Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Six

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Six

When we left Daria on November 26^th, she was sitting in the rain wondering if things would ever go right…

I sat in the rain until a passerby threw a dollar at me. Now I was reduced to looking like a street beggar. I stood quickly, hurling the wet wad at the person’s head, and shouting incoherently. Sure it made me look crazier, but I was irate. My phone was gone, my first good date was ruined, and now my lawyer friend probably thought I was a loser. What else could go wrong?

Deciding my pity party needed to be mobile, I started walking along the sidewalk. Home wasn’t a far and warm, clean clothes awaited me. Muttering to myself, I negotiated the streets and people racing out of the rain. The storm came harder and faster, soaking me to the skin in record time and setting me to shivering.

I stopped at the corner one block from home when a different large truck hit the puddle in front of me. I cried out as a deluge of muddy water and debris washed me onto my ass at the curb. The driver of the truck didn’t even slow down, the bastard. Wiping the water off my face, I shook my hands angrily and dug my purse out of the street. I was soaked and dirty, my purse was ruined—its contents probably destroyed as well—and it wasn’t even noon yet. My patience was stretched to the limit. The anger fueled my pace and I finished the trip in record time. Beat that Patrick Makau.

Digging my wet keys from the ruined clutch, I let myself in and stripped inside the door. I threw the clothes on the tile for washing or discarding—I hadn’t decided which. I carried my purse into the kitchen and dumped everything in the sink. I’d take care of it later. First, I wanted a hot shower and a pint of ice cream.  And, yes, I’d call off work to spend a day shut in with emotional chick flicks, Ben, and Jerry.

Two days later and I’d replaced my phone, the contents of my purse, and was working on my pride. There were no messages from anyone on my new cell or my home phone. Queen of horror dates strikes again, I silently cheered watching the elevator tick off floors. I strode off intent on finding my cube and hiding inside until the clock struck five. I stopped short as the crowd around my workspace registered in my frazzled mind.

“Great, I’m probably being fired on top of things,” I mumbled and pushed my way past them.

My purse, work bag, and jaw hit the floor in surprise. There, on MY desk, were two enormous flower arrangements. Not the ‘cheap bought at a gas station’ kind, but the ‘in the vase and I paid a fortune for hand delivery’ kind. From my vantage point, I was sure at least one was authentic crystal. I stared frozen in place for at least ten minutes while my gossiping co-workers took in every nuance of my reaction. Great, I’d be the office tramp by lunch.

Ignoring them, I moved into my area and mentally slammed the door. Quickly, I grabbed the note cards from each bouquet and shoved them in my bag to read once the drama calmed down. I continued ignoring the questions and whispers while I logged into my workstation and reviewed the stack of messages from the receptionist. Apparently things had been busy while I’d been out on my day off.

As the clock chimed starting time, the boss cajoled everyone away to their own office pens before heading back to mine. “Daria, I sincerely hope these flowers are not the reason you were out sick yesterday?”

I merely looked up at her. My eyes were still red and puffy from a day of crying. I was also sure the end of my nose was dry and blotchy. I looked like I’d had the cold I lied about. “Of course not and I apologize I had to call off. I’m not sure where the flowers came from. Oh, and I’m feeling better now.” The ‘thanks for asking, bitch’ was silent.

The boss nodded and walked away as I breathed a sigh of relief. Pulling the cards free from my bag, I glanced at each quickly. The first was a typed message from Keith, presumably ordered while he was in Europe.

I tried calling but didn’t get an answer. Wanted to let you know there are no hard feelings and I look forward to talking when I return next week.

“Nice, thank you broken phone,” I sarcastically grumbled and grabbed for the other. It unexpectedly was from Marcus.

Sorry I missed you the other day. I was out grabbing breakfast. As your representation, I suggest discussing my fee over dinner. Please call to schedule a time.

I giggled, swallowing the full out laugh threatening to spill over. To anyone else, it would be a very professional note. Knowing Marcus as I did, it was full of humor and innuendo. It was just the thing to cheer me up. I jotted notes in my planner to attempt to call each after work.

The rest of work passed in a blur of activity. Not used to me taking a sick day, several clients had panicked when unable to reach me the day before. One in particular had left no less than twelve messages. Toward the end of the stack, the receptionist had stopped writing her number or message all together. It had also taken an hour to convince the woman I was not gravely ill or anywhere near death’s door. Ironically, the woman chastised me for not taking more time to myself after giving me a page long list of items to be taken care of.

Standing to grab my coat and debating picking up another pint of ice cream, I looked around my office floor and sighed. Some days, I really wanted to chew my way out of our gopher den. Hopefully, my good work would be noticed eventually and I could move up the food chain. I was currently lodged solidly in the bopped-on-the-head department. I chuckled as I pictured a rubber mallet striking each cranium that emerged over the partition walls.

