-4-

Waking up alone the next morning after sleeping with your best friend leaves you feeling pretty damn stupid.

Rolling over, I stared at the full glass of water and two Advil on my nightstand. I thought of not taking them if just to spite Luther’s minute kindness. Then I sat up and the hangover hit me. Okay, point to Luther this time.

A knock came at my door. I pulled up a sheet to hide my nakedness.

“Come in,” I muttered.

The door opened, revealing Jack. Those luminescent blue eyes took one look at the way my sheet barely covered me and, for the first time, Jack averted his gaze. He stared at the floor as he shuffled inside and shut the door behind him.

“Hey,” he said softly. I waited. “I just wanted to, uh, check that you got home alright.”

“Congratulations.”

I moved to get out of bed, taking the sheet with me. Jack politely turned his back.

“Was there something else?” I asked, headed for my closet.

“Well… It’s not really my place to ask,” he told the door. “But what bothered you so much about saying Grace last night?”

I stopped at the closet door and stared inside, thinking of what to wear. Most of me just wanted to throw on sweats and stay in bed all day. I’d already stood-up Miranda yesterday, though. She would probably think I had gone ahead and committed suicide last night, just because she was that irrational. What time was it, anyway?

“Diana?”

“It just pissed me off,” I snapped. “It was offensive. I’m agnostic. And then here you all come, blessing my food in my own house. The least you could have done was quietly said it to yourselves. I’ve been to people’s houses for dinner who knew I don’t believe in God and they were obliging enough.” I sighed out, closed my eyes. “Whatever, though. I’ll just eat in my room from now on.”

“Nobody mentioned you were agnostic, Diana. We’ll be happy to oblige now that we know.”

So Dad had left that out, too?

“Okay, Jack. Thanks for coming to talk to me.” I went in the closet, calling over my shoulder, “Do you know if it’s warm outside?”

“Um, it was cold during my run. Weather Channel says it’s supposed to get up to seventy.”

You could never trust Weather Channel. I slipped into my blue ivory pattern Diesel Modanne shorts and ivory kensie girl turtleneck sweater. I grabbed my navy Diesel Fincos jacket. Searching for shoes, I decided on navy French Sole Sloop flats and slipped them on without socks. When I returned to the main room, Jack was gone, replaced with Zeke, who was sitting on my bed.

He looked over my outfit and nodded approvingly.

“Stylish,” he said.

“Like a country bumpkin would really know.”

“Point taken.”

“What are you doing in my room? I gave Jack permission to come in, not you. I don’t like you.” I thought about that. “Then again, I don’t like Jack either. Spit out whatever you have to say then leave.”

“Well, firstly, Jack was my spokesperson, so when you gave him permission you were really giving us permission to come in.” He smiled happily. “Secondly, you love Jack—you don’t have to deny it. Everybody loves Jack. He’s just that type of guy.” I scowled. Zeke was stalling and we both knew it. “Thirdly, I want to know who that guy was. He carried you in last night, sneaked out about two hours later.”

So Luther doesn’t think I’m even worth spending the whole night with. He left as soon as I passed out.

“Not that it’s really any of your business,” I growled. “He’s Luther, my friend.”

“Your boyfriend?”

I think I heard myself snort. “No.”

“So you sleep with all your male friends? I think I’m going to like New York after all.”

“Shut up.” Frowning, I went in search of last night’s purse. I’d use my ivory Chanel hobo handbag today. “Only my best male friends,” I muttered.

Zeke chuckled and sprawled out across my bed.

“Some best friend,” he said. “What type of guy takes advantage of a drunk girl like that? If he drove you home he couldn’t have been too faded himself. Unless he’s a complete moron, that is.”

“Maybe he is.”

“Nice choice in friends.”

I walked over to my bed while Zeke watched, picked up a pillow, and attempted to smother him with it. Zeke calmly grabbed my wrists and brought my hands and the pillow away from his grinning face. He kept holding my wrists between us to keep me from trying again.

“Now lastly, I came to ask if you would mind showing Jack and I around the city.”

“What?”

“Well.” Zeke’s grin shrank. “Your dad is about to dump us on you anyway because Mom is taking the girls flower shopping. And after yesterday, James is hesitant to leave you alone with Charlotte for any long amount of time. We heard them in the breakfast nook chatting about it this morning. He didn’t say any of this exactly, but that is what’s left once you cut out all the fat.” Sounded like my dad, all right. “I figured if I could beat him to the punch and ask you nicely then maybe we wouldn’t spend the entire time at each other’s throats with Jack acting as mediator.”

