My Big Nose and Other Natural Disasters (15 page)

He smiled. "So let me guess. Your mom's wacky diets have made you hate everything but burgers and chips and maybe ice cream sundaes."

"Pretty much. How did you—?"

"You were a little bitter about peanut butter back when I met you at the carnival."

"Oh, yeah, right. Guess I've starved too many brain cells." I shivered as another gust of air blew through the valley. "It's July. Why is it so cold?"

"Wear this." Tom pulled off his shirt. "I'm not wet."

"I can't take your shirt." I tried not to stare at the curly blond hairs fluffing all around his big built-with-hours-of-free-weights muscles. I slipped the musky boy-smelling shirt over my head. The pit area was a tad damp, but when had a boy ever loaned me his shirt?

"Trust me. You're doing me a favor," Tom said. "It looks much better on you—brings out your eyes." Tom kind of flexed his muscles in a showing-off way. Again, I tried not to totally stare.

"Thanks, I guess."
Come on, Jory. Try to channel Kayla Neal, Hannah, anyone.
"I mean, thanks a whole bunch."

"Come on. We've got more burgers than all those skinny company wives will eat."

"Won't they know that I don't, you know, belong?" I glanced over at Hannah and Megan, deep in some conversation about the stupid Tyler issue.

"Naw, you're wearing the official shirt."

"I am starving." I followed Tom into the pavilion. A bunch of kids chased one another around, sticking their wet hands into various bags of chips. Thankfully, Tom opened a new bag and piled my plate with chips, a cheeseburger, and three brownies.

Tom nodded at me with approval. "Bet you're hungry after all that swimming."

"You saw me?" Hadn't I looked like a complete idiot? Did he see me screaming on the bottom of the pool like a mental patient? I glanced away to a group of dads by the barbecue, their beer bellies hanging out. The giant bald guy had to be Tom's dad.

"Yeah, I tried calling to you, but you were so focused," Tom said. "My coach would be impressed. You never told me you were a swimmer."

"I'm not. I was just, you know, upset." I twisted my wet hair into a knot again.

"Boy problems? I saw you leaving the movies with some guy and not looking too happy. That dandy giving you trouble? Is he here? I'll beat him up." He smacked his fist into his open palm.

I laughed, even though the thought of Tom hitting Tyler made a nervous shiver shoot through my stomach.

"What are you doing, spying on me?" I licked ketchup and mustard that had dripped down my chin. Great. I follow a half-decent comment with a disgusting tongue maneuver.

"You're the one stalking
me.
First the movies, now my dad's company picnic. I'm going to have to get a restraining order."

I giggled, sounding stupid to myself, but I noticed a couple of girls staring at us and whispering and that made me feel kind of good. But I couldn't help wondering if Tom had experience with restraining orders. Though maybe he could help me out with Gold Dust West Stalker Guy.

"More like
friend
problems. My friend Hannah, the one from the carnival, dragged me and my other friend Megan out here to get us to start talking to each other again." I shook my head back and forth and rolled my eyes, hoping to look alluring, not demented.

"She trying to steal your boyfriend or something?"

"God, you're nosy!" I clapped my hand over my mouth. Oh, no. I used the
N
word. Jory Rule #1: Never draw attention to your nose in any manner, especially when talking to a guy who actually
has
six-pack abs, even if they are covered with curly blond hairs and freckles, which makes him look a little bit like a hairy slice of chocolate chip cake.

"What's wrong? You don't want to talk about it?"

I took another bite of my burger and shook my head while I chewed. I'm sure I looked fabulous—like the cows in the pastures near Washoe Lake.

When my mouth was empty, I finally said, "It's a long story. Long and—"

"Jory! There you are. Tom! What are you doing here?" Hannah's eyes popped, but she quickly moved into adorable mode. "You've got to tell José that I'm still waiting for him to answer my text message. It's been, like, three whole days."

Hannah was still texting José? I had no idea. Tom mumbled something about José camping with his family but he'd be sure to tell him. He told Hannah that José talked about her all the time; the two girls who had whispered about me shot daggers at Hannah.

I munched handfuls of chips while Hannah engaged in the kind of darling banter I could never manage when talking to an actual human being. Finally, as I finished my first brownie, Hannah said, "Jory, we've got to go. Megan—" She bobbed her head and nodded toward the car. "I've got all your stuff packed up."

