Page 93 of Reel Love

“I want to send something to Alana.”

“Oooh. What? I’m all over this like white on rice, like spots on a cheetah, like salt on a margarita glass, like petals on a flower … Wait. Is it flowers?”

“No. Not flowers. They seem too …”

“Boring. You are so right. I mean, if a man sendsme flowers, you will not hear me complaining. But they are boring. Unimaginative.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“So? What’s your plan?”

I have no idea if Brigitte knows I went out with Alana last night, but something in her tone of voice tells me she knows.

“I want to send her …” Is this crazy? It may be. But it’s the best I’ve got. “Tacos.”

“Oh. My. Gosh! You want to send her tacos!”

“It’s bad? Right? It’s bad. Okay. Okay. Not tacos.”

“Nooo! It’s flippingAWESOME! Where did you come from, you taco-sending merman? Are there others in your species? This is incredible. It’s creative. It’s fresh. It’s so never-been-done. And, Alana loves tacos. I mean, she never eats them unless they’re like tofu tacos with microgreens on some sort of oat-based, grain-free tortilla that was hand-fashioned by Tibetan monks in the hills of the Himalayas or something. But she neeeeeds tacos. And she does love them. And if you send them, believe me, she’ll eat them.”

“Okay.” I’m relatively stunned into silence.

“So, what’s the plan?” I can almost hear Brigitte rubbing her hands together.

“Well, my sister owns a taco place here on Marbella. I thought I’d order tacos to be delivered, but then …”

“You realized she can’t have any deliveries.”

“Right. And I really want them to arrive like a flower delivery, brought by someone else … otherwise I’d take them to her.”

“Okay. I’ve got you, boo. I can get one of her guys who regularly drives for her to drop them off at her place. And, lucky for you, she’s home. After this, she’s outta Dodge for a few days. She’s got this premier thing.”

My stomach feels like someone blew up a balloon in it and then popped it. Premier. Because she’s a movie star. And I’m sending her tacos. What am I thinking?

“You got awfully quiet over there, merman. I think you might be freaking out. Please don’t. She likes you. Keep it simple. Alana.She’s just a woman. And you’re a man. And she likes you. That’s all. Keep all the other stuff an ocean away, because trust me, when you get close to it, the glamour dies off real quick.”

“Thanks.”

“No problemo. Now. Tell me where you’re getting this order. Better yet, call the order in. I’ll text you the name of the guy who’s going to pick it up and we’re golden. You just tell the taco place his name. Alana’s going to freaking love this. I’m serious. Also serious about whether you know other taco-bearing mermen.”

She laughs, so I can’t tell if she’s really serious.

“No. I think I may be the only one.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Well, good for Alana. She needs a good man in her life.”

She does? And I’m it. Wow.

TWENTY-FIVE

Alana

All you need is love … and tacos.

~ Unknown

“You sent me tacos!” I take each one out of the styrofoam container, placing them on a tray on my island. “And chips and guac! I feel so spoiled.”

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