The Matchmaker's Replacement by Rachel Van Dyken
He did a humble shrug and then smiled broadly, his black-rimmed glasses lifting off his face as his cheeks continued to pinch up with a wide smile. See? Adorable! “Tomorrow night, I’m playing at a club downtown. It’s a small set, but it should be good, you know? After all, it’s about the music.”
“Yes.” I nodded seriously. “The music . . . It’s all about the—” My jaw dropped open as the girl moved from Lex’s lap to the seat next to him and started slinking her dirty little hand up his pant leg. He smiled tightly, and then she cupped him.
In the middle of the freaking restaurant!
“Hey, you okay?” Eugene asked. “You look a bit . . . upset?”
“I’m fantastic!” I may have yelled it. “I just—Is it hot in here?” I tugged frantically at my T-shirt. “You were saying? The music?”
“Yes.” He clasped his hands together in front of his face, his fingertips touching his thin lips. “It’s so important that the music resonates with the fans, that it reaches deep inside—” He kept talking, but all I heard was “deep” and “inside,” and then my eyes locked on Lex’s as the girl started massaging him.
His smile was wicked.
I should have given him the finger.
But something shifted as his lips parted.
My chest felt heavy, my legs liquid as I watched her . . . feel him and watched him respond as her fingers dug into the front of his pants and rubbed up and down.
She was going to town.
But he was watching me.
The. Entire. Time.
“It’s like a caress,” Eugene said in a whisper. “The way the music floats into the atmosphere, almost like a sexual experience.”
I felt my body lean toward Lex, my eyes hooded, as he licked his lower lip, and then he bit down gently as his head fell back.
The girl kissed his neck.
Moment gone. I quickly looked away and started chugging my beer.
“Don’t you think?” Eugene asked.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Absolutely.”
“I asked if you thought I was a good vampire.”
“Oh.” My face fell. “Eugene, I’m sorry, you’re super interesting. It’s just that—”
“No.” He stood, a sad smile on his face. “I get it; sometimes I get carried away with music stuff. Look . . .” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out to me. It had his name with a time and location for his next concert. “If you ever think of ditching your ex-boyfriend”—he pointed back at Lex—“or ever decide it’s time to get over him for good, you should come to one of my shows. I think you’d like it.” He dropped a twenty on the counter and walked away.
The minute the door closed, Lex pushed the girl off his lap and said something, then laughed. Clearly he’d pissed her off because she stomped away.
He winked at me, shrugged, stood, and then sauntered over.
“Prostitute of yours?” I asked sweetly.
“Silly, innocent little Gabs.” He shook his head. “It’s only prostitution if money exchanges hands.”
“And bodily fluids?”
“You tell me, were there any bodily fluids? You were looking hard enough.”
“Like a car wreck, it’s hard to look away when you’ve got a girl jerking you off in the middle of a family establishment.”
“The off didn’t happen. Thought you noticed.” The prick actually had the audacity to adjust himself right in front of me.
“Aw.” I played a tiny violin with my two fingers. “Poor Lex.”
“So . . .” He leaned in. “What happened to Eugene?”
“He had a thing.” I nodded confidently, then slammed the piece of paper against Lex’s rock-hard chest. “But we’re going to hang out later.”
“Want me to come so I can provide the free show again?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t watch porn.”
“Me either.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Yeah, okay.”
He actually frowned, like I’d hurt his feelings.
I shook it off. “You gonna give me a ride home?”
“That depends. Are you going to annoy the hell out of me the entire way back?”
“No,” I lied. I lived to irritate him. It kept the line between us firmly in place. The universe balanced.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll give you a ride home, only if you promise I get you for an hour tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Yes.” He crossed his arms. “Got all night, Gabs.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But just an hour. I mean, what else could I possibly need to know about the business? Just give me my first client, and I’ll knock it out of the park.”
Lex tapped his chin. “That confident, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
“Fine.” He cracked a smile.
What had I just agreed to?
Chapter Seven
Lex
Later that night, when sleep failed me, I was stuck staring up at the boring white ceiling, wondering why the hell I’d told Ashley to run along when I could have been balls deep inside her.
Gabs.
She was the reason, damn it.
All the bad things in my life easily could be traced back to her, like the time I got a black eye from an elderly lady at Costco because Gabs just had to have the last bag of Pirate’s Booty.
The elderly lady cried.
I was arrested.
The Pirate’s Booty? Lost.
Or the time I nearly failed midterms because she had a flat tire and Ian was out of town, leaving me as the only option to help her. My professors thought it was just an excuse. Then again, word had gotten around that I had slept with a few of their daughters.
But it wasn’t like they hadn’t been willing.
