How to Take the Ex Out of Ex-Boyfriend Read online

  This caused snickers from Stacey and Bridget’s section of the table. “I could help you think of a couple,” Bridget said.

  I forced another smile and flipped open my menu. “I wasn’t giving you a nickname. Daphne told me you went by Buddy.”

  “Who’s Daphne?” he asked.

  Chapter 15

  Let me say right now that there are many things you don’t want to hear from your date while sitting in the middle of a restaurant. “Hey, look, the kitchen is on fire!” comes to mind. Or “Isn’t that a giant, angry scorpion crawling across your shoulder?” would also be bad. But I think the very worst possible sentence I could have heard just then was, “Who’s Daphne?”

  If he didn’t know Daphne, then he wasn’t my date at all, and yet somehow, somehow I was stuck here with him anyway.

  Well, if we wanted to be specific about the “somehow,” it involved me opening my grandmother’s front door, inviting this guy in, and then telling him to take me to a restaurant. He was probably just the meter reader, or the paperboy, or some sort of passing vagrant, and now we were eating dinner with my ex-boyfriend and his friends.

  I gave a half-strangled laugh, which sounded like I was choking. The hostess came back and shoved a glass of water at me. I took a drink, because I didn’t know what to say. I mean, how do you gracefully turn to your date and say, “Excuse me, but who the heck are you?”

  And not only was I here with some strange guy, but worse yet, my real date had probably already come and gone to my grandmother’s house. When no one answered the door, he would just naturally assume I’d stood him up. I bet after tonight my reputation with Swain guys would be so bad they’d hang warning posters about me in their cafeteria.

  Gary-whoever-he-was took a slow sip of his water. “Your nickname has to be something that’s forward, because you know, only a really forward woman asks a guy out three seconds after meeting him.”

  Bridget’s voice rose to near laughter. “Giovanna asked you out? Now isn’t that nice.”

  So, did I ’fess up to what I’d done, or pretend I’d overcome my shyness with strangers at the exact same moment I’d lost all taste in guys?

  I couldn’t decide. Either way I looked unforgivably stupid.

  “How about Panther, because you’re sleek and adventurous.” Gary rose and lowered his eyebrows knowingly. “I admire a girl who’s a risk taker, since I’m a risk taker myself.” He picked up his menu and nodded as he scanned the contents. “It’s all part of my thrill-seeking nature, I guess.”

  Everyone at the table stared at him, which was only slightly better than them staring at me for being newly dubbed “Panther.” It was like everyone was just waiting to see what ridiculous thing he would say next.

  If I suddenly faked a ruptured appendix, would Gary have to take me home—or was that one of those conditions you called an ambulance for?

  Wilson and Luke exchanged a smile. “Thrill-seeking nature?” Wilson asked, and it was clear he didn’t believe it. “So are you into bungee jumping or something?”

  “No, I’ve got a weak stomach. I can’t even do a tire swing without puking all over the place—and you just don’t want to be around me after I’ve been on the Ferris wheel. Watch out below—if you know what I mean.” He laughed and turned a page of his menu. “I’m talking about real thrills.”

  “Then you must ride a bike,” Jesse said.

  “Only when my mother doesn’t let me drive her Hyundai, but I hate pedaling uphill.”

  An ambulance ride to the hospital wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, okay, maybe the doctor and my parents would be mad when the X-rays came back normal and they figured out I’d faked the whole thing, but still, if I suddenly grabbed my side and rolled onto the floor moaning, Gary might stop talking. It would be worth it.

  “So what do you mean?” Bridget asked. “What thrills a guy like you?” She smirked at me as she said this.

  Oh yeah, this was all so amusing—me out on date with a total geek. It was awful, but on the bright side, I planned on ditching him as soon as possible. And since he was a stranger, I’d never have to see him again. I wouldn’t even tell him my last name. He didn’t know where I lived.

  “High stakes poker,” Gary said. “Blackjack. Roulette. Even bingo. That’s where I know Giovanna’s grandmother from. She and I are bingo buddies.”