One thing I really hate about Ezekiel Gander: he actually makes sense.

“Fine.” I looked over his outfit. “You’re not going to wear that, are you?”

Zeke looked down at himself.

“What’s wrong with jeans and a white tee shirt?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. If you’re going to be on my leash for today, I get to pick out your clothes. Let’s go.”

I slipped my wrists from his hold and headed for the door, not checking to see if Zeke was following.

As it turned out, Zeke’s bags weren’t even unpacked. We went through a couple until I realized it was a lost cause.

“Do you own any tee shirts without stupid sayings on them?”

“Yeah. I’m wearing it.”

“God, I’m going to have to buy you something presentable.”

Jack said from the doorway of Zeke’s room, “I thought you didn’t believe in God?”

“Don’t start with me.”

Twenty minutes later, after brushing my hair and putting on makeup, we were ready to leave. I called the taxi service, which appeared to puzzle the twins. It took ten minutes for the cab to arrive. Zeke and Jack spent the time tearing apart the kitchen and stuffing their faces with everything edible, even some things that weren’t.

It wasn’t a long or scenic drive to the city. Our first stop, I decided, was Club Monaco. I paid the cabbie and we headed in.

The twins were immediately daunted by Club Monaco’s black and white interior and the commission clerks working there.

Zeke commented in my ear, “These are Yankee clothes, Diana. I can’t be seen in Yankee clothes.”

“Then show yourself around the city. I won’t be seen with you wearing… that. Oh no, you wore sandals? What were you thinking? Now I’ll have to buy you shoes, too!”

I called a male clerk over and pointed to the platinum-haired twin on my right. The clerk took one look at Zeke and appeared to understand the dilemma. He asked Zeke’s sizes.

“34 waist,” I answered. “38 inseam. Medium-sized shirts will do.”

When the clerk left to find some outfits, Zeke looked upset and whined to his brother about it.

“Why do I need a new outfit? I’m still not seeing what’s wrong with what I’ve got on. It’s no worse than yours.”

Jack shrugged in reply, looking amused.

I answered, “Jack has better taste than you. I should think that was obvious.”

“We’re wearing the same thing in different colors! And he’s wearing a Columbia sweatshirt over his tee shirt!”

“Those jeans are authentic Lee straight-legs. You’re wearing O’Neill Havey boot-cut jeans. Nobody wears boot-cuts anymore. Especially not with sandals! It’s August, and we’re in New York! Secondly, his tee shirt is black and from Express—”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m reprimanding you about your lack in fashion sense. Plain black tee shirts are acceptable whereas white ones are not because white tees are tacky, generic, and usually worn as undershirts. To put it in words you can understand: it’s like walking around in unattractive underwear. Thirdly, Jack is wearing Converse sneakers—which I would burn if they were my own, but since they’re Jack’s and compliment the jeans, I’ll restrain my pyromania. Lastly, Columbia sweatshirts are always acceptable; they look nice and actually keep you warm.”

Ezekiel looked at his brother and scowled.

“Did you plan out that outfit specifically to get on her good side?”

Jack slipped his hands in his pockets, frowning. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I didn’t understand a word of what just went on. I put on the first thing I pulled out of my suitcase.”

The clerk returned then, startling the twins. Their expressions grew warier the more outfits the man showed them.

I picked out a premium cotton collared shirt, a black wool flannel blazer, slim-fitting straight-legged jeans, and shoved Zeke toward the fitting rooms. We would have to go somewhere else for shoes. I also grabbed a brown leather messenger bag.

I was happily surprised with my selections when Zeke came out of the fitting rooms five minutes later. Jack just looked puzzled.

“What’s different?” Jack asked. “I don’t get it.”

Zeke shook his head, looking miserable. “Neither do I, bro,” he said. “Neither do I.”

While they snarled amongst themselves, I paid the clerk with my credit card then threw the messenger bag at Zeke.

“Put your old jeans in there.”

“No way am I carrying a man-purse, Sister.”

“While you’re at it, why don’t you box up the homophobic pride and shut the hell up? Carrying around a Club Monaco shopping bag will just make you a target for pickpockets. And tuck in your shirt.”

