All three of us froze, my dad’s pen poised over the crossword and my mom stuck between the refrigerator and the stove. “Um,” I said. “Did someone order food?”
My dad made it over to the video surveillance monitor in what seemed like less than two steps. “It’s a short person,” he said. “Maggie, she looks like someone you would know.”
Oh no oh no oh no.
“Roux!” I gasped when I opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Sorry I’m late!” she said, flouncing into the room. “I know, we’ve gotta do, like, three hours of prep in about half an hour, but don’t worry, I’ve been training for an emergency like this. Oh, hi!”
My parents probably would have looked less horrified if there were a group of rogue assassins in the room. “Hi?” my mom said. “Um, Maggie—?”
“I’m Scarlet,” Roux said, reaching forward to shake my mom’s hand. “Everyone call me Roux, though. Except my grandma, but she lives in Arkansas, so who cares? Hi!” Now she was pumping my dad’s arm up and down.
The jig was up.
“Is this the Roux that you were supposed to go see tonight?” my mom muttered under her breath.
“How did you know where I lived?” was the only thing I could think to ask her.
“I saw you go inside the building last week,” Roux said, setting down her bag and starting to unwind her scarf. “And then I just took the elevator up.”
So apparently the security in this building was complete crap. Great. I’ll sleep like a baby knowing that.
“But what are you—?”
“Getting you ready for your date. Duh.” Roux started to rummage through her bag. “I went to Sephora today. Thank me later.”
“Your what?” my parents said at the same time.
I took a huge, gigantic, deep breath. Roux glanced up from her scrounging. “Oh,” she said, eyeing my parents. “Oops.”
“Yes,” I said. “Oops.”
“You have a date?” my mom asked. “With a boy?”
“No, with a tortoise,” I said. “Yes, of course with a boy! With a boy named Jesse Oliver.”
“Ah,” my dad said. “You have a date. With Jesse Oliver.” I could almost see the aneurysm bulging behind his left eye. “Okay, then. Do we have any wine?”
“I’m sorry!” Roux whispered to me. “You didn’t say that your parents didn’t know! Are you grounded now?”
“How long have you known about this date?” my mom asked, interrupting Roux. “Weeks, days, what?”
“Um, a good amount of hours,” I said. “Roughly speaking? I just thought it would be a nice way to get to know him better. You know?”
“Yes,” my dad said. “It would.” He was uncorking the wine bottle at record speed. “Your first date. And it’s with Jesse Oliver. Wonderful.”
“This is your first date?” Roux squealed. “Oh my God! Then you need to wear this!” She dug around and found a pink sweater. “When I bought this, the salesgirl called the color ‘salmon.’ Salmon!” She shook it in my mom’s direction, and my mom nodded and widened her eyes at me as Roux dove back into her bag. “Can you believe it? I was like, ‘Honey, listen. Salmon’s a fish, not a color.’” She glanced up at me. “Those are your staying-in jeans, right?”
“Right,” I said, even though I had kind of planned on wearing them out. “Hey, why don’t you go poke around in my closet and—”
There was another knock at the door, but this time it was all too familiar. So familiar, in fact, that the person went ahead and let himself in. “Hello?” Angelo said, stepping into the loft. “Is this a bad time?”
“Oh, no, this is just peachy,” I said. “The more, the merrier.”
“Angelo, what are you doing here?” my mom said, going over to him. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course, my dear, of course. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I might stop by.”
Both of my parents turned to look at me. “Does Angelo know, too?” My dad gaped. “Really? Did you tell everyone but your parents?”
“Hi!” Roux piped up. “I’m Roux! Love the suit.”
Angelo shook her hand. “Thank you, lovely to meet you, I’m sure. Maggie has told me a great many things about you.”
Roux beamed at me. “Well, the good things are better and the bad things are much worse, I assure you. So who are you?”
“Angelo,” he said. “A longtime family friend.”
“Cool.”
I halfway hoped that someone was taking a video of the scene that was unfolding in our kitchen, it was that ridiculous. Angelo and Roux shook hands while my parents and I watched them, mouths open like it was the most amazing tennis match. I was pretty sure that this was going to be one of those situations that was funnier in the past tense. Like Luxembourg.
“And you go to school with Maggie?” Angelo straightened his cufflinks.
“Ugh, yes. Ugh to the school part, not Maggie, of course.” Roux squeezed my arm. “She’s, like, my best friend. What do you do?”
For several seconds, no one said a word, and then Angelo let it fly.
“Well,” he said, “I happen to be a world-class forger.”