Grinning still as I let myself into my home, the flashing message light caught my attention. I had three messages. It was an incredible occurrence, I usually managed one message a week and it was from my parents. Their message usually entailed making sure I was alive, highlighting other people’s successes, and not so casually asking if I’d made any progress in life. I dropped my bags into the chair and raced over to press the button.

I leaned on the counter as the messages played. The first was from Pat wanting to make sure I had survived okay. I could tell by the whispered tone, he was again hiding from his wife to call me. He quickly added he’d given Keith my home number before the call abruptly disconnected. The second message was from Marcus, wanting to know if I received his professional package and if I had any plans this evening. The third was from Keith, a little fuzzy because of the connection. I could barely make anything out —something about his meetings going well and such. I saved all three just as proof I could receive calls.

Grabbing the handset free, I called Marcus back and chatted while changing. The rustle of clothes must have transmitted over the line. He mentioned it with a joke of course and sent me into a fit of laughter.

“It’s so good to hear you laugh at the end of a long day, Daria.” Marcus’ voice drifted across the quiet and I was speechless. “So, what were you thinking for dinner?”

“Pizza and a movie,” I joked, tossing a shirt over my head and zipping up my jeans.

“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking.”

My response to his odd reply was cut off by the door bell ringing. He had already disconnected the call. Racing back to the front room, I threw open the door and stared at him. Marcus stood on my steps holding a pizza from the best pie shop in town and a six pack of beer.

I tried to lean casually against my door frame. “Funny, mister, I don’t remember ordering a pizza. I’m afraid I’m not going to pay you for the pie.”

He smiled wide, his perfect teeth showing. “That’s a shame, ma’am. I’m pretty sure there’s a copy of Shaun of the Dead in my jacket.”

“I own it,” I shrugged, holding back laughter.

He stepped closer. “I think the other pocket has Princess Bride and Hershey caramel Kisses,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” I moved out of the way and motioned him inside with a frenzied wave.

We both laughed as we moved toward the kitchen. He sat the goodies out on the counter while I wrangled up plates and glasses. Serving up the pizza, beer, and grabbing the bag of Kisses for later, I motioned him into my living room. My entertainment area wasn’t super high-tech but it was good quality. When you find yourself alone most Saturday nights, it pays to have a great home theatre set-up and forgiving neighbors.

We ate while watching Shaun of the Dead and quoting lines along with the movie. Once stuffed, I leaned into him while contemplating the bag of Kisses. His arm silently slipped around my shoulders and we sat in silence until the movie ended. He rose, brought out two more beers, and studied the DVD player.

“So, should I put in Princess Bride?” Marcus asked with a wink.

“Sure, why not?” I answered with a shrug.

“As you wish…”His smiled melted my heart faster than Kisses over an open flame.

My voice was huskier than I ever remembered hearing it before.  “Come snuggle and keep me safe from the ROUS’s.” I patted the cushion next to me and eagerly cuddled into his body when he complied. I truly believe it’s the only occasion I didn’t pay any attention to my favorite movie.

Just when the action in my living room was about to surpass the action on the screen for the first time in recorded history, the phone rang interrupting the moment. I let the machine catch it, forgetting I had turned the volume up earlier. Keith’s voice echoed through my open downstairs floor plan.

“Should be home tomorrow, would love to see you again. You still owe me a coffee.”

Rule number nine: Expect the unexpected, otherwise known as 'unplug the phone with you have a date over' rule.

I blushed red hot as Marcus lowered my shirt and looked at me oddly. Hell, there went another good date. He’d probably storm out and never return. Worse, he’d probably send me a huge legal bill the next morning. I sat there like a moron waiting to hear the worst.

Marcus’ expression took on a sexy, dangerous look. “Well, I guess I have twenty four hours to make you hate the thought of coffee…”

Rule number ten: See rule number nine and… 
Oh to hell with the rules…

Digital Digest is being changed to better serve our readers. But Daria’s mishaps and adventures are far from over! Watch for the full Daria novel to be available in 2012, with glimpses available on my blog and thank you for reading!

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

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Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Five

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Five

When we left Daria on October 26^th, she was facing arrest and the loss of a potential husband…

Marcus made quick work of the charges pending against Keith and I. He also made sure someone took a look at Keith’s injuries. Thankfully, he’d be sore but not permanently brain damaged. My old college buddy was a sight to behold. A few words like co-defendants, counter suits, and departmental inquiries scared the department into dropping all charges and washing their hands of us.

He also gave my cheeky ex a few words of caution. I probably wouldn’t see Scott for a year at least. Keith’s receptionist picked him up since Marcus had advised us not to leave together. Just in case someone got second thoughts about pressing charges, he’d said. I was surprised to see Keith’s assistant was a sharply dressed man. I shrugged and started walking away after telling him to get better soon.

Shame, I really wanted to show him my full gratitude but all my cop shows told me it was best to follow the advice of your lawyer. 

