Page 31 of My Killer Blind Date

George’s eyes open wide. ‘No. Margot.’

I cringe. ‘I don’t have anything else.’

‘What time is your date?’

‘Six—’

‘We are going shopping. No ifs, ands, or buts. Finish your steak. Chop-chop.’

A few ifs, ands or buts do occur to me – like my current lack of money. Now that I’m covering Zoe’s rent as well as mine, it’s in viciously short supply. Also, I still have preparations to make for the date. I never made it to the bear hug defense video, or the elbow strike.

‘Can’t he just, you know … love me for who I am?’ I try with a cheesy grin.

George’s eyes might as well be laser beams.

‘Girl,’ she says, her voice dead serious. ‘Don’t make me pull the bridezilla card.’

Chapter Ten

It’s almost six. The evening is cool and headed toward chilly as I hop off the crowded bus and walk toward Navy Pier.

I find my way to a bench in front of the Chicago Children’s Museum, which stands guard at the beginning of the pier, where Liam and I agreed to meet.

Even though I’m now the proud owner of a very nice leather jacket to the tune of a hundred-fifty bucks – and that was the sale price, be still my heart – I chose, as per my plan, to ‘forget’ it at home. I’m dressed in an entirely new weather-inappropriate outfit: an ivory midi pleated skirt and cropped tank combo with sneakers and oversized hoop earrings. An outfit that made George go apoplectic with glee, probably because it makes me look like a normal, well-adjusted and even possibly attractive person who takes care of herself. But more importantly, the outfit guarantees I’ll be freezing my ass off within the hour. From there, Liam’s apartment will be the natural next step – I’ll make sure of it.

While I wait, I stick one hand in my purse and practice challenging myself to find various weapons quickly. Stun gun – one second. Not bad. Knife … two seconds. Too slow!

‘Margot,’ says a voice, and I jolt up from the bench, releasing the knife back into my purse.

Liam looks incredible. Jeans and a tan leather jacket over a long sleeve Henley. He smells good too, like he just shaved, which I notice as we give each other a quick hug. ‘You look beautiful. But aren’t you cold?’ he says as we pull away.

‘Cold? Hah! Me? No. I’m great!’ I have to keep the cold card a little longer so it doesn’t seem contrived. ‘Should we walk?’ Oh God. I’m talking too fast. Can he tell I’m nervous? I have to stop being nervous.

‘I have something for you first.’

‘Like, a present?’

‘Yeah. Like a present.’ From his pocket, he pulls out a small, badly wrapped package, and gives me a half-grin that I’d interpret as nervous if I didn’t believe there was a stone-cold killer lurking under there.

I take it; it’s about the size of my palm. ‘Love the Christmas paper.’

He scratches the back of his neck, his expression adorably shamefaced. ‘All I had on hand.’

I rip it open, with no idea what to expect and – oh my God. What? An uncontrollable bubble of laughter bursts out of my mouth.

A squirrel. A tiny, porcelain squirrel standing on its hind feet with a nut between its paws, two big black shiny eyes looking at me and, for reasons that defy logic, a sentient, smiling strawberry sitting on its head. It’s simultaneously the ugliest and cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

‘Where did you find this?’ I say, turning it over in my hands. The squirrel’s eyes are manic, his paws creepily hand-like. I think I’ll call him Ramone. The strawberry is clearly a Rhonda.

‘Thrift store. I was walking by and saw it in the window. Obviously, I had to get it for you.’

‘It’s hilarious. And creepy.’ And sweet. ‘Thank you.’ Impulsively, I go on tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek – just a peck, but the warmth from the brief contact travels down my whole body. Then I tuck Ramone back into his wrapping paper and into my purse. It bumps against the weapons, sending a chill straight through me. It’s like there’s a wall between the two halves of me and they aren’t communicating. One side feels all mushy because of how thoughtful and sweet his gift is. The other is like, Girl, watch out – or you might die.

I tune into side two and try to stamp out my warm feelings. It’s going to take more than a ceramic squirrel wearing a sentient fruit to make me let my guard down, buster.

We set off down the crowded pier. Families push kids in strollers, couples hold hands, tourists pause to snap pictures of the pier and the skyline behind us. I half wonder if Liam is going to reach for my hand, so I wrap my arms around myself, because I’m not ready for that.

‘Maybe we could do the Ferris wheel?’ I suggest.