Just One of the Guys. Kristan Higgins

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СКАЧАТЬ Elaina has a great flare for colors.

      “Perfect. You done filling that thing out?” she asks, tapping a long fingernail against her wineglass.

      “Yes. Not that this is going to pan out, Elaina.” Buttercup groans as if agreeing.

      “How do you know? It’s better than you mooning—”

      “I’m not mooning anyone. Phone’s ringing!” Saved. I snatch up the phone. “Hello?”

      “Hello, Chastity, this is your mother speaking.” Her traditional greeting. “Did you fill out your form?” Mom’s the one who told me e. Commitment was ranked higher than the other dating sites, after her exhaustive, fifteen-minute search on the Web. “Also, I’m taking French. Your father is very jealous, barely speaking to me. Do you want to get our hair colored next week?”

      “Hi, Mom.” I grimace and pantomime hanging myself for Elaina’s benefit. “Um, yes, great, no comment, not really. Anything else?”

      “Honey! So? Do you have any hits? Your father went through the roof when I told him about this. He said some whack job would strangle me in under a week if this is how I go about dating.”

      “What a sweet thought. I just finished filling out the form, Mom. Elaina’s here. We’re having—”

      “So? Check your e-mail! Maybe you have someone already!”

      I cover the mouthpiece with my thumb. “She’s on amphetamines, it seems. You talk to her.”

      “Hi, Mamí,” Elaina says, winning ten thousand brownie points for calling her mother-in-law that particular moniker. Elaina is revered by my mother—Elaina’s quirks being found simply charming while those of her own offspring are cause for torment and dismay. They chat merrily, laughing away. Dutifully, I check my e-mail, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a message! Holy crap!

      “I got one,” I announce with pride. Buttercup’s thin tail lashes my shin.

      “She got one,” Elaina translates. “Oh, sure, Mamí. Here she is.” She passes me the phone and takes a handful of Doritos from the bowl I so thoughtfully put out.

      “Yes?” I say.

      “So?”

      “So what, Mom?”

      “So read the damn thing! You only got one, right?”

      “Um, well, I just finished my profile about five minutes ago.” I take some Doritos, too. “When did you do yours?”

      “Good! I finished mine a half hour ago.”

      “Great. And do you have any hits?” I ask.

      “Well…um, yes, I do.”

      I can tell by her tone, which has become suspiciously gentle and kind, that she’s hiding something. “How many?” I growl.

      “Well…more than one. Don’t take it personally, Chastity. I’m sure you’ll have twenty-three pretty soon, too.”

      “You have twenty-three hits, Mom?” Buttercup growls in her sleep.

      “Holy shit!” Elaina exclaims. “Let me have the phone! Mamí, are you kidding me? Oh, my God, you know? That is so great! Any keepers?”

      While they’re talking, I look at my message, blandly entitled “hi.” What the hell. I click on it.

       Dear GirlNextDoor,

       I really liked your profile. It seems like we have a lot of interests that are the same. Check out my profile, and if you’re interested, drop me a line.

      —husbandmaterial.

      Well, the name is promising, anyway.

      “You’re joking!” Elaina squeals. “Chastity, your mother has four dates lined up already! Can you believe it?”

      “I can’t believe it,” I mumble. I click on husbandmaterial’s profile as instructed, glancing impatiently through the list of attributes. Attractiveness—he’s given himself a six-point-five out of ten…I wonder what that will translate to. Gollum? Freddy Kruger? Jason of the Freckled Legs? Well, moving on…Loves outdoor activities. Great. Enjoys good food. (Honestly, is there anyone alive who doesn’t?—I enjoy bad meals and the intestinal distress that follows…). I forgive him and move on. Athletic, great. Family-oriented, cool. He sounds pretty good, actually.

      Elaina hands the phone back to me. “Oh, look, here’s another one!” my mother crows in my ear. “‘Dear Olderand-Wiser, I’d love to meet for coffee. I live in Thurman and would be happy to come into Eaton Falls and see if you can possibly be as great as you sound!’ Oh, Chastity, isn’t this fun?”

      “Oh, yes,” I lie.

      “I got another one! I can’t believe I waited this long to dump your father. How many have you got now?” she demands.

      I check my listing. “Um, still just the one.”

      “Well, honey, don’t worry. All it takes is one, right?”

      My phone bleats in my ear. “Mom, I have another call. I’ll call you back, okay?” I push the button for the next call. “Hell—”

      “It’s your father. Did you know your mother registered on some crazy Web site? She’s going to get herself killed! I mean it, Chastity. You are not to encourage her. Oh, gotta go. We just got a call. Bye.”

      Sighing, I hang up. “I’m hungry,” I tell Elaina. “Shall we make something for dinner?”

      “By we, do you mean me?” she asks, preening.

      “Yes, Elaina. Would you care to whip up something fabulous from the meager offerings of my kitchen? Please? Pretty please?”

      “Sure, baby. I’d love to.” She ruffles my hair, does a neat leap over Buttercup and sashays into the kitchen. She does love to cook…incomprehensible, but convenient for me.

      I glance back at husbandmaterial and decide to e-mail him back. Right now. What the heck, right?

       Dear husbandmaterial,

       You sound really nice. Tell me more about yourself. What do you do for work? Does your family live around here? What kind of sports do you like? You’re not a Mets fan, are you?

      I hit Send, pleased. I’ll let him reveal more about himself before I do. I’m a little wary over the six-point-five, but this is just a trial run. Besides, men have no idea how to rank themselves. Jason, after all, considered himself too attractive for me. I ranked myself a seven, which I felt was quite honest. Once I get my hair cut, I may upgrade to seven-point-five.

      The phone rings again. Glancing at the caller ID, I see that it’s the Eaton Falls Fire Department. Must be Dad again.

      “Hi, Daddy,” I say.

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