The Trouble With Scarecrows (The Trouble With Men Book 2) (2 page)

Chapter 2

Neal stormed into his apartment and slammed the door. “Son-of-a-bitch!” He should have handled that better. Not that it would’ve mattered, obviously Brenda Fisher had her mind made up.

He put on a pair of shorts and then headed straight for the workout bench that was behind the couch in the living room. He laid back and grasped the bar, bringing the weights down to his chest and back up, doing five reps. Brenda had given him two lousy choices: give up the dream of going to culinary school or live on the street.

His decision to go back to school had been difficult, but it promised him the future he wanted. He and Larry White, his friend and now megastar horror writer, had enrolled at Texas A&M at the same time.

But he’d dropped out when his mom asked him to help with the family roofing business because his dad was ill. When his dad died, truths and debts came to life, and it turned into a huge disaster; Neal still wasn’t talking to his mom.

By the time it was all over, Neal found himself in limbo. No job, no money, no credit. And no matter how many times he told himself he didn’t have a choice but to drop out, he still felt like a loser.

Over the years, he had stayed in touch with his college buddy, Larry, and knew he needed an assistant. It wasn’t his ideal career choice, but it paid the rent. When Haley stepped into the picture and started “helping” with Larry’s career, of course Neal had been pissed that she was doing his job. But when he’d talked to Larry about it, Larry reminded him of the bigger picture. One, the assistant job was supposed to be temporary. Two, Neal was really too high-strung to babysit Larry, which seemed to be the job half the time. And three, since he had a place to stay, rent-free, he would be able to pursue his true passion, food.

After Neal got over the being mad part, Haley seemed to have happened for a reason. It had been the perfect time in his life to make the change. He’d thought he was finally past all the problems, thought he finally had his shit together. All of his savings went to pay his tuition in full to The Art Institute of Houston. He worked as a fry cook down the road at the Sugar ‘N’ Cream diner, which was enough to pay his living expenses, but not enough for rent. If he had to pay rent, he’d have to get another job and that would mean he wouldn’t have time for school.

He sat up on the edge of the bench, rubbing his hands down the side of his face. Now what was he going to do? Maybe he could get a refund before classes began next month. The thought made him sick.

Neal stood up and went to the kitchen. He needed something a little more therapeutic so he could think straight. He placed his cutting board and sharpest knife on the counter before grabbing some vegetables out of the refrigerator.

As he began to chop, and his mind drifted, and despite his frustration, he couldn’t stop his smile as he remembered meeting Brenda Fisher in all of her glory. He’d been surprised by the shower curtain being yanked open, but when he’d seen the blond beauty standing there naked he’d about lost his breath. She had a tight, petite body with just enough curves to set his heart racing. He shook his head, snapping himself out of it.
So what? She has a nice rack? Big deal.

Neal had already julienned a bag of carrots, chopped a few bell peppers, and was dicing his third onion when he heard a knock at the door.

“Hey,” Neal said, opening the door to Zadora. She wore a long dress and no shoes. Her dark hair was up in a ponytail, and she wore little square-framed glasses that made her green eyes abnormally huge. She looked like she always did, except he couldn’t remember ever seeing such a deep frown on her face. Not that he’d known her for very long. When he’d moved in, a month earlier, Zadora already lived there. At first, things were awkward, but now he thought of her as a friend. A girl friend with no sexual tension, which was nice.

“Why did you tell Miss Fisher I was psychic?” Zadora asked after Neal ushered her in and asked what was wrong.

“Because you are.” Their first dinner conversation had taken a strange turn after she’d found out he knew Larry and Haley.
Oh gosh, I hope you won’t feel uncomfortable around me because of the ghost thing.
She’d assumed he’d known something he hadn’t, so he’d played it cool while she explained her connection with Larry, Haley, and ghosts.

She’d told him that a few months back, Maximilian had helped a ghost in Larry’s apartment cross over to the other side. Of course, Neal thought she was insane. And Zadora must had mistaken that expression as fear because she told him he didn’t have to worry since ghosts no longer lived in the apartment, which was good.

