dibs Read online

  Date 3

  There was no part of me that was looking forward to this date. I’d already determined this was strike three. Psyched myself out to failure. But everything I’d read about this guy online was positive.

  The swanky restaurant in the posh neighborhood wasn’t one I came to often, but he insisted on meeting me here, which I was totally fine with. There was no obligation for an uncomfortable ride home.

  When I walked in, insecurities settled in as I stood there wondering if he saw me. Marshall, I thought to myself, suddenly drawing a blank on his last name. As I scanned the fancy room searching for a man looking my way…I spotted several. One in a suit—but he was already sitting with a woman. Another in a sport coat and tie with a group of guys.

  The maître d motioned for me to step forward.

  “May I help you, Madam?”

  My entire body stiffened. Madam was code for old.

  I forced a smile. “I’m meeting a gentleman. I cannot recall his last name. First name, Marshall?” I asked.

  Recognition registered on his face. “Mr. Overby. Please come this way.”

  I followed him—nerves getting the better of me. I could be meeting Mr. Right…finally. For the first time this evening, excitement crept into my body, but when I spotted him I thought to myself, wow, Vanilla Ice has a son. I didn’t like the original. This wasn’t going to be good.

  “Madam. Mr. Overby,” the maître d said.

  “Sa-Man-Tha!” Marshall rapped my name like it was three separate words, his head jetting a different way with each syllable. He pointed to the seat across from him. As he sat, the gold nugget attached to the gaudy gold chain circling his neck, thumped his chest.

  His skin was nearly orange from the fake baking this guy had done. My alabaster skin clashed horribly as he took my hand and brushed his lips over the back. Then he stared…seductively… at me as he slowly sat in his chair. I kid you not, I waited for ‘Ice ice baby’ to come out of this dude’s mouth.

  Nearly every guy in this place sported a suit, sport coat, or collared shirt, but not my guy. No, my date wore a bro tank. A damn bro tank! He leaned back in the chair, his gaze still fixed on me.

  “Your profile says you’re an artist,” I finally forced myself to speak.

  His face contorted into a painful looking grimace. “Bro, you haven’t heard of me?”

  I’m quite sure my face contorted as well. Bro? “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” I didn’t want him to know I had forgotten his last name. Marshall Overby didn’t ring any bells.

  “Emin-O, bro. I just signed with Jammin’ J Records.”

  Feeling polite, I nodded like I’d heard of him. “Ah! That’s awesome. Is that like Eminem?”

  “His name is Marshall Mathers so the M and M thing worked for him. I had to go with the M and O.”

  I grinned simply to hide my eye roll. This guy was a dumbass. I was 0 for 3.

  “Do you like Eminem?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I lied. I freaking loved Eminem. I could rap any one of his songs better than he could. It was Emin-O that I didn’t like.

  “What may I get you to drink?” A waiter in a tux stepped up to the table.

  “Bring us a bottle of your best champagne,” Emin-O quickly said.

  I hated champagne. “I’ll take a glass of water as well,” I added, smiling at the waiter.

  “So, what does it feel like to be the most attractive woman in this room?”

  At first I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, but he stared at me waiting for my response.

  “Umm. Thank you...I…”

  “Better yet,” he interrupted. “What does it feel like to be with the most attractive man in the room?” He flexed his arm and kissed his bicep. “How’d that baseball get in there?” he laughed, pointing to his flexed muscle.

  I released a breath, thankful I had my own car, thankful I had two legs so I could get up and walk away from this guy, and even more thankful that Becca was well enough for me to yell at when I left here. Cancer or no cancer…her ass was mine. She may not have set up this date, but she made me get on this damn dating website.

  He abruptly sat forward, his eyes widening in a frightening way. “Day-um gurl, there is something wrong with my eyes, I can’t take them off you.”

  Beneath the table, I felt his leg rub against mine.

  “You like that?” he asked with an arched brow that had two lines shaved in it.

  “Not particularly,” I said with a smile.

