Round Twelve
MAGGIE
Stop being a pussy, Magnolia.
Stop being a pussy!
I peek through my living room window as Billy’s car rolls into his driveway and comes to a slow stop. It’s almost six o’clock, which means he’s probably just finished shift and is, no doubt, in a stellar mood after a long day of arresting people.
Jeremy climbs happily out of his dad’s car, laughing about whatever funny thing they were chatting about throughout their drive, but as he spots my freshly planted lavender, he skips across the lawn and inspects the long row with a smile.
He picks his nose and proudly pulls a trophy straight from the depths of his brain, then he wipes the mess on his jeans and peeks across at my house.
Panicked, I whip the curtain back into place and crash against the glass, my hand pressed to my heart.
Good lord. Anyone would think I’m fighting for my life.
Curiosity makes it impossible for me to look away for long, so I swallow my nerves and tilt my head until I find the teeniest, tiniest gap in the curtains to snoop through.
“Miss Sava!” Jeremy cups his mouth and does exactly as I asked; he shouts from his yard. “I saw you in the window, Miss Sava! Wanna come out and play?”
“Jeremy.” Billy snags a backpack from the trunk and slams it shut with a thud. He shakes his head, his eyes flittering this way for a single beat, then he stalks across the grass and sets his hand on the top of Jeremy’s head. “We’re going inside now. Leave the neighbors alone.”
“Do you think she’s boiling any children tonight, Dad?” His eyes jump eagerly to my roof, scanning with a slow sweep. Is he looking at my chimney? “Do you think she does it on a regular stove like regular dinner, or does she light a fire, cos then she could use a bigger pot?”
“I don’t think she cooks children at all, buddy.
” He marches his son all the way up his porch stairs, his fingers tangled in Jeremy’s moppy hair, then he releases him only long enough to snag a set of keys and unlock the front door.
“Get inside, wash your hands, then grab a tissue and wipe that giant snot bomb off your pants. It’s gross. ”
“Aw, Dadddddd. I was saving it!”
“Inside!” Billy lifts his foot and kicks the boy in the butt, just hard enough to elicit a happy squeal and running feet. “Don’t touch my walls with those dirty hands, you little grub. After you’re done in the bathroom, I want you to go to the kitchen and search the food drawer. Your choice.”
The food drawer?
They keep all their food in a… drawer?
The instant they’re inside and Billy’s front door closes behind them, I tip my head back and bang it against the window. Groaning, I bring it forward and repeat. Like the first thud just wasn’t enough.
“I’m such a pussy.”
My phone buzzes in the kitchen, incoming texts making the device vibrate against the counter, so I push away from my window and save myself from a third bludgeoning attempt, then I stride into the kitchen, pass my cat-housemate, and snatch up my phone.
Alana’s name flashes on the screen first, and above that, an alert telling me a group chat has been created, titled Happily Ever After… AKA: BJs and Chill.
Alana:
I have it on good authority Billy Caster is on his way home.
And by good authority, I mean he and Jeremy left the gym five minutes ago, which means they’re probably almost there by now.
Fox:
Don’t be a pussy when you see him. He’s not actually as mean as he pretends to be. You’ve tripped his trigger, and now you’re both caught in this mean back-and-forth thing. You just gotta work through it is all.
Eliza:
If anyone could do with a BJ and Chill session, it’s Billy ‘Grumpy Boy’ Caster.
So go do your thang, Ms. Love Expert. Weave your 100% success rate magic.
Fair warning: you might have to pay these women to date him, though, since he’s determined and grumpy enough to make this a whole-ass chore for them.
Alana:
Orrrrrr, YOU could date him. Watching you two duke it out every time you’re in the same space is entertaining as hell, and since you have a vested interest in keeping your perfect stats, you’d probably tolerate his annoying tendencies more than the average girl.
Eliza:
Except Dara. She’ll probably pay you. If things get dire and your initial matches dwindle, line her up and let him take her for a spin. She’ll love it. He’ll probably wring your neck.
Fox:
Go! And don’t forget to send updates.
I lock my phone and ignore the continued buzzing that follows their ongoing conversation.
Instead, I slip the device into my pocket, grab a fresh folder from a box I’ve yet to pack away since my move, then snagging a pen on the fly, I force myself through my home before nerves settle in and convince me to stay put.