Zadora spoke to him now with panic in her voice. “I can’t predict the future or help a living person. If there is a ghost within the walls I occupy, it usually appears. I’m not psychic; I’m just a ghost magnet.”

Neal rubbed his head, noting he hadn’t shaved that morning due to the naked woman standing in his bathroom. “Okay, so you’re not a psychic.”

“And I had asked that we keep it all between us.”

“You did? Oh.” Now, as he thought back, she did say something about not telling anyone because things got weird. They hadn’t ever talked about it again, and he no longer thought of her as crazy, just a little quirky. He wondered why it had popped into his head this morning. Looking at Zadora, he sure wished he would have kept his big mouth shut.

“This is bad. This is bad.” She sniffled and put her hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut.

“No, no-no-no-no, don’t do that.” Neal took a couple of steps toward Zadora and patted her arm. “Don’t cry! It’s no big deal. Not worth the waterworks.”

“You don’t understand. Maximilian let me keep the apartment under his name so I couldn’t be traced.”

Neal stared at the timid girl for a second, suddenly doubting everything he’d assumed about her. “You’re running from someone? Who?”

“I just don’t want people to know that I can contact the other side. Because people start talking, and then I get popular.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. But Brenda doesn’t know about the ghost thing. She thinks you’re a psychic.”

“I don’t want people to think I’m anything.”

“Well, did you tell her you’re not?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She introduced herself, said she was planning on selling the house in a couple of weeks, and then proceeded to tell me her life story. Some of which was quite personal.”

“Like what?”

“That she was in love with a man, and then he’d slept with her secretary, who he thought was a prostitute. And how devastated she is now that he’s going to marry the whore.”

“I knew I hit a nerve when I told her about Larry and Haley.” Neal remembered that second when Brenda’s face had gone white and her eyes had exposed raw hurt and pain. He didn’t know much about Brenda and Larry’s relationship, only that Brenda had been his fiancée in college until they’d broke off their engagement, staying friends with benefits until Haley Monroe. When Larry broke it off with Brenda so nonchalantly in the middle of his book signing, Neal had actually felt a little sorry for her. But now, after their confrontation, Neal wished Larry could break up with her again.

Zadora adjusted her glasses. “Haley? Maximilian’s friend? I met her here, at the ghost evacuation. She’s a real nice girl.”

“Yeah, she’s all right. So what else did Brenda say?”

“She wants me to help her move on. To find someone suitable for her. Apparently, she’s tried to go out and meet men, but the only ones who talk to her are arrogant, loud jerks. She said they’re keeping the right man from even approaching her.”

“Huh,” Neal said. For some reason that sounded familiar. He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. A scarecrow.”

“A scarecrow?”

“My cousin Rocky told me about it a while back. He goes out with these girls, telling them he’s going to be their scarecrow and scare all the crows away. You know, the jerks who can’t take a hint. Kind of like the opposite of a wingman.”

“What’s a wingman?”

Neal smiled. “Never mind. You were saying?”

She shrugged. “I just don’t know what to tell her.”

“The truth. That you’re not a psychic nor her shrink.”

Zadora nodded. “I tried. I told her I was an accountant, but she wouldn’t stop talking, and then she received a phone call and had to leave. But you’re right. I’ll tell her. It’s just going to be weird now because she told me all those intimate particulars. She might think I’m some sort of pervert who didn’t even try to stop her even though I did. I really did. She mentioned something about coming back over to hear my brilliant insight.” Zadora turned toward the door. “I’ll see you later . . . unless she tells me to pack my bags today.”

“Wait!” Neal called.

“Yes?” She turned and frowned at him.

“I have a light bulb over my head.” He pointed. “See it?”

Zadora shook her head.

Neal motioned for her to come back in. He led her to the living room and guided her to sit down on the couch. He tried to control his excitement. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell her that you’re not a psychic.”

She looked at him sideways. “What are you talking about? Why not?”

“Because I want to help her find a guy so she can get over Larry.”

