Round Eleven
BILLY
Tania:
Everything’s fine back here. Jeremy’s being a little fussy. Doesn’t want to go to sleep till you get home. But we’re watching a movie and eating our weight in popcorn.
I hope you’re having a blast! Ramone texted and said you’ve developed some new love connections! I’ll be honest; I thought you were going out of obligation and would’ve been the token grumpy jerk brooding in the corner. I’m thrilled for you. It’s time you jumped back into the dating world.
I lock my phone without responding and grit my teeth as people flirt and giggle and chatter around me. The nervous energy from earlier wears away, which means conversations flow a little more freely, and the no-touching rule is disrespected time and time again.
Especially by the crying women who regale me with stories of Aria and try so hard to grab my hand.
Cool!
Some ask about my custody schedule with my son—like, where the fuck else do I send him when I want time off? The cemetery!?—and then there are others… like Fox Tatum, who smirks like she’s having the time of her life.
“It’s rude to text someone else while we’re on a date, Detective.
” She rubs a gentle circle against the side of her belly.
“Are you speaking to other women?” And then she gasps, loud enough to draw eyes.
Too many eyes. “Are you cheating on me, Billy Caster? Because I thought we had something special!”
“I’ll drop your Academy Award in the mail when this shitshow is all done.
” I slip my phone into my pocket and don’t look along the line.
I fuckin’ refuse, because if I did, I’d be forced to watch Ramone shamelessly flirt with Maggie.
“Why’s everyone got such a hard-on for pissing me off this week, huh?
Was there a town meeting where everyone voted to harass me? ”
“There was actually.” She bounces her foot, swinging perfectly pedicured nails up so they flash in my peripherals.
“We thought hey, that poor Detective Caster hasn’t gotten laid in a while, which is probably why he’s so cranky all the time.
Figured our rap sheets would benefit from showing you a good time. ”
“You failed. This shit ain’t fun at all.”
“No?” She angles forward and scans the rows of tables on her left.
Then on her right. “I’m having a blast, and my poor man…
” She spots Chris several tables away. Bringing a hand up, she finger waves and blows an air kiss.
“He’s not having a good time either, but I’ll take him home shortly and fix that right up.
” Finally, she brings dark brown eyes back to mine.
“You could consider actually trying, Detective. Pick someone who isn’t married, isn’t related to you, and hasn’t spent time in your cages in the last six months.
Ask her out. See what happens. You may be pleasantly surprised. ”
“It’s not like I never date.” Scowling, I pick up my beer, the same one from hours ago, and take a small sip purely for the sake of having something to do with my hands. “I spent time with a woman last month, actually.”
“Did you fall in love?”
“No.”
“Did you get laid?”
A low, warning growl rolls through my chest. “No.”
“Did you smile at any point during the evening?” She snickers. “Smiles are important.”
“But I thought I had to present my most authentic self? If I strut around on a Friday night, all grins and good moods, a woman might feel a little put out on Monday when she finds out I’m actually a complete prick.”
“This is true.” She swings that foot. Up.
Down. Up. Down. “I suppose we should limit your options to women who already know you’re a prick then.
” She flashes a wicked grin and, as though she’d been counting, she waves me to her left in the same instant the buzzer sounds.
“It was lovely, Detective. I’ll be sure your report card reflects your efforts accordingly. ”
Four hours have never gone so fucking slowly in my life, and the further I move away from Maggie’s table, the slower… time… goes.
Why?
I should want to be away from her! I should cheer for every table that separates us.
“I bet it’s annoying when dates insist on asking about Aria, right?”
I’ve moved beyond my circle of friends, past my buddies’ wives, even past Ramone’s sister.
At least they were fun. Now, I’m forced to spend my final five minutes with Bitchy Barbara’s paramedic granddaughter while she spins her tongue around the straw in her drink and pretends not to be like other girls. “It must be exhausting.”
“Mmhm. It sure is.” I bide my time and focus on the scribbles in her notebook, then I glance to my left and check that chick’s notebook, too. I’ve spent the last two hours sneaking peeks at everyone’s pads of paper, because it bothers me more than it should to know that I’m being graded.
Who fucking cares if someone writes shit about me, all for Magnolia Sava’s wine-fueled amusement?
I definitely shouldn’t care.
I care.
“Did you see Ramone and Calais left together already?” Dara inches forward and inadvertently reveals a chest glowing red from all the alcohol she’s swallowed tonight. “I saw them sneak out about an hour ago.”