My stomach swirls and my pulse thrums in my veins, but I shove through my front door, spin back to pull it closed behind me, then I skip down the porch steps and cloak myself in the confidence I’ve always needed when doing this job.
Attitude is half the battle, right?
My phone continues to vibrate against my butt, but I don’t dare take it out.
Instead, I trudge across my lawn, over crunchy leaves that have fallen from the two-hundred-year-old trees lining our street, then through a bare patch of boundary garden bed, the feather-soft touch of baby lavender brushing across my ankles as I pass.
“We are doing this, Billy Caster.” I hug my folder to my chest and march across his spongy grass, tap-tap-tapping nervous fingers against the file’s hard exterior. “You won the damn prize. Therefore, you will accept the damn prize.”
“Head on up and get undressed, Bud.” Billy’s voice passes through his house, while somewhere else, a heavy thud seems to make the whole place vibrate. “I’ll come up in a sec and start the shower for you.”
“Do I have to have a shower, Dad? I don’t even stink or anything.”
“You absolutely have to shower.”
My brave march turns into a timid stroll, and my tapping fingers transform into a trembling hand as I grip the stair railing.
“Just do the work,” I chant, making my way up.
“Go on a damn date and let me tell you exactly why you suck at it.” I crest the top step and shake my hair back, but then Billy’s front door swings open and the man himself barges out.
Carrying an overfull trash bag, he skids to a stop and stares.
He looks me up and down, his eyes scanning my legs and the hem of my dress settled just an inch or two above my knees, then up to my torso, wrapped in a completely modest top-half that shows absolutely no cleavage, no skin, not even a sliver of my neck.
I will give this man no reason to criticize me.
He glances left and studies my house, then back to me again. Finally, he narrows his eyes. “Did you get lost on your way home?”
“No. I’m exactly where I intended to go.” I broaden my shoulders and straighten my back. “I’m here for our meeting.”
“We don’t have a meeting scheduled.” Starting forward again, he stalks straight past me, down the steps, and around the side of his house.
He drops the bag into the trash can and slams the metal lid back down with a clatter, then retracing his steps, he re-emerges and jogs back up the stairs.
“I figure you might have an error in your schedule-keeping system, then. But good news.” He strides past me, grabs his front door, and pauses on the threshold with a smile.
“Now you have a free night to do…” He gestures with a roll of his hand.
“Whatever it is you do with your time.” He backs into his house and yanks the door shut. “See y—”
I stupidly thrust my arm forward and cop the full brunt of his heavy door slamming against my not-very-funny funny bone. I hiss as pain ricochets along the limb and into my shoulder. “You won the Magnolia Sava package. Accept it.”
“I don’t recall signing a contract stating I had to accept any damn thing.
” He folds his arms and leans his irritatingly large, not-like-the-boy-from-school body against the doorframe.
“I suppose you could apply to the courts or something… If you bat your lashes and show a little chest, you might find a sympathetic judge willing to listen to you waffle on about love and destiny and all that bullshit for a few minutes. If he ignores the law completely, he might even award you some kind of enforcement order.” He flashes a wolfish, unkind smile.
“And even then, what are you gonna do? Grab me by the ear and force me to participate in your little scheme?”
My eyes jump to his ears, even without my permission. I’m definitely tempted to grab them. “Please do the thing,” I bite out. “Everyone saw you win last night, which means they’ll want to know you’ve collected.”
“I’d rather five thousand dollars.” He extends his hand, palm side up. “Can I transfer my prize to cash?”
“No!” I slap his hand away so the loud crack of our colliding skin echoes all the way to the street. “Your prize is not transferable.” You jackass! “Let me do my job. Please.”
“You really wanna keep that streak going, huh?” Entirely too amused, he bounces his hip against the door frame and glances back into his house as pipes rattle in his walls.
Sucking on his bottom lip, he brings bright green eyes back around and looks me up and down, but unlike before, his gaze is less cataloging and more appreciating…
with a side of leering. “I’m not looking for love, Magnolia, so even if I pretended to go along with this bullshit, I’d throw the game, anyway.
Set me up with someone nice? I’ll tell them their dress is ugly. ”
My breath comes to a sharp, aching standstill. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I? I thought I’d already proven how much of an asshole I can be. If you’re still not clear on the matter, I’d be happy to turn the volume up another notch or two.”
“Billy—”