Page 78 of All That Glitters
“Luke’s diner doesn’t even qualify as a date,” Jeff said.
“And car chase movies do?”
They were so wrapped up again in their ridiculous argument that they didn’t see Debbie race over to a waiting taxi, climb in, and slam the door. The taxi pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the street.
“Besides that, you stole my tires!” Matt said. “That means I get a do-over!”
“Dude, this is real life!” Jeff countered. “You don’t get do-overs!”
“Let’s ask Debbie.”
The guys stopped and turned, looking at where Debbie had been standing just moments before. She was gone.
“Where’d she go?” Matt asked, looking up and down the sidewalk.
“See!” Jeff said. “You scared her off with all your arguing and weird, clammy shoulder-touching!”
A beat of silence passed. Matt exhaled, some of the fight leaving him. “I think we both did.”
Jeff thought about it for a second before giving a reluctant, defeated nod. He looked back toward the theater entrance. “We should sneak back in and catch Faster and Furiouser.”
“Yeah,” Matt agreed, his earlier frustration forgotten. “I heard they added four new car chases and a helicopter scene.”
The boys hurried back into the theater, their argument forgotten.
Chapter twenty-nine
Taco Summits and Life Choices
The sound of a key fumbling angrily in the lock was followed by the apartment door swinging open and Debbie stomping in, her face a thundercloud of rage. She slammed the door shut behind her then dropped her purse and keys on the entryway table with a loud clatter.
Veronica looked up from the couch where she was watching a reality TV show about competitive miniature poodle grooming. She watched Debbie stomp off down the hallway to her bedroom and return a minute later in her pajamas. One look at Debbie’s face and Veronica muted the TV.
“Whoa,” Veronica said. “Let me guess. The date with Jeff was a disaster?”
“Worse,” Debbie grumbled, marching straight to the kitchen. She flung open the freezer door, sending a rogue ice cube skittering across the floor.
“Did you accidentally back over his foot with your car?”
“Worse,” she repeated, her voice muffled as she rummaged through the freezer. She emerged a moment later holding a giant half-gallon tub of ‘Cookie Dough Catastrophe’ ice cream.
Veronica’s eyes widened. “Oh no. This is bad. This is ‘emergency ice cream’ bad. What happened?”
Debbie didn’t answer. She just grabbed the biggest spoon she could find from the utensil drawer, nudged the freezer door shut with her back, and stalked into the living room. She flopped onto the armchair, pried the lid off the ice cream, and dug out a heaping spoonful.
“This is all your fault,” she said, pointing the spoon accusingly at Veronica before shoving it in her mouth.
“My fault?” Veronica asked. “My brilliant plan to make Tony see you as a desirable woman is my fault? Did it not work?”
“Oh, it worked,” Debbie said, her mouth full of cookie dough chunks. “It worked so well that he’s now making out with a B-list movie star. Publicly. On Instagram.”
She pulled her phone from her pocket, found the offending photo, and tossed it to Veronica.
Veronica caught it, her eyes widening as she saw the picture. The soap-opera-worthy kiss, the cheesy caption… she let out a low whistle.
“Oh, that absolute moron,” Veronica breathed, staring at the photo. “That clueless, beautiful, world-class idiot.”
“He’s not the idiot,” Debbie mumbled around another spoonful of ice cream. “I am. For thinking any of this would work. For thinking I could ever compete with… that. She probably doesn’t even eat carbs.” She gestured with her spoon at the ice cream tub. “This is what normal, non-movie-star girls do. We eat our feelings.”
