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“That’s because my car was built at a time when quality mattered.”
He tries to stifle his laughter but he’s not successful. “It’s a true nod to function over style.”
I nearly pull over so I can push him out. But instead of resorting to violence, I remind my passenger, “No talking.” I know my car is a beater, but it works, so it is not high on my priority list to replace it. Not that I could if I wanted to.
Chip shifts nervously in his seat the rest of the way. As soon as I pull into the parking lot at the club, he asks, “Would you mind dropping me off up front?”
“Yes,” I tell him. There’s no way I’m letting him walk in first. God knows what he’d tell other people about me.
“You won’t drop me at the front?” He sounds surprised.
“Nope.”
“Why?” he demands.
I pull into a parking spot as far from the door as I can find. Once I turn the car off, I realize I’m punishing myself, too, but all Ican think about is sticking it to Chip. Instead of answering him, I get out to retrieve my garment bag from the trunk.
By the time I’ve collected my stuff, I don’t see him anywhere. I trudge through the elements solo for a few minutes before he catches up with me. “Where were you?” I demand with hostility—which appears to be my go-to emotion with this guy.
“I … uh … had to take care of something.”
“Were you buying drugs?”
He clears his throat. “No, I was using the … I was going to …”
“Spain?” I joke.
“I had to use the bathroom.” He reminds me, “And you wouldn’t drop me at the front.”
I immediately feel bad. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to pee?”
“I don’t know, I guess because I assumed you’d be more considerate.” Oh yeah, he’s mad.
“Next time, just tell me.” I hurry to add, “Better yet, get your car fixed so there isn’t a next time.”
I hate walking into the club mad. I hate that Chip is part of this show. But mostly, I hate that I’m so nervous that I don’t even feel like myself anymore.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TIM
Work has been a whirlwind of activity today. While the production crew has kept my staff hopping to get ready for tonight, Trina has kept me busy filming promotional videos. After two hours, I started to wonder ifI was slated to be the star of the show. But how could that be when I’m a last-minute replacement?
At ten minutes to four, she walks me into the room where hair and makeup are stationed. There are three women standing in front of a long table. Each has a stool and large lighted mirror positioned in front of it.
Trina sits me down on one stool before telling the makeup artist, “He won’t require a lot of work. Just give him a little bronzer and touch up his hair.” Then she turns to me. “While we really do let our singles make their own matches, I like to give everyone a hint as to who I see them with.”
Terrific, she’s about to tell me who she thinks my love connection will be. “Okay …”
“With the last-minute switch up in cast, I’ve had to reconfigure things a little bit.” She looks at the clipboard she’s holding beforesaying, “I see you with a woman named Cami. She works at a catering company in Chicago.”
“And because I work at a country club, you think that would make us a perfect match.” It kind of makes sense. We’d always have a lot to talk about anyway.
Her head bobs up and down. “Also, Cami used to live in L.A., so you have that in common.”
Cami could be the nicest and prettiest woman in the whole world, but that last bit of information guarantees I won’t be interested in her. L.A. is a chapter of my life that’s closed forever. I don’t want to think about it, talk about it, or know anyone from there ever again.Thank you, Eva.
There’s no sense ranting to Trina, though. I’ll simply do my best to stay clear of Cami. “You aren’t telling her you think I’d be her perfect match, too, are you?”