“Daria, wait.” I paused as Marcus’ words drifted over to me. “Would you like a ride?”

Funny how two people can have parallel trains of thought, but I knew he wasn’t offering the kind of ride I really needed. Then again the thought of walking through town with blood stains on my shirt was embarrassing. I was also sure the handcuffs had given me a lovely rash.

I gripped my handbag and decided. “Sure, Marcus. A ride would be nice.”

He walked with me to his car in the adjacent parking lot. It was a nice sedan, but nothing extravagantly special like I’d expected. I slid carefully into the passenger seat as he held the door open. I remembered my rule about not flashing panties and I also didn’t want to transfer any of the blood on my shirt to the vehicle’s interior.

I buckled up as he slid in beside me and began asking questions. “Are you hungry? Feeling okay? You’ve barely said anything at all.”

I don’t know what washed over me at that particular moment, but all my walls broke down and the dam burst free. That’s right—in the middle of the police parking lot, smeared with blood and drool I, Daria, broke down into a tidal wave of tears. Sobbing, body shaking tears. I clutched my handbag so tightly, my nails scratched the leather.

Marcus’ warm hand sat on my shoulder after he handed me a handkerchief. “Let it out and I’ll take you back to my office. You can get cleaned up and we’ll order some food and catch up.”

“You’d really want me to stay?” I choked out the question between sobs.

“Daria, you are not sitting at home alone tonight. You need a friend now more than ever.” He ignored my tears, my mascara stained cheeks, and all the ugliness that was me as he slid the car into drive and pulled out of the lot.

The car was a manual and he drove it elegantly. My tears subsided as I watched him maneuver the clutch, gas, and stickshift through downtown traffic. I couldn’t see his feet, but I could watch his knees dance under the designer slacks.

“Feeling a little better?” He interrupted my thoughts without taking his eyes off the road.

“Yes,” I answered and studied his profile. Marcus was an interesting mix of Scottish and Arabian. I’d always thought he looked like an awkward tanned Scot, but now that he’d grown into the look. Wow! A highlander with a permanent tan was a yummy to the tenth degree combo.

He turned his intense hazel gaze on me as we sped along the freeway. “What happened with you, Daria? Never saw much of you after college.”

I chuckled weakly. “I didn’t like the alumni things. Mostly old people trying to remember their youth, and it creeped me out a little. Then I got busy working on the career and well, here I am.”

He nodded and shifted his attention back to the road. I noticed the smile on his profile, before his lips started moving. “And that’s working out well for you?”

“Never a dull moment.” The humor of the situation sank in and I chose to laugh. It was either laugh or cry and I’d already done the crying jag. Laughter always made a gal feel better even if she looked like a nutcase.

He laughed along with me. The deep baritone warmed up the interior of the car and made me feel a little better. Marcus seemed to sense the change as soon as I stopped laughing.

“I always loved your laugh. And don’t worry, my office has a studio you can clean up in and my take out menus are there. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

So why did my head suddenly think Damn? I nodded and lowered the visor, using the mirror to clean up the majority of the makeup mess with a wet wipe from my bag. Marcus was right- I needed a friend most now. I could quell the lust and just have a relaxing take out dinner. Maybe.

We pulled off the freeway and I was startled to see us nearing my neck of the woods. Was his office out here and I just somehow missed it?  The sedan stopped as I looked out at my doorstep, and then I spotted my car in front of the house.

“What, exactly, is going on?” Years of dealing with a stalker added ice to my words.

He held his hands up. “I peeked at your address in the file. A quick call and a tow company brought your car home while we were at the station. My office is about ten minutes from here and I thought you might like to change into your own clothes. I also thought it would give you a way to turn me down.”

There was something in his voice as he uttered the last words. In his own way, Marcus had made the ultimate gesture for me. While I was busy thinking I was with super-stalker or getting dumped on the curb, he was busy thinking I would turn him down. Interesting.

Rule Number 7: Spend a little less time thinking about me and a little more watching the guy.

I took a deep breath. “I would love to join you, but I’m not inviting you in.”

“Understandable. I can wait in the car, make a few calls. Do you still like sweet and sour chicken?” I nodded, surprised he remembered, and hopped out of the car.

This was going to be the fastest wardrobe change ever. And since we were just friends, no sense on going all out with the look. I threw on my old jeans, a t-shirt from our alma mater, and washed the remaining gunk off my face.

Rule Number 8: ALWAYS wear waterproof mascara or skip it.

I was comfortable and at ease when I settled back into the passenger seat. “So, will we beat the food to your office?”

He revved the engine and grinned, “I love a challenge.”

“No, you’re kidding. You were a racecar driver?” I laughed into my glass of wine and then dug another piece of pineapple from the cardboard container.

“For a little bit,” he grinned and grabbed an eggroll. “I wasn’t winning and winning made the money, so I gave it up and went back to finish law school.”

