Chapter Four
Scarlett
When I walk into my office the next morning, I find Claire bent over next to her desk.
“What are you doing?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Changing lightbulbs, what does it look like I’m doing?” she snaps.
I set my purse down in one of my drawers and close it with a slam. “Well, it looks like you’re messing with your shoes.”
Claire stands up and flops down in her desk chair. She holds up a heel. Just a heel. No shoe to go with it. “How did this just break?”
“That’s weird…” I mumble, thinking back to the very specific wish I made yesterday. Karma’s a quick worker. Maybe my apartment building is magical after all—granting my wishes. I shake my head at the ridiculous thought. I’ve been listening to too many local legends.
Claire takes off her other shoe and points the heel toward her desk, then swings it down like she’s swinging an ax. Her blonde curls are bouncing, and her expression is pinched. But dang if that heel doesn’t go flying across the room to hit the wall behind me.
I sit down at my desk, starting up my computer and doing my best to ignore Claire’s antics. I’m afraid if I watch too closely, I’ll start laughing. And then I’ll really be in trouble.
“There. Now they’re even.”The shoes actually look cuter as flats. Claire is one of those obnoxious people where even if something goes wrong, she makes it turn out better.
Doing my best to ignore her, I open my documents and begin checking the files I typed yesterday. We try to be as accurate as possible while in the courtroom, but sometimes we have to do damage control on the typos during our non-courtroom hours.
Proofreading is my least favorite part of the job, but the whole broken shoe incident keeps me in a good mood for the rest of the day. Even when Claire asks me what’s taking me so long to finish proofing one of my files.
Today is a good day. Especially because when work is done, I’ll be going on a date. And my brother isn’t here to ruin it.
I’ve never been good at handling my family’s overprotectiveness, especially since it stems from a place of love. How can I tell them to leave me alone when my dating choices nearly got me killed once?
Wade texts me at lunchtime, and it’s strange how happy I am to open that message.
WADE
How about I show you what a real dinner is? Jack and I are grilling steaks tonight when I get off work.
I don’t know who Jack is, and a real dinner does sound good, but unfortunately, I already have plans.
SCARLETT
I’d take you up on it if I didn’t already have plans.
WADE
You’re having Froot Loops for dinner, aren’t you?
SCARLETT
As delicious as that sounds, I’m going on a date tonight.
It’s the beginning of Operation Find Love in Six Months. I thought about making a flow chart for it but decided that’s the kind of stuff you see on a Netflix special about a criminal.
My parents are out of town for a few months. Phoenix has committed to the job in Boston for six months…which means it’s the perfect time for me to date without their interference.
Ever since the car wreck, they’ve been very concerned about who I date. And because I understand where that fear is coming from, I haven’t made an issue out of it with them.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to live my life. I’ve had two big dreams since I was eight years old.
Number one: live in The Serendipity.
Number two: find the love of my life.
Honestly, I thought number one would have been harder to fulfill. But it turns out having a family disapprove of every man I go on a date with? That makes it a little rough to fulfill my second goal.
I eat the rest of my sandwich before Wade texts back.
WADE
Do I know him?
SCARLETT
No .
I don’t see any more texts because I have to head into court and start typing a transcript.It’s an interesting theft case and it keeps me distracted the rest of the afternoon.
The second my workday ends, I swipe on some lip plumper and hurry out of the courthouse.
I climb on my bike and put on my pink helmet with daisies. I’m glad I have my hair straightened for tonight. I’m not going to be smashing a perfectly good hairdo.
It takes me about ten minutes to bike to the Mexican restaurant I suggested to my date. He asked if I wanted him to pick me up, but this is only our second date, and I don’t think this is the time to tell him I don’t like cars. That’s a conversation for a sixth date, maybe. I’ve never made it that far with anyone.
I lock my bike to the bike rack. This restaurant is one of my favorites because they have a good bike parking spot where I can lock it. And I may or may not be a regular here. Because, hello, the food is delicious.
I walk inside, and Victor Ramirez, the owner, greets me with a smile. “Did you call in an order?”
“No,” I say. “I am actually here to meet a date this time.”
His face falls, and he shakes his head. “I remember what happened last time.”
I grimace because he’s not wrong. The last time I tried to have a date here, my brother Phoenix happened to be here on a date as well. He essentially crashed my date and proceeded to interrogate the guy I was with, and eventually, both of our dates left together. We sat there and glared at each other while we made ourselves sick, eating mountains of chips and salsa. I still haven’t forgiven him for that one. The date had seemed like a decent enough guy, until Phoenix ran him off.
