Superstition, p.11
Superstition, page 11
Jerry made a theatrical display of holding up his wallet. “Sorry about that.” He took his seat.
“I thought you bailed on me. But then I realized that couldn’t be. Because no one would ever bail on me.” Darla smiled and seemed to relax. “I didn’t order any wine. I have ID, but I wasn’t sure about you. So, I got us sparkling water and a calamari appetizer.”
He wasn’t sure what calamari was, but wanted no more disruptions, so he lied. “Sounds good.”
Jerry looked over the menu. No wine was helpful, but the prices of the entrees left no doubt that he’d be using the credit card. He’d have to remember and call his dad. He didn’t want the charge to come as a surprise. In the end, he ordered the veal parmigiana while Darla went with the pollo marsala.
“Jerry, I have a little something for you.”
“Really? What?”
“It’s a surprise. Hold out your hand.”
Jerry stretched his right arm across the table and held his palm up.
“And close your eyes.”
He hesitated for a moment.
Darla flashed a smile. “Come on, close your eyes.”
Jerry complied.
“Now stick out your tongue.”
“Darla!”
“Okay. Good enough.”
Something soft dropped into Jerry’s hand.
He opened his eyes. A small furry orange object rested in his hand. “What’s this?”
“It’s a rabbit’s foot. You know, for luck.”
“It wasn’t lucky for the rabbit.”
“Har, har! Seriously, with what you uncovered about bad luck and students dying, I thought we could use a little protection.”
“We?”
“Uh, huh.” Darla pulled a mint green rabbit’s foot from her purse. “Promise me you’ll keep it with you at all times.”
“I promise.” The foot had a metal ring attached, and he hooked it to his keys. “Where did you find this?”
“Five Below. Good luck was never so affordable.”
Jerry gazed at the foot one more time. He didn’t believe it could really provide good luck. But Darla seemed enthusiastic, and it was a sweet gesture. “Thanks, Darla.” He rubbed the foot for show, then shoved it in his pocket.
“You are quite welcome.” Darla placed her elbows on the table and her hands under her chin. “So, tell me all about Jerry Williams.”
“I’m from a little town in South Jersey called Mullica Hill. My dad’s the editor of the Gloucester County Times. In high school, he hired me as a stringer, covering local government meetings, sporting events, parades, and such. I loved it so much I followed in his footsteps. So, here I am majoring in journalism and writing for the school paper.”
“Ambitious, I like that. Any brothers or sisters?”
“One brother, Brian. He’s older. Working on his PhD in Chemistry at the University of Washington.”
“Chemistry? That’s a coincidence. I’m majoring in chemical engineering.”
“Really?”
Darla narrowed her eyes at Jerry. “Is that such a surprise? You think cheerleaders are all airheads who can’t handle a challenging major?” She pointed an accusatory finger.
“What? I mean, of course not, you can do—”
“Because I’m getting sick and tired of everyone treating me like a life-sized Barbie doll.” She tilted her head and, in a high-pitched voice, mimicked, “Math is hard.”
“Please, Darla, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Darla balled up her napkin and tossed it on her bread plate. “I think you should take me back to the dorm.” She stood, hands on her hips, her green eyes staring right through him.
Jerry’s stomach was in knots. The world was crashing all around him. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled.
“Got you!” She flashed a wide grin and plopped back down. “I should have taken a pic of the look on your face.” She giggled and sipped her water.
“Oh.” Jerry was confused, then a wave of relief flowed over him. “That was a bit?”
Darla nodded. “Keep on your toes around me.”
Jerry forced a smile. Maybe Darla was more than he could handle. Busby would never pull a stunt like that. “So you are, or aren’t, majoring in chemical engineering?”
“An exothermic reaction releases heat, while endothermic one absorbs it. The job market looks promising. There’s always a shortage of qualified employees, so wages are rising.” She frowned for a moment. “The same can’t be said for journalism.”
