Impossible Dreams, page 3
“I’m scared,” he heard the girl next door saying. “I went on a blind date my sister arranged once and swore I’d never go out with a stranger again.”
“Your sister had nothing to do with this date, and it will be worth going, if you get what you want,” the other girl said, chuckling.
“That’s true,” his neighbor said, and Chance sank down in a chair and closed his eyes. Didn’t she have any sense at all? Eating a pizza without knowing who left it was risky, but going out with a stranger to get laid was suicide.
* * * *
Chance paced the floor, waiting for his neighbor to go to bed. He needed to talk to her, although he didn’t know how he was going to introduce the subject of safety on a blind date. Or any date. She’d chastise him for eavesdropping or she’d change the subject, but if her parents hadn’t taught her to protect herself, someone had to.
He knew her routine by heart. First, she turned off the TV. Then, she ran water, he assumed to brush her teeth. The commode flushed. She tested her clock radio by flipping the switch so it came on; then she switched it off. Then the bedsprings squeaked. He’d learned to wait until she was in bed to turn on his tapes and he’d timed her reactions. She waited about five minutes before she knocked. He looked at his watch. Her TV was still on and it was a half an hour past her bedtime.
He turned on his stereo and waited. Five minutes went by, and he turned it up to full volume. The burly guy upstairs stomped his feet. The little old lady on the other side of his apartment rapped on the wall with her cane. Lucky barked and growled at the stereo, ceiling, and wall. Chance turned the stereo down. No sound came from her apartment. She must have gone out. He was too late.
He tried to sleep but couldn’t, until he heard her door close. She was home, safe. Listening to her move about, he pictured her taking off her stockings. Again. Slithering out of her dress. Again. He banged on her wall. “Have you ever heard of disease?”
He heard her turn on her clock radio briefly. He heard her bedsprings creak. She had sense enough to double-check her alarm, so why would she take a chance with a strange man?
“What kind of disease do you have?”
Chance counted to ten. “I don’t have any. I heard you talking about going on a blind date.”
Her laughter bubbled like fresh water from the spring back home. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop. But since you’re concerned, I haven’t been out on a date. When I go, however, I’ll be cautious. Have you ever had a blind date... What’s your name? If we’re going to talk, I feel I should call you something.”
Chance’s dog took that moment to jump up on the bed and lick his face. “Stop, Lucky,” he whispered. The dog slobbered on his chin. “Lucky, dammit,” he shouted.
“You don’t need to be rude about it. I’m sorry I asked.” She banged on the wall twice. “If you can’t act polite, don’t talk to me.”
Lucky growled at the wall again.
* * * *
Saturday morning dawned hotter than Hades, and Lori moaned when she looked in the mirror and saw bags under her eyes.
In the back room of My Friend’s Closet, she applied wet tea bags to her puffy eyes and hoped no one came through the front door while she stretched out on the cot. She hadn’t slept well all week.
She’d been traumatized when Lucky started growling. A man named Lucky who strutted around in his Underoos and growled at the wall was a threat to society.
When she had managed to grab some shuteye, she’d had nightmares of her Dream Date complaining to W.L. that she was ugly and shapeless. W.L. denied responsibility, said she’d lied on her entry form, and told him to file suit for misrepresentation against her. The guy did and his name was Lucky and he growled at her from the witness stand.
Lynne, who was even bossier than other attractive people Lori knew, invaded her waking hours by phoning half-adozen times a day with hints on how to walk, talk, sit, and breathe. Last night, she complained, “You always sound like you’ve been running.”
Lori couldn’t help it that her allergies kicked in the moment she came home from work, but try to explain that to her sister.
It took a couple of days to learn Calvin had a dog named Lucky. When she heard little feet padding around the patio, followed by a bark, her face turned one hundred shades of red. She’d ignored the loud tapes and the knocking on her wall for two nights, but that night, she banged. “You should have told me you bought a dog,” she said.
Calvin sounded pretty amused when he gasped an apology.
He had a sense of humor and, self-admittedly, was her favorite boy-next-door-type of guy. But, he had a lot of questionable habits, and she needed to concentrate on winning the contest. Today was her big chance. She needed a car. The ledgers were too heavy to carry and she wanted to do her bookwork at home.
Shielding her eyes from the light, Lori checked her watch. Lynne would be here in a little while. Her sister liked designer clothes, not secondhand outfits sold at a third their original price, but she’d offered to tend the store while Lori drove into St. Louis for the taping of Dream Date.
Butterflies danced frantically inside her stomach every time she thought about meeting the man of her Dreams. Correction. Someone else’s Dreams. She had no concept of what qualities she’d want in a man. Honest, she supposed. And down to earth. She yawned widely. Damn. If she fell asleep on this date, it would be Calvin’s fault, but she was the one who would be mortified.
