Page 10 of Fluffed and Folded

“No, I meant I’m a performer. I’m a comedian,” she said, with zero expression, and suddenly Eli got it.

“Oh,” he drawled. “So that’s what this whole evening was, some extended bit?”

“Excuse me?” she said, squinting.

He laughed, and then laughed harder. “Okay, you got me, good one. The free-range guinea pigs, the surgeries, the chewingand dabbing your face with your tiny paws like you’re one of them. You’re funny.” He reached over the table and lightly poked her bicep, grinning. He was usually fairly astute, when it came to pranks. But he hadn’t seen hers coming. Was he on hidden camera somewhere? Would this be part of her next show?

Even after her eyes filled and she burst into tears and ran from the restaurant, he thought she was still joking. Not until after he paid the bill and went outside, where she was being consoled by her mother, did he understand he hadn’t been pranked.

“What is wrong with you?” the woman’s mother demanded, after tucking her daughter safely into her car. “Guys like you are the reason she never dates. So she likes guinea pigs, big deal. She’s fairly good about cleaning up after them. So she has been arrested a few times for shoplifting. None of those were felonies. You sit there in your ivory tower and judge her, as if you yourself have never been fished naked out of a fountain on prom night.”

“I…” Eli began, glancing quickly behind the irate woman at her daughter, head tucked glumly to her chest, staring downward. “Is this for real?”

“Is this real?” she shrieked, oblivious to the stares of those around them. “How’s this forreal? She’s beenveryfragile since her release from the hospital, and you probably set her backyears. I hope you feel good about yourself.” She jabbed a finger in his sternum, spun on her heel, slammed into the car, and peeled away.

A small crowd of people stared at him. “I, um,” he began and then realized, to his relief, that he didn’t owe these strangers an explanation. A good thing because he had none. Sheepishly, he got in his own car and drove home, trying to make sense of the bizarre evening.

Success??Josie typed, as soon as he arrived home. His finger hovered over his phone. There was no way to explain the night’s events, except in person.

Tell you on Saturday during our run,he said.

Should I start looking for a wedding gift?

More like a straitjacket. I’m beginning to think Gabe is right. Women be crazy.

We swore, SWORE, that Gabe would never be right about anything.

You’re right,Eli conceded.Temp insanity. Apparently it’s catching.

Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs,Josie said.Or something. The point is that you can’t rush perfection. Don’t be discouraged.

He shouldn’t let her words console him. She was far too optimistic on a good day, being love addled had made her almost giddy with good cheer, but he did let the text soothe him. Over the past year, Josie had become his closest friend. If she believed this was worthwhile and Eli actually had a future with all these horrendous dates, then maybe he did. What did he have to lose? Besides money, dignity, his reputation, and various other things he probably hadn’t accounted for, especially if there were more shoplifters waiting in the wings.

Pushing aside thoughts of his disastrous date, as well as a few questions about guinea pigs he never needed answered again, he went to bed and fell immediately asleep. When he woke a few hours later, he wasn’t sure why. Another noise outside?

No, this noise came from inside.

Eli owned a gun, but he wasn’t the sort of person who kept it loaded by his bedside. In fact the bullets were inconveniently in the other room. He grabbed the empty gun, hopeful it might be enough to scare whoever was currently in his kitchen. He could pinpoint their location by the clatter of dishes.

Quietly, he crept out of his room and down the hall. The apartment was small, and he avoided all the squeaky little pitfalls, in his effort to sneak up on the intruder. It occurred to him, as he successfully slithered down the hall, that even though he was apparently as good at sneaking as Tristan was, when he put his mind to it, he had no idea what to do once he arrived in the kitchen and caught the person.

What would Tristan do?he asked himself, feeling a bit like a fanboy at the moment. He liked Tristan okay but, unlike Gabe, he hadn’t become bowled over by his giant size and reserved demeanor. All he cared about was that he treated Josie well and made her happy; so far, so good on that front. But now he began to wish for a bit of the guy’s wisdom and experience because, confrontational bravado aside, he had no idea what he was doing.Be calm,that was definitely something Tristan would say, and also do. He would not freak out. Eli might not be brawny, but he was certainly levelheaded. For now, that would have to be enough.

He eased into the kitchen, remaining successfully unseen and unheard. The gun felt unnaturally cool and ominous in his hand, and for that reason he kept it pointed at the ground. What was the point of aiming it, anyway, if it had no bullets? His hand reached for the light and flicked it on and then everything within him seized up with shock.

“Darby?” he exclaimed.

His landlord whirled, one of his mismatched juice glasses in her hand. She blinked, gasped, then dropped the glass and ran out of the apartment.

CHAPTER 7

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea to schedule a Saturday date immediately after the Friday date, but in Eli’s defense he had no idea the guinea pig date, as he would forever think of it, would turn out to be so awful. And he certainly couldn’t have foreseen that he would wake up to find his landlord rifling his cupboards. This morning he had fully expected Darby to show up on his doorstep with a sheepish excuse, maybe she was drunk, maybe she sleepwalked, something to explain the odd midnight visit. But she had been noticeably absent. Worse, Eli was certain his door had been locked. Locking and double checking the door was part of his nightly routine, which meant Darby had either broken in or used a key. Which of those was a worse option? Neither was good, and the longer he went without an explanation, the more his mind began to think the worst. Was his landlord a criminal or crazy? Or maybe both?

For tonight he tried to push those thoughts aside and power through another date. Tonight’s contestant, Layla, arrived ahead of him at the restaurant and had already procured a table, her phone pressed to her ear as she talked. When she glanced up and saw him, her eyes crinkled pleasantly with a smile.

“He’s here, I have to go. Love you, too, bye.” She set the phone aside, still smiling. “Sorry about that.”

“Your mom?” he guessed, taking the seat opposite her.

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