The Romeo Club

“What’s this for?” He held it up and smiled.

I shrugged. “I saw it in the window at the mall and thought it was cute—then of course I thought of you.”

His eyebrows went up.

“I mean, not like that … ” Good grief. Maybe I ought to just shut my mouth before I said something even worse.

He slid it on over his head. It fit perfectly. “Do you want me to pay you for it?”

“No. It’s a gift. You know—to the new you.” I shoved my hands into my pocket and tugged out the piece of notebook paper. “Oh, and before I forget, I brought over a short list of things Portia likes.”

He took it from me and scanned it. “Dancing, shopping, and designing dresses? Well that’s not going to get me off to a good start. I hate dancing. Definitely not a big fan of shopping, well unless we’re at the video game store. And well, for obvious reasons, I’m not into dresses—unless of course they’re on a chick or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “These are more for you to get a conversation started. You can ask her if she watches the new celebrity dancing show.”

He snorted. “That means I’ll have to watch a few episodes.”

“You’re in luck then. My mom has them recorded.” Along with every other reality TV show on satellite. She was an addict.

“Seriously?” He ran a hand through his hair.

“How bad do you want this?”

Trey sighed and paced in front of his computer. He glanced at his Star Wars posters then back at me. “Somehow, I have a feeling I’m gonna regret this. But fine. Let’s do this.”

He put on a pair of shoes and we headed outside. As we crossed his yard into mine, I noticed Jimbo standing near our front porch. There, on the ground, were my mom’s pink flamingo yard decorations. And well, Jimbo was having a little too much fun with them, if you catch my drift.

“Not again. No—bad dog. Get off those.”

The dog ignored me and kept doing the deed with the poor, plastic birds. They probably wished they had real legs about now so they could run away.

“No,” I shouted again, this time I chased after him, until he rushed back into his own yard.

“Dude, that dog needs a lady friend.”

“Well, you might want to hide Biscuit.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t curse my poodle.”

“Thank God, she’s fixed.” I laughed.

When we got inside, I led Trey into the living room and flipped on the television. “Let me grab some paper so we can take notes on the show.”

“You’re kidding me right?”

“No. You want to be able to carry on intelligent conversations, don’t you? The only way to do that is to study. Think of it as homework.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a nerd?”

“Only you.” Once I got my notebook, we plopped down on the couch and turned on the show. I jotted down info on the people and the songs. But to be honest, I was bored out of my mind. I mean, who actually found this crap interesting?

Trey let out a yawn. “How many episodes do we have to watch?”

“Four.” My eyes glazed over just thinking about it.

We made it through the first three episodes, when Mom poked her head in. “Oh, I didn’t know you two liked this.”

She spun into the room pretending to waltz with some invisible guy or maybe the hot French dancer from the show. Mom sung along with the song, but just then she caught her foot on the edge of the sofa and went flying. She hit the floor with a thud and to my horror, her shirt lifted, giving us a view of her ugly, white, grandma-bra.

Mortified, I leapt to my feet. “Maybe we should watch this another time.” I shoved the notes I took into Trey’s hands and ushered him to the front door. “I’ll see you later.”

Good grief. I swear, I had the most embarrassing family in the world.

Mom hefted herself up. “Guess my dancing skills are a little rusty.”

A little? Try non-existent. I rubbed a hand across my face as if that would take away the vision.

Poor Trey would probably be scarred for the rest of his life—maybe even blind from the flash of bra and old lady skin.

“I hope I didn’t scare Trey off.”

“He had to get home. Lots of homework. And so do I. See you later.” I rushed upstairs before she decided to break dance or something and show me a thong. Gah. The images.

As soon as my door shut behind me, I dialed Kenadi. “Can you please kill me now?”

“Oh God, what happened?” she said.

So I went on to tell her about Mom’s fiasco and my walking in on Trey.

“Needless to say, it’s been an eventful day,” I said.

She giggled. “Sounds like it.”

“I’m sure Trey will avoid our house for the foreseeable future.”

“Speaking of Trey, you spent more time with him than Rex this weekend.”

“Romeo Club duties, nothing more.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Or at least I hoped so.

Chapter 9