Sexual in nature would be right up her metaphorical alley.
“No. It’s philanthropical.”
“Really? Sheldon’s doing philanthropy? That’s very industrious of her.”
“I think so. Are you going to be back by Saturday? Jamie’s got some wedding things to do. Sheldon will be mad if you make her go by herself.”
Mercedes bit back a groan. “Wedding things? It’s the bridesmaid dresses, isn’t it? She decided against the silver ones, didn’t she?” Jamie was about to marry Mercedes’s older brother Andrew, and the whole family was preparing for The Event. Mercedes liked Jamie well enough, but Jamie was cut from a different cloth than Mercedes. Jamie’s cloth was more like a scratchy burlap, and Mercedes lived for silk. Still, Jamie made Andrew happy, and Andrew wasn’t by nature a happy person, so Mercedes let them be. Except for the dress fittings. Five fittings for five different dresses? That didn’t make anybody happy.
“I don’t know. I can’t follow the whole saga. Talk to Sheldon. Better yet, talk to Jamie.”
“She’ll make me try on dresses again.”
“You like trying on dresses, Mercedes. And shoes. And frou-frou blouses, and—”
“That’s enough. And this is not the same.”
“It’s the same.”
“It’s a root canal, dressed in virginal white.”
“That’s no way to talk about the happiest day in your brother’s life.”
“It’s going to be the happiest day in my life at this rate. No more bridesmaid dresses.”
“Andrew’s trying to talk Jamie into something big and expensive for the wedding.”
Now this was interesting. “Our brother. Andrew? Overly work-focused, and driven by the bottom line, Andrew?”
“The same. He’s changed.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“He’s talking to a wedding planner.”
“Does Jamie know?”
“Of course not. I believe her exact words to Mom were ‘a wedding planner is an unnecessary occupation designed to take advantage of women in a fragile psychological state.’”
“So what’s he thinking?”
“Doves.”
“Chocolate?”
“No, the kind with wings. White, flying creatures.”
“No way. Not ever. Not even in like ten million years.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Jamie will hate it.”
“I talked him out of it.”
“Sensible.”
“But not the orchestra.”
“Oh, no…”
“Yup. Can’t wait till she finds out. Fireworks, big time. Listen, I have to go—”
“No!” Mercedes pitched her voice low, casting a furtive glance in McCreepy’s direction. “We’re not finished with our conversation.”
“Yes, we are.”
“No, we’re not. I never get to talk to you, Jeff. And you’re my favorite brother.”
“Mercedes, hang up now.”
“I have to stay on the line until they turn off all cell phones and electronic devices.”
“You’re not afraid of flying.”
“That’s not my issue.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and she was pleased to note actual concern in his voice.
“Nothing,” she said.
“You’re going to have sex with him, aren’t you?”
“Who?”
“Don’t think I don’t know, Mercedes. I know you. I saw the way you were ogling him.”
“That was twelve months ago, we were live on camera, and if I ogled, it was only for two minutes. This time, I’m going to promote my career.”
“Is that what they call this?”
“Don’t be insulting.”
“You were the one who brought up your career.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“Besides, I have a boyfriend.” She raised her voice so that the McCreepy could hear. “I’m very devoted to Andreas.”
“Mom said you two broke up. Sheldon thinks you’re flying out to San Fran to do Sam on the rebound from Andreas.”
“I’m not rebounding.”
“We’ll talk when you get back. I bet you rebound.”
“We will not talk.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Goodbye.”
Click.
Immediately Mercedes dialed her brother again. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“Made me mad so that I’d hang up and you’d be free to do whatever you needed to do.”
“Yup. Saw right through me. Bye, sis.” Click.
Mercedes punched speed-dial.
“I’m not talking to you.”
“You will talk to me.”
“I have to go, Mercedes.”
“You can’t leave me alone with him!”
“Sam?”
“Not Sam. McCreepy.”
“Who?”
Mercedes glanced at her seatmate who was staring at her curiously. She tried the cold look again. He smiled back. Mercedes sighed into the phone. “Go do whatever you need to do, and if I die on this plane, a fireball exploding in the heavens, then you’ll live with the crushing guilt weighing down your shoulders for the rest of your life.”
“Put it in your next book, Mercy. I’m guilt-free.”
“Not if we crash.”
“You’re not going to crash.”
“You don’t know.”
“Flying is safer than driving.”
“I live in New York. I don’t drive. Flying is not safer than not driving.”
“Okay. Rephrase. Flying is safer than jaywalking on Broadway, and I know you jaywalk on Broadway.”
“I can’t believe you. I’m going to die, and you don’t care.”
“Can we not talk about airline crashes? I have to go work up a proposal for an airline, and this is really putting me in the wrong state of mind.”
“Go. Go off and do whatever you need to do. Forget about your family, the people who love you and have stood by you all these years. The people who worked hard to get you with the love of your life.”
“You trashed her in your blog.”
“Because it was the only way to get you two together.”
“You’re going to keep throwing