  “I shaved my legs today, they should be smooth.” He said it as if that was why I didn’t especially care for the affection.

  “You shaved your legs?” I asked, clarifying.

  He inched upright in his seat and beckoned me closer with two fingers. I leaned in.

  “I shave. Every. Inch. Of my body.” A seductive tone rolled off his words.

  “You’re naughty,” I accused, hoping that he wasn’t into me either.

  “Naughty by nature, shawty.”

  Oh for the love of God. “Isn’t that a music group?” I asked. I’d sung songs by Naughty by Nature in the nineties.

  He shrugged off my question. “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you don’t, you’re only twenty,” I mumbled beneath my breath.

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “What type of music do you sing?” I asked, trying to camouflage my annoyance.

  “Hip Hop,” he said like there was no other kind. “Down on that, bitch, is my song that hit Top 100.”

  Down on that, bitch? I think I’d rather be dealing with a nail biter or a doctor with a flaccid dick.

  “That sounds like a really good song,” I said sarcastically. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty. Fortunately for you, I’m more than just eye candy.”

  Trying to hide the smile that was breaking through, I actually covered my mouth. I was done…never going on a single date again.

  He opened his mouth again, and I had to speak simply to get him to shut the hell up.

  “So, are you a pistol-packing drug addict who bags on his momma?” The question I asked was completely sarcastic. I wasn’t really mocking him, just wanted to see how much he knew of Eminem’s music.

  Emin-O chuckled but didn’t seem to recognize the lyrics. Poser.

  “Sam is kind of a dude’s name,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m not a dude.”

  His hands shot up in the air. “Wait, wait.” He closed his eyes as his head started bobbing forward. When he began snapping in rhythm with his head nods, I glanced around us. An elderly couple from the table next to ours watched him. Suddenly, he broke into a beat box routine. My eyes widened as blood inched up my face.

  “Sam. Sam. I’m not a dude,” he rapped the sound of drums between his words. “Bam. Beautiful. I want you nude.”

  I slid my purse up over my shoulder. This was ridiculous. Was he for real?

  “Bitch is hot—though she got small tits,” he continued. “When we gettin’ it on—I be grabbin’ her hips.”

  I stood, unable to take another unbearable second.

  He chuckled. “It’s as easy as that, bro.”

  “Look, Emin-O, Marshall…Bro. You are a sexy, rapping beast. I fear I cannot even begin to keep up with you. You need someone hotter, sexier…” For a second, I thought I might choke on my words.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked with shock flitting over his face. I couldn’t imagine a woman staying for this.

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  He popped to his feet so quickly it startled me; I froze when he suddenly stood nose to nose with me.

  “Sugar. You need a shot of Vitamin Me. Don’t go.”

  Ok…He did not just say VITAMIN ME!

  “Marshall. As appealing as that is, I must say no.”

  His arms shot out to the side as he back stepped away from me. “You don’t know what you’re missing, bruh. I’m like Tony fucking Romo…I go deep!”

&
nbsp; “OK. Have a good night,” I said politely and stormed off, yanking my phone from my handbag.

  Date 4

  Why I decided on the second Findamatch date eluded me as I walked up to the playground equipment where I was meeting Jared. He was older than me by ten years. Admittedly, he confessed in an open chat that he was losing his hair and had gained ‘some’ weight through his midsection. I think what drew me to agreeing to meet Jared was that he was raising a grandchild. Knowing how important my own child was in my life…made me admire him for taking on his grandchild.

  The moment I spotted him, I knew it. ‘Losing his hair’ meant bald, which wasn’t a bad thing. I’d always found bald men attractive too. And, ‘gained some weight through my midsection’ was code for a very high BMI. On a pregnancy scale, which is how I was used to measuring things, he was about 7 months along.

  “Jared?” I asked.

  “Samantha?”

  I nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And you as well. Wow, You exceeded my expectations.”

  “Thank you,” I said, sitting on the park bench wondering why his nose was so red. “Which one is your grandson?”

