How (Not) to Fall in Love (2 page)

He heaved a deep sigh then lumbered across the room. He closed the door behind him without saying good-bye.

For some reason, I thought of this old movie with a badass guy who does slow-mo acrobatics to avoid flying bullets. He has to choose whether to take a red pill and wake up to reality, or take a blue pill and stay in a fake world. That was me right now. Did I want to take the blue pill and live in denial of whatever was happening with my dad? Or did I want to take the red pill and have the truth crash down on me?

I was such a wuss. I’d pick the blue pill every time.

Chapter Two

“S
weetie, can you please get me a glass of ice?” Mom’s eyes blinked like windshield wipers on warp speed. “We need to talk.”

So much for taking the blue pill.

“Sure.” I left the room, Toby trailing behind me. I knew Mom sent me for ice so she could try to compose herself.

What J.J. said about us being broke didn’t make any sense. Maybe he was exaggerating; he did that a lot. I knew because I babysat his twin sons all the time and he freaked out about stupid stuff, like the time his kids used his designer shoes as boats during bath time.

The water glass trembled in my hands under the fridge dispenser and ice cubes clattered to the floor. Toby crunched the dropped ice noisily, saving me the trouble of cleaning up.

I stared at the glass. The Tri!Umphant! Harvest logo swirled around it from top to bottom in gold lettering.

T-houghtful

R-esponsible

I-nitiative!

U-nleashes

M-agnificent

P-ositive

H-arvest!

I sighed. Those words were more important than any prayers or political beliefs in our house. As an AP English student, I despised the phrase with its incorrect punctuation, crazy capitalization, and fuzzy meaning. As my father’s daughter, I pretended to believe every word. There had to be something to it, right? Why else would so many people pay to listen to my dad talk about it?

I brought the glass to Mom and sat across from her. She stared into it before speaking. “I don’t really know what’s going on,” she said. “I’m hoping your dad will be home soon, and everything will be okay.”

“But what J.J. said about us going broke. Did he mean it? How is that even possible?”

Mom stood up and walked to the liquor cabinet, which surprised me. She wasn’t much of a drinker; she always said the extra calories weren’t worth the buzz. I watched anxiously as she poured amber-colored liquid over the ice cubes. She took a swig and turned to face me.

“Maybe you should go to the football game with J.J. tonight. You always have fun.”

Now I wondered if Mom was the one taking the blue pill. How could she expect me to go to a game and act like nothing was going on? And hang out with J.J., who was acting so weird? No way. I leaned over to rub Toby’s belly. His tail thumped softly against the rug Mom had imported from Turkey.

“No thanks. I’ll skip it.” I pulled out my cell and texted Dad.
“Where r u? Call asap. 911.”
He always called when I used our I-need-to-talk-right-now code, which wasn’t often.

“So do you think I’ll be able to get my car back?” J.J. had to be wrong about that.

“I don’t know, Darcy.” Mom sat across from me and took another swig of her drink. My stomach fluttered. Not only was she drinking in the middle of the day, she wasn’t exactly sipping, either. “We need to talk to your dad.”

I waved my phone at her. “I just texted him. 911. He’ll call any minute.”

But he didn’t call.

M
om and I sort of watched the first half of the football game on TV while we ate a gross frozen pizza. We spent more time checking our phones and texting Dad than we did watching the game. At halftime, I went upstairs to my room, wanting to get away from Mom, who’d switched from the amber liquor to wine.

I turned on my laptop, hoping to escape my worries for a while. I logged onto Instagram and scanned everyone’s latest pics, but when I saw what Ryan had posted, my heart stopped.

He’d hashtagged the photo “Repo Girl,” and had the nerve to tag me in it. The photo was of me, my mouth partly open in shock. Sal stood next to me, her arms flung up in exasperation. My car on the back of the tow truck looked fuzzy and out of focus.

My breath came in short bursts. How could he do this? We weren’t close friends, or anything more, much as I’d dreamed about that. But we were hardly enemies. We’d known each other for years. I wasn’t in his uber popular orbit, but he spoke to me in class, at the eco-club meetings, at parties. He
knew
me.