The music and tapes he played stirred some fantasies, and she’d never been the fantasy type. She’d lain awake, dreaming impossible Dreams with him. Learning to sell herself with self-assertive behavior. Listening to him talk tenderly to Lucky. Wondering what Calvin was really like. Last night, when she’d told him she was going on her blind date tonight, he’d said she should be careful and sounded concerned. Compassion would be a nice quality in a dream guy.
“I’m here.” Lynne’s cheery voice grated on Lori’s tired ears, and when her sister burst through the drapes to the back room, looking sensational at ten in the morning, she wanted to throw soggy tea bags at her. “Are you ready to leave?” Lynne asked.
The butterflies did a wild fandango and fear clutched Lori’s stomach. “I’m not sure I can go. I don’t feel well.”
Lynne laughed, smoothed Lori’s hair, and pushed her toward the door. “I haven’t heard that since you were in grade school. Don’t worry, hon, everything will be fine. But here...” She swung a gold key ring in front of Lori’s eyes. “To put you in the mood for a Dream Date and winning a Dream car, take my Lexus and listen to the CD I bought you.”
When “Dream the Impossible Dream” spilled forth from the CD player in Lynne’s car, Lori rapidly pushed “Eject”.
* * * *
Chance liked his hair longer in back, and didn’t care for the stylish cut the suave hairdresser gave him, but he could do GQ if that’s what Dreams wanted. The brushed cotton pants were soft as a well-used chamois, and the nubby linen sport coat suited his taste. The two shades of beige, set off by a pullover the same blue as his eyes, were perfect. The loafers were as comfortable as ten-year-old Topsiders, even though the wardrobe woman told him not to wear socks so his tanned ankles would show. Like any woman cared about ankles.
What sort of woman would they match him with? His stomach muscles tightened and he straightened his jacket. When he married, he wanted a woman who’d cuddle up in his arms when their kids were in bed. Meeting at a program like this, he didn’t expect to find the maternal type, but it didn’t matter. All he had to do was put on a good show and act as if she were his dream come true. They’d go on a date, report back they’d clicked, and they’d get the house. He had it figured out that if she was single, looking for a man, she’d rather have cash, so he’d buy her out. He’d have to float a loan but with the house for collateral, no problem.
Chance straightened his spine and tried to look alert. His neighbor kept him awake last night. When Red—he didn’t know her name—spoke from the other side of the wall, he felt like she was lying next to him. And that breathy quality to her voice brought visions to mind of a red-haired beauty in a naughty nightie. That was when he sat up in bed and gave himself a lecture. He and his neighbor misunderstood one another constantly. She’d gotten ticked that he laughed when she thought he was growling, but thought it was funny when he worried about her getting disease on her blind date.
“Three minutes to show time.”
Chance took a deep breath. He didn’t like to be judged on his appearance, but it made sense to use his assets to reach his life goals. Some people didn’t know what they wanted out of life, but he had his Plan. It didn’t matter that his next-door neighbor was going out with a stranger tonight. She wasn’t his concern. He wanted a house. Not a wife. Not yet.
* * * *
Lori perched uneasily on the tall stool. The wardrobe woman, hairdresser, and makeup man had made such remarkable transformations, she felt as if her phobias should have disappeared. But her fear of heights hadn’t gone anywhere.
She’d been a weenie, letting the wardrobe lady fit her with a push-up bra with pads, but she couldn’t resist a downward glance at the cleavage that had miraculously appeared. In the celery-green dress with a softly gathered skirt and mid-calf hemline, she’d look like Miss Purity, if it weren’t for the low neckline and high-heeled sandals. Victoria, a sophisticated blonde, wore slacks and a matching short-sleeved sweater that were more Lori’s style. The other contestant, Danielle, looked like a siren in a short red dress that set off her long black hair.
Lori toyed with the printed scarf tied around her waist, glad her allergies weren’t bothering her. She hadn’t sneezed since early morning and her breathlessness was gone. It would have been embarrassing to gasp on screen.
She wished she could see the guys on the other side of the curtain that divided the stage. If she wanted to win the ’Vette badly enough, she’d have let the colorist brighten her hair, but she refused to become a carbon copy of Lynne.
The TV station was a local cable channel Lori never watched, so it was no wonder she hadn’t seen the commercials. It also explained how the number of contestants had been narrowed down to three men and three women. Hundreds might have entered, but she doubted there were thousands.
Hearing the announcer say Victoria loved bungee jumping, Lori hooked her heels around the legs of the stool. Next, he told the audience that Danielle appeared in off-Broadway shows while studying dance in New York.
“And now,” the announcer called. Lori gulped when he called out her name. “Lori owns a unique little clothing store and loves flowers, animals, and sports.”
