Al’s Blind Date: The Al Series, Book Six by Constance C. Greene Page B

you’d never get here.” She had on a skin-tight black jumpsuit and a huge gold necklace that came halfway down her chest and clanked noisily.
    â€œCome meet Josh. He’s dying to meet you. I’ve told him all about you two.” She took me by the hand and dragged me into the fray. I grabbed Al’s hand and brought her along with me. If she thought she was going to escape at this stage of the game, she had another think coming.
    My mother told me to check out the decor. She likes to know about colors of slipcovers, walls, rugs, et cetera. The room was so crowded it was hard to see much. I noticed an old woman with white skin and bright red hair, holding an unlit cigarette in a long holder and waving her long-nailed hands around. Others moved in what seemed like slow motion, laughing, talking, drinking, flicking ashes into the potted palms.
    â€œJosh, darling! Did I promise you some lovely girls?” Sparky’s mom sounded positively joyous. “Don’t say I never do anything for you. Here they are.”
    â€œTa dah,” I heard Al whisper.
    Josh reclined in a big chair, his legs draped over the arm. The first thing I noticed was his high-heeled cowboy boots. They were dark red, the color of old blood, and beautiful. He wore chinos and a button-down shirt. He didn’t get up, only lifted a hand in greeting.
    â€œHey,” he said. “Have a seat.”
    â€œI’m thirsty,” Al said.
    â€œOf course you’re thirsty,” Sparky’s mom said, as if we’d traveled mile after dusty mile to reach this place. “Come with me and I’ll show you where the refreshments are. Don’t go away, darling,” she said to Josh, who looked as if he might fall asleep.
    â€œHe’s so shy,” Sparky’s mom said as we plunged through the crowd. “Be nice to him, will you? He needs attention, friends, love.”
    â€œWho doesn’t?” Al muttered under her breath.
    â€œJust help yourselves,” Sparky’s mom said. Then she turned to speak to someone and drifted out of sight.
    â€œHow tall is he?” Al asked me.
    â€œIn or out of his boots?” I said. “Have a shooter of Coke. You need sweetening.”
    Al and I picked. We ate stuffed mushrooms, nachos, and crudités, which is French for carrot sticks.
    â€œMaybe we better go back and talk to him,” I said after a while.
    â€œHeck with that,” Al said. “Let him come and talk to us. Listen,” she said, frowning, “I have a hunch the guy might be a midget. I knew I should’ve checked out how tall he was before I got suckered into this mess.”
    â€œDon’t be such a pill,” I told her. “It’s a party. Smile. Act as if you’re enjoying yourself.”
    When we got back to where Josh had been, he was gone.
    â€œMaybe someone kidnapped him,” Al said, noticeably brightening.
    â€œYou wish,” I said.
    â€œHey.” The call came from a nearby couch.
    â€œRats,” Al said.
    Josh had a friend with him. He had big chipmunk cheeks and aviator glasses and wore a vest.
    â€œHe must be your date,” Al said, grinning for the first time.
    We didn’t know where else to go, so we walked over.
    â€œThis is Mark,” Josh performed the introductions. “He’s my best buddy.”
    The four of us chatted up a storm.
    â€œSo what’s new in the Big Apple?” Mark said.
    â€œWhere are you guys from?” Al asked.
    â€œCincinnati,” Mark said.
    â€œWhat do you do for kicks in Cincinnati?” Al said.
    â€œWe mostly hang out at the mall,” Mark said. Josh may have fallen asleep by then, for all we knew. He sure wasn’t talking.
    â€œLots of action going on at the mall.” Mark smiled slyly.
    â€œGive me a for instance,” Al said.
    â€œOh,” Mark said, surprised. “The usual. You know. Dates, dances, flicks, video games.”
    â€œOh, wow,”