JACK DARCY

Jack: What is this?

Allie: A book.

Allie: A romantic book.

Allie: A fairytale.

Jack: What’s the lesson here?!

Allie: Just read.

I set my phone down, my face frozen halfway into a smile. Last night, after dropping the soup off at Caroline’s, Allie had sent me an urgent memo that she had the next lesson for Romance Academy prepared. She said I could find it outside my condo, waiting for me in a brown paper bag.

When I got home, I found the brown paper bag. I now understand why she’s been avoiding my calls all day.

Yesterday evening, I started reading the book left on my doorstep. There are details in here that make me blush, and I’m a doctor—I’ve seen it all.

Allie tells me that Rule 10 is all romance needs a little fairytale. I just didn’t expect this fairytale to be so erotic.

I have to wonder why Allie gave me this particular book. I mean, there’s not a whole lot of romancing going on here except for the sex and dirty talking. I scratch my chin as I read another page, and it dawns on me that maybe that’s the entire point of this lesson. Maybe, I realize with horror—Allie thinks I’m shit at sex.

I pick up my phone and fire off a text.

Jack: I’ve gotten to the good bits. What am I supposed to take away from this?

Allie: Just keep reading.

Jack: Stop avoiding the questions. Come over here and book club with me.

Allie: You hate book clubs! You tell me they’re nothing more than undercover wine clubs.

Jack: I changed my mind.

Allie: Have you finished the book?

Jack: Working on it, but it’s hard.

I didn’t mean to write that last part, but now it’s out there in the SMS battlefield. When I picked up this variation of Beauty and the Beast, the last thing I’d expected was for it to turn into a kinky little lovefest. And I’m still not sure what Allie meant when she gave this one to me.

Jack: So, why did you think I needed to read erotica?

Allie: It’s good to read broadly!

Jack: I asked you for help with romance, not sex. I don’t have issues there.

Allie: Of course you’d say that. You’re a man.

Jack: Lesson 11: Sex and Romance are separate. I can have sex without romantic feelings.

Allie: Sex is better with romance.

Jack: Sometimes it’s not. No strings attached is easier.

Allie: I thought you were looking for a relationship.

Jack: I am. You gave me an erotic romp through historic England. I’m having trouble seeing how this relates to my situation.

Allie: It’s giving you ideas.

Jack: I have plenty of ideas now, thank you very much.

Allie: Then it’s working. You’re welcome.

I frown, shifting in discomfort as I adjust my position on the couch.

Jack: Define what you mean by worked.

Allie: If you’re turned on, it did the job.

Jack: What good is getting turned on if I’m over here alone and single?

Allie: I’m not going to comment on that.

Jack: I thought you offered to help.

The hesitation on her end is too long, and I’m filled with an alarmingly brutal sensation of achievement when I see the three dots on her end to signify she’s writing to me. Then the dots stop, then resume, then stop, then resume. This continues for about ten minutes.

Jack: I can see you writing and deleting your responses.

Allie: How do you turn that feature off?

Jack: Come on by, and I can show you. Lesson for lesson.

Allie: That sounds filthy.

Jack: I’m talking about book club.

Allie: It’s important to read widely across genres.

Jack: Did you read this book?

Allie: Maybe. Probably. Yes. A few times.

Jack: And...what did you think?

Jack: I can see you typing again.

Jack: You’re still typing and deleting.

Jack: I can see the three dots, still.

Allie: Shut up! I’m thinking.

Allie: It’s a good story.

Jack: Which part?

Allie: Uh, the whole thing?

Jack: I’m up to the part where they have sex in her kitchen, and I have to wonder if that’s sanitary. They’re eating like five minutes later.

Allie: Jack. It’s fiction.

Jack: I’m just being realistic.

Allie: Rule 12: Sometimes, in romance, you just want to be carried away and forget about realism.

Jack: What does that mean for real life?

Allie: I guess when you find the right person, your life feels better than fiction.

Jack: Do you know what that’s like?

Allie: Not yet.

Jack: Why am I taking dating advice from a person who’s never been in love?