I scanned the comments, most of which mocked me and the repo, but not all of them.

“Dude. Why r u being a prick? Delete this or I’ll pound you.”
That was from Mark, Sal’s latest boy toy. Mark was cool; even cooler than I’d realized, apparently. A few people had echoed his comment so maybe not everyone thought I was a loser. But judging from most of the photo likes and snarky comments, Ryan had managed to turn me into the laughingstock of the whole school.

I closed my laptop and flopped back on my bed. Toby jumped up and curled next to me. I rubbed his head while staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t believe Dad had just disappeared. Was he leaving Mom for good? My heart sped up to hyperdrive. I couldn’t imagine them divorcing. They drove me nuts but I loved them, and they seemed to love each other. I never heard screaming arguments. They spent long weekends together all the time, flying to resort towns and leaving me home with Toby.

I had no complaints about that. I loved my time alone. I wasn’t the kid who threw wild parties when her parents were gone. I was the weirdo watching old movies by myself or making jewelry while I listened to music. I invited Sal over, no one else, though I sometimes wished I had a boyfriend to hang out with when my parents were gone.

Desperate to escape the fear and anxiety bearing down on me, I put on an old romantic comedy, hoping to cheer myself up. The movie lulled me to sleep and I woke hours later to the theme music playing over and over. I turned off my TV and stumbled downstairs to say good night to Mom.

But when I walked into the family room, lured by the sounds of late night television, I found Mom passed out on the couch, an empty wine bottle tipped over on the floor.

September 17

Dear Darcy,

I’m sorry honey. So sorry. I need to get away from Colorado for a while to clear my head and focus on the next step. I miss you and your mom and love you both. Remember we will be Tri!Umphant! no matter what happens.

XO,

Dad

Chapter Three

September 23

The Top Ten Reas
o
ns Darcy Covington Should Leave Woodbridge Academy

10. Her dad can’t afford the tuition anymore since he’s a QUITTER.

9. Repo Girl can barely afford the bus pass.

8. Woodbridge isn’t a school for spawn of criminals.

7. She’s

6. a

5. L

4. O

3. S

2. E

1. R

Chloe Hendricks had outdone herself. The photoshopped pic of my dad’s face had devil horns and blacked-out teeth. And dollar signs for eyes. Chloe had never liked me, maybe because it was easy for her to pick on a mouse like me.

“You need to report her,” Sal growled, tearing the sign off my locker.

“For what? Not being as funny as Letterman?” I tried to sound sarcastic, but failed miserably.

I’d hoped no one had watched Letterman last night. He’d used my dad as the butt of his Top Ten list. He must’ve been inspired by the CNN story stating my dad was on a leave of absence, combined with all the crazy rumors swirling on the internet.

Sal tore the sign into strips, making a big production of it for the crowd watching us.

Mark joined us at my locker. “Is it still a rule, that guys can’t hit girls? ’Cause I want to.”

I almost smiled at him. He was as big as a truck but he had a soft, squishy center, at least for Sal and me, if not for Chloe. “No, you don’t. And yes, it’s still a rule.”

He shook his head, huffing out a sigh. “I could key her car. Slit her tires.”

“No.” I punched him in the shoulder. “Go pick on someone your own size.”

He grinned at me. “There is no one my own size. At least not here.”

“You’re too nice, Darcy,” Sal said, glowering at me as she crumpled the remains of the sign and tossed it in the trash.

“Not really,” I said. “Mostly I’m a big chicken. Have you seen her claws? Plus she probably has rabies.”

The warning bell for class rang. Mark and Sal engaged in major PDA, then he took off for PE.

Sal hugged me before we went our separate ways. “Someday karma will bite that bitch in the ass.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure I believed in karma anymore. Mom and I sure didn’t deserve what was happening to us.

