The Matchmaker Read online

  Now all that was left was to find out when they would be free and work from there. Wouldn't be too difficult, Allan could give me most of the gossip on Grace and I had connections with Joe's friends. Give it a week, and that pair could be added to my successes column.

  "Em?" Allan knocked on my door. It was by now a well-established rule that everyone who wanted to go into my room knocked, and if it wasn't answered, you did not enter. That had taken a while and a few embarrassing moments to institute, but it had finally been burned into Allan's brain.

  "Yeah?" I threw down the cover of my desk and opened the door. Allan was holding his cell phone a little way away from his ear, looking at it and me in complete bewilderment.

  "Phone's for you," he informed me hesitantly and shoved it into my hand. Now I was just as confused as he was. Who on earth would be calling me on Allan's cell? Hardly anyone even knew we associated, and none of those would want to speak to me.

  "Laycha?" I nearly dropped the phone. Why the hell was Darien McGavern calling me?

  * * *

  Darien

  * * *

  Okay, so maybe the whole idea was bad. Surely someone, somewhere, must be free. That begs the question, of course, of whether or not I would trust them with my house or brother, but still… Although I don't really trust anyone, so none of that matters.

  But it's not like any of this was my fault. I can't control if my father only now decided to inform me that Troy's usual sitter wasn't available for Wednesday, without regard for my plans tomorrow. And how the hell could I get a sitter on this short notice? I could ditch the party, I suppose, but that was a last resort. Greco threw the best parties, or at least the mock ones for weekdays the Greco told his parents were innocent. He was very good at getting everyone home without alerting their parents, too. So I really would not like to miss it. But there must be another way!

  The phone on the other end was ringing. I suppose I could find an alternate way of getting in touch with Emma, but this was the least effort and humiliation for me. Or so it had seemed until the phone started ringing.

  "McGavern?" Lex wasn't confused; true, I rarely call him, but not infrequently enough that it would raise questions.

  "Lex," I replied, rising and circling my room with quick steps, "Do you have Laycha's cell number?"

  I could hear his sharp intake of breath. That confounded him, I could tell. It confounded me too.

  "I can just give the phone to her," he suggested, suspiciously for Lex. So he didn't want me have her number. Why was he so protective of her?

  "That's fine. Can you do that now?" I agreed. No use in risking Lex's non-existent ire over something that trivial.

  "I'll get her. Hold on a sec." The sounds of his clomping steps echoed through the phone. SO Lex was near Emma at, I glanced at my watch, 7:00. Weird. What were they to each other? My circling hurried.

  I could hear a knocking through the phone lines, then soft negotiations to get Emma to open her door. Not only was he with herm but he was in her house. I wonder, I wonder.

  Finally the phone changed hands and I could hear Emma's softer breathing on the other side.

  "Laycha?"

  "Darien?" For one moment her shock shook me out of my nerves-not that I was nervous, I don't do apprehension, this was just a weird interaction- but then she recovered and I armed myself for the inevitable battle. "What do you want?"

  "Are you doing anything Wednesday evening?" Well, that was smooth. At least now it's all out there.

  Emma didn't say anything for a long moment. I hadn't stopped moving since I picked up the phone.

  "Why?" she broke the silence with her suspicions. I nearly laughed in relief. Trust Emma not to jump to horrific conclusions.

  "Because I am in search of a babysitter for Troy," I explained haughtily.

  "And I'm your choice?" she drawled, "I'm honoured."

  "Seriously, Laycha," I retorted, "The regular sitter called in busy; it's Alfred's day off; no other service I can find will take a job this short notice, and I-"

  'have to go to Greco's thing," she interrupted, "I know. But why me?"

  My mind had stopped at her knowledge of my schedule.

  "How the hell," I began, but she cut me off again.

  "Allan's going too. But why me?" Finally, an explanation that made sense!

  "Because you were the most likely person I knew to have no plans for tomorrow," I responded.

  "You know you have girls who would fall over themselves to get in line to help you in any way possible. So I repeat, and stop being factitious, why me?"