Zadora squinted, obviously not believing him.

“And myself. I want to help myself. And you. I want to help you. Listen, if she sells, the new owners might not even keep this as apartments. The place is old. They might even tear it down and turn it into a parking lot, or they might simply make you sign your own lease, putting your name out there for whoever you’re hiding from to find it.”

Zadora’s eyes flashed, and for a second Neal thought she looked downright angry. “I didn’t think about that,” she said in a voice a bit deeper than normal. “But Max’s lease is up in a week anyway.”

“If Brenda doesn’t sell, maybe he’ll sign a new one for you. So just hear me out. I might have a way to keep her from selling the house. And you get to avoid an awkward conversation . . . but you’d still have to talk to her.”

Zadora’s face seemed to ease back to normal—sweet, placid. “Okay. Go on.”

“All you have to do is tell her exactly what I say.”

Chapter 3

Brenda took a bite of the half-eaten energy bar she’d found in her purse. The morning had left her exhausted and starving. And of course there was no food to be found in the kitchen. She moaned at the thought of having to go the grocery store later.

She sat on one of the barstools in the dining room eyeing her surroundings, mentally redecorating. The space was a nice size considering the house used to be a sole residence. It needed to be cleared, painted, and maybe the floors restored. Underneath all the zebra and cheetah rugs, it appeared to have the original floors throughout. Not bad. Brenda wondered why Regina, the former owner, had left almost everything: furniture, dishes, towels. She knew Regina had moved out of the country with her boyfriend, so maybe she’d wanted a completely new start. At that moment, Brenda thought the idea sounded inviting.

Earlier, Brenda had unloaded her car so she could put on a pair of underwear. She could really go for a bath but wanted to finish her conversation with the girl across the hall first. The psychic. Even though she wasn’t sure she believed in the whole telepathy and mentalism thing, she already felt a little better by just talking it out. She hadn’t realized how much gunk she had clammed up inside her.

Zadora hadn’t said a word, though. She was kind of a quiet psychic. Brenda had never met one before so perhaps Zadora needed time to process or whatever she did to get her answers from wherever she received them from.

“I’ve hit rock bottom,” Brenda said to herself as she popped the last bite of the bar into her mouth. Three months ago, she would’ve never thought about taking advice from anyone, especially about men and love. Who needed love? She had Larry.

Well, she used to have Larry, and as soon as she didn’t, she realized how much she had depended on him. Brenda had thought she could compare their relationship to couples who’d been married for ten years. It fit her description of a good partnership, one in which you respected and expected.

But now she had to accept that her feelings had been one-sided. According to Larry, he’d never loved her. He said she was like his drug; a habit he had to kick. That might have gone both ways because the withdrawals from Larry White had just about destroyed her.

It had affected all aspects of her life. She’d lost a multi-million dollar deal for one of her clients, which could have been avoided. She had gained twenty pounds, drank more than she ever had, and her colleagues had stopped inviting her to parties and even work-related social gatherings. She’d thought that people accepted her as opinionated and forgave her occasional imperiousness, but then she’d overheard a colleague say, “There’s a difference between being an in-control bitch and an insecure, manipulative wicked witch.” It had taken a long time for her to gain respect in the male-centric office, and she knew comments like that would undermine everything she’d worked for. It had made her realize that her behavior had gone from assertive to tyrannical.

So this was her taking time off. Besides, she hadn’t taken a vacation in three years. She needed to get her life back together, make some changes. She had decided to completely remodel her apartment. She’d also cut her hair, which had been waist-length since high school, and she got back into Tai Chi Chuan to find harmony. Plus, the self-defense exercises might prove beneficial. The drinking, well, she’d have to take that one day at a time.

Coming to the multiplex had been on her list of things to do to get back on track. But it had blown up in her face. She realized she wasn’t over Larry at all, and she still held on to a little hope that he would come back. Nevertheless, hearing the word ‘fiancée’ had brought her back to reality with a jolt.