“Yeah?” Yeah, I saw them. “At least the numbers are still even. One guy, one girl. It won’t mess Maggie’s schedule up too much.”
“Maggie.” She exhales a small, not-very-ladylike burp, which only results in a brighter blush staining her skin. “I don’t even remember her from school. Seems everyone else does, but I…” She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh.”
“She was two grades ahead of you.” Ramone and Maggie had a moment back in the day? He never said a damn thing about it. “You’ve had a few drinks tonight. How are you planning to get home?”
“Oh… I, uh…” She stares down at her empty glass with a frown. “Hmm… I drove here.”
“You’re not driving home.” I snatch her keys from right beside her phone faster than her mind can process my movement. “You got someone you can call to come get you?”
“Calais and I came together.” She licks the rim of her glass. “I could walk. It’s not so far.”
Walk.
While drunk.
For fuck’s sake.
“I’ll drive you home in my car. Leave yours here. When you wake up tomorrow, you can walk back and get it.”
She searches my eyes. Hers are sweet and tired and way too fucking drunk to see straight.
Fortunately for me, the buzzer sounds and frees me from this shit.
“And that’s it.” Maggie strides along the line of tables and chairs, her trusty microphone gripped in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
She makes her way toward her little podium, her expression wearier than it was four hours ago.
“I want to thank you all. From the bottom of my heart,” she turns at her stage, sets her water down, and presses her hand to her chest, “truly, thank you for making Plainview’s first Magnolia Sava event a wild success.
Alana has agreed to keep the store open for an additional thirty minutes for any last-minute purchases on your way out the door.
All book sales are fifteen percent off the marked price for tonight only, and if you purchase something, you’ll receive another fifteen percent off coupon for next time.
I saw a handful of you drinking a little more than the initial glass of champagne offered at the door, so I’ll remind you all to drive safely and legally.
Other than that…” Finally, her face lightens with a gorgeous smile.
“I’m in the business of love, and I sincerely hope love has blossomed for at least a few of you tonight.
Thank you for coming, and I hope to see you at the next—”
“Wait.” Fox bounds to her feet, unperturbed by the hundred sets of eyes swinging her way. “You forgot your lucky door prize.”
“Oh! Right.” Maggie turns and snatches up a bowl filled to the brim with tiny slips of paper. “I totally almost forgot.”
Troop’s hand shoots into the air with body-rolling enthusiasm. “What’s the prize, Miss Sava? You said it was worth five thousand big ones.”
Maggie’s cheeks flame with a blush. Something she never sends my way.
She dips her hand into the bowl and mixes the slips of paper.
Circling them. Playing with her rapt audience.
“Tonight’s lucky winner will receive a complete Magnolia Sava dating package.
From date selection to outfit advice, from talking point prep, and after-date discussion.
My job will be to find your one true love.
” She casts her eyes around the crowd. “I’ll help the winner speak to women.
I’ll provide guidance on how best to approach her, from asking her out to deciding where to take her.
Flower selection, restaurant bookings, even meal choices if that’s what he needs.
If the winner lacks confidence when approaching the ladies, I’ll guide him through that.
If he already has a lucky lady in mind, I’ll build the bridge and get him where he’d like to go.
My entire life is wrapped around love, and I pride myself on finding matches that’ll last a lifetime.
” She exhales a soft snicker. “And then I’ll gently needle for an invitation to the wedding. ”
Everyone laughs.
Ha ha ha. She’s so cute, so funny, so charming.
Bleh!
“This will become a partnership of sorts, between our winner and me, and I won’t stop until I’ve created the perfect match. Second dates. Third. One-month anniversaries, and more. I’ll walk side-by-side with him until, eventually, a wedding planner steps in and takes over.”
“Arrogant?” Tommy quips. “Or confident?”
“I have a one-hundred percent success rate so far,” she declares.
The noise in the room grows, private conversations and side chatter buzz from one end of the long bookstore to the other.
“This is more than mashing two human beings together and hoping for the best,” she continues.
“This is psychology and chemistry and connection. It’s happily ever after, which,” she gestures toward a smiling Alana, “makes tonight’s venue even more extraordinary.
Take out your tickets, gentlemen. Tonight’s winner is about to become my best friend. ”
Dudes frantically search their pockets. Half of them panic, because maybe they lost it at some point between champagne number one and now, and the other half stare at the small slip of paper like it’s a lottery ticket worth millions.