In the three weeks since Dad had disappeared, we’d been swimming upstream against a raging river of chaos, but at least we’d kept things a secret. No one knew that Tri!Umphant! Harvest had frozen our bank accounts, after Mom had spent days meeting with the board. Or that Dad had gone Kerouac, hitting the road with no destination, sending us random postcards. Or that J.J. had suddenly developed a Jekyll and Hyde personality, and was only showing scary Mr. Hyde to us.

Now everyone knew about my dad, including my long lost Uncle Charlie, who’d called last night after he saw Letterman. I’d answered the phone since Mom was passed out on the couch.

That was another new secret: Mom drinking herself to sleep almost every night.

I’d almost reached the library when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number. My heart leaped, hoping it was finally Dad.

“Hello?” I slid into a tiny hallway alcove where no teachers could yell at me for being on my cell.

“Darcy? Is that you?” His voice sounded different, not quite himself.

“Dad! Where are you?” My heart ricocheted in my chest.

“Darcy, it’s Charlie. Your uncle.”

My heart had slowed way down. “Oh.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, if you thought I was him.” He sounded sad and worried.

“It’s okay.” That had happened last night, too. Who knew brothers could sound so alike? I tried to remember the last time I’d seen Dad’s younger brother or even talked to him. I’d been a little girl. I barely remembered his ponytail and scruffy beard. But he always sent a special gift for my birthday. And he laughed a lot; I remembered that much.

“I called your mom again today, but she hasn’t returned my calls.” I’d given him both our cell numbers last night.

She’s probably still in a wine coma,
said my inside voice. But my outside voice said, “I’ll remind her to call you.” Right. Like Mom would call.

He sighed into the phone. “Please do. And you can, too, Darcy. Anytime.” He hesitated. “You should come see me. At my shop.”

“Yeah.” My dad hated that Charlie worked in a crummy pawn shop in the ’hood, as Dad called it. “But I don’t have a car anymore.”

“You don’t? What happened?”

I sighed into the phone. “It’s a long story.”

It was his turn to sigh. “Let me think about this, and get back to you.”

“Okay.” I shrugged, like he could see me. What was he going to do? See if his pawn shop had any spare cars lying around?

We said our good-byes, and I snuck into a quiet corner of the library and shoved in my earbuds. I should’ve listened to music, something to calm the stress balloon expanding in my stomach. But instead I pulled up Letterman on YouTube.

On my tiny phone screen, Dave smirked. Up popped his Top Ten list from last night, which he read aloud while his studio audience laughed and applauded.

The Top Ten Reasons Tri!Umphant! Tyler Covington is in Hiding:

10. He didn’t get the memo that self-help gurus are a relic of the 20th century.

9. Those old videos of him singing with a Christian punk band back in the 1980s resurfaced on YouTube.

8. Grecian Formula stopped making his shade of blond hair color.

7. Clients started asking for refunds when their “harvest” ended up being a stack of unpaid credit card bills.

6. He was turned down as the replacement shill for Oxi-Clean.

5. Even the family dog won’t listen to his spiel anymore.

4. He tried out for
Dancing with the Stars
but even Florence Henderson AKA Carol Brady wouldn’t dance with him.

3. The Denver Broncos have been on a winning streak without his pre-game pep talks.

2. PBS called. They want their tote bags back.

1. He really did abandon his family and his business to run off to a hidden island with all the money.

The video already had over 300,000 views. I wondered how many were from my classmates, thanks to Chloe.

I might as well shave my head and move to Tibet. My life was over.

O-V-E-R.

Chapter Four

A
fter the Top Ten locker humiliation, I was hoping Mom would be home, but she’d left a note that she was at a job interview. I couldn’t imagine where she’d apply, but she’d told me since all our accounts were frozen, we’d been living on credit cards, which was a bad idea.

I started some homework, but it was hard to find the motivation to finish it. I fixed myself toast and dug a wilted bag of salad out of the fridge. I missed gourmet chef Mom.

My cell rang just as I swallowed a bite of lettuce that was way past its prime.

“Darcy, it’s Charlie. Again.” He laughed softly, making me smile a tiny bit. It had been days since I’d heard someone laugh in a nice way rather than behind my back. “I want you to come see me tonight, so we can talk. I’d come to you, but I’ve got a ton of donations to sort through. We can talk while I do that here at my shop.” He told me the address.

