How (Not) to Fall in Love(6)
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
After 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.