Page 64 of The Plus Ones
“Do you really have to ask?”
“Pick a good one, baby,” he says as I reach for a piece of paper in the basket.
I’m pretty sure no one can tell that my stomach just did a little backflip when he called me baby. I stare down at the celebrity name. “He developed a theory of evolution.”
“Darwin.”
I drop that piece of paper like it’s hot and swipe another one. “The pop artist who did the Campbells soup things.”
“Warhol.”
Two-for-two.“That gay, witty author and playwright.”
“David Sedaris.”
“London. Nineteenth Century.”
“Oscar Wilde.”
“Yes!” I try to control my smile as I look at him while picking the next one. He winks at me while rubbing his hands together. “Ummm…” I lower my voice, cue up my best Texas drawl, and look at him like an intense stoner. “All right, all right, all right!”
“Matthew McConaughey.”
I pick another one. “Okay. He’s a martial artist guy.”
“Bruce Lee.”
“The other one.”
“Chow Yun-fat.”
“Who?”
“Jet Li.”
“Keep going.”
“Sammo Hong…Donnie Yen.”
“The only one I would know besides Bruce Lee.”
“Jackie Chan!”
“Yes!”
“Time!”
“Oh my God,” I say, shaking my fists at him like an angry old lady. “You’re supposed to think like me! That’s kind of the point of this.”
“Calm down, baby,” he says, rubbing my back. “We won.”
“We did?”
“Well not yet, but we tied Chase and Aimee. That’s sort of like winning.”
“Five points for Mr. Keaton and Miss Roxy!” the manager declares.
“Oh my God!” I say, smiling at him like an idiot, and then Idon’tkiss him, and it feels like the most unnatural thing in the world.