My phone dings, and I glance down to see a new text. And it’s not from my date.
WADE
At least tell me the guy’s name.
SCARLETT
What is with you? You’ve been hanging out with my brother too much. Good night. We’ll catch up over some cereal soon.
I look around the large, open dining area and spot Allen sitting in a corner booth. He waves when he sees me, and I point him out to Victor. “See? That’s my date.”
Victor frowns when he spots him. “Really? You could do better than him.”
“Listen, I’ve had to jump through hoops—figurative ones—and ride my bike here.” I glare at him. It’s like Big-Brother-itis is catching. “I’m going to join my date.”
He nods slowly and smiles as if he’s trying to placate me. “If you don’t like him, just let me know, and I’ll get rid of him for you.”
I smile because it really is very sweet of him to look out for me. I wink and say, “I’ll give you the secret signal.”
“You’ll ask for the extra spicy salsa,” he says with a grin.
I fight a laugh because it’s true—my taste buds were not raised on spice. It’s a rather new flavor to my palate.
I was raised in more of a meat-and-potatoes family. Spice of any kind was not to be found in our house. Barbecue sauce was a bit too much for me, so spicy salsa is definitely the next level.
I’m working my way up. I have now graduated from the mild salsa to the medium, and Victor is so proud of me. I do have my suspicions that he’s slowly sneaking more spice into my favorite burrito here. But it’s still delicious. Maybe someday I’ll grow up and be able to handle the hot salsa.
Victor leads me to the table, and I sit down across from Allen .
“Hi again,” he says with a smile.
“Hey,” I say as I set down my purse on the booth seat beside me.
Victor brings me my regular glass of horchata. Allen frowns as he watches him walk away.
“That was strange. He didn’t even ask what you wanted.”
I just shake my head. “Oh no, I’m a regular. He knows I always get the same thing.”
His fingers drum on the table. “Maybe we should’ve gone somewhere else, then. I didn’t realize you came here so frequently. Do you want to go try that tapas place around the corner?”
I glance at the chips and salsa in front of him and his excessively large margarita—three-quarters gone—then down at my horchata. I just slipped my straw into the glass and took a big sip of it. I can think of nothing more mortifying than getting up and leaving a restaurant as if I’ve just randomly changed my mind. Not to mention, the whole reason I wanted to come here was that I am comfortable here. It makes dates less awkward if I feel like I’m in a safe environment. And since this is a family-run restaurant, I’ve gotten to know Victor and his whole family. I like this place. I’m going to support them.
“That’s okay. You’ve already ordered your drink, and you’ve probably already had a chance to read the menu,” I say, hoping he won’t make an issue of this.
“Okay, as long as you’re happy here.” He smiles, and I wonder if maybe I was jumping to the wrong conclusions.
He picks up his menu again and starts flipping through it. My phone chimes. I should ignore it, but Allen seems intent on the menu, so I pull my phone out of my purse and check the text.
WADE
Just tell me his name, and I’ll look him up on Facebook real quick.
SCARLETT
Please go away.
WADE
Just one little quick search.
SCARLETT
No. No. Stay out of my business.
WADE
I just want to know that you’re going to make it home safe.
Allen clears his throat loudly. “Everything okay?”
I glance up from my phone and see that he’s finished his margarita and is spinning the glass rapidly. It makes a warbling sound with every revolution.
“Why don’t you figure out what you want to order?” I ask. “I already know what I want. I was just texting a friend.”
His eyebrows shoot up, reaching toward that overly gelled hair. “A girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “Just a friend. He’s just making sure I made it safely to my date.” I smile as much as I can to cover the white lie. It probably wouldn’t be good to tell him the person I’m texting wants to run a quick background check on him.
“Oh, okay. I thought maybe you were bored on our date.” He smiles tightly.
Well, this is fun, I think to myself. Nothing is flowing well between Allen and me tonight. I’m nervous and checking my phone, and Allen thinks I’m being rude.
“No, I just don’t want him to worry about me.” I set my phone down next to me .
Allen looks down at his margarita, his eyes wide as he realizes it’s empty. “The staff here isn’t very on top of things, are they?” He points to the empty glass as if someone’s just walking around with a pitcher of margaritas, ready to pour into empty glasses. “I’ll whistle for the waiter.”