"I could give you a ride home," Tom said to me.

I hesitated for a moment. Maybe this was my chance. I imagined Tom pulling into my driveway; we'd sit in his car for an hour as I amazed him with my clever conversation; he'd take me in his arms and—Okay, maybe not. In reality, I'd spend the whole drive trying to think of something to say besides "nice car" and "nice weather," plus Hannah would be mad at me for letting Megan down; my hair would dry in some crazy formation like meringue gone wild; and I wouldn't get any more details about Tyler. Not that I cared. That much. Really.

"No, thanks. I better go." As I followed Hannah back to Bugsy, I turned and waved goodbye to Tom, wishing I'd said something better, something that made me sound a little bit interested. I should have at least given him my phone number. I could've written it in mustard on a paper plate—or in sunscreen on his impressive muscles.

When we got to the parking lot, Megan sat in the back seat.
Hannah gets to drive Bugsy? Things must be bad.
It wasn't until we were passing Meadowood Mall that I realized I was still wearing Tom's shirt.

MARGARITA MADNESS

I pulled into the Mexican restaurant's parking lot in a bad mood, especially for a Wednesday. No Gideon. No luscious lips. No long lashes. No wild black curly hair. No toxic toenails. Helen had helped me carry the cakes into the kitchen, making small talk. A couple of older ladies whispered about me. I'd wanted to ask about him, but I didn't want to appear interested/desperate/stalkerish. After all, he pretty much thought I was a big-nosed freak who obsessed about feet.

Finally, after coming back into the kitchen for the third time, Helen said, "Gideon's studying music at Stanford for the next two weeks." She smiled. "I could tell by the way you kept looking back toward his room that you wanted to know."

Was I totally staring at his door?
Oh, God, Jory, get a grip. Why do I even like him? He's a total goofball who plays the violin. Dorky, right? And he's not all that good-looking because of the nose thing. We could never breed. Plus, he's some kind of delinquent because he got kicked out of school.
Hopefully, Megan would talk some sense into me over lunch. Though I had a feeling it would be all Tyler this and Tyler that. Hannah had been talking with Megan all week and bugging me a thousand times a day to talk to her myself. So here I was at the Mexican place. Ready to talk. Actually, I felt kind of relieved that Tyler didn't like me because he didn't like girls. That meant it wasn't a looks thing.

I didn't see Bugsy parked outside, but I went in to get a table anyway. Megan waved me over from a booth by the windows where she was sitting with two older guys in suits, all of them sharing a jumbo margarita with four straws. One of the guys scooted over and made room for me as Megan gushed, "Guys, this is my bestest friend Jory. Jory, these are the smartest law clerks ever. Tony and Michael. So finish your story, Tony." She looked up at him, practically batting her eyelashes.

I tried to catch Megan's eye, but she stared at Tony while sipping through her straw and nodding as if his legal mumbo jumbo were actually interesting.

I sat there feeling young and stupid with my childishly braided hair, Minnie Mouse T-shirt, and jeans. Then again, Megan acted a little
too
mature. What was she thinking?

"Isn't that amazing?" Megan asked. "Tony's working on the big fraud case with—" Megan clapped her hands over her mouth. "I better not say too much."

"Don't worry. I don't understand any of it." I looked at my menu but couldn't focus on the words. The Michael guy jiggled his leg up and down next to me. Was this whole thing creeping him out too?

"I don't understand it either." Megan laughed and pushed the margarita over to me.

"No, thanks," I said. "I have enough trouble driving that floral atrocity of a van without any additional impairment." So now Megan was drinking not just after work but during her lunch break? "And we're only seventeen. It's kind of illegal, you know." I hated acting like a bitch, but she pissed me off. I had come prepared to talk, console, be a good friend. Not deal with uncharacteristically drunk Megan.

"Oh, come on, Jory. That's never stopped you before." Megan made a loud sucking sound with her straw, like a little kid getting every last bit of a milk shake. "It's yummy."

The waitress came, put down some chips, and took our orders. Tony ordered another jumbo margarita, but Michael ordered a Coke, and I asked for an ice water.

"So why didn't Tyler come to lunch with you?" I asked.

"Tyler's back kissing butt at the office." Megan broke into guffaws. "Get it, Jory?"

