Chocoholics: Love And Lists Part 3

"I got your back, bro. I've got the perfect woman for you," Tyler tells me.

"You don't know any women. You only know hookers. You are not setting my son up on a fake date with a hooker." Mom glares at him and practically growls.

"Hey, that was one time and it was an honest mistake. She was right outside the bar asking people if they wanted to go on a date. Who turns down an offer like that?" Tyler asks.

"Someone who doesn't want to get VD," Mom tells him.

"I had Chlamydia once. It wasn't so bad. Antibiotics cleared it right up," Jenny says, still standing by the counter with her arms up in the air.

"Tyler, I am trusting you to find my son a nice girl that you DO NOT have to pay."

Tyler salutes her and then rests his hand over his heart.

"Your wish is my command, my beauty. Is there anything else I can do for you on this fine evening?"

Mom rubs her temples with her fingers and starts muttering under her breath about cyanide tablets and firing squads while Aunt Liz and Tyler discuss the girl he's going to hook me up with tomorrow night.

I was really looking forward to a night out with my friends, even if I have to suffer through more hours of watching Charlotte with Roccoher flamboyantly annoying boyfriend. Now, I'm pretty sure I should just plan on leaving the country and changing my name. It would be less trouble.

"Meet me outside by your car in fifteen minutes. I'll slip you the condoms when your mom isn't looking," Aunt Jenny whispers in my ear. "Just make sure you don't use them with apple b.u.t.ter and grapeseed oil. It sounds like a good idea, but it's not. Trust me."

"Can you get me the notes from last week's interactive design meeting? Also, book the conference room on the sixth floor for tomorrow morning at nine. We have those fifteen product testers coming in to give their opinions on the orange dreamsicle flavored ma.s.sage lotion," I distractedly tell Ava as I sort through my emails.

Ava is Charlotte's sister and a year younger than her. Liz decided that her daughter should do something other than get spray tans and take naps on her summer break from school so she made her take an interns.h.i.+p at Seduction and Snacks and work as my a.s.sistant. Charlotte and Ava share physical attributes. Just like Charlotte, Ava is slender with long dark hair, but that's where the similarities end. Where Charlotte is sweet, funny, thoughtful, and amazing, Ava is ... not. She's pretty much just a b.i.t.c.h. Charlotte and I used to argue a lot when we were younger, but Ava and I would get into all-out brawls. Punches were thrown, things were lit on fire ... it was anarchy.

I look up after a few minutes when she hasn't answered me and see her standing there pressing b.u.t.tons on her iPad, concentrating furiously.

"Ava, did you hear me?"

She sighs in annoyance but still doesn't look up from the screen. "Yes, I heard you. Book the fifteenth floor and make notes about ma.s.sages."

Ava is the worst a.s.sistant on the face of the earth. And I can't even say she means well because she doesn't. She couldn't care less about this job.

"Ava, you have an iPad in your hand for notes. Did you even type anything I said?" I ask her in annoyance.

I don't have time for this c.r.a.p. I have a ton of work to do and an illness to fake before seven o'clock tonight.

"Oh my G.o.d this is so hard. I just can't do this," Ava whines and stomps her foot just like her sister. Except when Charlotte does it, I don't want to hurl myself across my desk and strangle her.

"It's okay, I know it's a lot to take in at once. Just take good notes and you'll be fine," I rea.s.sure her.

"Uuuughhhh! I don't understand how anyone pa.s.ses level thirty-five of Candy Crush," she complains, still tapping away at her iPad.

I don't even bother replying to her. I just lean forward and bang my head against the top of my desk.

I'm still banging it a few minutes later when my phone starts ringing. After five rings, I lift my head and stare at Ava.

"Are you going to answer that phone or what?" she asks in annoyance.

I will not strangle her. I will not strangle her.

"Creative Development, this is Gavin," I say into the phone as Ava turns and walks out of my office without ever looking up from her iPad.

"You sound like a douche bag. Don't answer the phone like that," Tyler tells me.

"Shut up. What do you want?"

"Seriously, you should answer it 'd.i.c.ks for Chicks, how can I help you?'"

I ignore Tyler's suggestion and quickly close out my email when I see a customer comment about how "Claire can be taken up the a.s.s."

"I'm bringing your girlfriend to the bar at six-thirty. We'll meet you in the parking lot so make sure you wear something pretty," he tells me.

"Actually, I think I'm coming down with something. I'm not feeling so hot."

I cough a few times into the phone to make it sound real.

"Suck it, d.i.c.k nose. You're going tonight," Tyler states.

He doesn't even give me a chance to plead my case before he hangs up on me and I hear the dial tone in my ear.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," I mutter as I put the receiver back.

"Hey, Gavin, you want some coffee?" Ava yells from her desk right outside my door.

All right, maybe I've been too hard on her. I start to feel a little bad about getting irritated a few minutes ago. I'm nervous and frustrated about tonight. And what the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do with a fake girlfriend? I'm probably taking it out on Ava just a little bit.

"Coffee sounds great," I yell back to her as I pull up my search engine and type in twenty-four-hour illnesses that aren't contagious or make people think you're a leper.

