburned guy looked at me, then at Adam. “Hey, that’s not Saffron.”

“Nope,” Adam said, going fishing in his side pockets of his print board shorts. “This is Courtney.”

“Excellent,” said one of the murmurers.

“
Two
babes,” added Nose Ring. “Kinky.”

Adam tossed a couple bucks down into the circle. “I’m out. Later, dudes.”

He and I fell into step toward the courtyard, but I waited until we’d rounded a bend before razzing him. “Hanging with the National Honor Society, I see.”

Muscles jerked on the sides of his mouth. “They’re harmless. And the only people I can beat at poker.”

I smiled. “You’re a real card shark, huh?”

He reached out for one of my remaining chicken strips. I pushed the whole tray at him. The honey-mustard sauce was almost gone, anyway.

“Let’s just say that pretty much the only profit I’d make in Vegas would be in free cocktails. And you know when it comes to drinking, my give-a-damn gets busted.” He wagged his brow. “So what’s up?”

“Saffron sent me. She wants you in a tux Friday night.”

He scrunched his brow. Looking kind of like one of those pug puppies. A cute one. “She tried that on me already.”

I wondered if that had been before or after our phone call, then decided it wasn’t important. “Well, I’m supposed to talk you into it. She even offered to pay me.”

“Pay you? Why?”

“Because tuxes are hot, Adam.” I thought of the picture of my sizzling boyfriend in my pocket, the one I’d planned to show him in a mock attempt to close the deal, but realized I had a much better way to go. “And she’s got even hotter plans for you later.”

I figured I should make a kissy face or nudge him or something real middle school, but suddenly, all I could do was dive back at the chicken strips. What if I looked at him and saw previews of their backseat fun playing out in his eyes?

“Crap,” he said.

My head jerked up. No fireworks in that face. (Although maybe in mine now?)

“We’re just going as friends. I told her that.”

“Yeah, friends with benefits.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat, then pitched the empty container in a passing trash can.

“How much,” he asked, slipping a hand in his back pocket, “is she offering to pay you?”

“Wait,” I said, stopping to stare into his eyes. “You’re actually considering this?”

“How much?”

“She’ll match whatever you pay. She’s hoping you can get a parent or relative to cover it for you.”

He puckered his lips as if in consideration.

Making my brain rumble into gear. Phillip loved it when I brought in new rentals. Still, the real peek-behind-the-curtain truth why my pulse was suddenly taking off? I’d missed out on Adam’s usher fitting for my dad’s and Jennifer’s first wedding attempt, and of course, there wouldn’t be a fitting this time.

Plus, I’d get to step up as his style consultant—and how much fun to plan and try different options, to find the best ways to bring out the blue in his eyes and the gold flecks in his hair? And then I’d get to see him model it, and maybe help with alterations.

What a wickedly wonderful benefit to
our
friendship.

I was pretty sure I was smiling like a lunatic when he looked over at me. Which I thought explained why he stopped short on the pavement. To tease me.

“Say I went with this,” he said instead. “She’d pay you, and what, you and I would split the cash?”

I brought my slip-in sneakers to a squeaky stop. “If that’s what you want.”

“Fifty bucks each?”

“More or less, depending on what you order.” My brain took off again. I didn’t normally work mid-week, but Phillip would have no problem with me dropping by to make a guaranteed sale. “So, you want to do this?”