His expression doesn’t change throughout the course of my little speech, but I can sense that he softens, becoming less angry as I go on.
“They had no idea that Winston goes wherever he wants.” My mother and aunts all murmur their agreement. “They’re all very sorry for the inconvenience.”
The slight upturn at the corner of his mouth makes me think we’re in the clear. That is, until with a tip of his chin, he has me turning around just in time to catch sight of Winston attempting to sneak around the corner to the stairs that goup to my apartment. I spin back to see Winston’s dad and his cocked eyebrow, and I can feel it in my bones that he knows of Winston’s little underwear stealing escapades. Knows and thinks it’s hilarious.
“You sneaky bastard, Winston,” I yell, before pointing a finger in the goat’s dad’s face. “And you. You owe me new underwear.”
The man chuckles, which for Winston’s Hot Daddy is about the same as bursting into laughter, while my family members watch me run after the thieving goat. I’m halfway up the stairs before I realize my door is closed and locked, leaving Winston with no way to get inside. My underwear drawer is safe. I chuckle when I see the goat standing at my door, with something like consternation coloring his features. Who knew goats could be so expressive?
“Serves you right, you old goat. Try to steal my underwear now.”
I’m in the middle of staring him down when a loud whistle sends him flying down the stairs. I’m forced to hoist myself onto the railing to avoid being trampled by two hundred pounds of stampeding goat. By the time I climb down and make my way back to the front of the store, Winston and his hot daddy are already halfway back to Impeckable Auto.
“Valentina, did I hear you tell that man he owes you new underwear? Is he the reason you forgot to call me today?” My mother can’t contain her excitement, her eyebrows waggling even as a massive grin takes over her face. “He’sveryhandsome. And you can tell he’d be a wonderful father because of how much he cares for that goat.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop them from rolling. “Weren’t you alljustcomplaining about him letting Winston wander wherever he pleases?”
My mother huffs. “Well, that’s before I knew the goat was the mayor of this town. The constituents need to have access to their mayor, so it makes sense to let him go where he pleases.”
I don’t tell her it would make more sense if he stayed in one spot so people knew where to find him, because even that is ridiculous. Having a goat as a mayor is a silly thing, and no matter where the goat is, it’s not like he can actually perform any of his mayoral duties. Except for ribbon-cutting ceremonies. He chews the ribbon instead of cutting it, and no one seems to mind. Except Verona, but she’s still mad about the whole losing-an-election-to-a-goat thing.
That’s neither here nor there, though, because the only reason my mother is making so many excuses for Winston is that she thinks I’m involved with his daddy. And as much as I’m sure he’s a catch, my heart belongs to another.
I smile. “Actually, Mom. I’m seeing someone else.”
My mother and aunts all begin to chatter excitedly, their voices getting higher and louder as they compete to speak over each other.
“Oh, what’s his name?”
“When do we get to meet him?”
“Which one was it?”
“I can’t wait to spoil your children.”
“Does he have a pet goat too?”
“Hi Tina, are you ready for our date?”
Hold up.
That last voice didn’t belong to one of my relatives. I spin around and spot Mr. Landon straightening his brown corduroy suit with one hand and holding a single yellow rose out to me with the other.
“Mr. Landon?” I ask, my voice laced with confusion. It’s the only thing I can think of to say.A date? With Mr. Landon? He’s gotto be twenty years older than me. And if he isn’t, he sure dresses that way.
“Please call me Leonard, Tina. It wouldn’t be proper of you to call me Mr. Landon on our date.” He notices I’ve not taken the rose, so he tucks it into a buttonhole on his jacket, turning it into an oddly placed and overly long boutonniere. “Are you ready? I can wait if you’d like to change.” He glances down at my black t-shirt and leggings. “You look beautiful the way you are, but if you’d like to dress up, I’m happy to wait while you get ready.”
I shake off the confusion enough to say, “Mr. Landon? We don’t have a date.”
How is this still happening? I really need to figure out who is making these men think I’ve agreed to go out with them. Although, I suppose I should be thankful that Mr. Landon isn’t another one of those incel douchebros from that tech place in Spitz Hollow. Seriously, did that place only hire raging misogynists on purpose, or was that some sort of unfortunate accident?
He pulls a cell phone from his pocket, looking confused. “Yes, we do. I suggested tonight we could make up for the date that was ruined by the unfortunate sauce incident and you agreed. See? it’s right here.” He points to a spot on the screen and passes his phone to me.
Sure enough, there I am in a text message agreeing to a do over date for a date that I hadn’t agreed to in the first place. And poor Mr. Landon seems so excited at the idea of going on a date with me, I actually feel a little guilty about having to let him down. The other guys who showed up expecting dates were dicks, so I didn’t much care if I hurt their feelings, but Mr. Landon has always been nothing but kind to me.
“Mr. Landon,” I begin, softening my voice.
“Please, call me Leonard.”
