Page 79 of Betting on the Best Friend
Madison had so clearly been coming from a good place that I’d given in, but I don’t like the plan any better now that it’s here.
I park in front of Garza’s and stare at it through the rain drizzling my windshield. It’s a quintessential Austin space, having served many purposes and destined to serve many more. The small main building was Austin’s first Spanish-music station but now it’s a music venue for small live shows. Behind the building, there’s a large green space covered with wooden café tables beneath yellow umbrellas, which is where the event is supposed to happen.
I call Madison. “It’s raining. Their umbrellas are for sun, not rain, so that’s too bad.” I don’t even try to hide how cheerful this makes me feel.
She snorts. “Nice try. They have a message on their Facebook page saying they’ve moved it inside, so go to the front. You’re already registered, so just give them your name at the check-in. Grab a seat and save another, and I’ll take it from there.”
“Are you here yet?”
“No. Trust me, you won’t be sorry. Get in there. Byeee.”
At least I can feel good about my outfit when I spot other people walking in. Madison had said to shoot for “funnest girl at the middlebrow bar,” and based on the other arrivals, I’ve struck the right note. Orange cardigan over a fitted white cami, gray pinstripe trousers, white Adidas Gazelles. Maybe the newcomers are slightly more casual, but I’d five thousand percent rather overdress than underdress.
The host inside finds my info without any problem. “Here’s your name tag,” she says as she smiles and hands it to me. “We’re going to be cozy tonight, but it’s a nice crowd. Enjoy!”
I give her a smile that’s meant to communicate, “I will try!” but she laughs and says, “Really, this is a fun event. Everybody vibes.”
I navigate the seating, a combination of low pub tables, high bar tables, and the bar itself. The place is two-thirds full already, and I choose a standing bar table in the back left so I can bolt easily if this is a disaster.
Scanning the crowd does ease my anxiety. There’s lots of smiles and laughs, alt-country playing in the background low enough to make conversation easy, and it flows with a steady hum.
This is more of an Oliver place than a Madison one, but it’s Charlie who materializes in front of me a couple of minutes later.
“Hey,” he says.
This is more than awkward; it’s like watching bad karma manifest. There is no way I’m going to make Charlie listen to Madison try to pitch me to an audience nearly half full of guys.
“Chuckles,” I say, trying to keep it light. And then a worse thought hits me. Why is Charlie here? I can’t think of anyone he’d try to pitch, which means . . .
My stomach turns sour. I don’t want to make Charlie listen to Madison pitch me, and I want to listen to someone pitch Charlie even less.
“Rubles,” he answers with a slight smile.
“I’m waiting for Madison. What are you doing here?” Is . . . Oliver going to pitch Charlie? They better have told Charlie that I’d be here, but knowing Madison, this is some misguided exposure therapy designed to help Charlie.
He sighs. “Tonight the part of Madison Armstrong will be played by me.”
I squint like that is somehow going to improve my hearing. “What?”
“She called me an hour ago and asked me if I could fill in for her,” he says. “She said the only other options were Ava or your brother because Sami—”
“Has a gig in Dallas tonight,” I finish. “Why can’t Madison do it?”
“Something about her mom having to go to the hospital. She doubts it’s anything, but she wasn’t sure she’d make it here in time either way.”
Mrs. Armstrong is a hypochondriac, and since Katie and Madison have started repairing their relationship, Madison now takes turns with Katie in managing their mom’s many, many emergency visits.
“She shouldn’t have asked you to do this, Charlie.”
“Would you rather have Ava or Joey do it?” His smile is still subdued but both sides of his mouth tip up this time, and I have to smile back.
“What a choice. Would I rather have Ava, who would choose death by papercuts over public speaking, or my worst brother pitch me as a date? Neither. Time to go.”
He holds up a hand.Wait. “I could have said no, but she says you deserve to have someone to hype you up, and I agree. Besides, I’ll be back at O’Connor in three weeks, so we might as well practice being normal around each other.”
I forget everything else. “You’re coming back?”
He rolls his eyes. “Obviously. This was a temporary assignment, remember?”