“It does explain how easily you shifted gears on the way here.”

He paused and his eyes darkened. “You still have a thing for cars I see.”

I lowered my voice, looked around, and whispered dramatically, “It’s our little secret.”

He nodded and poured another glass of wine for each of us. I was laid out on the floor, sprawled on my side with the food on a blanket between us. Not sure how to lay out the room’s furniture to the best eating arrangement, we’d agreed to try the picnic route. The plush of his carpet told me his business was doing well. Thank God the wine was white.

Dinner had mostly been a conversation about college memories, what we were each doing now, and the usual friendly banter. I’d barely noticed as the night crept in. Marcus had been right as usual, the friend route was much better than crying home alone.

“So, what was up with the protest arrest charge in your file?”

I almost snorted wine out my nose. Only by the grace of my manners did I manage to swallow before blurting a loud, “WHAT?”

He merely grinned and leaned against his large desk with one leg propped up. It was the same stance he’d used in baseball. Marcus laughed, “I didn’t have time to read the specifics, but apparently you’re used to inciting riots.”

“It was not a riot. At least, not intentionally.” I stood carefully and plopped into a chair. “You tried race car driving, I tried activism. As my record proves, I’m not good at it.”

Marcus’ rich laughter and the wave of his hand goaded me for more. I sighed and explained how I’d tried to save a forest site home to a bird I liked. The protest I’d arranged had spiraled out of control, mostly owing to the fact that all of the men were there hoping to get laid. When the fight broke out over who would get who, the spectators (IE the foresting companies) thought violence was in the works. I was handcuffed and hauled in before I could cry uncle.

Marcus slapped his hand over his heart in an urge to control his laughter. I snorted unladylike and waved him on. “Go ahead, everyone has a great laugh over it.”

“Did your forest get saved?”

“What?” Odd, no one had ever asked me that after I told the story. They usually called me silly.

“Did your efforts work?”

I grinned and walked up to him, reaching around for the wine bottle before backing away to pour. “In their own way, they did. My efforts made the news and, after the news spread, a more organized and legitimate group took up the cause. The trees are still there.”

He lifted his glass at me with a dangerous look in his eye, one that made my knees weak and my heart pound. His voice was deeper when he spoke, “Then I congratulate your successful protest.”

I blinked at him and then eyed the wine bottle in my hand. How much had he drunk? I was merely buzzed by what I’d consumed. No one had ever congratulated me or called my attempt a success. In a round about way, it was. I stood taller.

“I always liked that about you.” I stumbled toward him.

“What’s that?” He asked, standing straight.

“Your undying supportiveness…” I promptly crashed into his massive chest.

I would like to say I stumbled over my own feet and maybe I did. The truth being the wine was stronger than I thought. The alcohol winked me out in my moment of glory without robbing me of the memory of my downfall. I winced as I shoved the blanket off me and sat up.

Hangovers, the sign that something either went right the night before or…. I looked down at my fully clothed self before I continued the thought. I raised an unsteady hand to my throbbing head. Or a sign that I overindulged and made a fool of myself.

I gathered my things, swiping a bottle of water from the mini fridge on my trip around the office. I paused long enough to take two aspirin and then quickly made my escape. He was my lawyer, I’d have to see him again. But that particular morning I couldn't face Marcus or how he must now view me.

I checked my phone after a few blocks of walking had me feeling better. No messages and it was almost afternoon. As if adding insult to injury, my brain chose that moment to remember poor Keith. The guy had gotten banged up rescuing me and there were no messages on my phone. None.

When I couldn’t sink any lower, I walked into the street sign while staring at the blank screen on my phone. My phone sailed into the intersection and was promptly run over by the biggest delivery truck I’d ever seen in my neighborhood. Serendipity was a bitch.

I sank to my butt and held my head. Keith hated me, Marcus thought I was an idiot, and my only friend in the world would probably never invite me back to his house again. Hell, even my trusty stalker would probably avoid me for a while…

The first raindrop spattered on my nose and I looked skyward. “Really? Really!” I muttered at no one in particular. “The dating Gods hate me…”

Please return for the continuation of Daria’s journey on December 27th, only here on Digital Digest. Want to make the right move with your reading addiction? Check out our ebooks available on the Kindle and Nook or sign up to have each piece delivered straight to your Kindle for hassle-free reading.

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

Facebook * Website * Twitter * Blog

Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Four

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Four

When we left Daria on September 26^th, her first worthwhile date had been interrupted by the arrival of her ex… But will it be a total loss?

Keith stared at me and I felt miserable. Frankly, I desired nothing more than to walk over to my ex-fiancé and stab him with a hundred of those cheese toothpicks. How dare Scott destroy me years after we “mutually” called it quits!