"Awesome. Can you get me a Venti nonfat double shot espresso while you're out?" Ava replies.

Abandoning my Google search, I smack my head against top of my desk and pray to G.o.d that tonight is better than today.

"I cannot BELIEVE you set me up with her. Of all the women in all the world, you had to pick her."

I'm standing in the parking lot of Wolfey's, the bar we all frequent when we have something to celebrate. I had pulled in at the same time as Tyler and my "girlfriend" and watched in horror as she stepped out of his mom's car that he borrowed for the evening.

Right now she's checking out her reflection in my pa.s.senger side window while I rip into Tyler.

"Dude, do you have any idea how hard it was to find a chick willing to pretend to be your girlfriend for the evening? This was the best I could do on short notice. What's wrong with her? She's hot," Tyler says as we both look over the hood of the car to find her staring at us.

"What's wrong with her is that I used to date her. And she's psychotic. Plus, my mom hates her. If she finds out I spent a night with her, even if it's pretend, she is going to lose her s.h.i.+t."

The her in question is Brooklyn Daniels. We went to school together from kindergarten through high school, and I dated her for exactly two weeks in eleventh grade. By day three I had met everyone in her family, including an aunt and uncle who flew in from Turks and Caicos just to meet me. By day ten she'd given me three photo alb.u.ms filled with pictures of herself. No, not her and I together, just her. Pictures that to this day still burn my retinas when I think about them. Where was I? Oh, yes. By day eleven she'd tattooed my initials on her lower back, by day twelve she'd given me a wedding sc.r.a.pbook filled with bridal magazine clippings of what she wanted our wedding to look like, and by day fourteen she'd suggested that we go to couple's counseling because she thought I didn't value her. By day sixty-eight she was history.

Yes, we only dated for two weeks, but it took fifty-two days after that for her to get the memo. Brooklyn Daniels is a stage five clinger. I almost had to move to get her to leave me alone. The only thing that worked was having my mom show up at her job at the local ice cream shop where she told Brooklyn that if she didn't leave me alone, she'd shove so many sugar cones up her a.s.s that she'd be burping up chocolate and vanilla twist for the rest of her life.

"Can we go inside now? I need a drink."

Tyler and I continue to stare at her across the top of the car. She seems normal right now. Maybe things have changed and she's not bat s.h.i.+t crazy anymore. I mean, we all do stupid things in high school, right? She's twenty-five years old now. She's probably matured.

Brooklyn walks around the front of the car and comes up next to me, linking her arm through my elbow.

"It's nice to see you again, Gavin. So, what are we going for tonight? A little jealousy or total annihilation?"

"Jealousy."

"Make the b.i.t.c.h cry!" Tyler and I inform her at the same time.

"Well okay then. How about somewhere in the middle? Are you okay with that?" Brooklyn asks as we walk toward the door of Wolfey's.

"Nothing over the top. I just want Charlotte to get a tiny bit jealous and maybe see me differently."

"False. You need to make Charlotte think he's a s.e.x G.o.d. So talk about his p.e.n.i.s a lot," Tyler informs her.

Trying not to blush with embarra.s.sment, I smack Tyler on the arm. "We do not have to follow the list exactly. No talking about my p.e.n.i.s."

Brooklyn nods as Tyler opens the door for us. "Got it. No problem."

"I really appreciate you doing this for me, Brooklyn. I know we didn't end on the best of terms, and I apologize for my mom throwing chocolate sprinkles in your eye."

We make our way through the crowd of people to the back of the bar and the group of tables where the gang always sits.

"Really, it's fine. No hard feelings at all. That was a long time ago, and I'm a different person now."

I breathe a sigh of relief at her words and try not to be nervous when I see Charlotte standing next to Ava, staring right at us.

This is going to work. It's totally going to work.

THIS IS NOT WORKING AT ALL! CODE RED!.

"Gavin, let's go into the bathroom so you can stick it in my a.s.s again like last week. That was sooooooo good," Brooklyn slurs as she wraps her arms around my neck and drapes her body across my chest.

I try to shush her so she stops talking so loudly but that just makes it worse.

"GAVIN HAS AN AMAZING p.e.n.i.s!" Brooklyn screams over the sounds of music and people.

For the most part tonight, no one has paid much attention to Brooklyn, which I think is part of the problem. She wants people to notice her. I just want her to sit next to me quietly and pretend to be a nice, sweet girlfriend. The first time I whispered that suggestion in her ear, she reached under the table and squeezed my nuts in a death grip. Obviously my recommendation wasn't pleasing to her ears.

Tyler, Ava, Charlotte, Rocco, Brooklyn, and myself have been here for exactly two hours. Within the first three minutes, Brooklyn has downed two dirty martinis and three shots of something called Liquid Marijuana. My sister Sophia couldn't make it tonight because she just started the summer session of her last year in college. I am thanking my lucky stars for that because she probably would have dragged Brooklyn by her hair into the bathroom and beat the s.h.i.+t out of her. Even though Sophia was only twelve when I dated Brooklyn, she still remembers. And she shares our mother's hatred of her.