“I know. My dad tried to warn me off, but I think I’ve got it in my blood. I’m thinking the chemical engineering bit will be a good hook for your story. Cheerleader smashes stereotype.”
The waitress delivered the calamari along with an assortment of sauces.
Darla dipped a piece in tartar sauce. “This is delish.”
“I’ll confess that I’m not familiar with calamari. Is it onion rings?”
Darla laughed. “It’s squid, silly.”
“Squid?” He stared at Darla’s face, trying to read her expression. “Are you joking with me again?”
“Nope, it’s really squid. Have some.”
Jerry was cautious. He smothered his in marinara and popped it in his mouth. “Hey, this is pretty good.”
“Told you.”
When the main course arrived, Jerry reached for his knife, but Darla grabbed both of his hands. Before he could react, she closed her eyes, lowered her head, and spoke, “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”
Jerry recovered from his shock in time to simultaneously say Amen.
Darla opened her eyes and released his hands. She observed Jerry’s puzzled look. “Yeah, it’s always weird when to say grace in a restaurant: when they bring out the bread, or the appetizers, or the main course.” She shrugged. “But I figure as long as we let God know we’re thankful, it doesn’t really matter when we say it.”
“Good point.” Jerry was relieved that she misinterpreted his expression. He turned the conversation on Darla. “What about your family?”
“My dad runs a hedge fund, which he’s super good at. My mom stayed at home to raise us four kids. Corey is the oldest. The Brewers drafted him in the third round. Shortstop. He hasn’t made it to the majors yet. He’s going to play Mexican ball this winter. Terry is gorgeous. He’s a model in Los Angeles and trying to break into acting. He was on one of the NCISs. Can’t remember which, but he didn’t have any lines. He played a corpse.”
Jerry chuckled. “I never heard a guy called gorgeous before.”
“Trust me. He’s got Mom’s cheekbones and skin to die for.”
“And your sister?”
“Ashlee.” Darla rolled her eyes. “Such a teenager.”
For dessert, Darla suggested they split a cannoli, which they enjoyed with coffee.
Jerry offered to let Darla have the last bite of the pastry, but she shook her head.
“Darla, this was an outstanding meal. Thanks for picking this place. The only Italian my mom ever made was spaghetti and meatballs.”
“What’s your mom do?”
Jerry was quiet for a moment. “She was a bookkeeper. She died. Cancer.”
“Je suis désoleé.” Her green eyes filled with empathy, she reached across the table, entwining her fingers with his as if to try and absorb some of his pain.
“It’s been a few years. Didn’t mean to sabotage the mood.”
“Nonsense.” Darla continued to hold his hand. “I’m having a wonderful time.”
When the bill came, Jerry almost choked at the total. He added a 25% tip. He delivered pizzas one summer and worked hard for those tips and never forgot to return the favor.
When they stood to leave, Darla pointed around the room. “We’re the hottest couple in this place. We didn’t get a chance to show off when we arrived, but we’re going to let everyone know. Let’s work our way across the dining room in a big circle giving them all a chance to gawk, okay?”
Jerry was almost certain the evening was going well, but the idea that Darla wanted people to see them together cinched it. He looped his arm around her waist, and they began their march around the room.
In the far corner of the Cascata dining room, Miranda’s phone buzzed. She picked it up and frowned.
Dmitri set down his wine. “What is wrong?”
“Fitzgerald wants a paper on Dumas. Says he’s willing to pay double.” She groaned. “I’ve made it clear to these knobheads that I only do English Literature.”
“But there is nothing my smart and sexy girl can’t do.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to make it a habit. I start doing French and the next thing I know; they’ll be asking for Garcia Marquez or Tolstoy.” She made a face and pinched her nose.
“Demand they pay more.”
“I could do that. It would be awesome if we could afford to go to St. Bart’s for winter break. I’ll offer to do it for triple.” She tapped on her phone, looked up, and frowned again.
“Tolstoy?”
“No. Jerry is here.”