Well, the mutual part involved finding him pumping away at another girl and me blurting out the relationship was over. Since then, he’d taken every opportunity to cross my path and try to win me back. Even telling the jerk hell would freeze before I’d rescue him from a fire had no effect.

I took a deep breath to calm the rising anger. Losing control would only cause an explosion of my infamous temper. One flash inferno and Keith would definitely go running. I shook out my hands and gritted my teeth until calm, or a semblance of it, took over.

“I broke it off with him two years ago. After I found him in bed with another woman.” I explained for Keith and then turned. “Funny, Sam, wasn’t she a friend of yours?”

The other woman was Sam’s little sister, and she clearly remembered her part when she turned white and hightailed it for the kitchen. She was now blocking the only other means of escape unless I jumped out an open window. I rolled my shoulders and tried to breathe while the introductions of my ex continued around the room.

A hand grabbed mine and squeezed. “He still works you up?”

I frowned. “I have no feelings for Scott, except annoyance at him for not leaving me alone. Two years and he still can’t take a hint.”

“You must be special then.” He squeezed my hand again and I wanted to kiss him silly.

I don’t know why I said what I said next. I do know I’d come to regret my choice of words. “Just keep him away from me and everything will go splendid.”

Everything did go well, except for the occasional rumor or baited glance. I was used to those and shrugged them off as par for the course when hanging around this crowd. I counted down the moments until I could make my escape and something told me Keith knew it.

“Maybe we could skip out and get some coffee?” He offered from next to me, causing me to grin widely.

“I would love to. Say after this round?” He nodded and we went back to playing the game.

I was excited to leave. Playing the perfect guest while everyone talks about you was exhausting as hell. Didn’t help when every one of Maggie’s friends took Scott’s side in the equation. I remembered overhearing her tell Pat how I should have sucked it up and stuck it out since Scott was the best thing I’d ever find. I’d run crying to Pat, upset since—in a way—Scott had betrayed both of us. We’d known Scott for almost as long as each other.

Mental Rule Number 6: Do NOT date childhood friends.

Remembering her heated words brought my temper to a head and I bolted off the sofa uncontrollably. I looked down at Keith and pasted on a fake smile. “Coffee sounds great. What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?”

Lucky for me, he laughed and joined me in walking away from everyone. I didn’t bother telling them bye—it would have been a wasted effort. I did stop to thank Pat and that’s when it happened.

Apparently, Scott had snuck up on us while I was hugging Pat. When the tap touched my shoulder I thought it’d been Keith. Imagine my surprise when I turned to tuck my arm around him and my ex was standing there… with my purse and jacket no less!

Okay, I admit it wholeheartedly. I overreacted and my exaggerated response was the trigger on the atomic explosion that went down in the record books as Maggie’s Game Night.  If I could go back in time, I would have shoved us out a window. And, in hindsight, I’m pretty sure Keith would have happily dove for it with me.

Scott standing close with my things lit my fuse and my temper exploded. I grabbed my belongings from him, slapped him, and called him every nasty word in the book. Not that I recall exactly what I said, but I’m guessing it was shocking by the remembered expressions on Pat and Keith’s faces.

When I went to storm out, of course the dumbass tried to follow. Then things got really ugly. In his defense, Keith was trying to help. He grabbed Scott and told him to leave me alone. After that, it was a barrage of fists in every direction. Even Pat took a hit, from Scott of all people.

I sat with Keith in a police station waiting to give my statement. Maggie had called the police and Scott wanted to press charges. I wasn’t sure exactly what to tell the police since it was all an angry blur, but I would do my best to get Keith out of trouble. I owed him.

“Well, it was a fun date,” I whispered, blushing fiercely. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Just tell me his face looks worse than mine,” Keith answered.

I nodded, still feeling incredibly guilty. “You did a bang up job, that’s for sure. Listen, I’ll do my best to keep you out of trouble.”

“It’s nothing. I’m sure the cops see this kind of thing all the time.” He tried to smile and winced. “Look at the bright side. We won’t be invited to any more of Maggie’s game nights for awhile.”

My laughter earned me a few cold stares from the officers around us and I choked on it. “Still, I owe you one.”

“Yes, you certainly do. You can repay me by going out to dinner when I get back.”

“Look, you’re not going to prison.”

He leaned forward and pressed the tissue into his nose again. “No, I have to go to London in two days. Arrange a consolidation of businesses.”

I leaned back, staring at the stained ceiling tiles and the glow of florescent lights. “So you’re a negotiator?”

“In a way. I make sure acquisitions for the company transition smoothly and help iron out the details.”

I reached over and patted his knee. “I’m sorry you’ll be bruised for it.”

“It’ll give me some macho man credit,” he chuckled and fell silent.

“Let me see if I can sweet talk someone into an ice bag for you.” I stood and marched over to a desk. The lady took one look at me and asked if I was hurt. I looked down and, sure enough, found blood on my clean skirt. “Damn. I’m fine, but my friend is hurt and needs an ice pack for his face.”