With a curse, I kicked off the down comforter and padded over to my computer.
I had one new e-mail.
From Gabs.
“All filled out!” The subject said, with all the forms attached.
With a confident smile, I clicked on the first one, the one with her Social, and very easily answered her security questions for Bank of the Cascades.
Favorite family pet? Scooter. An aging goldfish that her parents replaced whenever it went belly up. He had originally died when she was six, but she hadn’t noticed the changeover until she was eighteen. Right. Eighteen.
Mother’s maiden name? Hernandez.
And finally . . . best friend. Ian Hunter. Though the details were a bit sketchy, it seemed that the Sava family had basically adopted Ian when he was young. His own parents had barely paid attention to him, and then they died, leaving him a shitload of money. Not that it had mattered; he would rather have had parents.
Instead, he had Gabs.
The one girl he’d told me was off-limits.
“Hah, dodged that bullet,” I muttered to myself, ignoring the guilt I felt at saying it.
Her accounts popped up. “Bingo.”
I stared.
Then stared harder, my eyes narrowing in on both her savings and her checking account.
Both of which had exactly twenty-five dollars.
That couldn’t be right. Could it? I clicked on her account activity and noticed that she’d drained half of her savings to pay for school, which I already knew. But the rest, which was around six hundred dollars, she’d pulled out in cash. That had been a month ago.
There was no way she’d been able to live and pay rent with the remaining fifty dollars.
Licking my lips, I signed o
I mean, if Gabs killed someone, I’d most likely get in trouble because I knew her, or probably would be with her—or, in my unlucky case, driving the getaway car. But I wasn’t the best friend. I wasn’t . . . Ian.
He should be the bastard dealing with this.
In a way, he was.
By giving her a job that she’d been begging me to start her in for the past few days. It wasn’t like we hadn’t paid her, though. I’d made sure to send her payment for getting our books in order, though it hadn’t been a lot and clearly all of it had gone toward school.
I had a busy day coming up. I needed to be sleeping, not thinking about Gabs. Again.
But when I crawled back into bed, all I could focus on was the girl mauling her food like it was better than sex, or eating part of my nacho plate when she didn’t think I was looking.
Was she hungry?
Was I suddenly Mother freaking Teresa?
Damn it.
I sent out a text to Ian.
Lex Luthor: What do girls eat?
Superman: Is this some sort of perverse sexual joke? It’s two in the morning. Just tell her you’re out of food and send her out the door. Easy. Done.
Lex Luthor: No girls in my bed, bro. I mean, just in general, what do girls eat?
Superman: Food.
I rolled my eyes. Really, Ian?
Lex Luthor: Thanks for narrowing it down, man. Can you ask Blake?
Superman: Be honest, are you drunk right now?
How hard was it to answer one simple question? Hell, it would have been faster to look it up online.
Lex Luthor: Nevermind.
Superman: Cool your balls, dude. Blake says that girls like to eat food too, but she’s a tomboy—she’d eat you if I drizzled you in ketchup and she just got back from a three-hour practice. Girls like snacks, you know like that pirate booty shit you nearly went to prison over? If it’s worth getting arrested for it’s probably worth eating.
Duh. Pirate’s Booty!
Lex Luthor: Thanks!
Superman: If you’re going to the store, can you get me condoms?
Lex Luthor: Get your own damn condoms!
Superman: Extra large, ribbed, thanks man.
Lex Luthor: What part of no don’t you understand?
Superman: Blake needs tampons.
I purposely put my phone on silent and threw on a sweatshirt and my flip-flops, only to see my screen going crazy again with messages.
Superman: She says to get the ones in the black box that look like candy, whatever the hell that means.
Lex Luthor: I’m moving out.
Superman: Oh, and ice cream!
It was no use arguing with Ian. He knew I was full of shit and that I’d probably buy the damn tampons, because as much as I hated buying girly things, I was secure enough in my masculinity to do it and usually ended up getting phone numbers solely based on the fact that I was a good enough guy to get my “sister” her feminine products. That shit almost worked better than babysitting a poodle and taking it for a walk in the park.
The closest store was only a few minutes away. I quickly grabbed Blake’s stupid tampons and Ian’s condoms, then made my way over to the food section.
The bags of Pirate’s Booty were kind of small, not like the Costco bag—that one could have fed an entire elementary school—so I grabbed three bags, some chocolate, and a few cans of Coke Zero because I figured the Pirate’s Booty was enough calories, and girls were weird about that stuff. Pretzels sounded good. Almonds, some beef jerky, and a pack of gum because of the beef jerky.
When I went to check out, the guy helping me held up the tampons with a quizzical brow.