Ava has been shooting her dirty looks all night, even before Brooklyn turned belligerent. I've seen her whispering in Charlotte's ear every time Brooklyn speaks, and I can only imagine what she's saying. Probably something along the lines of "I'd punch that b.i.t.c.h in the face if I wasn't afraid of breaking a nail or missing a text message when I had to put my phone down."

I wish Molly, Charlotte and Ava's youngest sister, was here. Molly is the peacekeeper in the family and can diffuse any situation. She probably would have been able to get Brooklyn to stop drinking eight shots ago with no problem. Unfortunately, Molly is only nineteen and therefore, not allowed in the bar. Same goes with both of Aunt Jenny and Uncle Drew's kids, Veronica, also nineteen, and Billy, sixteen. All they care about is being the life of the party and probably would be doing plenty of stupid things to take the focus off of Drunky McDrunkerson sitting here next to me.

"Dude, this plan is NOT working," I complain quietly to Tyler next to me.

"What are you talking about? It's totally working. Charlotte can't stand to see you with her."

"The entire bar can't stand to see me with her because she keeps yelling at random people that she's going to cut their mother," I complain.

"She'll be fine. Just make sure she takes her meds," Tyler tells me distractedly as he winks at a girl a few tables away.

"Meds? What meds? Should she be mixing medication with alcohol?" Panicking when I feel Brooklyn's head slump forward, I place my fingers against the side of her neck to make sure she's still alive.

Her head jerks up suddenly and she starts screaming. "OH MY G.o.d I LOVE THIS SONG! I WANT TO DANCE!"

I stare at her in horror as she laughs uncontrollably. She suddenly shoots up from her chair and points to a guy at the far end of the bar about twenty yards away. "Do you see that guy? He's staring at me. He's creepy and he keeps staring at me. That little Chinaman keeps staring."

Glancing over to where she points, I see nothing but a group of women talking to a fifty-something guy.

"I'm going to chase him," Brooklyn states.

"What? No. He's not staring at you and you aren't chasing anyone."

"I don't think that's a Chinaman. He looks Italian to me," Tyler muses, totally not helping the situation.

Brooklyn narrows her eyes at the poor unsuspecting man who isn't even facing our direction.

"Yep. This is totally happening. That little v.a.g.i.n.aman is going down."

Before I can stop her, she kicks her chair out of the way and goes running full sprint to the bar.

The guy she's aiming for looks up and sees her barreling toward him at full speed. A moment of panic flashes across his face before he slams his beer bottle down on the bar and takes off running in the opposite direction.

"RUN, v.a.g.i.n.aMAN, RUN!" Brooklyn screams as she runs after him. Everyone in the bar stares in shock and moves out of the way as she chases him right out the front door and into the parking lot.

I turn my head away from her and glare at Tyler who just shrugs. "Don't give me that look. She wasn't this cuckoo when I banged her a few months ago."

"Jesus Christ, you slept with her? What is wrong with you?" I scold.

"What? I like the crazy. Crazy chicks are needy and hot in bed. Don't worry, I'll go after her."

Tyler gets up from his seat and heads to the door. Out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of something and watch as the Italian-China-v.a.g.i.n.a-man streaks past the window outside with Brooklyn right on his heels.

Looking across the table, I catch Charlotte's eye and she gives me a sympathetic smile. Obviously making her jealous didn't work. And I'm pretty sure hearing Brooklyn shout about a.n.a.l all night long didn't convince her I'm a s.e.x G.o.d. All this evening did was make her feel sorry for me. I wanted her to see me with another woman and realize she has feelings for me. If I ever need another fake girlfriend again, remind me to never put Tyler in charge of finding her.

"I caught the Chinaman. He won't be bothering me anymore. Show me your p.e.n.i.s," Brooklyn suddenly demands next to my chair before collapsing onto my lap and dissolving into a fit of tears.

Since Wolfey's the other night was a total bust, I'm moving down the list and forgetting all about it. Out of sight, out of mind. I know what you're thinking, I should just give up the list and come up with something else. Something like, oh, I don't know, just telling her the truth. Do you have any idea what it's like to be a dude and tell a woman you love her only to have her shoot you down? Neither do I, but I'm guessing it would cut me deep. Especially considering this is Charlotte we're talking about. It's not like I could just drop that bomb on her, walk away, and never see her again. Our families are practically related. I'll have to spend Christmas and birthdays with her while she looks at me with pity from across the room. Poor, lonely Gavin holding a torch for his best friend while she moves on, marries Rocco, and spends the rest of her life listening to Barbara Streisand and shoe shopping with him.

This list is my only hope of saving face. It has to work. So I'm moving on to one of my favorites on the list: take her to The Cheesecake Factory. Glancing down at my cell phone, I see a text from Tyler reminding me what to do.

Chicks love cool guys that order for them. Be cool, dude. Make sure she knows money is no object. Chicks dig it when guys say that.

"Hey, Gavin, sorry I'm late. Traffic was a b.i.t.c.h," Charlotte says brightly as she kisses me on the cheek and then rushes over to take her seat across from me.

It takes everything in me not to vault over the table and tackle her to the ground. I'm guessing that would be frowned upon at The Cheesecake Factory.