Though he did what I said, Zeke shot his brother a dark look.

“What’s Mom getting us into with this high-maintenance chick?”

I signed the credit card receipt and then walked over to Zeke. He shut up and looked scared. Sighing, I tugged at the shirt so that it wasn’t so thoroughly tucked into the jeans. It gave Zeke some of his wild rakishness back. Then I knelt and rolled up the cuff of the jeans once. I looked to the male clerk for approval, who beamed, then noticed the sandals and frowned.

Standing once more, I asked the clerk, “Where’s the nearest place to get him shoes?”

There was a DSW four blocks over.

“Ready for a little walk?” I asked the twins.

One looked blank and the other was blushing. I studied Zeke a second longer; then moved to put my palm against his forehead. It grew hot under my touch. Shit. Was he running a fever? Dad would have my head if one of Charlotte’s kids got sick while with me. I touched my own forehead. Zeke’s was definitely warmer than mine. Looking for a third opinion, I put my hand on Jack’s forehead.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked me, his eyes rolling up to watch my hand.

“I think Zeke caught a cold,” I said, taking my hand back. Jack watched me do that, too. I looked at Zeke. “Your face is all red and hot. Are you okay? I don’t want Charlotte telling my dad I poisoned you or something.”

Lifting his hands, Zeke rubbed his face against them while shaking his head.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Probably just from the cold outside. I should have worn a jacket, but I’m sure this flannel blazer will do the job now.”

I was wearing shorts and the cold hadn’t bothered me. Still, as long as no one went throwing around the words ‘food poisoning’…

“Okay.”

They followed me outside. We walked to DSW, where I quickly found Zeke a pair of plain white sneakers we could both agree on. I paid for those and some socks then instructed him to throw the sandals in the garbage. He slipped the sandals in the messenger bag.

My cell phone rang as we were leaving the shoe store.

“You have Snoop Dogg’s Fresh Pair of Panties On as your ring-tone?”

Shooting Jack a ‘shut-up’ glare, I answered, “Diana Whitney speaking.”

“Where are you?” Whoops. Forgot about Miranda again. “I’ve been at Reggio’s for like fifteen minutes!”

“We’re on our way. Thing 1 and Thing 2 are with me. I’ll explain when I get there.”

I hung up without waiting for Miranda’s enthusiastic interrogation.

“Thing 1?” said Zeke.

“Thing 2?” said Jack.

Neither looked amused.

They looked pretty impressed with Reggio’s, though. I didn’t see why. It was your average Italian restaurant. The only reason I came here instead of the Davani’s across the street was Reggio’s gelato bar. That, and they had some of the best hoagies around. There were small tables for couples and then large tables for bigger parties. Being an Italian establishment, there were a lot more big-party tables. It looked much bigger inside than outside. Miranda was at a booth big enough for at least ten people.

If I was Chanel in the fashion world, Miranda was Vera Wang. She was my polar opposite, and yet still stylish. That was possibly the only reason I could stand her.

She wore a gray tank dress with black leggings, a quarter-sleeve white undershirt, and a gray, electric blue, red and black plaid vest with a fur-lined hood. She finished the look with black mid-calf boots and a red purse. All of it was generic name brands bought from department stores like Macy’s, and yet she looked great in it. A black trench coat from Express sat beside her.

Beaming, Miranda stood and stretched her arms out to me. I stepped back and grabbed the first bicep my reaching hand found, shoving it forward and into Miranda’s waiting arms. Looking pleasantly surprised, she gave the startled Zeke a big hug.

“Miranda,” I started. “This is Ezekiel and Reginald, who goes by Jack. Charlotte’s twins.” I refused to refer to them as my soon-to-be stepbrothers.

“Oh! I’ve heard so much about you two!” She released Zeke and tried to come after me. I stepped behind Jack and nudged him forward. Her pincers wrapped around him next. “Aren’t you guys just the cutest? But you hardly look like twins!” Miranda relinquished hold on Jack and went in search of me. “You didn’t tell me they were so hot, Di!”

Subtlety is a foreign concept to Miranda.

I didn’t dodge fast enough and she pounced, hugging me tightly. Finally appeased, Miranda released me and slid back into the booth. Zeke and Jack hesitated before following suit. I slid in next to Jack, keeping more than enough space between us. The server arrived to ask for our beverage orders. He was on the young side and eyed Miranda and I like two new flavors of gelato he’d like to try out. He disappeared to fetch the two waters and two cokes, returning too fast for anyone to look at their menus.