“Oh, gosh, please don’t do that,” I mutter. “It’s a busy restaurant. He’ll get here as soon as he can.”
“I’m paying for good service here,” Allen says. He proceeds to wave at Victor, who’s at the front door greeting new customers. Then he even yells, “Hey!”
I grab my phone, flip it over, and text Wade.
SCARLETT
Allen Chapman.
I can see the bubbles appearing like he’s texting me back, and I wish he would hurry up because Allen is still waving at Victor. I am about to die of secondhand embarrassment and would like to become one with this leather seat.
WADE
Allen Chapman? You mean the guy who went to Sweethaven High School with us? From my year?
SCARLETT
Yes, the very same.
WADE
Why on earth would you go on a date with Al??
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have told Wade. That was a judgmental two question marks.
WADE
He’s one of the finance bros. I heard he has his own podcast now .
I’m about to text him and ask him what’s wrong with the podcast, but then Victor comes over and whisks away Allen’s empty glass, shooting me a weird look with a raised eyebrow.
“Would you like some extra spicy salsa?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Because I really think maybe you do,” Victor grits out as he lifts the margarita glass a little higher.
I nod once. “Maybe in a little bit.”
“So, I feel like we haven’t gotten to know each other well. I know we recognize each other from going to school together.”
That is actually patently not true. “I was a freshman when you were a senior. We probably didn’t cross paths much,” I reply with a smile. “My brother was in your class though.”
Allen quickly nods. “Oh, yes, I remember Phoenix. Good guy. Real good guy. Bit of a jock, but a good guy.”
The unfortunate thing about second dates is that you should’ve heeded the first date’s warning signs.
The first date I went on with Allen was just a quick little coffee date at the local Starbucks. It lasted about forty-five minutes, and then we both had other places to be. Most of the conversation revolved around unimportant things, like coffee and trips we’ve been on and places we would love to visit. He came across as a little boastful in those forty-five minutes, and I just chalked it up to him being nervous and wanting to make a good impression. But I’m beginning to suspect it was worse than that.
“You know, I do a lot of day trading,” he says. I don’t know why he’s telling me this since I didn’t ask. “I stay so busy keeping track of the market. In high school, I didn’t have time to do sports. I was too busy making money. Have you invested in Bitcoin? I could set you up with some great investment opportunities. You could be set for life by next week. And then there’s drop-shipping. You really should look into starting a drop-shipping business. It’s all passive income.”
As nice as that sounds, even I know a scam when I see one. If this guy is making all the money in the world, why did he drive up to Starbucks in an old car that looks like it has already been through a wrecking machine? I’m not one to judge the cars people drive, but he didn’t even pay for my coffee on our first date, and I am anticipating that he’s not going to pay for my dinner now. I just wanted to give him a chance…or at least, more of a chance, that is.
Unfortunately, this leads into an hour-long spiel about his favorite finance gurus and podcasts and how he’s going to buy a boat someday. Somewhere along the way, he lets it slip that he still lives in his parents’ basement. And I feel like that’s no surprise. Halfway through dinner, he asks if I want to see it in person.
My phone chimes in the middle of another long dialogue from Allen, and I glance down at a text message from Wade.
WADE
He’s one of those guys who sells courses on how to make money trading stocks. Which means he doesn’t make any money trading stocks. He’s going to make money off of other people. You should probably get out of there before he takes all your money.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“You know, I really do have to be going.” I interrupt his spiel on which cryptocurrency has the most potential—something I neither understand nor care about. Maybe he has more knowledge than I do, but this is not the kind of person I want to spend my life with. And since we’ve already finished dinner…I’d like to get out of here as fast as possible.
“Really, if you just took my course, you would see how much I could benefit your life! ”
“Are you pitching your course to me right now?” I rest my chin on my hand and lean my elbow on the table. It hadn’t even crossed my mind before, but he really hasn’t been asking me any questions all evening. He’s talked about his finances, what he can do for me, and this course that he’s created. I’m not on a date. I’m at a sales pitch.
Allen shrugs. “I just want you to have the opportunity of a lifetime. I’ll even give you a discount on the course.”
Because I hate myself, I ask him, “How much is the course?”
“For you, it would only be twenty-five hundred.” He smiles brightly.
Okay, now I need a bottomless margarita.
And that’s a wrap. “Hey, Victor, can I get some extra spicy salsa?”