Authors: Janet Evanovich
"She's pretty," I said.
"Yes, she's way too pretty for me. And probably too young. I don't know why she even went out with me in the first place. I thought maybe you could tell her I joined a gym, and I have a private trainer now. And I think my hair is growing back."
I looked up at the three strands of hair plastered to the top of his dome.
"I thought I might have seen some fuzz this morning," Gary Martin said.
"Anything else you want me to tell her?"
"I'll leave it up to you. You're a relationship expert, right? I mean, you know the right things to say"
Oh boy, we were in trouble. I never said the right thing. Lula was right. I was a relationship disaster.
"Sure," I told him. "Leave it to me. I'll get this fixed up."
Lula settled her ass on a Beetle Bumpkin barstool and looked around. "Beetle Bumpkin is one of them new mini chains," she said. "There's one just opened downtown. The sandwiches are good because they fry them. Everything's fried. That's the Beetle Bumpkin secret ingredient."
Loretta Flack was taking an order at the other end of the bar. Her hair was yellow under the Bumpkin bar lights, and her breasts were packed into a red Beetle Bumpkin T-shirt. I figured she was maybe fifteen years younger than Gary Martin.
"Let me do the talking this time," I said to Lula.
"My lips are sealed. I'm only here in case you need backup. Like suppose she tries some karate moves or she pulls a gun on you."
"I don't think that's going to happen."
"You never know. Best to be prepared, I always say. People are unpredictable. I learned that in my human behavior course at the community college. Did I ever tell you I took a human behavior course?"
"Yes."
"It could help in this situation. It's just about qualified me to be a relationship expert. Plus I got a lot of expertise all those years when I was a 'ho. I bet I could relationship the ass off you."
"No doubt. Let me talk anyway."
Loretta made her way down to us. "Ladies?" she said.
"Diet Coke and tuna on rye," I told her.
"I'll have the Beetle special sandwich and cheese fries and a Coke," Lula said.
I looked at my watch. It was twelve-thirty. "What about your afternoon diet?"
"It's more like a suggestion than a rule. And anyway, I
thought since we're working on these cases I should keep my strength up. I might get all weak and hypoglycemic if I don't have cheese fries."
"So," Loretta said. "Working ladies."
"Yep. We're relationship experts," Lula said. "We fix up relationships. You got any that needs fixin'?"
"No. I'm good with relationships. I'm in a dreamy one right now. He's a lawyer."
"You don't look like the lawyer type," Lula said. "You look like… some other type."
Loretta drew my drink and slid it down the bar at me. "I'm lots of types. This is a really good job for meeting men. I go out with them and get them to buy me some jewelry and then when it looks like they're gonna say the L word I split. I got this necklace I'm wearing from a veterinarian."
"It's a good necklace," Lula said. "And you look like the veterinarian type more than the lawyer type. Maybe you should go back with him."
"He was a loser," Loretta said. "He kept talking about how he wanted a family." She wrinkled her nose. "Eeeuw, kids. Ick. I hate kids. And he was always rushing off to save some dumb cat or dog. I mean, what's with that? Who wants a boyfriend who makes you rush through dessert just because some cat got run over by a dump truck?"
"What a creep," Lula said. "Imagine rushing you through dessert. I wouldn't stand for that."
"The lawyer's a lot better," Loretta said. "He has a wife and kids, so I don't have to worry about the L word. The L word is okay if it's insincere."
"Boy you got it all figured out," Lula said.
Loretta moved off to the other end of the bar.
"What was that?" I asked Lula. "You were supposed to let me do the talking."
"Well excuse me, Ms. Control Freak. It just worked out this way. You weren't taking advantage of the moment."
Turned out it didn't matter a whole lot anyway. I liked Gary Martin, and I hated Loretta Flack. Loretta Flack was bitchzilla. I couldn't in good conscience fix things so that Martin was stuck with Flack.
The sandwiches and fries arrived, and we dug in.
"I'm liking this," Lula said. "We didn't get spit on or shot at all day, and I feel like a big Cupid. Of course, we haven't gotten anybody together like we're supposed to, but it feels like love is in the air. Don't you feel love in the air? How many more cases we got?"
"Three. Next up is Larry Burlew. He's got his eye on someone but can't get to meet her. I've already skimmed the file. Burlew is a butcher. Works at Sal's Meat Market on Broad. The woman of his dreams works in the coffee shop across the street. According to Annie's notes, Burlew is shy."
"That's cute," Lula said. "A shy butcher. I got a good feeling about him. And I wouldn't mind some pork chops for dinner tonight."
Larry Burlew was a big guy. He was over six feet tall, weighed maybe 230 pounds, and had hands like hamhocks. He wasn't bad looking, and he wasn't good looking. Mostly he looked like a butcher… possibly because his white butcher's apron was decorated with meat marinade and chicken guts.