  “Crap,” I said.

  He nodded. “I love craps too. Just can’t get enough of the Las Vegas life. I’m going to move there soon—well, just as soon as I pay off my gambling debts, anyway.”

  “Gambling debts,” I repeated.

  “It’s only a few thousand dollars. I could make more than that on a good day at the races, but my parents won’t even let me try. They just don’t understand building wealth. You’ve got to spend money to make money.”

  Jesse leaned back in his chair. “Actually, that phrase is about investing, not gambling.”

  Gary waved his hand as though to wipe away Jesse’s words. “It’s the same thing.”

  “No, gambling is more like taking all your money and giving it to the people who run casinos,” Jesse said.

  Gary shook his head. His lips twisted into a sneer. “You all are just too young to understand. You’re only in high school.”

  Which side was an appendix on? I needed to know where I should grab before I started moaning in agony. This was clearly one of those areas where schools are failing today’s kids, because no one had ever taught me this information. Maybe if I’d dissected that frog like I was supposed to I would have at least been able to tell you where a frog’s spleen was located, but I had no idea where my own appendix was.

  Luckily, before I’d decided to grab both sides, the waitress stepped up to our table. “You folks ready to order?”

  We ordered, and for a few minutes the group talked amongst themselves. I prayed that Gary would just be quiet for a while. Funny how dating had turned me religious. The last time I prayed I was huddled under a pool table.

  I took a drink of water and tried to remember whether there was a patron saint for bad dates. If there’s not, there really should be.

  Mostly I pretended to be absorbed in Bridget and Stacey’s conversation, because then I didn’t have to look at Gary, who kept trying to get my attention by saying things like, “Hey Panther, do you sing karaoke? I know a great karaoke bar. Maybe for our next date we could go there.”

  Jesse acted like he was listening to Luke and Wilson, but I could tell he heard every word Gary said. He had his elbow on the table and his hand resting against his mouth to try and cover his smirk.

  The waitress brought our food, which I ate quickly, not because I was hungry, but because chewing gave me a built-in excuse not to talk to Gary. Unfortunately, eating didn’t stop him from talking, often with his mouth full. He told me about the landscaping business he was trying to start up, which right now only consisted of mowing lawns, but he planned to work his way up to bushes and trees. That’s what he’d been doing over at my grandmother’s house. He’d come to see if she wanted someone to take care of her yard.

  Gary spent several minutes talking about weed extermination, and the dangers of white flies, which is really just the thing you want to hear about while you’re eating your chicken enchilada.

  Only once did Gary stop talking to me. For a brief time he tried to explain his blackjack methodology to Jesse, which would one day make him fabulously wealthy.

  In return, Jesse tried to explain that in gambling the odds are always against you, and Gary had a greater chance of being hit by a bus full of casino owners than he did of becoming fabulously wealthy by playing blackjack.

  Then Gary turned back to me. “Once I make the big time, I’ll send you a ticket so you can to come visit Vegas, Panther.”

  “You don’t have to keep calling me Panther,” I told him.

  He wiggled his fork in my direction. “If I’m your Buddy, then you’re my Panther.”

  “You’re not my Buddy.”

&nbs
p; “Uh-oh. Panther has her claws out.”

  Normally, I would have just gone back to my enchilada and ignored him. You know, just ride it out and try to make the best of a bad situation. But Jesse sat across the table watching me with his time-stopping eyes. I didn’t want him to think, for even one second, that I was anybody’s Panther. So I unclamped my lips. “Look, Gary, just stop it.”

  “Her fur is raised. Next she’s going to pounce. Cats always go for the neck, don’t they?”

  Jesse put one hand on the table and leaned toward Gary. Slowly, he said, “The lady told you to stop that.”

  Just like that, the rest of the conversation at the table halted. Gary didn’t notice. He shrugged back at Jesse. “It’s not any of your concern, now is it?”

  Jesse’s eyes flashed. “It is if I say it is.”

  I put my fork down. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to flee from this restaurant. I couldn’t look at Jesse. “I’m finished with dinner,” I told Gary. “Are you ready to take me back to my grandmother’s house?”