“Um.” I hesitated. “I’ll have to check the bus schedule, and figure out the transfers.” Unlike most of my classmates who called the bus the “ghetto ride,” I’d discovered I liked it, since it gave me time to read and listen to music.

“No need for that. I’m sending a driver.”

“What?” Since when could my supposedly poor uncle afford a car and driver?

“Probably not the type of limo service you’re used to,” I heard the grin in his voice, “but I think he’ll get you here in one piece.”

What the heck? I chewed my lip nervously. “I’ll need to check with my mom.”
Before I get into a car with a stranger to whisk me away to the wrong side of the tracks.

“Already did. I texted her and she said it’s fine, as long as you’re home by ten or so.”

She’d actually replied to him? Shocker.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. I didn’t have anything else to do, except stay home and feel sorry for myself, ignore the rest of my homework, worry about Dad, and eat too much ice cream.

Toby whimpered at my feet. He’d been spending too much time alone, just like me. “Um, can I bring my dog? Is that okay with your driver?”

I heard muffled voices, then, “Does he get carsick?”

I snorted. “Of course not.”

“Good,” Charlie said. “Lucas will be there in about half an hour. Probably less, the way he drives.” He paused. “Lucas is my repairman, in my shop. He’s a great guy, so you don’t have to worry about riding with him.”

I pictured a balding, overweight old guy in grungy jeans wearing a sagging tool belt. With my luck he’d have a plumber’s crack, too. I sighed. “Okay.”

“You haven’t moved lately, have you? Still on Humboldt Street?”

“Yep.” Charlie was right; I had ridden in fancy town cars with drivers, usually going to and from airports. This definitely wouldn’t be the same.

After we hung up, I trudged up to my bedroom, Toby at my heels. What would my uncle and I talk about? Should I pretend it hadn’t been years since I’d seen him? Tell him the gory details of my family’s tale of woe? Ask him for a loan to get my car back?

I froze, my hand on the banister. Wasn’t that what pawn shops did? Buy stuff from people? I ran up the rest of the stairs. In my room, I yanked open a dresser drawer and removed an old-fashioned hatbox, also a long-ago gift from Charlie. It held all my expensive jewelry from Tiffany’s and Needless Markup, jewelry I never wore because I preferred to make my own with beads and wire.
Selling my jewelry might be a way to get my car back. I had one week before the repo was a done deal, and Mom said there was no way we could come up with the cash the bank wanted. What would Charlie think if I asked him to buy jewelry Dad had given me?

My memories of my uncle were mostly impressions, of hugs that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, and lots of laughter. Every year when I opened my birthday package from him, I was excited to see what pepper shaker he’d sent, since that was what he always sent. My favorites were the yellow Labrador, a Fred Flintstone, and a cherubic red devil kissing the air. Once my dad had suggested I throw them away, but I’d refused.

“What good is a pepper shaker without its mate?” Dad had asked.

“Not everything has to be useful,” I’d argued.

I sat at my vanity and opened the drawer where I’d hidden all of my uncle’s birthday cards. On each of them, he’d sketched an image of the matching salt shaker. My fifth birthday card showed a whimsical drawing of a tiny blond angel with puckered lips, to match the red devil on my dresser. “One day these two will meet and sparks will fly!” The words swirled across the card in beautiful calligraphy.

My eighth birthday card showed a yellow Labrador puppy lying on its back, with tiny holes for salt in its stomach. “Toby needs a friend, don’t you think?” said the note.

When I was young, the shakers had been my favorite toys. I’d set up elaborate adventures with all of the characters, including a pink Siamese cat and a surprised-looking chef. As I held the Labrador shaker, rubbing my fingers over the smooth ceramic, I wondered what my uncle thought of his disappearing brother.

Seventeen pepper shakers lined my vanity table. As I stared at them, I remembered when I’d last seen Charlie. It was my seventh birthday party. Dad had argued with Mom after Charlie left our house.