  Despite the fact that I didn't understand her vocabulary, I could get the gist of that command.

  "True," I agreed with more then a touch of my usual conceit, "But have you seen those girls? I wouldn't trust them in my house or with my brother for an instant."

  "So you trust me?" she immediately asked.

  "More then them," I chuckled disparagingly, "But that's not hard."

  Her scowl penetrated the distance between her house (wherever that is) and mine.

  "You sure know how to flatter a girl," she retorted.

  "I know. So…?"

  "I'm not sure," she said, but I was almost certain she was just taunting me now. She had all the cards, she could afford to.

  "Look, Laycha," I spat, getting sick of this game. It was usually fun, but I was serious for once, "tell me yes or no, I need to find someone soon."

  She laughed. Laughed, at my annoyance. She had a really bad habit of doing that. The nerve. But if there's one thing Laycha has in spades, it's nerves.

  "Of course I will," she cooed. I shuddered. That tone was even scarier coming from her then any of my groupies. But then her voice changed back into its usual brisk tone, "Don't have anything better to do tomorrow, you were tight."

  From anyone else, it would have been a fatal admission of weakness in our war of wits. From her, though, it was only offering Tantalus a single grape.

  "I know," I replied with the same casual arrogance. I could almost feel her eyes roll.

  "So, 6 tomorrow, my house?" I confirmed before she had time to take offense and back out.

  "Sure," she agreed.

  "Good. See you then." I had almost ended the call before she retorted.

  "No, we still have more to talk about."

  "What?" Despite my lazy tone, I was getting slightly worried. She sounded too smug to bode well for me. She was grinning evilly, I could tell.

  "We haven't discussed price yet," she said sibilantly. I nearly groaned.

  o0O0o0O0o

  I collapsed into a chair after a long bargaining session with Laycha. WE had finally picked a mutually satisfactory price, mainly because I really didn't care; it was just fun to argue with her.

  A crinkle from my pocket reminded me of the Matchmaker's note I had picked up earlier. I pulled it out to read.

  Touché, Darien, Touché. But you still need better lines.

  First Laycha, then the Matchmaker. Good Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 11

  * * *

  Emma

  * * *

  I took a deep breath as I walked up to the McGavern Manor. Last time I was here, I had been so focused on figuring out how to convince Darien- well, manipulate Darien- into working that I had rung the bell and was ushered inside before I could be intimidated. This time, though the massive pillars and rococo decorations more then slightly overawed me. I, in my ancient jeans and baggy, comfortable sweatshirt, had no right to be anywhere near this place, according to the house. And honestly, the house's opinion was beating mine.

  I glanced at my watch. 5:59. No point to waiting, it would just start me off on a bad foot. Well, worse foot. Troy had seemed nice, but who knows how Darien had influenced him since then. I rang the bell, hearing it toll faintly in the house. Feet pounded to the door and yanked it open.

  "Come in," Darien ordered, nearly dragging me through the entrance hall to the family wing, "Right on tim
e. Good."

  "You're welcome?" the hurry of this was confusing me slightly. He finally let go of my wrist in the immaculate kitchen.

  "So, money's on the table if you want anything, well, anything in reason, there's stuff for dinner in the fridge, my cell number and other emergency numbers are posted by the phone, I should be back by midnight to relieve you, his bed time's 9:00 and don't let him con you into anything later, feel free to sleep or do whatever after he goes to bed, just don't burn down the house," I was nodding, absorbing all the information he was spitting at me with an ease that came of long hours of taking orders as he finished, "got all that?"

  I nodded. He raised an eyebrow skeptically, but didn't contradict me.

  "Good. Troy can tell you anything else, or worst comes to worst you can call me. But that's emergency only. Do not call me otherwise. Where is Troy, anyway?"

  "How should I know?" I drawled. He was in too much of a fuss to care about the implied insult. It was rather amusing, actually, a 16 year old, arrogant, bastard of a boy acting like his brother's mother.

  "Rhetorical question," he responded off-handedly, "Troy! Come down here!"