  Gary grudgingly pulled his attention away from Jesse and held his hand up in the air. He snapped his fingers to get our waitress’s attention. When she didn’t look at him, he snapped louder. “I’ll get you a doggy bag—or in this case a kitty bag.”

  The waitress finally turned toward Gary, and he yelled, “Can you bring us a doggy bag and the check?”

  She nodded and left. I let out a sigh. It would all be over soon. I looked at my enchilada, my fork, the napkin on the table, anything but Jesse’s disapproving eyes. The plan had been to make him jealous. Instead I had humiliated myself by showing up with a socially inept gambling addict.

  Gary reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and then shut it again. “Hey Panther, I hope you have some cash, because I’m low on funds.”

  The table grew silent. “What?” I asked.

  “I don’t have any money, but after all, you’re the one who asked me out. You get the check this time, and I’ll pay when we go out for karaoke.”

  Okay, I’d like to point out that even Dave, Mr. Circle-K-Fudgsicles, didn’t make me pay for his part of our date. And call me old-fashioned, but if Gary knew he had no money and was planning on sticking me with the check, should he really have ordered the expensive steak chimi-changa platter?

  I picked my purse up off of the floor, feeling every single stare sent in my direction. I knew I had a twenty-dollar bill in my wallet. I hoped I had more. My chicken enchilada cost about ten dollars. His dinner was more than that. We’d both only had water to drink, but I needed money for taxes and the tip. I flipped my wallet open. There was only the twenty. The picture of Andrew Jackson looked away from me forlornly, which was more than everyone else at the table did.

  “Are you okay?” Stacey asked. “You look flushed.”

  I put my purse in my lap and tapped my fingers against the strap. “That may be because my appendix just ruptured.”

  “Nah, you’d be in more pain,” Gary said.

  “Oh, I am. I just hide it really well.”

  Bridget picked up her glass, and for a second I thought she was going to offer a toast. Instead she said, “Panther, you’re such a kidder.”

  I turned away from her and looked at Gary. “Do you have any money at all? Because I only have a twenty.”

  He shook his head, unconcerned. “My parents cut up my credit cards, but don’t worry. We can always wash dishes to make up the difference. I’ve done it before.”

  Not in a silk Armani blouse, he hadn’t.

  I couldn’t see another choice. I turned to Jesse. “Can you please lend me some money? I’ll pay you back as soon as I get home.”

  A grin spread across his face. He stretched his shoulders, put his hands together, and cracked his knuckles. “I think we could work out a deal.”

  Great. He was about to tell me I had to do something terrible like wear a “Vote for Wilson” button tomorrow. My throat felt tight; still I said, “What did you have in mind?”

  Jesse turned from me and looked over at Gary. “How would you like to make a little wager?”

  Gary’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t usually make little wagers, but I can make an exception. What are you fixing to wager?”

  “Your date,” Jesse said.

  “Me?” I asked.

  Jesse nodded as though it were nothing. “You said you wanted to borrow money.”

  “But . . .” But you can’t just wager people. This wasn’t some medieval slave market where you could buy somebody. I didn’t say any of that of course, because my common sense kicked in immediately after I said the word but. As I saw it, if Jesse wanted to wager me away from Gary—great. I was even willing to help him cheat in order to win.

  “What’s your game?” Gary asked. “I’ve got dice in my car.”

  “Something more simple than that. A number game.”

  The waitress walked up to our table and put a Styrofoam box down beside my plate. Before she could lay the billfold with the check onto the table, Jesse held his hand out for it. He laid it down in front of him without opening it. “If I win, then Giovanna is my date. I’ll pay the bill, but you’ll have to agree to leave and never contact her again.”

  “And if I win?” Gary asked.

  “Then I’ll pay your bill plus give you an extra ten you can use for dessert on the way home.” Finally, Jesse turned to me. “Do you agree to the terms? I don’t think you’ll get a better offer, and I’d hate to see you in the kitchen scraping food off of plates.”

