Project Produce (9 page)

“I hear you, girlfriend. But did you see ‘it’?” The brunette leaned back in her chair to get a better look.

“No,” Red responded.

“My point exactly. If you can’t see even a hint of a bulge, then it ain’t worth the effort.”

“Oh, you are so right about that. I once dated a guy who wasn’t good looking at all, but let me tell you, he made up for it in other ways.” She sighed. “Best sex I ever had.”

Ooooh, perfect
. A woman’s point of view was just what I needed to compliment this project. “So, let me get this straight. You ladies only date guys who have a big Mr. Winkie,” I said with a smile and sat down in the empty seat.

“Mr. Winkie? Is he a professor here?” A blonde eyeballed me as though I’d grown a third boob.

“No.” I frowned and glanced down just to be sure I hadn’t. Nope, no third boob. Just the two bumps I’d barely grown since puberty. I shrugged and tried again. “I meant guys with big, well, thingies.”

“The point of dating is to have sex, so who wouldn’t go for the big guns, right?” Brownie replied.

“What about dating to be in a caring, meaningful relationship? Doesn’t that matter?” I asked.

“Yeah, if your eggs are rotting, and you’re getting old.” Red chuckled, then looked me over and her grin vanished. “Whoops, sorry.”

You walked right into that one, granny
. “Trust me, I’m not looking to be in a relationship, rotting eggs or not. I just mean a pickle might turn out to be weird, but a zucchini can be a real jerk. Maybe a cucumber’s the best bet when it comes to guys, but how will you know, unless you give them all a chance?”

Three pairs of eyes widened, then narrowed, looking me over until Blondie spoke. “I think she’s ‘into’ produce, if you get my meaning.”

My smile slipped. “Yeah, that’s me. Into produce.” This was getting me nowhere, but what had I expected? These weren’t women. These were giggling puddles of estrogen. Part of me was jealous. I’d never been a giggling puddle of
anything
. Never had the chance, growing up an only child with parents like mine. Maybe that’s why I’d made so many bad choices. Maybe that was my way of rebelling, without actually having to stand up to them.

Brownie eyed my Eskimo parka and Snow Flurries and then leaned in close, interrupting my thoughts. “Forget the produce, ma’am, go buy yourself a good vibrator. The Jackrabbit 2000 has all kinds of neat attachments. I think you could use it. And guys love an older woman who’s willing to show them a thing or two.”

There was that darn ma’am again. How fitting. It went perfectly with my rotten eggs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Look lady, if you wanna get a man, then get with the program.” Red looked at me with sympathy. “Where on earth did you get that coat from, anyway?”

Lord only knew
. I forced a smile. “From Mr. Dump Ster, I suspect.”

Blondie frowned. “Mr. Dump Ster? Who’s that?”

Good God, I had to be talking to Paris Hilton’s twin
.

Red smacked a clueless Blondie, and I tried not to laugh. Then she said, “Do yourself a favor and throw it away. Go buy a pair of low-rise jeans and a tight, short top. You can get cheap knock-offs just about anywhere. That’s the best way to score big.”

Brownie added, “Look, they wanna get a good look at our racks just as much as we wanna check out their packages. It’s all just one big game.”

What was the matter with everyone these days? Was I the only one who believed relationships should be about so much more than that? I wish there was a way to prove that not all men were like that, even though I’d pretty much lost hope. I smiled as an idea hit me. Maybe these girls could go on the journey with me in learning the truth about men, and I could gain some much needed help with this project. “So, you girls like games. Would any of you be up for a little challenge?”

All three stared at me with renewed interest, and I filled them in on Project Produce, then they eagerly agreed to be my research assistants. If anyone could find some answers, I’m sure Callie’s Angels--my new nickname for the giggling puddles of estrogen--could.

“Good luck, Angels.” I waved as Red, Brownie, and Blondie left the table in a giggling fit.

So I finished my lunch alone, listening to the steady hum of conversation and the clattering of dishes, thinking about what the girls had said. That’d be the day I’d put my big insecurity on display by squeezing it into a pair of low-rise jeans. And if a guy wanted to see what I had for breasts, he’d need a microscope, tight shirt or not. Guess I wouldn’t score big anytime soon. Not that I wanted to. I shook my head.