  "Coming!" the boy's higher voice wafted down the stairs.

  "He has to do his homework, too," Darien suddenly turned to me, "Don't let him get out of it."

  "Okay," I shrugged, "Now if only you paid that amount of attention to your own work."

  He turned the full force of his seductive almost smirk on me. I had seen girls literally swoon from that look. It had no power over me. Well, I didn't let it have nay power over me.

  "Well, at least now I have one A."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Practicing your seduction tactics?"

  "I don't need to practice," he retorted haughtily.

  "Well, just manage to get here with your pants on by midnight," I replied mockingly.

  "You know you would rather them off."

  "And preferably sober," I added, pointedly ignoring him, "And do me a favour and keep Allan in check? He's supposed to give me a ride."

  "Will do," he saluted sarcastically, tossing his dark blonde hair.

  Troy trotted down just in time to cut off my witty retort. Pity, it would have been a zinger, but Darien immediately shifted back into mother-hen mode.

  "Here's Emma," he announced, "You know each other. I've got to go. Have fun, children."

  "Because the party can't start until he gets there," I muttered to Troy in a very audible voice. He tried to hold in a laugh, but it exploded out of him. Darien gave me a scowl and ruffled his brother's hair. He disappeared with a parting,

  "Be good, kid!" from the hall, followed by a, "that didn't mean you, Troy!"

  I rolled my eyes and turned to face the boy. He was beaming up at me, his expression as different from his brother's habitual smirk or scowl as day and night.

  "So," I asked, leaning on the counter, "What do you want to do?"

  He shrugged, still grinning broadly.

  "I dunno. Can I have dinner, please?"

  "Sure," I opened the fridge. A massive array of foods that I had no idea how to even begin to prepare met my eyes. What did Darien think I was, a freaking chef? I turned back to Troy, "If you can tell me how to make anything in here."

  He hopped off his stool and walked over to another cabinet, laughing under his breath.

  "Macaroni and cheese is okay," he told me, tossing over a box of Kraft ™. I caught it easily and looked dubiously at the instructions.

  "I think I can manage this. But I warn you," I admonished as I peered around for a pot, "I can burn water."

  "That's okay," he perched on a counter stool as I put the water on to boil, "So why are you baby-sitting?"

  "Your brother called me in desperation," I replied distractedly, focusing intently on the stove.

  "So this is all a favour for Dar?" he asked, resting his elbows on a countertop so smooth I was nearly afraid to touch it.

  "No, I wanted the money too," I carefully added the noodles to the water, cringing for the inevitable disaster.

  "You go to Dar's school, don't you? Then why do you need the money?" What was this the Spanish inquisition?

  "I said want, not have. And not all kids at that school are rich. There are scholarship programs."

  "But you cam here 'cause Dar asked, right?" he pressed. God, obviously Darien's persistence was genetic.

  "No, because I wanted the money and I could get a good deal out of him." I poured the water into a colander, not even killing myself in the process.

  "So, do you like Dar? At all?" His attempts at matchmaking were amateur, to say the least. It was a sapling speaking to an ancient oak in that respect.

  "He's not as bad as I thought," I admitted without thinking as I tipped the noodles back into the pot, "But I never thought much of him at all."

  "Oh," Troy's face fell a bit, "Do all the girls at school like him?"

  "Basically, except me," I shook the cheese into the pot and stirred cautiously.

  "Do I have to act like him to get girls to like me?"

  Finely honed instincts made me forget momentarily about the food and smirk at the boy, whose bright blonde head was resting on his hands. Someone was having courting problems…

  "Want to tell me the lucky lady's name?" I inquired with a grin.

  "Alexa," he replied mournfully, voice muffled by his hands, "But she won't even notice me."

  "Look on the bright side," I suggested, setting down the bowl of mac and cheese, "then she doesn't dislike you. And I don't think your dinner is burned."

  He took a bite, but I could tell he wasn't tasting it. The only taste on his tongue was the bitterness of thwarted affection.