“Any appetizers?” he asked in a heavy Brooklyn accent. He eyed my chest as he said it while I was in the process of taking off my coat. Out the corner of my eye I saw the twins shift uncomfortably, reminding me they had two younger sisters they were used to protecting.

“You want a tip, you’ll keep your eyes above my neck,” I snapped.

The server shrugged sheepishly.

“Beautiful girl of your likes comes in here every couple of days, how long you plan on teasing me?”

I let an eyebrow arch. “You see me around enough then you should know what I want. How about we test your memory?” I asked. “You’re wrong, you buy. You’re right, I give you some digits.”

He grinned wide. “Coming right up.”

Miranda leaned across the table, a shocked look on her face. “He’s from Brooklyn, Di!” she shrieked. Zeke flinched for the volume and looked at her. “That’s hardly better than Queens! What if he gets your order right?”

I shrugged. “Then he gets it right. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“Hm.” She put on a pouty look then turned to Zeke. “So you guys are from Alabama. Is it really as hick-ish as they say? Do people, like, marry their cousins and relatives down there?”

The twins exchanged looks, smirked, and then nodded enthusiastically.

“Yup,” Zeke said. “Everyone’s totally nuts down there. They’re crazy about incest, drinkin’, smokin’, spittin’. Hell, I don’t even know my ABC’s. Oh, and there’s plenty of cussin’ o’ course.”

He was really playing up the twang accent for all it was worth.

“That’s so unfortunate! Not even your ABC’s? Didn’t you attend school?”

“Only ‘til the third or forth grade, I think.”

“But… They teach ABC’s in kindergarten, don’t they?”

Zeke looked shocked and said, “Does they?”

Miranda looked sad as she looked at me. I could only shake my head. It was only another second before she perked back up.

“So Di! You been so close-lipped about Charlotte! How was picking out dresses yesterday?”

The twins turned their entire bodies, giving me their full attention.

“We didn’t pick out dresses. The bridesmaids had their measurements taken. Charlotte already has a dress that they’re making some adjustments to.” I shrugged. “Not much to tell, besides her dress being way outdated. Hopefully she gets rid of those ruffles and brings the neck down lower. And I bet you twenty bucks our bridesmaid dresses end up blue.”

“Blue is pretty.”

“Blue is for a winter wedding, when you pick lilies, magnolias and freesias. I’d go with wine red for autumn, as long as you keep the dress simple. It’s bold and contrasts well with the roses, which I’m sure Charlotte picked. And it makes the bride all the more to focus on; she’ll be the only one in a white dress, and with the roses and standing beside the girls in red, the white dress will really pop out. Plus, I know very few people who don’t look good in red.”

Miranda clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh I can’t wait to get married!” she squealed. Zeke edged away from her, looking wary. “Can’t you?” Miranda added, looking eagerly at me.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been in enough weddings as it is.”

“You’re such a killjoy, Di! And it would be so different being the bride!”

Yeah. Then you get to look forward to divorce.

I smiled as the server returned. He set a hot meatball hoagie in front of me. Meatballs and pepperoni, garlic, green peppers, onions, oregano. There were three cheeses on it; pepper jack, cheddar, and the bread was crusted in parmesan. To me, it smelt like heaven.

“Well?” said the server, holding out his hand expectantly.

I stood up, forcing him to back up or get tread on, and sent him a wink.

“You forgot that I always get it to-go. You lose. Oh, and if you could wrap this up and slip it in a bag for me. Thanks.”

The server grabbed my sandwich and grumbled away. I looked at the twins’ surprised faces.

“If you guys want to grab lunch here, be my guest. I’m going to grab a cab and head home. I have a report to write.”

“A report,” echoed Jack, “for a culinary class?”

“Didn’t you know?” Miranda answered before I could. I shook my head at her, trying to get her to stop. She either didn’t see or ignored me. “Di takes night classes at the University! She’s getting her Bachelor’s degree in business management in another year. I’m so proud of her!” If she could have, Miranda would have leapt across the table right then in order to hug me. As it was, she was wearing high-heeled boots and would end up looking more like an ass than anything for trying.

The server returned with my sandwich.

Ignoring the surprised looks the twins were regarding me with, I grabbed the bag, handed the server a generous tip, and left.

-