Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The Ick
O ver the next few days, I have emails and phone calls coming in from new clients.
Most of them are people I met at the flash mob practice, and others heard of me by word of mouth.
I start looking into an office space I can rent so that I’ll have a formal place to meet with people.
For the first time, I have to use my calendar to make sure I’m not overbooking meetings. It feels good to be busy.
Oliver picks me up on the way to the airfield.
It’s about an hour away. It’s the only place we could find two pilots who can write in the sky on such short notice.
I want to meet them in person to make sure we’re all on the same page and also to make sure their planes are real and we’re not being scammed.
“I brought snacks,” I say to Oliver as I sit down in the passenger seat.
“Of course you did.” He reaches over to pull the bag open. “Anything good?”
“I only bring good things,” I tell him. I toss a bag of peanut butter cups at him. I keep the trail mix for myself. “I thought you weren’t a snacker.”
“You’re turning me into one.” He unwraps a peanut butter cup and pops it into his mouth. “How much business did you pull in from the other night?” he asks once we’re on the road. “Did everyone who asked you for a business card follow through?”
“Everyone and more. I’ve already had a few meetings and more set up for next week. A couple of people have put down deposits already.”
“And Malcolm?” He keeps his eyes on the road when he asks this.
I watch him, trying to gauge his reason for asking about Malcolm. He gives nothing away. “I’m still trying to figure out how to tell him I can’t work with him. We haven’t signed any agreements yet and he hasn’t paid a deposit, so it’s not like I’m committed to him.”
“He hasn’t sent any more late-night texts?”
“Not since I told him we should limit our meetings to business hours only.”
Oliver turns to look at me with an amused smile. “You told him that?”
I shrug. I think about how I lied to Malcolm and told him I was seeing someone.
I wonder if I should mention this to Oliver or if he would think it’s weird.
Maybe he would think I’m getting too comfortable with our fake relationship.
I’m just starting to feel like we might actually be friends.
The last thing I need is to rehash what happened a year ago.
The reminder of how he embarrassed me puts a damper on my mood. I dig into my trail mix bag and stuff a handful of peanuts and M&M’s in my mouth so that I won’t have to talk for a while.
We make it to the airfield a while later.
Oliver parks his truck in front of the hangar.
Two men who appear to be waiting for us step out of the building and stand by the door, watching us as we get out of the truck.
I look from one to the other, realizing that these two men are identical.
They look like they’re in their mid-fifties.
They have matching gray beards that hang down to the tops of their chests.
They wear identical black leather jackets and blue jeans stained with oil.
“I’m Jimmy,” says the guy on the left. “This is my cousin, Peter.”
I do a double take. I could have sworn these men were identical. They start laughing, the same dry cackle, and then Peter says, “He’s just messin’ with you. We’re not related.”
They both cackle again, this time louder and longer. Oliver and I exchange an amused look. Now I’m not sure what to believe.
“You shoulda seen the looks on your faces,” Jimmy says. “Come on in. You want to see the planes?”
Both men turn and head back inside the building. Oliver and I follow.
“But… you are twins, right?” Oliver asks as we reach the planes.
The men cackle in unison again. It’s hard not to laugh along with them.
“Actually, we were born on different days,” Peter says.
“Different years, even,” adds Jimmy.
“Oh. You guys look so much alike,” I say. “I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
“Must be the beards and matching jackets,” Oliver says. We exchange another look. I still can’t spot any differences between the two men other than the pattern of the oil stains on their jeans.
The men break into laughter again.
“Are you messing with us?” Oliver asks, laughing too.
“We are twins,” Jimmy says. “I was born at eleven-fifty-nine on December thirty-first, and Peter was born five minutes later in January.”
“But we won’t tell you what years,” Peter says. They laugh again. Oliver and I laugh with them.
“Anyway,” Jimmy says, patting the side of the plane. “This one’s mine. I can fly the banner. Peter’s better at skywriting, so he’ll do that one. What do you want them to say?”
“The banner needs to say ‘Will you marry me, Ryan?’” I say.
“And the smoke in the sky should spell out ‘Marry me, Tina,’” Oliver adds.
“Two proposals, huh?” Peter says. “You sure you want them at the same time?”
I nod. “They have to be at the same time, on opposite sides of the fairground. It’s important that everything is timed perfectly. Are you able to do that?”
Peter and Jimmy exchange a glance before looking back at us. “Of course we can,” they say in unison. Then they look at each other and cackle again.
“Great,” I say, feeling relieved. “What do you need to make this happen? Aside from payment, of course. Is there some kind of permit for flying over the fair? I’ve never booked anything like this before.”