  'But both her best friends like me!" he exclaimed. I oohed in alarm and sympathy.

  "That is bad," I agreed, "but not insurmountable."

  He perked up, his head lifting so quickly I was almost afraid he would strain it or something.

  "It's not?"

  "Nope," I stated emphatically, "trust me on this, I'm good at it. I give you my word I will help you in anyway possible."

  Hey, he was a good kid, seemed worth helping. And Darien would be of no use. Troy's sunlit appeal was very different from Darien's brooding, bad boy magnetism.

  "Now, tell me everything," I commanded.

  "Well, we met in 2nd grade…" he interrupted himself to take a bite of macaroni and cheese. A shocked expression came over his face as he swallowed. Had I poisoned him? That wouldn't be good. Damn, I knew I should have tasted it first. Or we should have ordered pizza. Pizza is always fun.

  "Hey!" he exclaimed, "this isn't half bad!"

  My ego jumped at least a foot.

  * * *

  Darien

  * * *

  "Laycha?" I called softly as I strode into the house. She didn't answer, but she couldn't have heard me from here unless she had super sonic hearing or something. I walked quickly to the family wing.

  "Emma?" I called again, louder this time. Troy would sleep through it; Troy could sleep through a hurricane, a train wreck, and a tornado happening at the same time. She still didn't answer. She wouldn't have ditched, would she? I peered into the den and let out a relieved breath. Emma was curled into a ball on a chair, obviously asleep.

  I grinned and padded over to her, planning to shock her awake. AS soon as I got within a yard of her, though, she sat up, blinking sleepily.

  "Midnight already?" she yawned. I nodded.

  "Yeah." She yawned again and stretched, but didn't rise, instead, curling back up.

  "Has Allan left yet?" she asked, still bleary-eyed, "He better be coming soon, I'm tired."

  "You aren't gong with Lex," I informed her. She raised her eyebrows.

  "Why ever not?"

  "Because last I saw him, he was well on his way to passing out."

  I couldn't tell her I really had tried to stop Lex, though I had failed. Lex and drinks were like magnets, they just attracted each other. I couldn't stop it, no
one can. I may not drink if I'm going to look after Troy, but he obviously has no such scruples. But if I told Emma I had tried, she would think it was me caving to her demands.

  "Damn," she muttered, "Guess I'm walking."

  She rose, but I moved to block her way out.

  "No, you won't," I stated, "I may live in a good neighborhood, but I'm not going to let a girl walk home alone at this hour."

  "What could happen to me?"

  I had never thought innocence one of her faults, especially not of something like that.

  "A lot," I replied, "So you'll have to wait for someone else to come home, and then I'll drive you."

  "I'll be fine," she spat, trying half-heartedly to get around me, but her anger was still half-asleep like the rest of her, "You needn't bother."

  "Yeah, I do." So I sounded a bit reluctant, anyone would f they had to stay up to drive some chit home.

  "You really are a gentleman, aren't you?" she drawled, curling back up on the chair.

  "Don't let it get around," I retorted. I couldn't afford people thinking I could be nice, after all. There was a reason not many people knew I had basically raised my kid brother.

  "Whatever you say. So when is someone returning?"

  "Alfred should be home soon," I told her, sitting down on a chair facing her.

  "Where are your parents?" she inquired. It seemed she was determined to talk, and I had nothing better to do until Alfred came back. I shrugged.

  "Somewhere."

  "Won't they be home soon? Midnight is a long time to stay out."

  Damn her, no one is supposed to ask these things!

  "Maybe. Doubt it. They're on a trip." In all honesty, I had no idea where they were. All I knew was that they weren't home. Nothing more then that mattered. It's not like they ever cared where I was, anyway. But Emma didn't need to know anything about my family life. She knew far more then anyone else (except maybe Brock) already, and she most certainly was not going to learn any more.

  "You're lying," she informed me matter-of-factly.

  "No I'm not!" I snapped, stung. Why would she just assume I was lying? I mean, so I was, but she had no way of knowing that.