It's a Waverly Life (11 page)

We sat down at the bar, and I leaned forward to check out the shirt he was wearing under an unbuttoned checkered flannel. It said, “I’m Even Better Looking in Person.”

I laughed. “How long have you been dressing like this?”

“A while. I like to keep things interesting.”

“Well, you’re certainly doing a good job.” I patted his shoulder. “You’re nothing if not interesting.”

“Why, thanks. Now what can I get you to drink?”

We ordered a couple Blue Moons, and then he turned to me. “So did you hear about Larry?”

“Larry from the
Sun
?”

“The one and only.”

“What happened to him?”

He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Gone.”

“What? Why?”

“Laid off.”

“Really, but when? I was just there yesterday.”

“A couple hours after you left. I
told
you there was trouble brewing.” He pretended to churn a vat of butter.

“Oh my God.” Suddenly I remembered the unhappy look on Larry’s face when I’d seen him the day before. “You were totally right.”

He took a drink of his beer and set it on the bar. “I’m always right. Haven’t you realized that yet?”

“So what happens now?”

“I heard they’re handing the department over to Eloise Zimmerman.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“You’ve never heard of Eloise Zimmerman?”

“Who?”

“You’ve never even heard of her
hair
?”

“I work part-time, remember?”

“Okay, true. Eloise Zimmerman’s been at the
Sun
since…like…a hundred years before we were born, and let’s just say she’s…”

He paused.

“She’s what?”

“Whacked.” He took another drink of his beer. “Yep, that about sums it up. She’s whacked, and she has this matching crazy black beehive hairdo. It’s totally old school. Amazing, actually.”

“Wonderful. And she’s my new editor?”

“For the time being, at least.”

“Did anyone else get laid off?”

“I think about twenty percent of the company.”

“Oh man. I wonder if I’m next?”

“Could be. I have no idea what they’re paying you, though. And you don’t get benefits or anything, so maybe you’re safe.”

I played with my earring. “Hmm, I’m basically working for minimum wage given how much time I spend on my column, so maybe you’re right.”

He held his beer up to mine. “Here’s to being cheap.”

I laughed and clinked my glass against his. “You should put
that
on a shirt.”

We ordered two more beers, and before long we were a bit tipsy. Or at least I was.

“So Eloise Zimmerman really has a beehive?”

He nodded. “It’s unbelievable. High and black, with some white stripes on the side.” He lifted his hands about a foot over his head. “From the right angle, it could pass for a skunk.”

“Wow.”

“It’s phenomenal. And I’ve heard that when she gets angry, she can yell pretty loud and shake her head, and sometimes she shakes it so hard that some strands come loose from the hive. That’s when you
know
she’s pissed.”

“Lovely. I’m really looking forward to that.”

“I haven’t seen it, but I hear you could charge admission.”

I lifted my glass to my lips. “Our librarian in high school had a beehive. But she was nice, and she never yelled. I bet raising your voice breaks some librarian code.”

“I slept with the librarian when I was in high school.”

I nearly spat out my beer. “What?”

“It was amazing. And she definitely raised her voice.”

“You slept with the
librarian
? Who does that?”

He pointed to himself and grinned. “That would be this guy.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“It was a good time. Oh yeah it was.”

“So was she right out of college or something?”

He shook his head. “Oh no, she was old.”

“Please, she was probably like twenty-five. That just
seemed
old back then.” I took another sip of my beer.

He shook his head again. “No, I mean she was
old
. She might be dead now.”

This time I did spit out my beer.

“Oh my God, you’re hilarious.” I reached for a napkin to blot the beer off myself and the counter. “How are you not a stand-up comedian?”

He shrugged. “There’s still time. Actually, I
have
been kicking around the idea of a TV show.”

“A TV show?”

He nodded.

“A TV show about what?”

“Me, of course.”

“A TV show about
you
?”

He nodded again.

“How so?”

“I was thinking it could be like a workshop, or perhaps a clinic. Whatever the format, it would teach people how to be like me.”

“You want to make a TV show to teach people how to be like
you
?”

“Exactly. Not that anyone could ever
totally
be like me, of course. But it would be something aspiring awesome people could do. It would be like a boot camp for how to be awesome.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Of course I am. I’m amazing. Now let’s order some real drinks.”

I waved my hands in front of me. “No thanks, I don’t do so well with those.”

He scoffed. “Please. We’re ordering something amazing from that bartender right over there, although I’ve chatted with the dude before, and I know he prefers to be called a mixologist.”

“A mixologist? What’s that?”

“My point exactly. It’s like trying to call a mechanic an
automobile surgeon
. Hello? Dude, you’re a bartender.”

I laughed. “You can order whatever you want. I just feel safer ordering beer or wine.”

“Why? Mixed drinks are fun.”

“I know, and that’s exactly the point. But you can go really quickly from having like, one vodka Red Bull, to waking up and asking yourself,
What happened last night?
You know what I mean?”

He laughed. “Oh yes, I do, and that’s the genius of it.” Then he turned and ordered two vodka Red Bulls.

I stood up to use the restroom. “Okay, but I’m only having one.”