Allie: I didn’t say I’d never been in love.

Allie: Love isn’t always a two-way street.

If only she knew, I think, setting my phone next to me. I rub my forehead, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. I’m sitting at home alone, reading erotica and text-book-clubbing with a friend who thinks I’m as good as a brother.

And yet, I can’t seem to look away. I return to the book, flipping through another three chapters before I realize nearly an hour has passed. I’m all hot and turned on again by this damn book, and I can’t seem to make it go away. A sure sign it’s been too long since I’ve had sex.

At the same time, I’m not interested in a fling. I might have been in the past; it’s easy, mutually beneficial, and on a good day, a clean break once all is said and done. But lately, I’ve outgrown the part of that which is considered fun. Now, it just sounds exhausting.

Which means I’m stuck with nothing.

Nothing except erotic fairytales.

Another few pages, and I’m thinking I might just have to take a cold shower. I should really stop reading, but I can’t seem to make myself, and I’m about to text Allie this when my phone rings.

I groan at my mother’s number flashing on the screen. She’s picked just about the worst time to phone. My skin crawls just thinking of what she’d say if she could see me now, so I wipe the thought from my mind and ignore the call. I’ll return it later, when I’m more sound of mind. My mother is not one I’m ready to battle with when most of the blood has gone to the wrong part of my body.

My mother, however, has other plans. The phone rings again before I even have the chance to set it down. Her number is bright on the screen, obnoxious, and I know if she is calling twice, she won’t give up until she finds me. What my mother wants, she gets.

Closing the book, I set it next to me, take a few deep breaths, and hit answer. “Hello, Kathleen.”

“Are you busy?”

“A little. Do you need something?”

“Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have called you twice, Jack.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason,” she says loftily, but I know better.

If nothing else, my mother is logical. So, I wait for her to carry on and get to the point.

“It’s nice to hear from you too, Jack,” she says with a snip. “Did your friend tell you she came to tea the other day?”

“You know Allie’s name. Use it. She’s a family friend, not some girl I met a few weeks back.”

“Well, she gave me some interesting news.”

I lean back on my couch and scan the view of Los Angeles from my window. Once upon a time, I’d thought I had it all—the job, the view, the cash. Now, the view is smoggy, the cash is cold, and the job...well, the job’s good, but that’s about it. “What sort of news?”

“Well, it’s a funny story, actually. She seems to think she’s capable of helping you find a companion.”

“What’s funny about it?”

A sharp intake of breath answers for her. “Are you saying it’s true?”

“I’m not denying it.”

“What does that mean, Jack? Why did you go to her for help?”

“She knows me better than anyone.”

“I’m your own mother.”

“And Allie knows me better than anyone. We grew up together; we’re friends.”

“She’s...” My mother lets the phrase drip there, and I let her search for words.

It pains her to be mean outright. She pretends that she’s not judgmental, and when she says horrible things aloud, it only proves her wrong. So, I do nothing to help her out of the hole.

“You know,” she finishes. “It’s Allie.”

The way she says Allie raises my hackles. “Exactly. It’s Allie. What’s your problem with her, anyway? She comes from good parents. Isn’t that what matters to you?”

“I have no problem with Allie. I have a problem with you and her as friends.”

“You always have, and I’ve never understood why. She’s smart, she’s driven, she’s intelligent—”

“She’s a schoolteacher for babies! Jack, you’re a Darcy. You’re a renowned surgeon, and she...” My mother pauses, once again on the precipice of judgment. “You need someone who challenges you.”

“She does challenge me. She’s smarter than me. Funnier, too. Better looking. Shall I continue?”

“Why are you so adamant about defending her? I’m not saying you shouldn’t remain pleasant acquaintances, but aren’t you at the point in your life where you are looking for more? Someone who can cook you dinner instead of buying salt-laden, horrific Chinese food?”

I close my eyes, my fingers pressing against the bridge of my nose as I struggle not to explode. I have lashed out at her before, and it does no good. My mother doesn’t react with her emotions. She hardly reacts to logic.