“He’s a loser, Marilyn. I don’t want him coming to her birthdays anymore.”

“But Ty, he’s your brother.”

“He’s a hippie working in some crummy pawn store. That’s not the type of role model I want around for Darcy. He doesn’t even own a car, for Christ’s sake.”

I opened another drawer and pulled out Dad’s latest postcard. It had arrived yesterday, postmarked Tennessee, with a picture of Graceland. I hoped that Elvis wasn’t
his
new role model. Even though I was mad at him, I didn’t want him dying of a heart attack on a toilet.

“Darcy
—
I know things must be hard for you and Mom right now. I’m sorry about that. Do what you need to do.”

The words had infuriated me.
Gee, I’m sorry life is falling apart honey, but, ya know, figure it out. Meanwhile, I’ll be driving around the country visiting random tourist traps.

I pushed away the twinges of guilt about selling my jewelry. If I had the right buyer, it wasn’t entirely disloyal. It was just transitioning the items from one family member to another.
Do what you need to do
.

The sound of the doorbell and Toby’s excited barking jolted me out of my reverie. I jumped up, glancing at myself in the mirror. I could stand some lip gloss and mascara, but who cared? This wasn’t exactly a hot date. I grabbed the hatbox full of jewelry and my string wallet and hurried down the stairs.

Toby was already at the door, barking his head off. Our front doors were too fancy for peepholes, so I just flung it open.

Holy shizballs.

One of the hottest guys I’d ever seen stood on the porch. Thick dark hair almost brushed his shoulders. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans, and from what I dared to look at, underneath he was all sinewy strength and lean muscle. Not a beer belly or plumber’s crack in sight. And he was way closer to my age than the old guy I’d conjured in my imagination.

Toby launched himself out the door, and the guy knelt to pet him, instantly turning my guard dog into a heap of wriggling pet-me fur. The guy glanced up at me, and I caught my breath at the swirling kaleidoscope colors of his eyes: green, blue, and silver, all mixed together.

“Er. Um.” I stammered. “Hi.”

He grinned at me, one side of his mouth quirking higher than the other, and flashing a dimple.

Why hadn’t I at least put on lip gloss?

“Hi.” He stood up, looming over me as Toby bounced around his legs. “You must be Darcy. I’m Lucas Martinez, your chauffeur.” He grinned and glanced down at my insane dog, then back at me. “And your scary protector is…?”

Damn. Even his voice was sexy.
Words, Darcy. Find them. Use them
. “Toby,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat. “You sure it’s okay if he rides in your car?” The shiny black muscle car in the driveway wasn’t the falling apart vehicle I’d imagined, either.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I like dogs.”

Toby rolled on his back, flaunting his stomach for a belly rub. I sort of felt like doing the same thing, but I had more impulse control than my dog.

“I’ll just grab his leash. Please come in.” I stepped back into the foyer, embarrassed that I’d completely forgotten all the manners Mom had drilled into me.

He smiled down at me and entered the Covington Castle. I saw his eyes widen as he took it all in: the marble floor, the enormous chandelier, the family portraits interspersed with artwork lining the walls.

“Be right back.” I escaped into the kitchen and grabbed Toby’s leash off a hook on the wall.

Inhale calm. Exhale stress. So he was cute, so what? Okay, way beyond cute. But still. He worked for my uncle, just doing him a favor by picking me up. I snuck into the powder room off the kitchen and brushed my hair. And found some lip gloss in a drawer.
Score
.

Back in the foyer, Lucas was kneeling again, rubbing Toby’s stomach. He stood up when I entered the room. I wondered if I could sneak a Snapchat shot of him for Sal.

“Ready?” He held out a hand for Toby’s leash and I gave it to him, since Toby had forgotten I existed.

“You could totally rob us if you wanted,” I muttered, closing the front door and locking it. “My dog just fell into insta-love with you.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks flame with heat.
Nice to meet you, gorgeous driver. How do you feel about freaky girls with no social skills?

Lucas laughed as I hurried around him and down the steps.

