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He didn’t reply.
I left quickly, begging off conversation with Cha-Cha by telling her I had an appointment. Jeeves saluted me as I ran out the front door of the charming brownstone of my dreams on the Upper East Side.
Dracula Smith was waiting for me. The car ride home was silent. There wasn’t enough ice cream in New Jersey to eat away my guilt. Karma had a hard-on for me.
Karma—one… or rather, won.
Johnson Jones—zero.
Chapter Eleven
Helen was a godsend. She’d pulled out the ice cream before I’d uttered a word. Even Dracula Jones stuck around for a while after we’d arrived at my house. He told dick jokes to try and make me laugh. Two of the thirty were funny.
He was a good vamp. He’d even offered up Triple D’s services to remove Kurt’s appendages, but I’d been very clear that was not happening. If anyone needed a good maiming, it was me. But I didn’t need Triple D to do it, I was beating myself up enough already.
After a long hot shower, I felt clean on the outside but shitty on the inside. It was hard to relay the story to Helen, but I did. She held my hand and cried with me. My couch was ruined by her bloody tears. I didn’t care. Couches were replaceable, friends were not.
“He was so sad,” I whispered. “It was heartbreaking.”
My little vampy buddy hugged me. “It was a mistake, Johnson. Anyone could have made it.”
I shook my head and ate some more Chunky Monkey. “No, only Johnson Jones the torpedo-er of love would have misjudged the situation as badly as I did. I’m thinking about becoming a monk.”
Helen winced. “I think you talk too much to do that.”
She made a fine point.
“Well, I can tell you this much, I won’t be dating for the next century.”
She handed me an unopened container of chocolate-chip and grabbed a strawberry protein shake for herself. We ate in silence until my phone rang. I left it in my pocket and refused to answer. I wasn’t ready to talk to either Dwayne or Zorro. I needed at least forty-eight hours to process and kick my own ass before I could share how wrong and stupid I’d been. It was painful enough reliving my debilitating foolishness with Helen. I didn’t have the energy to do it again today.
“Are you going to get that?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” I told her. “I’d rather eat my own weight in sugar before dealing with reality right now.”
She took a slurpy sip of her shake then paused. “But what if it’s about work? Aren’t you expecting a call about doing a ready-to-wear line for Macy’s?”
It was good I wasn’t running the business side of the operation. We’d be sunk. Helen was my rock. If I missed the opportunity with Macy’s because I was shoving sugar in my face, I’d just die. While my personal life might be in disarray, I wasn’t about to let that happen to my professional life.
“You’re correct as usual,” I told her with a grateful smile. “Don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“And you’ll never have to know,” she said with an adorable giggle. “Check who called. If it’s not important, we can watch Bridget Jones’s Diary six times.”
A Bridget Jones marathon sounded like a stellar plan. Glancing down at the phone, I didn’t recognize the number. Of course, I didn’t have Macy’s in my contacts. It could be a spam call about my car’s extended warranty or it could be the beginning of a lucrative contract for my caftans. They’d left a voicemail. The responsible thing to do would be to listen to it. I chose to be responsible. My talent with design was my strong point unlike my prowess in love. If I couldn’t have it all, I wasn’t about to torpedo my career.
Putting the phone on speaker so Helen could take notes if it indeed was Macy’s, I pressed play.
It was not Macy’s.
It was not a robot worried about my car’s extended life.
It was Kurt. His cell number was still in my phone. I hadn’t erased it because I’d still had hope. The irony was too much. I’d delete his number today. I didn’t need it anymore. He must have called from the office. I froze and waited for the man to rip me a new ass. I deserved it. However, Kurt was and had always been a constant surprise.
“Hi, umm… Johnson. It’s Kurt. I know our last meeting was a bit… well, a lot awkward.” He chucked and cleared his throat. “But I’d still like to help you find the perfect date. It would be my honor.”
“Holy shit,” Helen shouted, downing the rest of her protein shake in one gulp like I did with wine coolers when stressed.
I concurred with her words.