“He should have thought of that before the fight.”

Serve and protect my ass. “Look, he was defending me. The guy deserves an ice pack.”

She shrugged and went back to her computer. A random stranger whistled and I turned. He pointed at a vending machine. “The pop cans come out really cold.”

“Thank you,” I nodded and walked over, popping seventy five cents into the machine and getting a root beer. The guy was right, it was freezing.

I carried it back over to Keith and gingerly held it to his face. “I’m so, so sorry. Just so you know, I am the Queen of disaster dates…”

“Pat told me.”

“He what?” I would kill him next time I saw him.

“He told me you have awful luck with dates. I just forgot to wear my suit of armor.” Keith mumbled.

I eyed him carefully. “Are you okay? Concussion? You hit the wall pretty hard.”

“Maybe, but I’ll be fine.”

An officer called my name and I let Keith take over holding the can. I rose, and walked over to the room. Scott was marching out to a desk at the same time. He started to say something, but I ignored him. The officer told him it was in his best interests to leave me alone—smart officer.

I sat at the lone metal table and gave my statement as honestly as I could, all while trying not to think about the police shows I watched.  I calmly detailed the rough time I’d had with Scott, the history we had, and how Keith had only been trying to protect me.

“Let me get this straight. You told that man to keep Scott away from you.” The officer jotted something down.

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t suggesting violence…” my voice dropped off as the officer stood. Was he reaching for his cuffs? “Look, I just didn’t want to deal with my lying, cheating ex-fiancé. I did not ask for anyone to exchange fists.”

“That may be, but for now I’ll need to arrest you as an accessory to assault.”

“Don’t you dare! I want my phone call. If anything we should be pressing charges against Scott. I’ve told him how many times to leave me alone. And your office was no help…” I slammed my mouth shut, realizing the officer was taking notes and I was digging myself a deeper hole.

He slid the cuffs on and led me out. Keith was whistling some tune and looking awful. The bruising on his jaw was starting to swell and I really worried about an unseen injury. There was an officer checking over Scott’s injuries a few desks away. Why did he get the gold-star treatment? Because he’d cried victim first?

“Hey, hey! I think my friend here has a concussion. He needs medical treatment.”

“Sure, lady, we’ll get a paramedic over to look at him… eventually.” A round of laughter followed as I tried to get comfortable on my bench seat.

I kept an eye on Keith while pondering who to call first. I didn’t know any lawyers.

I mean, I talked to a few in the company on occasion, but those were business attorneys. Weren’t lawyers supposed to know other lawyers?

The tears started and I couldn’t help it. Everything had gone horribly wrong, and now I was stuck with cops who didn’t care. Police who couldn’t be bothered to see things from my point of view and a date that most likely had brain damage – it was all highly depressing.

“Daria?”

I looked up at the sound of my name, mascara stinging my eyes. I blinked as a handkerchief was blotted against them. My blurry vision cleared and I gasped in shock.

“Marcus? Is that you?” I looked him over in his suit. It was a far cry from the baseball uniform he’d worn in college. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm a defense lawyer. What’s going on?”

I poured out the whole story while Keith whistled and chuckled at himself beside me. A few times more, Marcus had to blot my eyes. “And that’s all of it. They’re calling me an accessory.”

“Do you have representation yet?” I shook my head. “You do now. Let me find out about your case.”

“Thank you, oh thank you!” I would have hugged him if my hands hadn’t been cuffed behind my back. After he walked away, I leaned against Keith. “We’re going to be okay.”

I took Keith drooling on my shoulder as a sign of his shared relief.

Please return for the continuation of Daria’s journey on November 26^th, only here on Digital Digest. If you'd like to catch up on Digital Digest stories, check out our ebooks available on Kindle and Nook!

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

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Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Daria's Dating Dilemma, Part Three

Daria’s Dating Dilemma, Part Three

When we left Daria on Aug 26^th, she was facing down the guy she’d just insulted and hours of horror at a party…

I walked forward with confidence, silently praying Keith wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. I held my hand out and, miracles, he shook it. “Pleased to meet you again.” I leaned in a little closer. “Sorry about last night.”

Keith removed his hand and frowned. “We’ll see. Maggie and Pat have set up snacks in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” I lied. Why stain a perfectly good skirt? Unfortunately, my belly chose that moment to rumble a loud symphony of starved in B flat.

Keith grabbed my elbow and tugged me along. “Don’t be silly. Try Maggie’s quiche.” My face must have given me away because he laughed deep and rich again. “Or there’s crackers.”

Crackers- no stains. I smiled and walked with him. It felt good to hear him laugh. Maybe he was the type to forgive a drunken girl’s mistake and move on. I’d really had fun with him last night, maybe today would be passable?

As soon as the kitchen door closed, I awoke from fantasy land and my dream Keith was gone. He leaned against the island frowning at me. Well, shit.

