Chapter 12 opens with dissapointment: there’s no more hidden stashes of moneyin the house, nor any antiques. It takes them more than a day to go through everything; however, Lola actually feels better at the end of it, so apparently miracles do happen. Hubert enjoys it way more than Lola does, though, and offers to finish the cleaning and repainting without her.
My life was a closed-up space, and Hubert was opening windows and letting in light
Monday morning, Lola actually tries socializing with her coworkers, though she instantly regrets it because, of course, Mrs Kinkaid assumes there’s a romantic relationship going on. Which, you really can’t blame her for, given the sort of sappy thoughts going through Lola’s head — she’s probably practically glowing with contentment compared to her usual sour demeanour. Mrs Kinkaid met her husband in much the same way Lola and Hubert are working out now — he’d been dumped by her best friend, and came to her for consolation.
“[We] were happy every day of our married life, right up until he died.”
Yes, that would put a damper on things.
Hey look, a quip that made me actually smile a little! Never let it be said that I didn’t smile while reading this book. It’s just usually rapidly drowned out by groans of pain or disgust.
It was Mrs Kinkaid’s daughter calling with a chlid-related crisis.
I’m going to be so pissed if Lola turns maternal thanks to Twu Wuv and Hubert’s touch. I’ve only been pestered about babies about eightteen times at the engagement party; trust me, being engaged does not make the prospect of pregnancy and birth any less terrifying or me any more ready to face them anytime soon.
So Piper calls Lola at work — cue “pretending to talk to a client” scene — and it turns out in the span of two days she’s already found the exact perfect guy who is willing to pretend to like Lola long enough to get revenge on Mindy. And now I’m thanking my lucky stars:
“Piper, that plan was just talk. Like when we used to dream about hitchhiking to California and becoming movie stars? We both knew we were never going to go to Los Angeles.” […] It was like some cheesy movie of the week.
Finally, some decent writing! Let me tell you, I was really worried the author was going to go through with–
“Lola, I know you’re not that adventurous, but just let me finish […] He understands. It turns out he has this older brother who started his own software company”
Hahaha what a funny misunderstanding…
“Why not just meet Ryan, have a few drinks, talk to him, and then decide. […] He’s totally hot.”
“Mindy would die if she saw him with you.”
“It wouldn’t kill me to meet him for coffee or drinks. I’ll do it.”
fuck my life. The author is a tease and almost let us out of this harebrained scheme but no, we’re going through with it whole hog.
At the very end of chapter 12, Mr Tall, Rich, and Gorgeous, also known as Ryan, walks in the door to Lola’s place of business totally unannounced.
Ryan Moriarty. I’d forgotten the little Sherlock Holmes reference until now. Still every bit as groanerific as the first time. He’s able to send thrills down Lola’s spine and rescue Mrs Kinkaid’s (whose first name we still don’t have) candy bar from the vending machine,so apparently he’s useful at least.
Moriarty asks Watson out to dinner, which has to be the strangest sentence ever, and Kinkaid bends the rules to let them go early. Ryan is so impressive, he makes Lola feel like the place she considers her “domain” is actually just a shabby, cramped basement — a great start to a pretend tryst.
It’s only as she’s walking away with Ryan that Lola wonders if he might be a rapist or a murderer, another lovely sign. I myself wonder if he’s not a fae creature, using his beauty to lure unsuspecting damsels into being his servants at his palace in Faerie… but that would be a more entertaining book.
Such a nice little car, all midnight blue and sporty-like. Didn’t killers drive four-doors with tinted windows? This car didn’t even have a trunk big enough to hold a body.
Oh yes, you’re perfectly safe. It’s a blue sportscar. No murderer or rapist or kidnapper ever drove a blue sportscar in the history of time. It’s their kryptonite, you see. They’re terribly allergic to style. On the bright side, she leaves a message on her answering machine with the description and license plate number, so clearly she’s not entirely ensorceled.
Lola, being Woman, is ignorant of Man Things such as sports and cars, so she’s at a loss for a topic of conversation.
during a baseball game I once asked when it wouldbe halftime […]
“What is it, a Mustang?”
“Pardon me?” […]
“Your car–what kind is it?”
“It’s a Jaguar.”
Tee hee, silly wimmins and their airheadedness. I’m not a car person, but I can tell the difference between a Mustang and a Jaguar. Seriously? Mustangs have little horses on the side. Also the brand “Ford”. And often the word “Mustang”. Lola is also told that the color is “Indigo”, not blue, and almost blurts out Roy G Biv but manages to be rescued by the waiter from her own “geekiness”.
Indigo is such a bullshit color. It’s not even a thing. It’s just blue-violet. But they wanted a vowel to make a nice acronym.
Ryan’s the kind of entitled rich brat who custom-ordered everything in his jag and wants everyone he meets to know it. Surprise surprise, he’s also the mysterious vampire who lives next door to Brother Jasper — and he knows even less about the neighbors than she does. Turns out he’s a perfectly ordinary travelling rich dude: he’s never home, so he never has trash to put out, and when he does, he puts it next to someone else’s can, and he likes ordering things online because he hates shopping. Similarly, he never sees anyone because he hires people to mow the lawn and shovel the driveway.
“So often people just come and go and don’t interact with those around them.”
Like… you? Yes, that’s Ryan speaking, waxing nostalgic for a time when people knew their neighbors yet doing nothing to obtain it.
Lola tries to call off the zany antics, but just then, Ryan has other things on his mind.
“Could you do me an enormous favor?” He spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes darting to one side. “Just go along with whatever I say, OK?”
“What?” I was starting to turn to see what he was looking at.
“Don’t look.” He squeezed my fingers so hard I felt the bones meet. “Just play along. I’ll explain later”
Ooh! It’s the Unseelie Queen come to embarass our Puck in front of his lady friend! Wait, no, wrong book. I’m stumped. Any guesses from the audience?