I’m obviously the punchline, but it’s at least lighthearted. Wanda, Rita, and Grandma Helen are up to something, though. They probably have some misguided notion I won’t leave them alone about their extracurricular activities if they don’t get me laid.
“We were just informing Dr. Vasquez that the two of you are in the same boat.” Wanda’s eyebrows lift as if that’ll clue me in, but wherever he and I are supposedly sailing, I’m definitely without a paddle. “Single and ready to mingle, only to find yourself surrounded by a bunch of us old farts.”
Grandma Helen steps up on his other side, going so far as to crook a hand in his elbow. “Mia needs to get out more. She could use someone to show her the outside world, beyond Lakeview.” As she tellshimall about what “I” need, she nods, encouraging him to nod along.
He does, too, because the Cronies are good at what they do.
Silver-haired lining, it appears I’m not the only one who falls for their shenanigans.
“Sorry, Dr. Vasquez,” I mutter, wondering if there’s a limit to the amount of embarrassment a person can experience in a night.
“Call me Carlos, please.”
Now I’m the one bobbing my head, giddy grin on my face.
Doing my best to ignore the conspiratorial smile my grandma, Wanda, and Rita share.
Suddenly Tia Margarita begins to orbit, tapping a finger to her lip and givingCarlosa thorough once-over, possibly assessing height?
Given the boost of my heels, I’d place him in the 5’10” range, which I’d nudge to six feet if working on the publicity of an athlete.
Which I don’t anymore, so it’s not only irrelevant, it picks the scab off the wound so it can continue to fester and bleed.
Burying those feelings of failure as deep as I can, I focus on Carlos’s profile and how casual-sexy-cool he seems. He’s undoubtedly had experience with headstrong grannies while working at the onsite clinic, but mine really take it to another level.
As soon as Rita’s in front of us again, she tips onto her toes and smooths her hands over the tops of his shoulders, a seamstress without tape. An odd mixture of wonderment and alarm flickers across Carlos’s features, and he really is ludicrously good-looking. Like the doctors in the soaps I used to watch with these women every summer.
He casts me a crooked smile I rush to return, and for a fraction of a fraction, he and Iarein that aforementioned single-person boat together.
Then Rita is demanding he tell her he’s in touch with his Latin roots and has some dance experience. Without waiting for him to reply or demonstrate, she grips his hips and puts them into motion for him, similar to the way she did to mine during the discussion about regrets they won’t let go of.
“Okay, that’s enough.” I slide myself between the doctor and Rita, shielding his body with mine and widening my eyes so she and the others can see I mean business. “I’m so sorry they seem to have forgotten we keep our hands toourselves.”
It’s hardly the first time I’ve had to apologize for my grandmother’s and her friends’ handsiness and curiosity. Obviously, it’s time for another discussion on boundaries, but I’m wiped after tonight’s epic failure and the work I need to catch up on, because Irefuseto fail. Again.
Seizing hold of my opening, I raise my voice and point at the pop-up bar in the corner. “Look, wine!”
Not articulate by any stretch of the imagination, but it scatters their attention and turns them into adorable memory-impaired squirrels that can’t quite decide which nut to chase. In the end, they choose booze, the exact opposite of what they always advised me as a teen.
In need of a little oblivion myself, I’m thinking maybe I’ll be brave and suggest the doctor and I go have a drink in that beyond Lakeview place my grandmother mentioned.
Oh yeah, picking up a dude with a line from my grandma. Nothing sexier than that.
With bingo officially up and running, the speakers cranked extra loud, the area quickly clears. I follow Carlos’s lead, walking the wide center aisle that’ll lead to an exit door and gathering my courage, gathering my courage…
I glance at the door and wobble on my heels at the man standing there, my bravery withering. Given the option of facing a still-angry Noah or climbing onstage to deliver more grim facts and figures nobody wants to heed or hear, I’d hop aboard the STD Express so freaking fast.
“Hey, I’ll catch you later,” I say in Carlos’s general direction, irritated even more at Arlene’s grumpy grandson for ruining my shot at drinks with the doctor.
My fists clench at my sides, my fingernails digging into the palms as I attempt to redirect my anxiety and frustration into professionalism and plucky determination.
I’m not sure why it wasn’t enough to bomb my safe sex presentation. But the piper’s come calling in the form of a surly blond dude, and as our gazes collide, I can see in the blue eyes that perfectly match his grandmother’s, that he’s hell-bent on making me pay.
Chapter Eight
The door to the gym swings closed, muffling the awful racket of the bingo cage, the calling out of numbers, and the jeers and cheers from the rambunctious crowd.
Leaving me standing across from Noah, separated from my turncoat army of grannies, the reality of how far I am from finding solutions to any of the property’s problems seeping in. “Well, if it isn’t the guy who yells at grandpas.”