“You just tell us where and when, and Jimmy and I will take care of the rest,” Peter says.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
We go over the details in an office at the back of the hangar, then I pay Tina’s half of the deposit and Oliver uses Ryan’s credit card to pay his half.
As soon as we’re back in Oliver’s truck, I get a new text message.
“Speak of the devil,” I say, referencing our conversation earlier. “Malcolm just texted me.”
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to dump him right now?”
I read the message.
Malcolm
I don’t like how our last conversation ended. Want to meet up at H.M. Lounge tonight at 8?
Now it’s my turn to raise a brow. It seems like he’s deliberately disregarding my request to keep our meetings during business hours.
Priscilla
That won’t work for me. I can probably fit you into my schedule Monday morning for a video call.
Malcolm
How about this: we meet up tonight at 8 and I’ll pay you double what your normal rate is. Fair enough?
The audacity of this man makes me feel sick.
I wish I had never given him the time of day when he showed up at my table a couple weeks ago.
I’m not even sure what to believe now. He had said that my old boss was responsible for the caterer situation, but after just a few short interactions with him, he strikes me as the type of person who might lie about that sort of thing for his own benefit. I don’t trust him.
“What’s wrong?” Oliver asks. “You’re turning red and you look like you could kill someone.”
“This guy is just confirming that I made the right decision to not move forward with his company.”
Priscilla
I think that money would be better spent on the disabled adults you’re supposedly supporting.
Malcolm
Ouch haha…
I like ’em feisty.
What do you mean you can “fit me in” on Monday, though? You only have one other client. You’re exclusive with me now.
Priscilla
I’ve taken on more clients and I won’t be able to move forward with arranging ANY-Time’s events.
Malcolm
I can make you change your mind.
I still want to meet up with you tonight. 8pm. Don’t stand me up.
“He’s disgusting,” I say to Oliver. I read the messages aloud to get his opinion.
“Tell him you have a boyfriend,” Oliver says. “Not that it should matter, since you should be able to reject a guy for any reason you want.”
“I already told him that last week. I thought that would be the end of it, but he won’t take no for an answer. I think I’m going to have to block him.”
I decide not to waste any more time thinking about it. I pull up his number on my phone and block it. Then I power my phone off so that I won’t have to think about it anymore.
“There. Done.”
“Feel better?” Oliver says.
I nod. “I have so many new clients. I don’t need him. He probably would have fired me for not going on a date with him anyway.”
“He’s probably not used to being rejected, and it’s driving him crazy that you don’t want him,” he says with a smirk.
“I feel bad for any woman who does go out with him. He gives me the ick.”
“The ick?” Oliver repeats with a laugh.
“Yeah. The ick. It’s what all the cool kids are saying these days.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
We drive in silence for a minute. Without the radio on, the only sounds are the purring of the engine and the hum of the tires rolling against the asphalt.
“Ryan doesn’t think it’s weird that you’re making all of these arrangements for him?” I ask, changing the subject.
Oliver shrugs. “I think he’s just glad he doesn’t have to do any of the planning himself.”
“That makes sense,” I say around a mouthful of trail mix. “Especially after you screwed up his first attempt.”
He leans sideways over the center console and elbows me in the arm. “If that’s what you think happened, then you have a terrible memory.”
“First, you let me figure out his plan and steal his ring,” I remind him. “And then you tried to cancel the jumbotron, and when that didn’t work, you stole all the thunder for yourself.”
He gives me a side-eye. “It was Ryan’s ex who ruined everything. Besides, I didn’t let you do anything. You just have the investigative skills of an FBI agent.”
I scoff. “Hardly. You’re just way too easy to read. You never should have picked me up that day with the ring in your car.”
He shakes his head, looking away from the road to meet my eyes. “Nah,” he says. “I’m glad I picked you up. It was the right choice.”
“Why’s that? Couldn’t live with yourself if I had died of hypothermia out there?”
“Because it got you to be my friend again,” he says.
I lick the salt off my lips. I’m surprised by his admission, but maybe I shouldn’t be.
We were friends before that stupid thing he said in front of everyone last year, even if it was only for a week.
Even through all of the hurt and the embarrassment, I missed our friendship—or at least what it could have been.
I fought with him because I’m stubborn and I guess I have too much pride, but it’s not like he’s made an effort to be nice to me either.
I thought that maybe he never cared about being my friend, which made me feel even more embarrassed about drunkenly telling Tina how much I liked him.
To hear him tell me that he’s glad he picked me up gives me whiplash.
“You could have tried to be my friend at any time during the last year,” I tell him.
“Yeah.” He turns his gaze back to the road. “I guess I could have.”