A couple minutes later, Brenda knocked on Zadora’s door and waited. She planned on talking to this perfect stranger about her life again. Because, honestly, she could use any help she could get right now. She knocked again and when there was still no answer, she turned to leave.

Neal’s apartment door opened, and Zadora walked out. “Oh hi, Miss Fisher.”

Brenda nodded toward Neal’s door. “Are you and Neal close?”

“We’re good friends.” Zadora pushed up her glasses.

Even though Zadora’s face was makeup-free, her hair was simple, and her clothes were plain and too big for her, Brenda recognized that Zadora was one of those natural beauties who were clueless as to what they had. “So y’all aren’t sleeping together?”

“What? No.” Zadora’s eyes darted to the floor.

On one hand, Brenda thought, it was a shame that Zadora didn’t know how to use what she had to her advantage. On the other hand, the less competition in the world, the better. Brenda knew she looked good, but she had to work for it. And now, after everything, she was going to have to work even harder to get back into shape. “Okay, never mind all of that. Can we finish our conversation inside?”

The first thing Brenda had noticed when she’d visited earlier was how Zadora’s apartment almost looked like no one lived there. Nothing what Brenda thought a spiritualist’s dwelling would be like. What little furniture Zadora did have looked new and cheap, and the entire apartment smelled like a newly opened shower curtain. She had to do something with it before she started showing the house. Maybe she could hire one of those companies to stage the place.

Brenda sat down at a small round table and Zadora excused herself to go make coffee. Zadora had acted friendly the first time Brenda had met her, but now she seemed nervous and hadn’t made eye contact.

When Zadora came back with the coffee, Brenda asked, “Is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine.” Zadora set the two cups on the table.

“Well then, if it’s a matter of payment—”

“I don’t want any money.” She almost looked offended.

Brenda took a sip of her coffee, peering at Zadora. Something was off but she knew better than to open a can of worms. She couldn’t deal with someone else’s problems at the moment, so she wasn’t about to ask what was the matter. “Have you had time to do whatever it is you do? Do you have any suggestions for me? What do you think I should do now? Should I start dating again? Should I wait a little while and just take some time to figure everything out?”

“You need a scarecrow,” Zadora said.

“A what? A scarecrow?”

Zadora nodded.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Brenda said.

“It’s the opposite of a wingman.”

Brenda sat waiting for more explanation.

“A wingman is—”

“I know what a wingman is. What’s a scarecrow?”

Zadora nodded. “It’s a dating decoy used to scare away any, you know, ‘crows’ who are giving you unwanted attention. The scarecrow gets rid of them so that the right man can have a shot. That’s what you said was the problem, right?”

“Huh. I’ve never heard the term before. And this is what you saw in your visions? This is what I need to do to find a decent man who won’t jerk me around? Who won’t sleep with other women and pretend I never existed?”

“Yes,” Zadora whispered.

“And where do I find this scarecrow? Is he in the phone book?”

“He needs to be strong, confident, and intimidating. So that when he tells someone to get lost, they will.”

“What am I supposed to do? Go up to this guy who fits your description and ask him to be my scarecrow? Can you at least point me in the right direction?”

“That is something you have to figure out for yourself. Oh, by the way, I almost forgot that Neal invited us to his apartment for lunch.”

“Really? Neal? Invited me? You must be mistaken.”

“He didn’t want to ask you himself because he was afraid y’all got off on the wrong foot. He asked me to ask you as sort of an apology. I was headed to your room to invite you when we bumped into one another.”

“Really? So is he as good as he probably thinks he is?”

“Yeah, he’s really good,” Zadora said with a gleam in her eye. It was the first sign of life since Brenda had met her.

“Okay, I’ll go. So help me, I’m curious. I’m sort of a foodie. I’ve dined in every fine restaurant in Houston, Dallas, all over Texas, and every chance I get to go to New York I hit the four stars, so he has a lot to live up to. I don’t impress easily.”

Zadora stood up. “Are you ready?”

“Now?”

Zadora nodded.

Brenda’s stomach rumbled in acceptance.