Detours by Jeffrey Ricker

Author:Jeffrey Ricker [Ricker, Jeffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781602826137
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
Published: 2011-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

*

By the time Matt finally returned with the tomatoes, we all were well on our way to getting fairly tipsy. I finished making the gazpacho, and no one was in any condition to tell if it was good or not. I briefly considered pouring vodka into it and calling it Bloody Mary soup. But after all the champagne, it seemed like overkill. We ran out of champagne after the fifth bottle and switched to chardonnay. Late morning became early afternoon, lengthening into suppertime. We ate and drank more.

Thoughts of getting on the road receded into tomorrow.

I mentioned our next stop was Las Vegas, and Jacob said he could get us a good deal on a hotel room. He was a travel agent, specializing in group bookings and package tours, and said he had a knack for getting people where they wanted to go.

“Can he get Lincoln on a bus back to Portland?” my mother asked.

While Matt helped me load plates and bowls into the dishwasher, I asked, “So, did it work?”

“Did what work?”

I rolled my eyes in the direction of the living room. If Matt cooked for somebody, it meant he was trying to impress them or get lucky.

Or both.

“Did the manicotti work? You made it for Jacob, right?”

Matt looked at me a little sideways. “Yeah, how’d you figure that out?”

“Call it a hunch.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but that night wasn’t the greatest date ever.”

Matt had made dinner on their second date. Even though the meal had turned out fine, something about the evening had been off. He wasn’t sure if it was their moods, but the date had seemed awkward and forced. By the time they got to dessert and moved to the living room sofa, the rhythm of the evening had smoothed out from its earlier bumps and potholes—until, right in the middle of what Matt said was a really damn good kiss that was probably going to lead to the removal of clothing, Dudley decided he needed to be on the sofa with them.

“He’s lucky he didn’t hurt himself,” Matt said, “but he knocked over the coffee table. There was cheesecake everywhere, and Dudley couldn’t decide if he was going to be in trouble or if he should try to lick up some of the cake anyway.”

I laughed, louder than I should have or the story deserved, perhaps. I blamed it on the champagne.

“Jacob ended up wearing most of his coffee on his shirt—”

“Ah, see?” I said. “Dudley was just trying to help get him out of his clothes for you.”

“Nice try, I’ll give him credit for that, but it didn’t work. I sent Jacob home in a clean shirt and figured I’d never see him again.”

“Which obviously turned out not to be the case.”

Matt liked to say he had no trouble getting dates. It was second and third dates that were the problems. Sometimes he blamed his past as a lawyer (“You were a lawyer?” he’d been asked on more than one occasion). Other

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