“Why don’t you let me look at it?” she asked. When I gaped at her, she added, “Unless it’s confidential or something.”
“No. I mean, yes, but I don’t know why you’d want to read the legalese. Unless you have some kind of insomnia problem I don’t know about.”
“No, silly. I just happen to be one of Ezekiel Angelo’s biggest fans.”
“Well, you’re going to get to meet him tonight.”
“Meet him?” she asked as she grabbed a plate. The way her eyes widened and her mouth formed an O of shock was utterly adorable.
“I’m not kidding.” I nodded my head to the right. “He’s right over there.”
“OMG! OMG! OMG! I can’tmeethim.”
“But you’re his biggest fan. You came to see him, didn’t you?”
“See him? Yes. Meet him? Nuh-uh.”
“But—”
“Look, Frost. Sometimes I don’t make sense, all right?”
Duly noted.
Aubrey might beAngelo’s number one fan, but since she was practically petrified at the thought of meeting him, we skirted the edge of the ballroom, snacking and drinking and mingling.
“I mean, I’ve been watching him play since I was ababy,” she said.
“I don’t think I’d tell him that if I were you.”
“Are you sure meeting him would be a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”
She looked down at her skirt where her fingers fidgeted with a thin layer of fabric. “Well, they say never meet your heroes, but also, well…you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
Her eyes locked with mine. “Don’t make me say it, Frost.”
“Out with it, Longfellow.”
She titled her head to one side, the universal pose for “I know you’re not going to make me say it.”
“Yes, I am because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m a colossal screw up. I’ve had two flat tires in the past week, shown you my underwear, and tripped and bloodied my knee. Let’s not forget the mayoral spaghetti incident, either.”
“So?”
“So I don’t have a degree! I’m working as a secretary—not even an administrative assistant—for a liquor distributor.”
“People gotta drink.”
“I have enough emotional baggage to sink the Titanic.”
“But you’re in therapy.”
“Everything I touch gets messed up.”
