Page 65 of The Even Odder Couple

I’m fumbling with what to say to her next—hopefully a topic more scintillating than my secret librarian shame—when Mr. Dudley does, in fact, come bursting out of his office. He heads straight for us, cheeks puffed out and jowls in full wag mode. Something big must be happening. At least big in Mr. Dudley’s mind. I couldn’t care less. I’m just grateful to be saved by the bluster.

“Mr. Crane. Ms. Herrera.” His face bulges like those plastic toys you squeeze to make the eyes pop out. “I just got off the phone with the mayor, and I’m in need of your assistance.”

“Looks important,” I say. “I meansoundsimportant.”

“Be that as it may.” He holds up a clipboard with a paper calendar attached. I see MOVIE NIGHT written in the square for Saturday. There’s even a red circle around the time, as if we can’t tell it’s important. I must admit, I admire his old-school scheduling. Calendar. Pen. Etc. But I can’t figure out thedireissue.

Mr. Dudley’s going to movie night? So is half the town.

Stop the presses.

“All right.” Kayla leans over the desk. “Do you have a question?”

“Well, of course I do!” If a human skull could blow steam from its ears, Mr. Dudley would be fogging us with fumes.

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” I say, “because we’ve got answers.”

“So why aren’t you?” he bellows, from three feet away.

“Why aren’t I what?”

“Answering me!”

I take a beat and scratch my forehead again. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

“Be that as it may,” he blusters, “I really need your help. Mrs. Lockhart has just called, and she’s asked me to attend Movie Night. At the ranch. On Saturday.”

“Okayyyy.” I draw out the word, hoping to spur him on to an explanation. But for once in his life, my supervisor’s short on words. “And you’re concerned about this why?” I ask.

He tugs at his collar. “To be perfectly frank, the woman frightens me.”

Kayla nods. “Is it the pantsuits?”

I stifle a laugh. Maybe Kayla’s funnier than I thought. But back to Mr. Dudley. “I still didn’t hear a question,” I say.

His eyes are lasers aimed at my skull. “The question is this: Will you be my wingman?”

“Ha!”

Mr. Dudley scowls at me. “I wasn’t being facetious.”

“Sorry.” I grimace. “Do you know what a wingman is?”

“Certainly.” He lifts a hand to smooth his comb-over. Poor hand. “A wingman is one fellow who helps another fellow manage a person of the opposite sex.” He whispers the wordsex.The only quiet syllable I’ve ever heard him say. And yet I’m still squeamish. For so many reasons.

“Well,” I begin, “my first piece of advice would be, don’t try tomanagethe mayor. Or any person of the oppositesex.” I lean closer and lower my voice. “But now I have a question. Are you … interested in Mrs. Lockhart?”

“Oh, good heavens, no!” he blurts. Great. The man’s got his volume back. “But I did ascertain that the mayor sounded … quite unusual on the phone.Unusuallyunusual. And as you know, I have no tolerance for the unusual. That’s precisely why Archie is here. To prevent unusualness.”

“All right then, Mr. Dudley.” I bite back a smile. “I’ll do my best to help you, but I’m not sure what I can do.”

“Well, I assume you’ll be at the movie night, since you’re employed by the camp now too. And I’d like you to keep an eye on things. An eye on me. An eye on the unusual mayor.”

“How about her pantsuit?” Kayla interjects.

“If it’s unusual,” Mr. Dudley says. “Yes.”

“Of course I’ll do it.” I nod gravely, channeling my inner-Jim fromThe Office.

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