FIRST DATE
“So, are you asking me out for New Year’s Eve, Jack?”
He clears his throat. “I’d, um, rather ask you in person, Diane, and by then I ought to know where we can go. So, will you go with me or meet me somewhere for lunch tomorrow?”
I smile. “Sure. How about Bandini’s on Market?”
“Could I pick you up in front of the library at twelve-thirty-five?”
“That would be great.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Great.”
More silence, but it’s the kind of silence you swim in and enjoy, waves of silence filled with tingling, sweaty fingers and warm hands.
“I’m glad you called, Diane.”
“Good bye, Jack.”
Click.
I…have…a…date!
I, a twenty-five year old suede sister with some junk in my trunk am going out to lunch with a six-foot, skinny, ashy, blond-haired, blue-eyed scarecrow.
Lord, we are going to clash so badly!
And, for some reason, I can’t wait!
It’s about time I had some kind of life.
Books by J. J. Murray
RENEE AND JAY
SOMETHING REAL
ORIGINAL LOVE
I’M YOUR GIRL
CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF YOUR LOVE
TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING
THE REAL THING
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
I’m Your Girl
J. J. MURRAY
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
For Amy
Contents
1. Diane Denise “Dee-Dee” “Nisi” Anderson
2. Jack Browning
3. Diane
4. Jack
5. Diane
6. Jack
7. Diane
8. Jack
9. Diane
10. Jack
11. Diane
12. Jack
13. Diane
14. Jack
15. Diane
16. Jack
17. Diane
18. Jack
19. Diane
20. Jack
21. Diane
22. Jack
23. Diane
24. Jack
25. Diane
26. Jack
27. Diane
28. Jack
29. Diane
30. Jack
31. Diane
32. Jack
33. Diane
34. Jack
35. Diane
36. Jack
37. Diane
38. Jack
39. Diane
40. Jack
41. Diane
42. Jack
43. Diane
44. Jack
45. Diane
46. Jack
47. Diane
48. Jack
49. Diane
50. Jack
51. Diane
52. Jack
53. Diane
54. Jack
55. Diane
56. Jack
57. Diane
58. Jack
59. Diane
60. Jack
61. Diane
62. Jack
63. Diane
1
Diane Denise “Dee-Dee” “Nisi” Anderson
This game is rigged.
I know it’s only solitaire, but these cards just don’t want to fall for me tonight. For seven games in a row, the ace I’ve needed to win has been hiding in the last pile on the right, and twice it’s been the bottom card.
It serves me right for playing solitaire on Christmas Eve.
Solitaire is a funny game. It takes a long time to win, and when you do, you keep playing—and losing—until you win again. It’s just something to do with my hands, to keep them occupied. “Idle hands,” my mama used to say to me, and I’d finish the phrase: “are the Devil’s playground.”
I’ll bet even the Devil cheats at solitaire.
Solitaire is kind of like life, I guess. You fuss and scratch to get into college, take the right courses, get the degree that you hope will take you through the rest of your life, get that diploma…then lose your mind trying to find a job that matches that diploma. I have a degree in library science, and, yes, it is a science to run a library. I figured that this country, with thousands of libraries, would have openings wherever I looked, especially for a suede-skinned sister like myself.
I was wrong.
While I was doing some part-time work at libraries in my hometown of Indianapolis, Indiana—and living with my mama, but that’s another story—I was sending résumés to libraries all over the country. Most never responded, and four wrote nice “no-thank-you” letters, leaving me with interviews in Chicago, Louisville, and Roanoke, Virginia.
I had to look up that last place on a map.
And, of course, Roanoke is where I ended up. My official title is Grade Four Clerk, because I actually have a library science degree. I’m a clerk. I’m not “Assistant Librarian,” not a “Media Specialist”—just a Grade Four Clerk, as if I’m working in an elementary school somewhere. I shelve books, reshelve books, scan bar codes, compile overdue lists, conduct reference interviews until my voice gets hoarse, and occasionally help coordinate Saturday morning readings for the kids. Yeah, that’s me behind the circulation or reference desk, eyeing every person wandering into the library, forcing a smile and making change for the copier.
And…that’s…about…it.
“Give me a king, please!”
And I’m talking to a deck of cards on Christmas Eve.
It’s better than talking to my mama, though. She