Her qualifications sounded as thrilling as an afternoon nap and were a stretch of the truth, at that. She sat through a whole basketball game once, but Lynne snitched and told everyone she’d been reading a book. She had a pot of geraniums on her porch and watered them when she remembered. She hadn’t gone to the zoo since her sixth grade field trip when a giraffe nuzzled her neck, she shrieked, and Tommy Jones whom she secretly loved, laughed so hard he wet his pants.
Victoria laughed, or was it a purr? The emcee was describing the men, and she and Danielle were practically drooling. “The third candidate is Chance Dawson.”
Third? She’d daydreamed her way through two, and the third was Chance? She was so reluctant to take a chance; she’d never bought a ticket on the lottery. But if he’s a risk taker, he’ll rather have a car than a house.
“...and long walks on the beach,” the announcer finished.
Darn. If he liked to walk, he might not want a car, but to get to a beach, you needed to travel, so he might.
“That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. After our judges vote, we’ll open the curtains that bisect the stage, and each of you will meet the person we’ve chosen to be your Dream Date. While you’re waiting for the judges to vote, we’ll flash the pictures you submitted on the screen, and beside each one, we’ll show the contestant after his or her makeover. Just look over your shoulder, contestants.”
Picture? I’m supposed to have submitted a picture too?
Lori wanted to look, but if she turned around, she’d get dizzy and fall off her stool. Silence descended over the audience and she felt faint. Her picture couldn’t be her, and although she felt a tiny bit pleased that W.L. would learn he’d made a mistake, he might kick her out of the competition. Since she’d come this far, she’d like to see the guys and the ’Vettes.
“And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for.” Lori had to look when curtains at the back of the stage parted, and the audience gasped. The two Corvettes were a silver that outshone any silver she’d ever seen. Behind them, a variety of houses were shown on the screen, all of them lavish. “And now for the real-ly big moment.”
Would he stop showing off and talking like Ed Sullivan and get on with the show? Lori shakily turned back.
Drums rolled, trumpets sounded. The bisecting curtain started to open to the swelling sound of “Dream the Impossible Dream”.
“There it is, folks, our theme song.”
Lori, who’d felt haunted by the song, smiled as she realized the “Dream Show” must be responsible for its resurgence.
“And there they are, contestants, your Dream Matches.”
The stools stood in angled rows, half-facing each other,
and when her eyes landed on a guy with black hair, her heart leaped and landed with a resounding thump. Their eyes snagged, he raised the corner of his mouth in a half-grin, and her whole body heated up. Sliding her gaze down his lean frame, she fixed her eyes on his tanned ankles. She had to remember—she didn’t like handsome men. Didn’t like handsome men. Didn’t like handsome men.
Chapter 3
Lori forced a glance at a sandy-haired guy who looked friendly, darted a look at the other contestant, and unable to restrain herself, looked back at the handsome one.
The third male was burly with brown hair and wearing a muscleman shirt that showed the tattoos on his biceps. Shuddering, she looked at the guy-next-door type again and thought of Calvin.
“Our contest coordinator, W.L. Graham, will introduce each of you to your Dream Date,” the emcee shouted. More drums and trumpets. Suspense built. “Will the contestants please stand?”
Forget Calvin. She was about to be embarrassed before all of Eastview, St. Louis, and surrounding territory. The burly tattooed guy would be hers, she just knew. The word “stand” echoed through the sound system, and Lori tried to slide off her stool, but perspiration stuck her dress to the seat. She jerked, slid down, and toppled the stool. A guy with zits rushed out of the wings to stand it up. W.L. walked to center stage as if nothing had happened, and she wished a crack would open between the boards, sucking her into oblivion.
“Let’s flash those before and after pictures on the screen again.” The audience groaned. “We want you to see how well we’ve treated these people,” W.L. said, mopping sweat from his baldhead. “Have a little courtesy, please.”
Why couldn’t he get this over with? A trickle of perspiration channeled her new cleavage as she waited. When the audience saw Lori was the wrong woman, she and W.L. would be laughed off stage. It would be better if she stepped forward now and said it was all a mistake. She shot a glance toward the guy with blue eyes and he winked—at her.
Lori’s lips smiled of their own accord and froze in that expression. She couldn’t tell W.L. the truth now. The nextdoor-type guy probably wanted a house, but the daring guy with the hot blue eyes looked like the car type. And even if he wasn’t... His face heated up and so did hers, but she immersed herself in those eyes and shut out the rest of the world while W.L. prattled on.
“Two couples will be treated to dinner and dancing at the Crystal Chandelier.” He called out some names. “Now listen to this. Our winning Dream Couple will spend an entire weekend in a secluded exotic spot where everything is on us. And those two will be in line to win a Dream Home, custom-built anywhere in the U.S.A, if they fall in love.”
