“You said he could pick anyone, correct?” He crossed theaisle, scanning the boxes. “So he says it’s him, and then you have no choice but to go out with him. Pretty genius. I take it that part was his idea?”
Come to think of it, it had been. But that meant nothing, either. “Ambrose doesnotwant to go out with me, William. We barely even like each other.”
“So you say,” he said, picking up a box and putting it in the basket. “I hear a lot of laughing when you two are in the office. And you looked pretty cozy at that photoshoot.”
“Sir, can you help me with the curry sauces?” a woman in a sundress called out from one aisle down. “I need one that’s mild but fragrant.”
“I have to get out of here,” William hissed to me, starting toward the register. Still, he couldn’t help himself, saying to the woman as he passed her, “Tamil’s, in mild. Don’t use too much.”
“Thank you!”
At the registers, I was determined to bring up the Ambrose thing again, demanding why on earth he thought that, of all things, would be the outcome of our bet. Because we looked good pretending to slice a cake? But just as I started to say this, his phone rang: it was my mother, calling about some issue with the photographer of the Elinor Lin Wedding that weekend, serious enough that they kept talking the entire ride back home. As we pulled up in the driveway, I could see Jilly in her backyard, alone for once, waiting for me. No time to ask more questions, which was maybe a good thing after all. But as I said good-bye to him, then crossed the grassto Jilly’s, I couldn’t help but consider the fact that William’s intuition was usually dead on. Then again, everyone can be wrong sometimes.
“There he is,” Jilly said, her voice low. “Act cool.”
This had to be the worst thing to say to a nervous person. I thought about telling her so, but I was too on edge watching Leo make his way across the crowded living room. Instead I asked, “Whose party is this, anyway?”
“Jack from Turbo Taco,” she said, sipping her beer. “His parents have that truck with the racing flames on it? They sell the hottest hot sauce in town. People have been hospitalized.”
“Wow,” I said, as Leo stopped to talk to two girls who had their backs to us. He had on yet another plaid shirt, short sleeved this time, and no apron. Not that he would wear an apron to a party. Okay, I was nervousandcrazy. I took another gulp of my beer, which was warm even though I’d only just gotten it. “God, I feel so out of place. Why did I agree to do this again?”
“Because the Lumberjack is cute and you want to beat Ambrose,” she replied cheerfully, adjusting the neckline of her dress. “Speaking of which, there he is. I guess he found it after all.”
I glanced over to where she was looking. Sure enough, there was Ambrose in the kitchen, popping a beer open on the countertop. When he saw us, he waved, pushing thatcurl from his forehead. Ira was on the deck outside, being petted by a group of girls holding red cups. This time, he had on a polka-dot bandana. Apparently, this was his signature look now. “Found it?” I asked.
“Ambrose hadn’t heard of the neighborhood when I told him about this party.”
Now I turned, giving her my full attention. “You invited him?”
“Yeah, when I gave him that ride the other night.” She was scanning the crowd, not looking at me. When she realized I was staring at her, she blinked. “What?”
“I thought you couldn’t stand him.”
She flipped her hand. “Oh, that was just a first impression. He’s okay.”
Between this and William’s melon-prosciutto date, I suddenly felt like no one was telling me anything. “You gave Ambrose a ride? When?”
“Last week,” she said easily. “I was doing register for my dad downtown, after the bars closed, and I saw him and his dog walking. I couldn’t just drive past them, especially at two a.m.”
“I’m surprised he was alone,” I remarked, as Leo looked up and saw me, waving a hand. I waved back, and the girls he was talking to both turned to look at me. I sucked down more of my beer.
“He said he’d just dodged some girl at a club,” she replied. “Crazy story. Had to run out the back door.”
“I think I heard about that.”
“I’m sure you did.” She took another sip. “Anyway, I just drove him back to his sister’s. He invited me in for a snack, but I said no. Being around food all night in close quarters and all. Plus I felt super greasy.”
“He asked you in?”
“Yeah.” She was looking around again, and took a second to meet my eyes. “Why? Is that weird? You guys are just friends, right?”
“Not even that,” I said quickly. “We just work together.”
“And make bets together.”
“That’s strictly for bragging rights,” I told her, thinking about what William had said.
“That’s what I thought.” She tucked a piece of hair behind one ear. “I don’t think he’s my type anyway. Too loosey-goosey. Not a sport coat in sight.”