That Jackrabbit 2000 was sounding better and better.

Having any size produce I wanted, without getting into trouble. Now there was a thought. I chuckled, then grabbed my backpack and headed outside to hail a cab.

I might not exactly fit in with the majority of the population here on campus, but I blended in with Queens just fine. Besides, fitting in wasn’t what I came here to do.

I came here to hide.

CHAPTER FIVE

Once outside of the college cafeteria, I rounded a corner and picked up the pace. As I checked out the people behind me, I plowed right into someone.

“Ooof! Hey, watch it, lady,” a pimple-faced kid snapped, then bent to pick up his books scattered about the shoveled sidewalk.

“Sorry,” I muttered as I adjusted my backpack high on my shoulder and peered one more time behind me. Chills zipped down my spine. Another freaky little geek sat on a bench by the bus stop, staring at me.

Thanks to Dylan’s phone call Saturday morning, every man under five-foot-six gave me the willies. Dylan had mentioned he wanted to come check things out again. Hang out and see if the Midnight Molester would show up, since it seemed strange this flasher freak had started targeting tall blondes.

Yeah, right
. I’d seen plenty of cop shows. The NYPD didn’t have the manpower or the tax dollars to hang out with one of many victims in a city with a ton of criminals. Cop sirens went off every day. In fact, two just this morning. I was sure they had better things to do with their time.

I was pretty sure he had something else on his mind, but I wasn’t falling for any man’s line again. I told him as much, so he’d backed off. I’d seen his car drive by all weekend, but he hadn’t called again. My heart squeezed, but I passed it off as heartburn and reminded myself this was what I wanted.

“Here.” I bent and grabbed one of Pimple Face’s books, jammed it at his chest, then hauled my rear end down the street.

As I let out a shrill whistle, I waved my arm until a cab pulled up by the curb. I hopped in and rattled off my address, collapsing against the seat in relief. I couldn’t afford a cab, but I was too freaked-out to care. Safe for the moment. I laughed. “Safe from what? Freaky little geeks?” I muttered, and the cab driver glanced in his rear-view-mirror with a buckled brow. Couldn’t blame him. I thought I was a little nuts, too.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of my apartment. I paid the driver and slipped off my backpack to search for my keys. A few minutes later, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled with awareness. Glancing around, I didn’t see anything, but I was sure someone had followed me.

Oh, God
. What if Dylan was right? My throat went dry. It wasn’t midnight, but he’d said the molester had changed things a bit, so anything was possible. I chewed my lip and decided to call for help. I pulled out the new cell phone Gloria insisted I buy, even though I couldn’t afford it, and punched in the number for the police.

No ringing, no dial tone, nothing.

I cursed. Guess it would’ve helped if I’d actually charged the thing. What would Hot Britches do? He sure wouldn’t stand around out in the open like live bait.

I grabbed my keys with shaking fingers and let myself inside the apartment then slammed the door. The key hook beside it rattled, and I jumped. As fast as my trembling body would allow, I locked the door and let out a huge sigh. As I snatched up the wall phone, I glanced out the window but still didn’t see anything. So I dialed the police and then hung up.

I couldn’t call the police. What would I say? Some shadow had spooked me? I had no proof. I hadn’t even seen my stalker, but I knew in my gut someone was out there.

Waiting. Watching.

The only person I could call was Dylan.
No way
. He’d think I had changed my mind. Not that I’d ever intended to start an actual relationship with him. Not gonna happen, no matter how sweet he was, or how much I missed him, or how great that kiss had been. Although, I wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of Big Betty right about now.

Fine time to disappear, Zuc
.

I dropped into a chair at the table and propped my head in my hand, staring out the window. A half hour later, the sun shone brighter on the people milling about the street. I had begun to think I’d imagined the whole thing, but then the bush across the street rustled beyond the frozen sidewalk.

“I knew it. I’m not crazy.” I jumped up and raced to the coat closet, searching the top shelf for the binoculars. I’d seen Gloria use them to spy on the hottie across the street in apartment 3B.

Grabbing the phone from the kitchen, I dialed the police and stretched the cord until I could see out the living room window. I crouched low and held the phone to my cheek with my chin while I peeked through the blinds and stared at the bush.