  “It’s a deal,” Gary said.

  Jesse didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on me, waiting. His tone turned gentle. “Do you agree, Giovanna?”

  “I agree,” I said.

  He smiled at me, and yes, time did stop. Then he turned to Gary. “On your check are several numbers.” Jesse picked up the billfold and turned it around as though trying to see through the leather. “We could bet as to whether the total was even or odd. We could bet as to what all the digits added up together would equal, or—I know—we’ll both pick a number between one and ten. Whoever is closest to . . .” He paused, then shrugged. “The last digit of the total before taxes wins. I’ll let you pick first.”

  Gary smiled confidently. “A good gambler knows that in this game you always choose the number five. It gives you the best odds.”

  “Fine. You take five. I’ll go with the number eight.” Jesse handed the billfold to Gary. “Why don’t you open it and tell us what the number is.”

  Gary chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve got a lot to learn about gambling. You should have chosen either four or six. Four would have let you win with any number lower than five. Six would make you a winner with any number higher than five. With eight your chances of winning are . . .” his voice trailed off as he opened the billfold. He stared at the check for a moment and let out a grunt.

  “What’s the number?” I asked.

  Gary handed the bill to Jesse. His lips momentarily pursed. “Eight.”

  I tried not to smile too widely. “Well, Gary, it was nice meeting you and everything. Have a good drive home.”

  Gary let out a sigh, but nodded. “Right, thanks for dinner.” He didn’t look at me as he stood up and left the table. I almost felt sorry for him. He looked so sad as he plodded away.

  When he was out of earshot, Luke said, “Well, that’s how you know you’ve got a gambling problem. When you lose your girlfriend at dinner, it’s time to call that one-eight-hundred number.”

  “I wasn’t his girlfriend,” I said.

  Stacey smirked at me. “Whatever you say, Panther.”

  Bridget put both elbows on the table and leaned toward Jesse. “So was it a lucky guess, or did you somehow look at the check to see that the number was an eight?”

  “I’m not a cheater,” Jesse said. “But I’m not a gambler either. I just do math.” He took out his wallet and counted out bills to put in with the check. “All the prices on the menu end
in the number nine. Giovanna and Gary ordered two items. Two times nine is eighteen. Eighteen ends in eight. If Gary hadn’t been so caught up in his gambling methods, he might have realized that.”

  Well, that was probably a kinder assessment of Gary than he deserved.

  Chapter 16

  After the bill was settled, Jesse and I left the restaurant. When we got to the parking lot, Jesse’s paced slowed. With a teasing look he took hold of my hand. “I can do this because you’re my date now.” He gently squeezed my fingers. “I won you fair and square.”

  I let him hold my hand, in fact I squeezed his hand back, even though I knew this was disloyal to Dante. “Thanks for paying for my dinner, and, you know, saving me from Gary.”

  “I told you not to let Daphne set you up.”

  I hated to admit the truth, so I did it with a sigh. “This date wasn’t Daphne’s fault. It was all a big mistake and just bad luck. Really bad luck. In fact, I bet one of my ancestors defiled an Egyptian tomb or something.”

  Jesse laughed and pulled me a step closer to him. I could smell the familiar scent of his cologne. It felt irresistibly like old times, and I wondered whether he wanted me back, or whether he was just enjoying the victory of winning me in a bet.

  I took sly glances at his face but couldn’t read anything from his expression. He looked happy and confident, but that might be because this was the punch line to my joke of a date.

  “I guess I have a talent for making mistakes,” I told him, and I hoped he understood that I wasn’t just talking about Gary.

  He took a few steps in silence, considering, then said, “Well, you were right about one thing. Remember when you criticized my friends?”

  My heart jumped at his words. Even as the thought came to my mind, I dismissed it, but still I hoped that he’d found out the truth about Wilson. Maybe that was why he’d come over to talk to Dante. Maybe Jesse hadn’t done anything to make Dante quit the race after all.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Well, Stacey and Bridget can get a might catty at times. Actually a lot of the time.”