She has one set of beliefs—her own—and never wavers from them. My choices are to cut her off completely from my life, or to agree to disagree and accept her as is. For now, I’ve chosen to disagree quietly in hopes she’ll come around. I’ve yet to be surprised by her, which is unfortunate.

“Forget about it, mother. My love life doesn’t concern you.”

“As a matter of fact, it does.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve arranged something I imagine you’ll be quite pleased about.”

“I can’t imagine that’s true.”

“I’ve included Allie.”

My heart bumps just a bit stronger against my chest. “What have you done?”

“I’ve arranged a double date for the pair of you. Saturday evening at West Regency.”

“No.”

“You haven’t heard me out.”

“I don’t need to; I’m not interested. You’re not pairing me off with someone from the club.”

“If not for me, then do it for Allie.”

“What are you talking about?”

“After Allie stormed out of high tea the other day, I got to talking with her parents.”

“Imagine that. Since you went to lunch together.”

“Tea. As it turns out, Franklin—”

“Frank.”

“Franklin has a colleague with a son around your age. They’d chatted about setting up a meeting between Allie and this son. But you know Allie—she’d never go for it.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m turning you down, too. She’d never go for it.”

“I expected you to be less selfish where she’s concerned.”

“Less selfish? I’m watching out for her. She’d hate going on a blind date.”

“Then how do you think she’s going to find someone?”

“Plenty of ways. How does anyone find someone?”

“I imagine you don’t know, or else you’d have done it yourself,” my mother snaps. “Why don’t you take the advice from someone who’ll be married thirty-six years next week? Your father and I have a successful marriage. I think I know what I’m talking about.”

“Not everyone is like you. For some people, life’s not about finding a mate and settling down.”

“You honestly don’t think Allie would like to find a nice man and settle down? She clearly loves children, otherwise she would’ve picked a different job.”

“Career,” I correct automatically.

My mother waits for me to explain further, but when I don’t, she presses onward. “Think about it, Jack. You owe it to your friend—if that’s what she is—to be supportive.”

“I am being supportive. I’m supporting her right to choose.”

“She can choose to turn down a second date, but it sounds like you’re choosing to prevent her from getting the first.” In the background, my mother clicks around, probably preparing her evening cup of chamomile tea. “To an outsider, it almost sounds as if you’re trying to sabotage her happiness.”

“How could I possibly be sabotaging that?”

“You’re a smart man, Jack. Ask yourself: do you want to see your Allie happily married with a family, or are you afraid she’ll leave you behind when she meets someone?”

I pick up the book from the couch next to me and slam it against the cushions. I thought it’d be softer. The thump is loud and obvious, however, and with the plunk of a sugar cube into hot water, I can almost hear my mother smiling in triumph through the phone line.

“Think about it, Jack. Your father’s arranged for a very nice young woman to go along with you, too. A double date. It might be fun!”

I hang up the phone in a pissy mood. My mother doesn’t care about fun; I’m not sure she’s ever truly had fun. At least, not the sort of fun that Allie and I have together. I lean back, close my eyes, and a picture of Allie laughing and smiling and spinning around at last year’s outdoor concert series spirals into view. It’s followed by the picture of her cheeky grin as she swipes samples from the local farmers market once a week.

When Allie has fun, she has fun. No holds barred, out of control, wild sorts of fun. I don’t know that I am the best person to make her laugh; I’ve been told I’m too serious, too quiet, too studious. But I do know one thing for a fact: Allie Jenkins will not have fun on this sort of date.

Allie: Where’d you go? Dare I ask if you’re still reading?

Jack: My mother called.

Allie: I’m sorry?

Jack: That’s about right. She’s trying to set us up on a blind date.

Allie: You and me?!

Jack: Double date. They’ve apparently got a nice girl picked out for me, and a handsome stud they think you’ll love.

Allie: Gag.

Jack: Exactly.

Allie: I think we should go.

I start to type out a text. More like a series of expletives, and it’s after I’ve deleted the third message when I realize this just isn’t happening over a message. I delete my latest attempt to spell things out and hit the number one speed dial on my phone.

When she picks up, my heart begins to race. “Allie?”