“What is that sound?” Patty demands. “Are you on a boat?”
“No, I’m not on a boat,” I say.
“Because that sounds like a foghorn.”
“It’s just a truck. I’m on the highway. Patty, this isn’t really the best time to have this conversation—”
“Heather, you know I’m only saying these things because I love you like a sister.” And, just like a sister, Patty completely ignores me. “But something has got to give. You can’t go on like this, sleeping with one guy while being in love with another—”
“What’s that, Patty?” I say, making whooshing noises with my mouth. “You’re breaking up.”
“Heather, I know you’re totally making those noises. You don’t even sound anything remotely like static. When you get back to town, we are sitting down and having a talk.”
“Uh-oh, can’t hear you at all now, must be passing through a no-cell-tower zone, gotta go, bye.”
I hang up. As soon as I do, Cooper goes, “Tad asked you to marry him?”
“God!” I cry, frustrated. “No! Okay?”
“Then why did you say that Patty brought you a bunch of bridal magazines?”
“Because everyone is jumping the gun,” I say. Then wince. “Ouch. I didn’t mean to use the word gun. It’s just that the other day, Tad said he has something he wants to ask me, but only when the timing is right.” I cannot believe I am sharing this information with Cooper, the last person with whom I enjoy discussing matters pertaining to my boyfriend. I am going to kill Patty when I get back to town. I really am. “But I’m sure it’s nothing, I never should have mentioned it to anyone, especially Tom, who has the biggest mouth in the known universe, and—”
“You guys have only been going out for a couple of months,” Cooper says, to the steering wheel.
“Yeah,” I say. “But. You know.”
“No,” Cooper says. Now he’s looking at me. And if I had to describe his expression, I would have to say it’s a mingling of incredulity and sarcasm. “I don’t know. What’s happening to you? Who are you supposed to be now? Britney Spears? My brother’s happily married and popping out sprog now, and you can’t stand to get left behind, or something? What’s next? You’re going to get yourself knocked up, too?”
“Excuse me,” I say, taking umbrage. “I didn’t say I was saying yes. I don’t even know that’s what he’s asking. Maybe he’s just asking me to move in with him, or something.”
“And you think that’s a good idea?” Cooper wants to know. “To move in with your math professor? Who doesn’t even own a TV? Or eat anything except tofu-covered bean strips dipped in wheat germ dust?”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I point out to him. Because he doesn’t. “There isn’t even such a food as what you just described. But if there was, you might want to look into trying it. Because it might do you some good, judging by all the fast-food wrappers I see lying around your office. When is the last time you had your cholesterol checked? Your heart is probably a ticking time bomb.”
“Oh, excuse me, were those your carefully constructed Giada De Laurentiis—inspired Nutella Chips Ahoy! Macadamia Brittle ice cream sandwiches I saw in the freezer last night?”
I glare at him. “Oh my God, if you ate one—”
“Oh, I ate one, all right,” he says, his gaze back on the road. “I ate the mall.”
“Cooper! I made those especially for—”
“For what? For you and Tad? You have got to be kidding me. He wouldn’t touch one of those hydrogenated fat-wiches if you served it to him on his favorite Frisbee with a big side of babaganoush.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” I point out. “And that’s not like you. What, exactly, is your problem with Tad? Or your problem with me and Tad, to be exact?”
“I don’t have a problem with Tad,” Cooper says. Although he can’t seem to say the man’s name without sneering. “Or with you and Tad. I just don’t think—as a friend — your moving in with him is the best idea.”
“Oh, you don’t?” I ask, wondering where on earth this can be going. “Why?”
“Because the whole thing just has disaster written all over it.”
“For what reason? Just because he’s a vegetarian and I’m not? People with different values end up together all the time, Cooper. And the TV thing—I’m not convinced it’s a deal breaker. He just doesn’t know what he’s missing. He still watches movies, you know.”
Cooper makes a noise. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was a snort. “Oh yeah? Do they all have hobbits in them?”
“God, what is wrong with you?” I demand. “You are being such a d—”
My phone rings again. This time it’s a number I don’t recognize. Fearing it might be something to do with work—which I am, admittedly, blowing off—I pick up.
“Heather,” an unfamiliar, albeit jocular-sounding older male voice says. “It’s me, Larry! Larry Mayer, your dad’s old business partner. Or should I say, new business partner!”
“Oh,” I say faintly. Cooper has just taken the exit to Rock Ridge. “Hi, Larry.”
“Tried to reach you at your office just now, but your boss told me you were on your cell. This isn’t a bad time, is it? I was hoping we could talk… ”
“It’s not the best time,” I say.
“Good, good,” Larry booms, evidently mishearing me. “Been a long time since we last spoke, huh? God, last time I saw you, I think you still had on those see-through spangly pants you wore to the MTV music video awards. You know, the ones you got in so much trouble later with the FCC for ripping off? Which I never understood, because those bikini briefs you had on underneath covered everything. Well, almost. Ah, good times. Anyway, so your dad and I were just sitting here talking about you—I bet your ears were burning—and we were wondering if you’d given any more thought to our proposal.”
“Yeah,” I say. “You know, like I was saying, this really isn’t the best—”
“Because the clock is ticking, sweetheart. We’ve already rented the studio, and if we’re gonna get started, we need to get in there and start banging some stuff out. Not to put any pressure on you. But then, if I remember correctly, you always did your best work under pressure—”
We’re cruising past the low stone walls surrounding rolling green horse pastures and thick woods—hiding multimillion-dollar homes (with sophisticated security systems) that indicate we’re entering the exclusive bedroom community of Rock Ridge. Cooper’s expression, when I glance at it, is as closed as the spiked gates at the end of the long, curving driveways we’re passing.
“Larry, I’m going to have to call you back,” I say. “I’m right in the middle of something at the moment, something work-related.”
“I understand,” Larry says. “I understand. Your father told me how important that little job of yours is to you. I’ve just got four words to say to you, sweetheart. Percentage of the gross. That’s all. Just think about it. Call me. Bye.”
“Bye,” I say. And hang up.
“So,” Cooper says, as we pull into the picturesque village of Rock Ridge proper, all cobblestones and thatched roofs (and security cameras perched on top of the replica antique street lamps, to record the moves of every citizen and visitor to the downtown area). “Tell me.”
“Believe me,” I say. “You don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t even know.”
“Oh,” Cooper says. “I think I do want to know. Do I need to start looking for a new house-mate… and a new bookkeeper?”
I swallow. “I… I don’t know. When I do, you’ll be the first to know. I swear.”
Cooper doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then, to my surprise, he says, “Damn!”
Only not, I realize, in response to what I’ve just told him, but because he’s just driven right past the police station, and has to turn around.
When we finally return to the police station, we’re a little astonished to note it’s one of the few places not marked by a Ye Olde sign. We park in one of the many empty spaces in front—we are, as far as I can tell, the only visitors to the Rock Ridge Police Station on this spring day… a fact that’s confirmed when we step inside and find the place completely deserted except for a corpulent man in a dark blue police uniform, seated at a desk and eating chicken wings. Not far behind him, in the building’s only barred—and scrupulously clean—jail cell, sits Gavin McGoren, his goatee stained orange as he, too, gnaws on chicken wings.