Chapter Twenty-Six
Ruby
Sami’s voice floats downstairs from her room as she sings, “Hey, hey, you say it’s May, and you might like me today. But to that I say, no how, no way, you best know or get out of my way.”
Ava’s door opens, then she yells up from the bottom of the stairs, “You rhymed way with way. Do better.”
I climb out of bed and open my door, not even bothering to walk down to the stairs before yelling up, “You shut your mouth about May! Take it back.”
There’s a beat of silence then the thump of feet hurrying down the stairs. I shut my door and dive back under my covers, but Sami barrels in and jumps on top of me.
“Don’t be sad, bestie,” she croons while hugging my head through the comforter.
“You go on tour in, like, an hour. I hate your job,” I mutter through the covers.
“I’ve still got a few weeks, and you’re happy for me.”
“I hate you so much right now.”
She hugs my head harder. “Two more weeks to find you true love and win—”
When she breaks off, I wiggle my way out of her grip and pull down the blanket to stare at her. “Win what?”
“Nothing.” She climbs off me. “Josh is starting omelets. Bestie breakfast?”
“I’m in.”
“And now for a song about eggs,” she says as she heads for my door. “You cracked my heart like it’s an egg, too bad for you, you’re now the plague, brunch with the girls is all the rage . . .”
I laugh as her increasingly ridiculous lyrics follow her down the hall.
If Josh just started cooking, I’ve got time for a shower, so I take one and catch myself singing her dumb song. “Hey, hey, you say it’s May . . .”
I wish I could be excited about that, but it’s stretching in front of me like thirty-one oversized boxes that I can never fill. They yawn, taunting.
I’d expected May to be different. I’d hoped the Eeyore party last weekend meant Charlie and I were getting closer to normal, but this week has been more random texts. It’s more like following a meme account curated to my specific tastes than it is friendship.
I get dressed and follow the sound of roommate chatter to the patio, stepping out in time to hear Joey curse up at Ahab, who’s preening on Mrs. Lipsky’s balcony.
“I’m telling Mom you said bad words,” I inform Joey.
“Tell her he called me a butthead first,” Joey says, glaring up at Ahab.
Mrs. Lipsky sighs. “Ahab, how am I supposed to give you fresh air if you pick a fight every time I bring you out?”
“I love you,” Ahab says.
“Right, that’s how you get away with it,” Mrs. Lipsky says.
“Don’t the cats need sun?” Joey asks. “Bring out Tuxie and Pinstripes.”
Mrs. Lipsky snorts and shakes her head. “I’m not up for chasing them around today, but I’ll take Ahab inside. He has parrot FaceTime.”
Joey bought a temporary reprieve from Ahab’s bullying last year when he realized Ahab was lonely and found a Facebook group where owners could connect their parrots with other parrots via Facetime.
Now Ahab talks to a parrot named Pierre in Pierre, South Dakota several times a week, and it cured Ahab’s depression.
But Joey’s reprieve has been over ever since he wished Ahab a happy Valentine’s Day and Ahab squawked back, “Kick rocks, andouille.” Pierre speaks French, and now Ahab insults Joey in two languages.
“Love you, bye,” Madison says.
“Love you, bye,” Ahab answers.
“I won’t miss you,” Joey says as Mrs. Lipsky turns toward her door.
“Kiss my grits,” Ahab says as Mrs. Lipsky slides her door closed behind them. Grandma Letty taught him that one.
“Joey,” Josh calls through the open kitchen door, “how many times do I have to beg you not to get into a fight with Ahab unless I’m there?”
“Shut up and omelet, bro,” Joey says.
“Anyway, Ruby,” Ava says, tired of their nonsense, “what are you wearing for your boring date this afternoon?”
“You mean Matty, who loves all the same stuff Ruby does, so she’s going to marry him?” Sami says.
“Didn’t tell Matty he was getting engaged today,” Josh calls from the kitchen. “Just going on a date with our friend. Maybe dial it back.”
“I’m wearing this.” I gesture to my outfit before I make sure the patio sofa cushion is clean and take a seat.
“Maybe no,” Sami says as Madison climbs off the sofa and disappears into the house.
“What’s wrong with it?” I look down at my jeans and white blouse. “It’s comfortable but classic. Museum appropriate and good for lots of walking. It’s a triumph.”