“Sister.” I coughed.
“Aww!” A girl in line behind me gave me the tilted-head smile, the one universally known to guys as the “I’d totally do you in the backseat of the car if it was socially acceptable to do so” look, while I smiled and started up a conversation.
“You live around here?” I asked innocently.
“Just around the corner.”
“I’m pretty close too. College student.”
“Aw . . .” There it was again. She looked a bit older than I was, left hand with no ring, and she was buying light beer.
“Having a party tonight?” I teased.
“Me and my dog, Phil, are going wild.” She leaned forward, pressing her tits together as she licked her lower lip.
“Lucky Phil.”
“That will be one hundred and twenty dollars and eleven cents,” the checker said. I slid my card and winked at the girl.
“Hey,” she called, just as I was given my receipt. “We could always use some company . . .”
“Why don’t I give you my number?” I held my hand out to the checker, and he rolled his eyes and handed me a pen. “So next time you and Phil aren’t lonely.”
“That would be nice.” Her voice was airy. I think she was trying to sound sexy, but I almost needed to lean in to hear her.
“Name’s Lex.” I handed the receipt with my number over to her. “And you are?”
“There’s a line,” the checker said in a stern voice. “In case anyone cares.”
“Alice.” She giggled.
“I hope to talk to you soon.” I waved and took my groceries out.
A few days ago I probably would have been having a quickie near the toilet paper aisle by now. But . . . I had groceries to deliver, a test to ace, and a girl to train.
I also had a puzzle to figure out.
Where the hell was Gabi’s money going?
And why was she suddenly without any of it?
Chapter Eight
Gabi
I was just taking my first sip of morning coffee when the doorbell rang. I waited in vain for Serena to answer it. She was lounging in the living room, on her iPhone, playing Candy Crush or whatever the heck she usually did in the early mornings.
The doorbell rang again.
“You gonna get that?” she asked without looking up from her phone.
I had to grip my coffee cup extra tight to keep from smashing it over her head and getting arrested for purposeful assault.
“Blake!” Serena yelled from the couch. “Door!”
Right, and that was another thing. Our friend Blake had moved closer to campus so that she could spend as much time with Ian as possible. His house was closer, and it made more sense for her with all her volleyball practices. Technically she lived in the dorms, but really I imagined she was with Ian more than anything.
“She moved out,” I said through clenched teeth.
Serena still didn’t look up.
“Why don’t I get that?” I said pointedly, slamming my coffee cup on the counter so hard that hot coffee singed my fingers.
Still nothing.
My stomach growled as I stomped my way over to the door and threw it open.
A giant basket was on the doorstep.
And when I say giant, I mean something you’d see a candy-crazed kid get on Easter, the ones with giant bunnies and enough chocolate to put someone in a diabetic coma.
Only my basket had Pirate’s Booty.
I smiled.
My favorite.
Poor Lex had nearly lost a kidney trying to grab me one of the last bags at Costco the second time I’d let him into my life, into my heart, only to find him making out with some chick inside his jail cell. The asshole
The basket was on my doorstep, without a person attached to it.
It wasn’t my birthday.
Or any sort of holiday.
Maybe it was a prank and something would pop out through the cellophane?
My stomach grumbled again as I took in the packages of chocolate and almonds.
I hadn’t eaten since last night, and before that the last great meal I’d had was when Ian, Lex, and Blake had come over for family spaghetti night.
The food would go to waste if I left it out in the rain.
When I went to pick it up—or basically slide it into my house, since it was so bulky—I noticed a little red piece of paper on the inside. Curious, I tore open the plastic and grabbed it.
From your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
Just kidding. I’m way hotter—EAT!
I dropped the card with a laugh. Seriously? Was this Ian’s idea of a joke? Then again, he hadn’t been answering my calls, probably because every time we talked I complained about Lex, and he said he refused to take sides in World War III.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Asshole Lex: You’re mine today, Sunshine.
Gabi: What? No please?
Asshole Lex: I rarely use that word, too demeaning. Don’t forget to put on makeup, wouldn’t want you scaring dogs and small children. Have a heart, Gabs.
Gabi: Did you put Ian up to this?
Asshole Lex: Why yes, since I can read your mind, I did tell Ian to pay for plastic surgery. You gonna go for the double Ds or straight up to Fs? Taking suggestions?
Gabi: Never mind.
Asshole Lex: Dinner.
Gabi: Huh?
Asshole Lex: Dinner. You’re meeting your first client at dinner tonight. I’ll watch and grade you. Try wearing something that you didn’t buy in the little boy section and, for the love of men everywhere, lipstick. Pad the bra.