The butcher shop was empty of customers when we entered. Burlew was the lone butcher, and he was slicing ribs and arranging them in the display case.
I introduced myself as Annie's assistant, and Burlew blushed red from the collar of his white T-shirt to the roots of his buzz-cut hair.
"Real nice to meet you," he said softly. "I hope this isn't too much trouble. I feel kind of silly asking for help like this, but Ms. Hart came into the shop and left her card, and I just thought…"
"Don't worry about it," Lula said. "It's what we do. We're the fixer-upper bitches. We live to fix shit."
"I understand you want to get together with someone?" I asked Burlew.
"There's this girl that I like. I think she's around my age. I see her every day and she's nice to me, but in a professional way. And sometimes I try to talk to her, but there's always lots of people around, and I never know what to say. I'm a big dummy when it comes to girls."
"Okay," I said, "give me all the necessary information. Who is she?"
"She's right across the street," Burlew said. "She works in the coffee shop. Every morning I go in to get coffee and she always gets it just right. She always gives me the perfect amount of cream. And it's never too hot. Her name is Jet. That's what it says on her name tag. I don't know more than that. She's the one with the shiny black hair."
I looked at the coffee shop. It had big plate-glass windows in the front, making it possible to check out the action inside. There were three women working behind the counter and a bunch of customers lined up waiting for service. I shifted my attention back to Burlew and saw he was watching Jet, mesmerized by the sight of her.
I excused myself and swung across the street to the coffee shop. Jet was at the register, ringing up a customer. She was a tiny little thing with short, spiky black hair. She was dressed in a black T-shirt, a short black skirt, black tights, and black boots. She wore a wide black leather belt with silver studs, and she had a red rose tattooed on her arm.
She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties. No wedding band or engagement ring on her left hand.
I ordered a coffee. "It's for my cousin across the street," I said. "Maybe you know him… Larry Burlew."
"Sorry, no."
"He's a butcher. And he said you always give him perfect coffee."
"Omigod, are you talking about the big huge guy with the buzz cut? He comes in here every morning. He talks so soft I can hardly hear him, and then he goes across the street, and he stares in here all day. I'm sorry because he's your cousin and all, but he's kind of creepy."
"He's shy. And he stares in here because… he'd like more coffee, but he can't leave the shop."
"Omigod, I had no idea. That's so sweet. That's so sad. The poor guy is over there wishing he had a cup of coffee, and I thought he was one of those pervert stalkers. He should just call over here. Or he could wave, and I'd bring him a cup."
"Really? He'd love that. He's such a nice guy, but he's always worried about imposing."
Jet leaned on the counter and did a little finger wave at Larry Burlew. Even from this distance I could see Burlew's cheeks flush red.
I brought the coffee across the street and gave it to Larry Burlew.
"I've got it all set," I told him. "All you have to do is wave at Jet, and she'll bring you a cup of coffee. Then you'll have a chance to talk to her."
"I can't talk to her! What would I say? She's so pretty, and I'm so…" Burlew looked down at himself. He didn't have words.
"You're a nice-looking guy" I told him. "Okay, maybe the chicken guts are a turnoff, but you can fix that by changing your butcher apron before she gets here. And try not to stare at her so much. Only stare when you want a cup of coffee. Staring sometimes can be misconstrued as, um, rude."
Burlew was bobbing his head up and down. "I'll remember all that. Wave for coffee. Don't stare so much. Change my apron before she gets here."
"And talk to her!"
"Talk to her," he repeated.
I didn't actually have a lot of confidence that this would work, so I wrote my cell phone number on a scrap of paper and left it with him.
"Call me if you have a problem," I said.
Burlew did some vigorous head nodding. "Yes, ma'am."
"Before we go I need to buy some pork chops," Lula said. "I have a taste for pork chops."
Diesel was on the couch watching television when Bob and I got home. There was a six-pack of beer and a pizza box on the coffee table in front of him. Some of the beer and pizza were missing.
"I brought dinner," Diesel said. "How'd it go today?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm living here."
"No, you're not."
"Sure I am. I have my shoes off and everything."
"Okay but I'm not sleeping with you."
"No problemo. You're not my type anyway" Diesel said.
"What's your type?"
"Easy"
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm a jerk," Diesel said, "but I'm lovable."
This was true.
I dragged Bob off to the kitchen, gave him fresh water, and filled his dog bowl with dog crunchies. I returned to the living room, helped myself to a piece of pizza, and joined Diesel on the couch.
"Eat up," Diesel said. "We need to work tonight. I've got a line on Beaner."
"No way. I'm the relationship person. I'm not the find-the-crazy- Unmentionable-nutcase person."
"I need cover. You're all I've got," Diesel said.