Second Helpings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [56]
Oh, Christ. I really was too late. Tutti Flutie had already charmed the hell out of my grandmother. And my grandmother, being who she is, wouldn’t want to give up a single second of attention from a male more than seven decades her junior.
I declined with as much grace and dignity as I could muster.
“Looks like you’re back in, Irene,” Moe said.
Irene lifted her finger and twirled it in the air in the universal signal that means “Whoop-dee-do.” I think I would like Irene if I got to know her.
“Gladdie, Moe, Irene, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you again soon.” Then I turned to Marcus. “May I have a word with you please?”
“Sure,” he replied, without making a move.
You know, I’d forgotten that Marcus can be a huge pain in the ass when he wants to be, which is all of the time.
“Oh, you mean in private?”
“Yes, I mean in private.”
“Ohhhhh . . .” he said, as if all the world’s mysteries had just been answered. He gave everyone at the table a knowing glance. “It must be about Len, then.”
Gladdie, Moe, and everyone else oohed and ahhed. Obviously, someone had already informed them about Len.
“It’s not about Len,” I said. “It’s about you.”
An even louder chorus of oohs and ahhs.
“You know what? Forget it.”
As I walked out of the rec room, I recalled how I once thought Silver Meadows was like college. I was wrong. It’s more like preschool. I’m now thoroughly convinced that maturity starts to reverse itself as you close in on a century of life.
the sixth
I had no choice. Really.
I wanted to talk to Gladdie alone. I had to talk to her in person because she refuses to pick up the phone—the only proof of a genetic connection between us.
I needed to know whether Marcus would be working today. If the answer was yes, I’d postpone my visit. Normally, I would ask Len. “Hey, Len. Do you know if Marcus is working at the fogues’ home today?” Simple as that. Only it wasn’t so simple anymore. Inquiring about Marcus’s whereabouts would be rather insensitive, you know, if what Marcus said about Len liking me is true.
This is what happened when I called Silver Meadows to find out if Marcus Flutie was working today:
“WHAT?!” a Geritolic gentleman’s voice yelled into the phone. “YOU WANT TO KNOW IF THE MARKET PHOOEY IS WORKING TODAY?”
“No. I want to know if Marcus Flutie is working today.”
“MARKET PHOOEY? WHAT IN THE HECK IS THAT? SOME KIND OF NEW-FANGLED SLANG?”
“No. It’s the name of a guy who works—”
The voice consulted someone in the background. “HEY, DORIS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IN THE HECK THE ‘MARKET PHOOEY’ IS? I GOT A GAL ON THE PHONE ASKING IF THE MARKET PHOOEY IS WORKING TODAY.”
I hung up the phone. They really shouldn’t let the residents answer the front desk phone when Linda is taking a cigarette break.
So, as I said, I had no choice.
“Hey, Jessica,” Marcus said, after the second ring.
This totally threw me off. I hadn’t anticipated the possibility that the phone would betray my identity, which is moronic on my part, since it’s not like Caller ID is some super high-tech innovation in telecommunications. I had hoped he would pick up and say “Hello” like a normal person. And I would’ve said, “Yes. Hello. Is the Game Master there?” which would’ve shown him that I wasn’t intimidated one bit.
“Jessica?”
“Uh. Hey. Hi. Uh . . .”
Damn that Caller ID!
“I assume you’re calling to have our overdue conversation about Len,” he said.
“What?”
“Isn’t that how it works?”
“How what works?”
“How it works. Dating.”
“I’m not following you.”
“The girl goes through the best friend to get the guy?”
Stumped. I knew I was the girl in the scenario.
Stymied. But who was the best friend?
Stupid. And who was I trying to get to?
“I let you in on the open secret about Len’s affection for you. I did that because he isn’t too confident with the ladies and would never get around to telling you himself. That’s why I stepped in. He needs my wisdom. He needs my help.”
Flashback: A conversation with Marcus last fall, back when our midnight phone calls used to soothe my insomnia. Subject: What