“New York City Police Department, may I help you?” asked a female voice with a Long Island accent.

“Um, yes. I want to report a crime.”

“What type of crime, ma’am? And speak up. I can barely hear you over all this racket,” she said above the hum of people talking, phones ringing, and keyboards clicking.

“Oh, well, I’m not sure. But someone followed me.”

“Someone followed you. Ma’am, this is a city of more than ten million people. Are you sure they weren’t just headed in the same direction?”

“No. Yes. I mean, I’m sure they were following me. I could feel it.”

“You could feel it. Uh-huh.” She snapped her gum. “And what exactly did you feel, ma’am?”

Pretty darn stupid
. I rolled my eyes. “Their presence. I could feel their presence. Right behind me.”

“Uh-huh. Did you see anyone, ma’am?” Papers rustled in the background.

“Well, no. Not until I came inside and peeked out my window with my binoculars.”

The officer paused. “Let me get this straight. You’re calling to report that someone followed you. You didn’t see anyone, but you could feel them. And now you’re staring out your window with a pair of binoculars like a... if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, a Peeping Tom.”

“Yes. I mean no. Look, I’m not staring in anyone’s window. I’m staring at a bush.”

“A bush. So now you think a bush followed you?”

“Of course not.”

“Uh-huh.”
Snap, chew, snap
.

“The person who followed me is hiding in the bush. I saw it move.”

“Sure you did. So tell me, when you look through your magic glasses, crystal ball, or whatever the heck you’re using, what does this person look like?”

“Look, I’m not crazy. I’ll tell you what I see.” I focused my binoculars on a gap in the bush. “Holy cow, I see Cat Woman.” I pressed my lips together and smacked myself in the forehead.

Note to self: Shut up!

“Cat Woman?” The snapping, chewing, and paper rustling stopped. Just the steady hum of background noise filled the line.

“Obviously, she’s not Cat Woman. I mean that would be silly. The woman just resembles her,” I squinted, “since she’s dressed all in black, and um, dancing around on the balls of her black boots, and well, karate chopping the branches....” I sighed. “You don’t have to say it. I sound stupid, don’t I?”

“Uh-huh.”
Snap, pop
. Papers rustled again, and then whack went what had to be a stapler.

“You’re not going to send someone, are you?”

“Now, you see, you do have ESP.”

“Wait! I’m serious. What if I get mugged, or worse? You haven’t caught the Midnight Molester yet, have you?”

The officer sighed. “A car is in the area. He’ll be notified of the Cat Attack. But you be sure and call if The Penguin or The Joker show up. I’ll send out a Bat signal straight away. You have a nice day, now.”

Clunk. Dial tone
.

“That went well.” I hung up the phone. At least it wasn’t Flasher Freak.
Oh, God, Flasher Freak
. Maybe the woman needed help. Maybe he had pulled her into the bush. Who knew when the patrol car would swing by? Somehow, I didn’t think they would make a ‘Cat Attack’ a priority. I had to do something, didn’t I? I might be a coward when it came to standing up to my parents, but even I couldn’t sit back and watch some innocent woman get attacked.

I went to the kitchen and slipped on my coat, grabbing my backpack for good measure. Filled with at least four books, it weighed enough to be used as a weapon if I needed it.
God, please don’t let me need it
.

When I walked out the apartment door, the bush stopped moving. Picking up the pace, I crossed the street. He had her. My heart thundered in my chest, and adrenaline surged through my veins, spurring me on.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” I said, then parted the bush and poked my head inside at the same time Cat Woman started to climb out. Our heads thunked together, and stars danced in front of my eyes. “Ow.” I touched my forehead.

“Man. What are you doing?” Cat Woman rubbed the top of her head.

“Saving you.”

“From what?”

“From...,” I glanced into the empty bush, “nothing, apparently.” Frowning, I asked, “What were you doing in there, anyway?”

The woman straightened to her full height. “I was looking for my cat.”

“Your cat?” I tried not to laugh. “Okay. Well, did you see anyone suspicious? Someone’s been following me.” I looked her over. “Hey, wait a minute, you aren’t the one who’s been following me, are you?” I gripped my backpack tighter and held it up.