  He pointed to a group of children on top of the monkey bars. “The one in the Cubs T-shirt.”

  The boy was adorable and reminded me of long ago days when Jake was little. How could time have slipped away so quickly?

  “Ah-choo!”

  His sneeze surprised me, causing my entire body to jolt.

  He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose, which explained the inflamed schnoz.

  I sat next to this man, honestly knowing there was no attraction, but how vain to ask to be excused from a date.

  “Ah-choo!”

  My body jolted again. I’d just shaken his hand, coming into direct contact with these germs.

  “It’s that time of the year,” he said. “I’ll be blowing for the next three months. Just call me Rudolph.”

  He read my mind. “Allergies?”

  “Yep.”

  “Papa!” a little voice squealed.

  Both of us glanced toward the young boy who rested on his belly in the middle of a tire. We both smiled at the cuteness.

  “Ah-choo!”

  My body jolted. Three months of this?

  My work cell phone rang. “Excuse me, Jared?”

  It was the hospital.

  “This is Dr. Casey.”

  “Dr. Casey, the Whitman baby should be here soon. We need you to come in, please.”

  “Thank you, Amber. I’ll be there within a half hour.”

  Though relief washed through me, when I looked at Jared, disappointment crept into his expression.

  “Duty calls?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Babies don’t like to wait for us to be ready.”

  He leaned back, stretching. “Samantha. You are a very beautiful woman. You should have no need for a dating site. Guys must be beating down your door. Honestly, even though I’m a federal judge, you…are out of my league.”

  I began to protest, but his hand coming up stopped me.

  “Please. Let me finish. If you ever want a night of fun…just grab a drink sort of thing, please holler. I’d be honored to share a drink with you. In the mean time, stop this website dating. You could run into some real creeps.”

  “Jared. Trust me, I already have. Thank you. For all that you said.”

  After we said our goodbyes, a small flicker of hope ignited inside of me—not for the perfect man, but for the goodness of humanity. Everything happens for a reason and I needed this encounter. As far as dating…as far as finding Mr. Right… it just wasn’t in the cards for me.

  Chapter 1~ Sam

  Cruisin’

  When I zipped the suitcase and heaved it off the bed, a sharp pain shot through my damn back, tweaking it.

  “Son of a bitch!” I shouted to no one, dropping the overweight bag directly onto my toe. There was no pulling it out from under the heavy bag. I had to lift the freaking thing a second time to free my foot, which consequently wrenched my back out further.

  “Shit!” I hissed, squeezing my toes and rolling back onto my bed like a two-year-old mid-tantrum. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  The toenail polish on my big toe was jacked up. As I tried to daintily smooth the almost dry polish, the corner of the toenail broke off.

  “You have got to be kidding!” I screamed, pounding my fists on the bed.

  I shot up off the mattress, yanked my other suitcase out from under the bed and randomly started transferring…throwing half the clothes and shoes from the heavy bag into the empty one.

  In my mind I went down my checklist again. Mail stopped. Paper stopped. Patients covered. Clothes. Swim suits. Sunscreen. Medication. Tickets.

  Jake...everything was in place. He was going home from school with a buddy and was staying with friends, for the most part, while I was gone. Bryan was still going to have his weekend visitation; hopefully he showed up. Jake and I had said our goodbyes this morning. But…leaving him was dreadful. The thoughts of having something happen to him while I was away were nearly debilitating.

  There was no way to wrap my brain around what I was about to do. A 12-day cruise was ridiculously long, but Becca insisted I go, and rarely did I tell her no. Kat and Juls were already in New Jersey waiting for me.

  As I rolled the suitcases over the bamboo floor, I saw Bryan’s stocking cap in the chair. Jake had worn it home from a visit. As much as I wanted to shred it, I left it lying there for Jake. I wanted all parts of Bryan gone. He was not welcome back in this home or in my life. For so long, the admission of letting go was too much to acknowledge, even though we were now officially divorced and had been for a year and a half. I left the light on over the sink so it would be on when Jake checked in.