“I did say I was sorry. I was completely mistaken and I regret insulting you.” I started but got cut off by his movement away from me.

“Now you think it’s terrible to be gay?”

This was going from bad to worse and fast. “Absolutely not.” I snapped my mouth shut before my foot could slide further.

“Look, I know the honest truth about what you assume of me. So let’s try to get through this civilly. Honestly, when Pete told me about you, I couldn’t believe it was the same girl. Maggie and her stupid blind dates…”

“You get them too?” I tried injecting some humor into the situation and he cracked a semblance of a smile. “For what it’s worth, I did have a good time last night until my slip up.”

I made plans to underline the last rule in my notebook as soon as I got the chance. Why was it a gay man easily forgave you for thinking him straight, but a straight man held a grudge? Hell, they should find it a compliment.

“You were going to eat something,” Keith interrupted my thoughts, stacking his small plate with little food stuffs.

“Right,” I answered, not knowing what else to say. “Just taking in the selection.”

“It’s vegetables, crackers, dips, cheese, and quiche… are you that picky?”

A look at his face confirmed he was joking as I piled the less disastrous options on my own plate, cheese and crackers. “Well, I did keep hoping brownies would magically appear.”

He laughed outright. “Brownies would definitely have been better.”

“I make great brownies,” I winked as we walked out of the kitchen.

“I’ll have to try them sometime,” he responded sending my heart pounding. Was this it? Four rules written and Mr. Right had just fallen into my lap? Or was Keith the king of mood swing rollercoasters?

I looked over the room at hearing the increased chatter. A few more people had arrived while we’d been sequestered away. I studied the faces, thankful I didn’t recognize anyone so far. Keith guided me into a corner.

“Do you recognize anyone yet?” I shook my head and he grinned again. “So we don’t have to make their acquaintances yet. Want to play the story game again.”

“How well do you know Maggie?” I asked instead, not daring to add any possible insults to my good fortune.

“Not well.” Keith ate a carrot and thought about it before swallowing. “Only met her a few times. The few dates I’ve had with her friends went horribly bad.” He leaned in close enough I caught a whiff of his delicious cologne. “I’d say snob.”

“I won’t say anything then.” I hedged. “I love Pat to pieces and if he loves Maggie, there has to be something to like.”

“Well said. How long have you known Pat?”

I smiled warmly and found my friend across the room. “We grew up next to each other. Matter of fact, he was born a day after me. We were neighbors from birth you could say. Same schools until college, but we still kept in touch.” I pointed to a picture on the table next to us. “That’s me in the wedding photos.”

“You love him?”

I got the reaction a lot and nodded. “I love him like a brother.”

Keith smiled down at me and I grinned back. “You know, he gave me quite the speech about you. Even if Maggie called you a last resort.”

I laughed, surprising him I could tell. “Maggie holds a grudge. I drunkenly offered to spirit Pat away the night of his bachelor party. I was supposed to be at the bachelorette shindig, but skipped it to be at his. One of his friends let the secret slip in the best man speech.” I paused. “Were you at the wedding?”

“I had to miss it. I was working an account in England, but I did get a tape.” He stopped and then chuckled. “You’re the Daria Ned was talking about.”

I gave a little curtsey. “One and the same. Regardless of the laughs on the tape, Maggie didn’t find it too funny. I still get introduced as the friend who tried to kidnap her husband.”

Keith, bless his soul, actually winced on my behalf. “That goes over well I take it.”

“Not really. Stick with me today and they’ll avoid us like lepers.”

He moved in closer and whispered huskily, “Deal.”

We traded small talk about our childhood while finishing our snacks. Soon enough Maggie hustled everyone by us for introductions. I winked at my date as they all quickly found other places to be. I wasn’t kidding when I’d suggested her friends hated me. I was the plague she inherited by marriage. 

Too soon after, we were herded into groups for games. Keith and I ended up at Pictionary. Maggie, rot her, had set up game stations and we quickly learned many of the folks present were paired on blind dates.

“Remind me to get her a matchmaker hat,” I whispered to Keith, who chuckled and earned us stares from the team playing.

Finally our turn to draw and guess arrived. I was the champ at Pictionary; hell my dad and I were unbeaten in our family history. I hoped Keith was just as good. I drew my card, decided how to draw it out, and waited for the timer to be set. Putting marker to pad, I was confident Keith and I would kick some Pictionary ass.

“Stick, uh… tree. God, I’m horrible at this.”

I hurried to try a different method, confusing my date further. The competitor in me wanted to win, the lonely woman in me beat her into submission. I frowned at the paper when the timer went off, shrugged, and sat down next to Keith again.

“Sorry,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m better at trivia games.”

“How are you at charades? I think it will be our next rotation.” I smiled, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at the other players. There were no rules in Pictionary saying we had to be silent.