Megan ignored my dirty look, so I turned to Michael. "So you're in law school?"

"Yeah, I go to UCSF, and Tony's over at Hastings."

"So—" I crunched on a chip. "You must have to study a lot."

Tony reached around Megan's back to grab a chip, but she leaned forward and bit it out of his hand. He laughed and kept his arm around her. Michael jiggled his leg faster.

"I want to do real lawyer stuff and not all these copies, copies, copies." Megan pouted.

"You can help me with some of my cases," Tony said. "You're a smart cookie." He squeezed her shoulder.

When the waitress brought the second margarita, Megan flapped her straw in her mouth and aimed it toward the glass, missing twice.

"Maybe you'd better wait until you eat some more." I pushed the basket of chips toward her. "Try the guacamole."

Megan shook her hair into her face. "Nooo. I'm watching my figure." Since when did Megan turn down junk food?

I didn't exactly want to launch into the alcohol-has-so-many-empty-calories speech Mom had been mumbling for a week now. At least the Raw Food Diet had morphed into fruit for breakfast, veggies for lunch, and carbohydrates for dinner. I could deal with spaghetti. Still, I looked forward to my carne asada burrito with extra sour cream.

"So, I kind of thought the whole two-martini-lunch thing was only in the movies—old cinema club—type movies." I looked at Michael, who glanced back at me.

"Should be," he mumbled.

"We're not drinking martinis. Gross! These are totally harmless." Megan sipped for several seconds, looking right at me, mascara smudged under her right eye.

"We thought we'd go by my condo after lunch before heading back to the office." Tony winked at Megan.

I glanced at my watch. I had another fifty minutes before Katie expected me back for the afternoon flower deliveries. "How long do you get for lunch?"

"We're taking an executive lunch." Tony sipped some of the margarita. "When the cat's away, the mice will play."

"Our boss is out of town." Michael filled me in, crunching on a piece of ice. "But I know that he still expects those cases to be researched when he gets back." More leg jiggles.

Tony ignored Michael while he and Megan had a sword fight with their straws, only calling a truce as the waitress set the food on the table. When my napkin dropped on the floor, I bent down and saw Tony play footsies with Megan. How old was he anyway? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Older? He had a mustache. Ick!

Megan toyed with her food while Michael and Tony talked about different cases that could support a libel suit Michael had to write about for the
Law Review.
I silently devoured my burrito, wishing I could enjoy it more.

After Tony paid for lunch, Michael said he had to head back to the office.

"Watch out for your friend," he whispered to me as he held open the restaurant door.

I nodded. "Meg, maybe you should get back to work too," I said, trying to sound sensible. Actually, I tried to sound like
Megan!

Ignored.

Megan tugged on Tony's arm. "Come on, I want to see where you live."

"We may even have time for a dip in the pool," said Tony, grabbing Megan's hand as she stumbled off the curb in the parking lot.

I looked at my watch. In twenty minutes Katie would be lining up flower arrangements and delivery directions by the back door. It took ten minutes to drive to Katie's shop from here.

Tony steered Megan toward a light blue Prius. "You can follow us."

I attempted a flirtatious hair flip, not very effective with braids. "Oh, can Megan please ride with me? I've got something to ask her. Just a few minutes of girl talk?"

"Jory, Jory, Jory," Megan said calmly. "Aren't you over Tyler yet? I'm sooo over him."

I hustled Megan to the front seat of the van, pushing her inside. "Meg, isn't this guy a little too old?"

Megan leaned across my lap and blew a kiss to Tony as he pulled in front of us. I grimaced as alcohol-and-bean breath wafted into my nose. I followed Tony's Prius down the street, feeling like an accessory to a crime.

"I'm so through with high school boys. Tyler can have them all. I'm sticking with men. Mature men."

If I'd said the same thing in this situation, nondrunk Megan would never have let me get away with it. How mature was it for a guy to get an underage girl drunk at lunch and take her to his condo? Sounds more like a recipe for date rape. Blah, blah, blah.

Instead, Megan said, "Do you think he means skinny-dipping?" Major giggles. "'Cause I didn't bring a bathing suit to work."

"Maybe I should take you back to work." I watched Tony's brake lights flash as he slowed around Virginia Lake. "Or you could call in sick. That would probably be best."