Maggie takes her hand from the bowl, sans-ticket, and extends the lot toward Alana. “Would you do the honors, Mrs. Watkins? This is your store, and your happily ever after is already so exquisite.”
“Of course.” Alana leaps up from her seat and struts along the long row of tables, dragging her fingertips over the back of Tommy’s neck as she passes, then coming to a stop beside Maggie and Fox. Teasingly, she dips her hand into the bowl and plays with the crowd a little longer.
She builds tension, dragging the moment out long enough to tempt me to toss a beer bottle at her head, then she selects her slip of paper with an ah-huh and offers it back to Maggie. “That one felt good. Felt lucky.”
Maggie does a little tappy-toe wiggle, bouncing her brows and unfolding the paper.
She reads its stamped numbers, pausing for a loaded beat, then she brings the mic back to her lips and exhales a breathy, annoyingly sexy “one-zero-seven-three.” Casting her eyes over the crowd, she grins and repeats, “one-zero-seven-three. Check your tickets, gentlemen. I’d like our winner to stand up. ”
Grumbles erupt throughout the room as dudes frantically try to remember how to read numbers. Some grunt, and others harrumph. Dozens of ‘not me’ ring through the air, and Eliza climbs over Chris’ table, snatching his ticket up and checking the numbers just in case.
Not him.
“No one?” Fox asks incredulously. “Detective Deveraux is our only male guest who snuck out early. If he’s our winner, things are gonna get awfully awkward tomorrow when Maggie knocks on his front door.”
“Is it you?” Dara leans heavily onto the table, staring through half-closed eyes. “Where’s your ticket?”
“It’s not me.” And these people have three more minutes to wrap this shit up before I’m out the door and climbing into my bed at home.
“Seriously, no one?” Alana grumbles. “Tommy? Honey? Is it you? I won’t be mad.”
“It’s not me!” he laughs, showing his ticket for anyone who cares to look close enough. “I already found my perfect match, baby.”
“Billy didn’t check his ticket yet,” Dara announces drunkenly, sucking on her bottom lip and smiling like the alcohol is really doing good things for her brain. “He didn’t even look.”
“Stand up.” Troopy stalks across the room. “Now.”
“Get away from me,” I scoff. “I’m too tired for your shit.”
“So stand up!” He grabs my arm and yanks me to my feet, then he lifts his free hand and wiggles his fingers. “I’m gonna go on a deep dive inside your pocket, Detective. If I touch your dick, I’m gonna be real mad.”
“So don’t put your hand in my pocket. Fuck!” I snatch the stupid ticket out and unfold the scrunched paper. “See? One-zero-seven-three.”
“That’s the number, dickhead!” He snatches it from my fingers, tearing the damn thing clean in half so we have a portion each. “He’s got it.”
“No! It’s…” My stomach performs a whole fucking somersault while my brain desperately searches for an out. “You were looking for sixty-somethin’.”
“He’s got the one-zero, I’ve got the seven-three.” He claps my back and shoves me forward half a dozen steps. “Got your winner, Ms. Sava. But you’re gonna have to hold on real tight. He’s likely to bolt at the first chance.”
“You?” Like the world tastes of lemons, Maggie sets her mic down and meets us halfway along the green mile. She accepts Troop’s half-a-ticket and glares at me for the rest.
Fuck.
Groaning, I offer her the other half and look anywhere but into her sinful eyes. “Do a re-draw or something. I have no interest in winning a Magnolia Sava anything.” I bring my eyes down and freeze her with a frosty smile. “Not even the five-thousand-dollar kind.”
“You don’t have a choice,” she sneers.
“I…” I choke out a laugh. “Yeah, I do! I choose not to participate. Bada-bing, look at that. I’ve chosen.”
“Did you miss the part where I mentioned a one-hundred percent success rate?” She scrunches the paper-halves and glowers. “Either stick around for another twenty minutes so I can get started and jot down a few notes, or you can go home and I’ll knock on your door tomorrow.”
“Detective Caster can’t stick around.” Dara stumbles into our space and drapes her arms around my chest. Laying her cheek on the ball of my shoulder, she sways drunkenly. “He’s taking me home tonight.”
Maggie’s eyes widen. Her throat bobs, and her cheeks burn bright red.
But her lips… fuck, her lips curl into a fake-ass smile.
“I’m thrilled to see a potential love connection in the making.
” She tips her head forward. “Enjoy your evening, Detective. I’ll drop by tomorrow sometime so we can discuss steps going forward. ”
And with that, she turns on her heels and makes her way back to her podium.