“I’m not sure, it’s been awhile,” Keith answered. “And I can tell your competitive. “

Crap. “It’s okay. I’m just used to playing with my family. Let’s practice charades.” I motioned over my shoulder and then mimicked eating and drinking.

Keith snapped his fingers, ignoring the startled woman beside him. “Let’s go to the kitchen for more snacks and drinks.”

I touched my finger to my nose. “Bingo,” I said, standing and smoothing my skirt. “Excuse us, we’ll be back. If we miss our turn, just play on.”

We moved quickly and sneakily toward the door, trying not to get caught by the host. I let out a sigh of relief as the door swung closed behind us and the kitchen was empty.  Maggie had put the snacks away, so I grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip. I swallowed and studied the label. Peach flavored, how uptown of her.

“You know, Daria. There’s something I wanted to do last night and I didn’t get the chance.”

I turned back to him. “What’s that?”

I was about to ask him if he’d meant to slap me or throw beer on me. Instead, his lips covered mine. By some other date miracle, I’d sat the peach water back on the counter before he moved in. My hands wrapped around his neck as his mouth studied mine. It was the sweetest, hottest kiss I’d ever tasted.

I let him lead, knowing it wasn’t smart for a girl to charge on (thank you, Cosmo) and my heart skipped a beat when his tongue traced my lips. Oh, I wanted to taste him. I pulled him closer and opened my lips in invitation. Keith molded my body into his and the heat of the solid muscle under the laid back clothes caused me to moan.

“Sam, you just have to see the kitchen remodel! I’m so glad you could…” Maggie’s excitement cut off as the door smacking into Keith’s back startled everyone. “Oh, I’m sorry Keith, can I help you find something?”

I quickly looked for a place to hide. Sam, otherwise known as Samantha, was Maggie’s best friend and therefore my arch nemesis. The fact that I’d just been caught in the kitchen in a less than proper position flushed me with color and guaranteed my leper status for centuries. I could hear her now, “This is the woman who tried to kidnap my husband and then acted lewdly on my granite counter…”

Keith’s left arm moved ever so slightly, allowing me to shift my position and hopefully cover up our previous activity. Thank God for tall men and my short stature. “No, my date and I were just looking for more wonderful snacks.”

“Oh, Daria. I didn’t see you.”

I nodded. “Hello, Maggie. Sam.” I caught her studying Keith’s face and sent a thank you to whichever scientist invented stay proof lipstick. “I was wondering where you found this great water.”

“Oh, it’s special delivery from Franco’s down the street. It is delicious, isn’t it?”

I nodded and watched as the long-legged, flat bellied, full chested Sam set her sights on my date. “I’m Sam,” she purred at him, fluffing her blonde hair with one hand while holding the other out. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Attention, this is your captain speaking; we’re going down… The alert rang out through my head. The only escape was to leave the kitchen by the back door and pray someone let me in the front. I cursed the tiny townhouse kitchen until Keith surprised me.

“Nice to meet you, Sam. Have you met my date, Daria?”

I blinked in surprise and then smiled broadly at the bimbo. I had actually won a round with the Pam Anderson twin. Keith tucked my arm in his and smiled politely at Maggie. “Maybe we’ll get something later. We’re probably missing our round at Pictionary.”

I let him lead me out, but I dreaded the silly games to come. I had managed to squash my competitive side once, would I be able to keep doing it? I was locked in a sea of sharks and had to play nice. God help me.

“I’ll try to do better,” Keith laughed and I realized I’d prayed out loud.

I smiled. “You better, or it’s off to Pictionary boot camp for you,” I joked to cover.

The best date of my life so far and I just wanted it to end before anything could happen to ruin it. The front door slammed and Pat turned as a man walked into the parlor area. I froze.

“Scott?” Pat asked, astonished. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

I watched, paralyzed as they hugged in their manly way and Maggie rushed past us to greet him. Eventually, Scott’s eyes turned and met mine. I saw surprise, warmth, and then the dreaded anger. Oh, for fuck’s sake! I wanted to throw my hands into the air and sign into a nunnery.

“Why, Keith, have you met Daria’s fiancé?” Sam chuckled smoothly behind us.

“Ex!” I countered quickly. “Ex-fiancé.”  Who is forever ruining my life, I added silently.

Mental note, rule number 5: Make sure your worthless, lying scumbag of an ex will NOT be at any date or anywhere within a 50 mile radius.

I looked up into Keith’s face hoping to find forgiveness. I should have dragged him out the kitchen’s back door and asked Pat to mail my handbag and jacket to the Bahamas. So much for my first great date…

Please return for the continuation of Daria’s journey on October 26^th, only here on Digital Digest. Get more for your dollar and catch up with us by checking out our ebooks on Amazon!

~Jennifer Feuerstein~

Facebook * Website * Twitter * Blog

Copyright © 2011 Jennifer Feuerstein

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.