Dmitri turned to see the couple walking across the room. “That girl he is with is not Busby.”
“I know.” Miranda held up her phone, switched to burst mode, and focused on the couple. “And I’ve never seen him so dressed up before.”
Darla maneuvered Jerry around a busboy clearing a table. For a moment, their faces turned toward Miranda.
She snapped the photo and checked the results. “Gotcha!”
Jerry pulled his car over to the curb outside Darla’s dorm.
“Walk me to my room.” Darla’s tone was more command than question.
Jerry rushed around to open her door. Darla emerged from the car, holding her shoes in one hand. She walked across the grass, cool on her bare feet. She held Jerry’s hand while he pointed out constellations in the sky.
Darla let her head rest against his shoulder for a moment. Jerry had proved to be an almost perfect date. He was a smart, funny, ambitious boy. And cute too.
They rode the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hallway to 214. Darla paused in front of the door, let his hand go, and turned to face him.
“Jerry, I had a wonderful evening. I was a little worried when you disappeared, but that was just a little bump in the road on the way to a perfect evening.”
“No reason it has to end now.” He leaned in to kiss her.
“Actually, it does.” She put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “I do want to see you again. But even though they cancelled classes, I have a ton of homework. Plus, I need to get up early and workout, and there’s an extra cheer practice for the game tomorrow. With all that going on, I’m afraid I can’t invite you in. I need sleep.” The big test. How would he react?
“Okay.” His tone told her this wasn’t the ending of the evening he was hoping for. And Darla could see the disappointment on his face. “You look like a lost puppy.” She dropped her shoes, looped her arms around him, pulled close. As her nails caressed the back of his neck, she kissed him solidly on the lips.
He slipped his arms around her and squeezed tight.
When her breath grew short, she broke the embrace. “Better?”
“Much. Maybe I could come in after all?”
“Were you even listening to me?” She bopped him on the nose. “Why don’t you come to the game tomorrow? Mike’s going to be taking photos of us.”
“He is?”
“Yeah, he got a credential from our coach. I don’t know if you can get down on the sidelines where he’ll be. But you can watch me from the stands.”
“I have a pass too, so I’ll be able to get down to the field.”
“Really? Great.” She kissed him one last time. “Text me when you get home, so I know you’re okay.”
She grabbed her shoes, stepped inside, winked, then shut the door.
Lucy lay on the couch under a blanket, watching TV, cup of hot cocoa in her hand.
Darla dropped the clutch on her desk. “You look comfy.”
Lucy sat up and paused the show. “Binging Rizzoli & Isles. You need me to clear out?”
Darla returned to the door, pressed her eye to the peephole, and watched Jerry. He sported a huge grin. Excited, eager, not angry. Perfect. “You’re good, Lucy. We’re done for the night. You know my motto: Always leave boys wanting more.”
CHAPTER 15
SATURDAY 8:02AM
Jerry walked back from the gym. It occurred to him that Darla said she’d be working out this morning, but he didn’t see her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen any of the cheerleaders at the gym. Maybe they had their own workout facilities, like the football and basketball teams.
He powered on his phone and checked his texts. Darla wished him a good morning. That brought a smile to his face, and he replied in kind. Mike suggested breakfast at the Student Center. Jerry texted that he’d meet him there. He showered and dressed back at the dorm, then found Mike in the breakfast line at the cafeteria.
“There you are.” Mike grabbed a set of utensils. “You were up early for a Saturday. Things didn’t go well with Darla?”
Jerry grinned. “Au contraire. We had a most amazing evening. I was so jazzed up, I hardly slept.”
“Really? I want details. Now!”
“A gentleman never tells. What about you and Talia?”
Mike grimaced. “Ha, ha, very funny. Actually, the next-level jammer prototype is almost done. Some minor adjustments and we’ll be ready to field test.”
“Sounds romantic.”
Mike’s phone buzzed. “It’s Talia. She wants us to sit with her.” He scanned the room, spotted her, and waved.