  With a deep breath, I lugged my bags outdoors. Becca met me half way attempting to take one from me.

  “Get back,” I shooed her. “I got these.”

  The circles under her eyes were not as dark today, but when she smiled the cracks on her lips looked painful.

  “I can’t believe you are doing this,” she said.

  “You made me!” I accused, slamming her trunk and sliding into the passenger seat. “I’d never leave you or Cali if it wasn’t for you demanding I go.”

  “You’re forty! Juls is forty, and so is Kat! Caribbean Seas cruise lines has no idea who is about to board their ship. God, I wish I could be there.”

  My heart squeezed in my chest. “You will be there. When we turn fifty!” I laughed. “That may be the next time I do something like this.”

  We both laughed, and as I looked out the passenger window, I silently prayed she’d still be alive. I needed Becca more than she could know.

  “Gate 43,” the Southwest attendant directed.

  I reluctantly nodded and turned to Becca. My orange juice from that morning backed up, burning my throat.

  “You’re going to be fine,” she said in her soothing voice, gripping my shoulders.

  “Fine?”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t even make sense, Bec! The damn plane weighs… what…like 150,000 pounds. How does that just lift up? How does that defy gravity and not fall to the earth?”

  She gripped my shoulders tighter. “Samantha. Don’t try to figure out aerodynamics in the next ten seconds. Stick to vaginas and listen to me.” Her cracked lips wickedly curled up. “If you crash, it’ll happen so fast you won’t even know it.”

  A loud gasp shot out of my mouth, and the ugliest, involuntary guttural moan crawled up my throat.

  “I can NOT believe you just said that.” My teeth clenched together so tightly my jaw ached. “But then I also can’t believe you set me up with a crippling nail biter who had less manners than Andrew Dice Clay or Jay the limp…”

  “Oh shut up. Jay drinks too much. That’s his only problem,” she interrupted. “Go get on the plane and have fun! You don’t even know what that is anymore. Your anxiety has only gotten worse
since you’ve gotten older and since I’ve gotten sick. Enough already! You can’t control everything, Sam.”

  “Well, I can certainly control who I fall in love with!”

  Her lips twisted together as she rolled her eyes.

  Serious Becca was way harder to take than Fun Becca. There was no part of me that wanted her to hurt, therefore I typically tried to do what she asked. So…I plastered on a smile.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Now go have fun.”

  After an official salute, quick hug and fake smile, I headed up the escalator. Forcing myself to turn and wave at her, the only thought in my head was the escalator not being properly supported as it inched upward. There I stood, stuck between an older couple and a family of four—all with smiles. I swear to God, I wanted to pull a Jason Bourne and knock all of them out of the way so I could dash one way or the other on this metal, man-made contraption. Instead, I counted beneath my breath, waiting to reach the top.

  An arrow to gate 43 directed me down a crowded walkway. Stores all along the busy strip were filled with waiting passengers killing time. Some kids towed their own luggage down the traffic way. A smile touched my lips as I thought about Jake pulling his Thomas the train suitcase years ago.

  Nestling into a seat in the gate 43 area, I watched a big plane taxi in at the next gate. As hard as I fought with the breathing I’d been taught, my chest tightened.

  “You from Jersey?” a guy next to me asked with a strong eastern accent.

  The Quaker State thick grease smeared through his hair kept his mane contained, and the gold nugget that hung from the massive chain around his neck reminded me of Flavor Flav’s clock and one of my hideous dates.

  “No,” I said as I fought my lip pulling up in disgust. There was no part of me that wanted to be bitchy, it unfortunately just happened of its own free will. Once again, I was reminded of how truly lucky I was to have held onto the three girls in my life. The true blessing was that two of them lived in different states. So my opportunities to run them off were limited.

  “Where are you from?” he continued.

  “What state are you in?” I asked sarcastically.