Three drinks later, Nick and I were still sitting at the bar. I figured that was the safest position for me to be in because I knew I’d wobble if I tried to stand up.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “So, what’s your deal? You show up at the office once a week and write about romance, yet you aren’t married, and you don’t appear to have a boyfriend. What’s the story there?”

It was bound to happen. I was about to be exposed as the little guy behind the curtain in
The Wizard of Oz.

“I almost got married once,” I blurted, then quickly covered my mouth with my hand. Stupid mixologist.

“Really? I had no idea. When?”

“A little over two years ago.”

“What happened?”

I picked up my drink. “Want to know the truth?”

He nodded. “Always.”

“He called it off two weeks before the wedding.”

Nick suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Oh man, I had no idea. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m over it now, finally. It took a long time, though.”

“That really blows. Did he tell you why?”

I cleared my throat. “He said he wasn’t in love with me.”

“Oh man, that’s brutal.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun.”

“So what about now? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, not really.”
Because I’m an idiot,
I thought.

“Do you want a boyfriend?”

I tried to smile. “Doesn’t everyone want a boyfriend?”

“I certainly don’t.”

I pushed his shoulder. “So witty. So, so witty.”

“So is there a guy in the picture now?”

“Yes…sort of…I mean…yes…I think so.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“Well, I’m pretty gun-shy given what happened to me before…and it’s complicated because he doesn’t live here, so I’m…and I’m…just trying to take it really slowly. I’m also hoping I don’t blow it. Although I fear I may already have.”

He laughed. “
Just hoping I don’t blow it.
Now that would be a great aspiration to put in your
Sun
bio, since you’re the resident relationship
expert
and all.”

“Thanks for that, Nick. So what about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Not currently.”

“Do you want one?”

“Do I want a girlfriend? Sure. Do I want more than that? No.”

“
More than that
as in a wife and kids?”

“Bingo.”

I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “So you’re not cut out for a life in the suburbs?”

He paused for a moment before answering. “Maybe someday in the future, but definitely not yet.”

I completely understand
.

“In fact, sometimes I have nightmares about picket fences…and little people,” he said.

“Little people?”

“You know,
little people
.” He made quotation marks with his fingers. “Kids.”

“Nick Prodromou, you’re crazy. Although I’ve recently had a nightmare or two of my own about kids, so I guess I’m crazy too.”

“Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat. It’s terrifying.”

I laughed. “Seriously, you need to think about stand-up comedy. I’m not joking.”

“So hey, speaking of your column, I have a question for you.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward me.

“Talk to me.” I lowered my voice too.

“I sort of have a dilemma in the romance area.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You? I’m surprised.”

He sat back up straight. “Why do you say that?”

I took a sip of my drink and set it down on the bar. “With the
baby daddy
T-shirts and bowling team stories and all, I just figured you weren’t one for romance.”

“Okay, I’m a little inebriated, but I have a confession to make.” He leaned in close to me and put his hand on my knee. “You see, the thing is, I have a crush on this really cute girl from the office.”

I felt my hands go cold. “You do?”

“Totally. And when I see her, I get so nervous that sometimes I end up coming off a little cocky.”

“You? Cocky? Never.”

“I know that might sound hard to believe, but it’s true. And remember that this is just between you and me. And the mixologist. Damn talented, that man is. One more round of drinks and I may end up trying to pay our bill with a Starbucks gift card.”

I opened my purse. “I think I have a library card in my wallet if that gets declined, although now that I think about it, you probably still have yours from high school.”

“Well done. So back to my crush. Can I tell you who it is?”

I didn’t reply, but he leaned closer toward me and put his mouth right next to my ear. I could feel his breath as I held mine.

He hesitated for a moment, and I wished I could keep him from speaking.

“It’s Ivy,” he said softly.

I sat up straight. “You have a thing for Ivy?”

“Big time.”

“But doesn’t she have a serious boyfriend?”

“Unfortunately so.”

“Oh Nick, I’m sorry. Are you going to tell her?”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

“Are you crazy?”

“Well, why not?”

“How about because she
loves
the dude?”

I put my index finger on my chin. “You make a good point.”

“That and the fact that I just told you I’m not ready for anything super serious yet. And you know how Ivy’s totally itching to get married.”

“Another excellent point.” I tilted my head to one side. “Hmm…you think maybe she’s your parallel universe girl?”

“My what?”

I shifted on the barstool and put my hands in front of me, palms facing each other with all ten fingers pointing up. “Your parallel universe girl. She’s perfect for you in every way, except for the inconvenient fact that she happened to meet someone else first. So even though you and she totally click, it just can’t happen this time around. But in a parallel universe, you’d be a great couple. Or amazing, as you would say.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe
you
should write to my column.” I smiled and held my drink up.

“And maybe not. This information is hardly for public consumption, got it?”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “I have to say, you have really surprised me tonight. Nick Prodromou is a total softy. Who would have guessed?”

“Hey now, if you tell anyone, this little buddy-buddy thing we have going on here is
so
over.”

I laughed and stood up, steadying myself with one hand on the bar. “Okay, okay, although to me you are now the tin man from
The Wizard of Oz
. And while I’ve really enjoyed visiting Prodromou Gulch, drunk Dorothy here really needs to get herself back to Kansas.”

“Ivy’s from Kansas,” he said with a drunken smile. “Maybe you can bring her with you the next time you come to town.”