The line moved forward. Mike filled his tray with a plate of pancakes, a side of bacon, and four slices of toast. Jerry grabbed a granola bar, a banana, and a carton of whole milk. The line advanced, and they paid for their breakfasts.
Mike grabbed his tray. “Follow me. The twins are this way.”
“We’re having breakfast with both of them?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, I expect they’re going to be part of our new social circle. Maybe even the entire squad. And we’re going to need some new friends.”
“How so?”
“Since things went well with Darla, I’m guessing that means no more Busby. Then Miranda won’t hang out with us anymore. Rick too.”
Jerry shrugged. “Rick’s not much of a loss. But I don’t think it will be that bad.”
“When Busby learns you’re going out with a cheerleader, she’ll go nuclear.”
Jerry and Mike navigated the tables and found Talia and Veronica near the center of the room. Mike sat opposite Talia, and Jerry across from Veronica. The twins wore their auburn hair up in ponytails, no make-up, and identical desert camo T-shirts that read: Statesmen Cheerleader Boot Camp.
Talia grinned, displaying perfect white teeth. “Jerry, you were never introduced to my sister Veronica.”
Jerry peeled his banana. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Veronica replied.
Mike drenched his pancakes in butter and syrup. “Those are some big breakfasts.” He pointed with his fork at the twins’ plates loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns.
Veronica raised her right arm, slid back her sleeve, and flexed a tan bicep. “We need the calories. We’ve got a long day of being on our feet: practice, then the game. Five-Hour Energy can only take you so far.” She gulped a glass of grapefruit juice.
“Jerry, I heard it went pretty well with Darla last night.” Talia waggled her eyebrows.
Jerry glared at Mike. “Big mouth.”
“Mike didn’t say a word. It’s Darla.” Veronica held up her phone. “She’s been blowing up Snapchat all morning.”
“Really?” Jerry thought the evening went well but welcomed the confirmation.
“I bet it was the way I knotted your tie.” Talia laughed.
“That had to be it,” Mike agreed. “It certainly wasn’t Jerry’s winning personality.”
“You’re such a good friend.” Jerry grabbed a packet of grape jelly from the condiment tray and tossed it at Mike, bouncing it off his forehead.
Veronica slid her phone across the table. “Jerry, look at these photos.”
Jerry picked up the phone and squinted at the image: an antique car from the 1930s. He scrolled through photos of more cars: antiques, sports cars, high-end imports. After the cars, a blonde in a red one-piece swimsuit wearing a sash proclaiming her Miss Michigan USA. The caption read: Jennifer Johnson. More photos: Jennifer in an evening gown, in a cocktail dress, in a green bikini.
Veronica leaned over the table to look at the screen. “Notice a resemblance?”
Jerry didn’t. He had no idea what she was showing him. “No. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Last summer, Talia, Darla, and I coached cheer camp in Michigan. Afterward, we stayed at Darla’s house. That’s her dad’s car collection and her mom.”
“Actually, the house is more like a mansion.” Talia spread her arms wide.
“Castle.” Veronica made a circular motion with her glass. “It had those round things. Gables?”
“Towers?” Jerry replied.
“Turrets?” Mike suggested.
“Yes, turrets!” Veronica pointed with her fork for emphasis. “Her room is at the top of one.”
“Darla lives in a castle?” For a moment, Jerry imagined Darla as a fairy-tale princess protected by a moat and drawbridge.
Talia nodded. “Yeah, her dad’s somebody real important in finance or business. I think he might be the boss of the secretary of the treasury or something.”
“That would make him the president,” Mike explained. “Of the United States.”
“Whatever. The point is: the house is amazing.”
Jerry munched his banana. Darla’s family was rich. Did she expect lots of fancy dinners at places like Cascata? That would break him pretty quickly. He kept scrolling. Darla’s mom behind the wheel of a red BMW. He squinted. No, this photo was Darla herself. “This is Darla’s car?”
