Chapter 10 An Experiment in Terror #2
The car pulled out of the drive, and for a moment, I forgot all about the asshole competition.
As we drove farther away, the little clusters of cottages and farms grew less frequent.
It was green, of course, but there was also so very much stone.
Light gray stone stretched out where I expected soil, and entire hills and mountains grew from this same stone that broke and shingled off, destined to become walls and cottages and castles.
We passed a castle then, my first of the trip, in ruins, its roofless skeleton dark and mysterious against the gray sky.
“What’s that?”
“Leamaneh Castle.” He didn’t slow down.
“Can we stop?”
“No.”
I sighed. I guessed this was where my assholery had gotten me. Oh well. He’d deserved it. “So, where are we going again?”
He let out a big breath to make very clear just how much these monosyllabic answers were costing him. “The Burren Perfumery.”
“A perfumery? For a date?”
“Da probably thought you could use some help.”
Got a lot of words in there, I see. “Here’s hoping they’ll have something special for your just-rolled-in-fresh-sheep-ass smell.”
IT WAS A bit of a long drive. The scenery was beautiful and peaceful, mostly because we rode in silence, as it seemed decidedly less likely that we might accidentally murder each other that way.
But somewhere along the drive, I decided that he needed to answer more questions.
“Hey. Do you think your dad is okay? He seemed really excited, planning this trip with me the last few days, and now he can’t go all of the sudden? Just seems weird.”
“He was never going.”
“What? Of course he was.”
“Nope. If he seemed excited, it was probably at the prospect of gettin’ you out of the house.”
“You know, other people can feel a wide range of emotion—not just PMS. Jackie loves having me around.”
“He lied to you.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“Because he’s my dad. And because it’s September.”
“So?”
“God, you’re a nuisance. Look, the Matchmaking Festival is all month long. My dad gets more attention and more jobs in September than all the other months put together. He prepares all year for this. He was never leaving.”
“But . . .” My mouth slackened, but no other words came out. He was right, of course. It made sense. But it smarted a little bit. I was wild about Jackie. Why would he lie to me? I wanted to understand. “But why—”
Before I could get another word out, he reached over and clicked the radio on. The Killers. “Mr. Brightside.”
I raised my voice and leaned forward. “I don’t get it.
Why would he lie—” He twisted the dial with a flick of the wrist and turned the volume up loud enough to drown me out.
The dog, deciding that I had leaned that bit too close to her dad, started growling and let out a few warning barks.
Back off, she seemed to say. They both seemed to say.
“Fine.” I harrumphed back in my seat with my arms crossed. “Assholes.”
Half an hour later, we pulled down a gravel path to a little parking lot with a handful of cars.
“Come on, Finn,” Tadhg called to his pet demon, and the dog jumped out in one graceful leap while I worked decidedly less gracefully at squeezing my rear end from the backseat and out of the door.
The taller of the two monsters grinned at me, but it wasn’t a nice thing, it was a little I deeply enjoy watching you make a fool of yourself curl of the lip.
“Look away!”
“No chance. Might even take a photo next time. I could send it as a warning before each date.”
“I can end you with a ball of yarn and a travel toothbrush, and I will smile while I do it.”
The dog, presumably celebrating my degradation, barked wildly and spun around in circles in front of us.
Normally, I might be tricked into thinking that it was adorable dog behavior, but this dog was probably just burning off a little extra energy after eating too many children. Finally, the Jaws of Life released me.
“’Bout time.”
I ignored this, because I’m classy like that. “Bite me!”
His legs were too long, and I had to rush to keep pace with him, something he no doubt noticed, the jerk.
“So. Do you know this guy that I’m supposed to have a date with?”
“Yep.”
The corner of my mouth tugged itself up, and I wanted to needle him. “Do you think this date will be better than our date?”
“It could hardly be worse. Unless you decide to snatch his wig off and mop the floor with it. Which, now that I think about it, I wouldn’t put past you.”
I laughed. A wig. Maybe he could be kinda funny when he wanted to be. His eyes slid sideways to mine, and I thought for the first time that perhaps he was grinning with me. But something in his smile looked a little bit too satisfied.
“Wait. Are you serious? Does he wear a toupee?”
His smile stretched, but he kept his eyes forward as we walked.
“Hello? Tadhg! Does he wear a toupee?” He strode on, ignoring me completely. “Say something! Tell me so I can prepare! I need to know!”