“Your carriage awaits,” he said, stopping next to me and sweeping out his arm in a grand gesture. Still blushing, I looked away from his assessing gaze.

Once he’d closed the door behind me, I let out a long breath. I needed to get a grip. Woodbridge was full of hot guys. This was not a big deal. It must be all the stress, making my hormones overactive or something.

He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. I felt the deep rumble of the engine underneath my butt. I glanced at the dashboard, which gleamed. The car wasn’t new but it was spotless. He must be one of those guys obsessed with their cars. I wondered if he washed it shirtless. If he did, he could probably charge for admission.

Stop it,
I told myself.
He’s your driver, not your date
. I tried to think of something non-freaky to say. “You’re probably going to end up with a lot of dog hair in the backseat. Sorry.”

He shot me a crooked grin as the car pulled out of the driveway. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a Shop-Vac.”

I suddenly wondered if my uncle had told him to be extra nice to me because my life was falling apart. The idea was almost as appalling as the Top Ten list on my locker.

He increased the speed as we turned down Sixth Avenue. “So Charlie says he hasn’t seen you in a long time. He’s glad you’re coming to his store.”

“Me too. I’ve never been there.”

He turned toward me, surprised. “Really? Why not?”

Weren’t limo drivers supposed to remain silent unless spoken to? Guilt about not seeing my uncle made me irritable. “Long story.”

He shrugged. “It’s kind of a long drive, if you feel like telling the story.”

“You don’t want to hear it. Be glad you’re just the chauffeur.”

He shot me a look of surprise, then a darker emotion flickered in his eyes before he turned back to the road. “So the hired help shouldn’t ask questions. Got it.”

Oh no. Now he thought I was a rich bitch too good to talk to him?

“I didn’t mean… It’s just…” Crap. Why couldn’t I be charming like my dad and Sal? It was situations like this that made me stay in my mousy shell. He didn’t say anything for several blocks, making me feel bad that I’d snapped at him. I reminded myself he’d driven across town to pick me up, and was just trying to make conversation.

“My dad,” I said haltingly, “Charlie’s brother, he, uh, didn’t see Charlie often. I think I was seven the last time I saw him.”

I glanced at Lucas’s arms resting on the steering wheel as we waited at a red light. His skin glimmered in the sun like Aspen leaves at their peak, golden and warm.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s…different.”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said, then shifted in my seat so I could pet Toby in the backseat. I snuck a glance at Lucas’s profile. Yep. Still hot.

We drove in silence again, until he reached for his iPod. One of my favorite songs by a local band blasted through the speakers. He adjusted the volume and glanced at me. “Is this okay?”

I was glad he had to refocus on driving because those eyes of his killed me. “Yeah,” I said. “I love Ice Krystal. They’re great in concert.”

He glanced at me. “Did you see them at the Gothic? That was an awesome show.”

“It was,” I agreed. I’d gone to the concert with Sal and we’d danced the entire time. It was weird to think Lucas had been there, too. Possibly even witnessing my lame dance moves.

“Charlie’s store isn’t far from the Gothic.”

Wow. So all the concerts I’d seen there, my uncle had been close by and I hadn’t even known?

Lucas turned the car down an alley behind a row of old brick buildings. “We’ll park in the back, but walk around to the front. You need to get the full effect, seeing it for the first time.”

“Whatever you say, driver.” I forced a feeble smile, and his answering grin chased away some of my anxiety.

We walked down the alley and around to the storefronts facing Broadway. I held Toby’s leash in one hand and my hatbox in the other. My spazzy dog kept angling into Lucas’s space.

“Want me to hold the leash?” Lucas asked.

“No thanks.” It would’ve been easier, but I was feeling stubborn, and anxious. Handing over the leash again felt like giving up control.

“Have you done training with your dog?” Lucas asked, after he almost fell over Toby darting in front of him.

“Yes,” I grumbled. “But he has a mind of his own.” Especially when he’s in insta-love, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

I was so distracted trying to wrangle Toby that I almost walked past the shop, until Lucas put a hand on my arm to stop me. I jumped at the feel of his skin on mine, and he yanked his hand away.