Honey on Your Mind Part 6

"He wasn't there, so I'm not sure. I'll see him at the next taping, though, if I don't hear from him before then. It's crazy how busy he is. Actually, it's crazy how busy everyone in New York is. It's like nothing I've ever seen. The whole city is in constant motion."

My caller ID beeped. It was Jake.

"Oh man, case in point. I'm sorry, Andie, but I gotta run. Talk to you later?"

"Sure thing. I want to wax my arms before I leave for work anyway."

I laughed. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. Bye."

I clicked over to Jake. "Hey, you!"

"Hey, TV star, nice work."

I smiled into the phone. "You saw it?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"And?"

"You were great."

"Really?"

"Really. I laughed several times. I loved that bacon guy. He was my favorite."

"Me too. How can you not love a guy who loves bacon?"

"You looked like a knockout on camera, Waverly. Gorgeous, actually."

I could feel myself blush. "Thanks. I owe it all to the magicians in the makeup department. It's sort of scary what they can do with some pretty raw materials."

"So what happens next?"

"We're still working out all the kinks. They told me to prepare for a taping tomorrow, but it may get b.u.mped if the crew is needed for something else. Eventually, I'll get used to this erratic schedule, but for now I feel like I'm standing on a skateboard." I put one hand out and bobbled back and forth as I walked. "By the way, you can't see me right now, but I'm pretending to stand on a skateboard."

"Nice visual."

I laughed. "Thanks. You can't see me right now, but I'm taking a little bow." I took a little bow.

"So listen, Miss TV star, I just found out that I have next weekend off. Do you think you could come down for a visit?"

I bit my lip. "Oh man, I'd love to, but..."

"But...?"

"But I feel like I should be here in case anything comes up, just because I'm still so new. I hope you understand."

"I do."

"I'm sorry, Jake."

"Don't worry about it. I just miss you. Not that I don't love listening to you tell jokes on my voice mail, but I prefer the real thing."

I stopped walking and put a hand on my hip. "I knew you loved my jokes!"

"I love the sound of your voice. Let's just leave it at that, OK?"

My call-waiting beeped again. It was McKenna, who, since having a baby, never had time to call.

"Hey, Jake, that's Mackie on the other line, and getting her on the phone is like pinning Jell-O to a wall, so I should take this. I'm sorry." I hated that I had to end our call so quickly. It happened too often.

"No worries, I should run too."

Suddenly I missed him desperately. "Maybe you could you come up here this weekend. I could roll out the blow-up mattress like old times."

He laughed. "Let me see about that. I'll look into it and let you know, OK?"

"Sounds good."

I clicked the phone again, still feeling like I was on a treadmill.

The following Thursday, I was nearly home from the market when my phone rang. I somehow managed to dig it out of my purse without dropping my groceries. I unlocked the door to my apartment building and started up the stairs, juggling the bags and my purse with one hand. "Paige, hey, what's up?"

"Can you get on a plane to Chicago tonight?"

"What?"

"Chicago. You. A plane. Tonight. Can you do it?"

"Why?"

"A buyer for Jordan Brooke saw you on Love, Wendy yesterday and wants a meeting."

"Jordan Brooke? You're kidding." Jordan Brooke was a national department store.

"Not kidding. She wants to meet you, and she has tomorrow morning open. Can you meet me at JFK at six? There's a seven o'clock flight on Delta, we'll get in around nine."

I held my phone away from me to check the time. It was nearly three, and I was drained from shooting my latest segment that morning. I was enjoying Honey on Your Mind even more than I thought I would, but I hadn't realized how time-consuming and exhausting it would be. But Jordan Brooke was a big store, and I knew I'd be foolish to turn down a meeting with them.

"So we'll be there for just one night? Jake's coming in tomorrow for the weekend."

"Yep, in and out. You can be back home by dinner, I promise."

"Are the tickets going to be crazy expensive to buy last-minute?" I'd be paying for both of us.

"Sort of, but it will be worth it if she places an order. That's just how it is with sales. Everything's an investment."

"Got it."

"So I'll see you at six?"

"OK."

I hung up the phone, put away my groceries, and ran to pack.

a a a "That didn't really happen."

"Oh yes it did."

"I still can't believe it. And you paid to meet him?"

She nodded. "I paid. A lot."

"Good G.o.d."

It was approaching eleven o'clock, and Paige and I were having our second drink at the hotel bar in Chicago. It was packed, and I found myself wondering where the others were from and why they were there.

"So what is this company called?" I leaned forward to hear her over the chatter around us.

"It's called Just a Drink, but after this experience I think I'm going to refer to it as Just a Joke."

I laughed. "That's good. So they really told you they would set you up with some quality men?"

She nodded and took a sip of her martini. "In my interview they talked about all the successful, professional men out there who are too busy to find love on their own. I think their tag line is something like YOU focus on your career, let US focus on your love life."

"That's catchy."

"I know, isn't it? What a load of c.r.a.p." She stabbed the olive in her drink with a toothpick.

"They really told you he was a professor...and he turned out to be a cab driver?"

She nodded. "Apparently, in the eyes of the genius screeners at Just a Joke, teaching two mornings a week at a community college in the middle of nowhere qualifies you as a professor. A professor in New York City, they also said."

"Yikes."

"I mean, I want to be open-minded, but I figured they'd match me with someone with a similar professional background. That seems reasonable, right?"

"Definitely. What did they say when you told them he was a cab driver?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing. It's been ten days, and no return phone call or e-mail. Quite a contrast from how attentive they were when I was thinking of becoming a client."

"But that's so unprofessional!"

She waved her hand in front of her face. "They obviously don't care about being professional. They care about my check, which they already cashed."

I laughed. "I can't believe you let him drive you home from the date in his cab. What if he turned out to be a serial killer?"

She shrugged and finished off her drink. "He was nice enough, so I didn't want to be mean. I mean, it's not his fault that they set him up with me. And besides, as evidenced by our current circ.u.mstances, one never knows when one might need a ride to the airport in a pinch."

"This is true."

She stood up. "OK, Miss Honey Shop, finish that drink. We have an early meeting tomorrow."

I finished the last of my wine and set the empty gla.s.s on the bar. "Done."

"Lobby at eight?" she said.

"Lobby at eight."

We were about to walk away when the bartender approached us and set a full gla.s.s of wine in front of me. "Excuse me, ma'am, but the ladies at the other end of the bar would like to buy you a drink."

"Me?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

I looked toward the end of the bar and saw two heavyset women with short, poufy hair smiling and waving at me.

"Do you know them?" Paige asked.

I frowned. "I don't think so." Do I know anyone in Chicago?

"Well apparently they know you. Listen, would you mind if I headed up to my room? I'm beat."

"Of course not."

"Don't stay out too late, OK? We have to be at our best tomorrow."

I saluted. "Got it."

I picked up the wine gla.s.s and jostled through the crowd toward the other end of the bar. As I approached, the shorter of the two women stood up.

"Is it really you?" she asked.

I had no idea how to respond, so I just said, "Is it really me?"

"Yes, are you Waverly from Love, Wendy?"

Ah!

I smiled. "Yes, that's me. So you've seen the show?"

She nodded. "Oh yes, we never miss it! I'm Marge, and this is Evelyn." She held out her hand, and as I shook it, I couldn't help but notice her square, pink, acrylic fingernails. Then I shook Evelyn's hand. She wore her frizzy hair in a banana clip, and her square, pink, acrylic fingernails were even brighter than Marge's. The kindness in their faces struck me more than their appearance, however, and I immediately liked them both.