“You already wore that. On two dates,” Sami says.
“No, I haven’t.” I check Instagram. My grid looks crazy. All of the pictures on the top three rows of my page show me with a guy. A different guy. And that I’ve already worn this outfit twice.
If I stumbled across my profile as a stranger, I’d think I was witnessing a dating experiment with the poor woman in the photos trying to keep up her game face.
If any of my mutuals with Niles is paying attention, it only looks try-hard.
If Niles is paying attention, I doubt these pictures bother him.
I check his profile. The only new photo of him in the six weeks since his engagement shows him mid-golf swing.
“I don’t care,” I say.
“About what?” Joey asks.
“Niles’s engagement.” I test this by looking up his fiancée’s account, something I’ve forgotten to do in the last two weeks. “His future wifey posted a picture from their engagement shoot, and I really don’t care.”
I stifle a sigh and close the app. “Probably not a point to going on these dates anymore. I’m over it.”
“You can’t be,” Ava says. “This was only ever barely about showing up Niles.”
“We haven’t found you the guy yet,” Sami says. “I’m not even close to giving up.”
“Giving up on what?” Madison asks, walking out of the house. “Saved your outfit. You’re welcome.”
She deposits my mushroom needlepoint belt, matching taupe ballet flats, and a bright green cardigan in my lap.
“She’s trying to quit the bet,” Sami tells her.
“I’m not in the bet,” I protest. “And I don’t want to go on dates anymore.”
“What? No, you can’t quit,” Madison objects. “I’m going to win.”
“You can’t make me go out,” I tell her. “I give y’all the illusion of control, but illusion is the operative word.”
Josh comes out with two plates and hands one to Sami and the other to Ava. “Did you just invoke the ‘you’re not the boss of me’ defense, Ruby?”
“Shut up and omelet, bro,” I say, mimicking Joey.
Josh laughs. “Back with yours in a minute.”
“I’m serious,” I say, realizing it’s true as Josh heads back to the kitchen. “I don’t want to do it anymore. The dates or anything else. The only thing that sounds good to me is sitting around and being miserable about Charlie until we get our situation fixed.”
They all look at each other, worried.
“I don’t care if it’s a paradox,” I insist. “That’s the only thing that can make me feel better.”
“You want to wallow?” Madison asks, sounding doubtful. “Does not compute.”
Of course it wouldn’t compute for Madison, whose philosophy is “if it’s not a good time, it’s a good time to do something else.”
“Girls, we need to consult,” Sami announces. “Let’s meet in the kitchen.”
They shoo Josh out, and he delivers omelets to me and Joey.
We can hear the girls in the kitchen well enough to tell it’s a debate, but I can’t make out the words. Whatever they’re arguing about lets me eat two-thirds of my breakfast before they file back out to the patio.
“We’ve reached a decision,” Madison says. “We’ll end the bet on one condition.”
I smirk at her. “You have no leverage. You can’t set any conditions.”
“Our leverage is that the prize is really cool, and if you love us, you’ll want one of us to win,” Ava says.
Josh and Joey grin like they know the girls have me there.
They’re right. “Let’s hear it.”
“We each get one last chance to set you up,” Madison says.
I groan. “I want to be done, not go on more dates.”
“It gives us a chance to take our very best shot, and worst-case scenario, you’re done after three dates.”
“Four, counting today.” I’m already tired by the idea.
Josh holds up his phone. “Don’t worry about that one, Ruby. I’m cancelling it. Matty will understand.”
Sami gives me a challenging look. “There you go. Three more dates. We each take our best and final shot, and then you can quit.”
They all look pretty determined, but I appeal to Ava. “Don’t make me.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not getting you out of this. I want a chance to take my final shot too.”
I could still say no, but it means they won’t let this go.
Even if I never give in, I’m going to have to hear about this indefinitely.
Probably I will have to win the lottery and treat myself to a week in a tropical paradise where I meet a handsome stranger who likes to read as much as I do, and I walk down the aisle to marry him. Then maybe they will let this go.
“Fine,” I say without an ounce of grace. “You each get one more setup, then I’m done. No more dates.”
Madison cheers and Sami starts singing an old techno song, “One More Time.” Joey gives it a beat on the chair arm, and they all dance, even Ava, while I shake my head at my idiot friends.
I want to get this over with.