He let out a low laugh but nothing more. Finn barked and hopped along the trail next to us. Both of them were enjoying this far too much for my liking.
I wasn’t lying. I did need to know. I was really bad at hiding things. And at holding back blunt observations. And at lying. And at controlling my face.
I took some deep breaths and tried to wrestle in place an impenetrable mask of unflappable unflappability. If there was a toupee—I would not stare at the toupee, I would not mention the toupee, and I most certainly would not touch the toupee.
We emerged from the trees to a gorgeous collection of fairy-tale stone cottages, vines coiling up their sides and bursting with fragrant blooms. Delicious smells curled around us, luring us in like a witch in a candy house.
We walked into the first little cottage of the Perfumery.
Tadhg opened the door for me, pretending to be a gentleman, and Finn automatically sat to wait outside, pretending to be a good girl.
There was a handful of people, but somehow the inside of the cottage was so peaceful, and the smells so soothing, that people either stayed quiet or spoke in whispers as if it were a library.
“Ned,” Tadhg called.
“Tadhg!” A loud, nasal voice broke the quiet.
I turned as they gave each other a quick, manly hug, but when they pulled apart, Tadhg’s massive wall of back was in front of me, blocking out any view of my date entirely.
“How’s your da?”
“Oh, he’s fine, Ned. Up to his old tricks. How have you been keeping?”
“Well. Well. Other than me knees, of course.” Okay. Not the best sign.
I struggled for a moment, trying to decide which course of action would be more socially unacceptable: breaking up a conversation between old friends, or awkwardly holding back instead of going to greet my date.
I rounded the corner of Tadhg, and there he was. My eyes flew wide and I inhaled. Oh no. Oh no! I had underprepared.
Tadhg’s eyes flashed to mine in warning. Do. Not, they threatened.
“Hiiiii.” My voice came out loud and squeaky. “So nice to meet you. I’m Maya.”
“Ned.” He smiled and clasped his hands behind his back, puffing his chest up.
His toupee . . . was black. Jet. Black. Blacker even than one could imagine hair dye could conceivably achieve.
Blacker even than the inside of a Sharpie.
Blacker even than the darkest of souls hunting for bargains on Black Friday.
And it sat atop his bright white skin in the relative shape of a bowl cut. I had no protocol for this.
I itched to snatch it off. I squirmed to stop myself from telling him that he didn’t need it. That he would be so much handsomer without it.
“Ned! It’s so nice to meet you!” I said again for no reason at all.
His eyes cast appraisingly over my body, stopping for a long, drawn-out breath around my boob section, which, to be fair to Ned, was pretty much his eye level.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? I’m going to have to buy Jackie a Christmas gift.”
“Ha ha ha!” I said, getting weirder by the second. Tadhg shot me a look that I couldn’t decipher.
Jackie! What was Jackie thinking? Why did he continue to set me up with men who were nowhere near my age range?
Was I the problem? Had I said something to make him think this was the type I was looking for?
Or did he somehow think this type of man would suit my personality best?
Or perhaps that no one my age would have me?
I had never really had this issue with the dating apps—you set your age range, matched on appearance and, if you were lucky, a boring one-line bio about how he was into food.
When you set out for a first date, you knew fairly well what you were getting into.
Apart from Candlemaking with Clive the Catfish, all the men I had dated were within about five or six years of my thirty-eight, give or take.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do on a date like this.
“Should we”—I gestured way too big, like I was on the Home Shopping Network, and tried very hard not to say “distract ourselves with literally anything”—“do some perfume shopping?”
“Sure, sure. Great idea, Maya. Let’s have ourselves a little sniff.”
Oh! I had to brace myself against the counter while his back was turned. Can one die from ick? Possibly.
I stopped myself from googling the probability of ick death and joined Ned while Tadhg held back, pretending, I suspected, to look at the soaps.
The lady at the counter invited us over. “So, we have a wide range of scents, all unisex, and all inspired by our natural surroundings and the special plants and flowers that grow here in the Burren. Please help yourself, and let me know if you have any questions.” She gestured to the samples.
I was grateful to have something to do without having to say much. I grabbed for the bottle nearest me and inhaled. It was lovely. Fresh. Spicy.
Ned was busy smelling another fragrance with big noisy sniffs. “Ooh. Delicious,” he said.
“So nice,” I said.