Gone With the Nerd (Nerds, #4)(27)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"Luanne’s coming," Flynn said.

"I know. I saw her. Is it me, or is this starting to feel like Little House on the Prairie with us standing on the porch and visitors always dropping by? I have the urge to put on an apron and start making biscuits."

"If you ask me, it’s more like Little House on the Prairie meets X-Files."

"I should have known you’d be an X-Files guy. That show was too scary for me." Zoe decided she only had time for one test before Luanne came within hearing distance. Clapping her hands over her eyes, she turned her face away from Flynn. "What color eyes do I have?" "Depends."

"Are you waffling because you don’t know?" Maybe he was just that unromantic. How disappointing.

"I’m not waffling. Depending on the circumstances, they change color."

"Yeah, you’re waffling." With her hand over her eyes, her other senses tuned in, making her conscious of his breathing and the minty scent of his aftershave. He might be unromantic as a hedgehog, but he still flipped all her switches.

"I am not waffling. When you’re feeling happy and relaxed, your eyes are this turquoisy-blue color, but when you’re upset, they get kind of dull, almost gray. And when you’re excited, they get a darker blue, like a really deep lake."

"Oh." She was afraid to take her hand away from her eyes because he’d be able to see that dark blue color and know how he’d affected her with that elaborate description of her moods. He was obviously into her, and the feeling was most definitely mutual.

"In case you were wondering, I’m fully aware that I should have been able to give at least that much detail about Kristen. Knowing that I couldn’t do that, I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking with all these marriage plans."

"You haven’t seen her in a while." Zoe felt obligated to say that.

"Doesn’t matter. I should have memories of her eyes, and I don’t. All I can remember about her eyes is the discussion we had when we were comparing our lens prescriptions. And that’s pathetic." "I’m afraid so."

"Vera!" Luanne called out "Please say you don’t have a headache!"

Zoe took her hand away from her eyes. "Nope!"

‘Thank God." Luanne hurried the final few yards until she reached the porch steps, where she plopped down and took off her backpack. "Because I have my interview all structured and I’d be devastated if you weren’t up to it"

"Interview?" Zoe sat down on the steps next to Luanne. To flunk she could have a daughter this age if she’d gotten married right out of high school, as Margo had planned to. But Margo wasn’t married and neither was Zoe. From what Margo had said, they were the exceptions in the Class of ’91.

Until recently, that had seemed about right, to be footloose and fancy-free. But she was enjoying having Luanne around. She didn’t see all that many kids these days. Being a mother might not be such a bad thing.

Flynn walked over to the steps. "Luanne, did you ever find out what your brother was doing last night when he was supposed to be out with Janice?"

"Nope." Luanne unzipped her backpack. "But I’m working on it. It’s been a while since I searched his room. I need to do that tonight"

Zoe, who had never had a sister or brother, was scandalized. "You search his room? That’s an invasion of privacy!"

"Big brothers have no privacy," Luanne said. "That’s the way it is."

"She’s right" Flynn said. "My little sister knew everything there was to know about me. So, Luanne, if you find out anything interesting, I’d like to hear about it."

"Sure, Tony. You got it." Luanne pulled a thick white binder out of her backpack. "Here we go. This contains all the information I’ve collected on my favorite actors." She sounded like a college professor unveiling a thesis.

Sure enough, on the three-ring binder cover Luanne Dunwoodie’s Big Book of Most Excellent Actors was written in elaborate red calligraphy. Luanne flipped the binder open to the tide page, where Hollywood’s Best by Luanne Dunwoodie was lettered in purple script.

Luanne smoothed her hand over the title page. "I couldn’t decide which title was better, so I used them both. Which do you guys think is better?"

Flynn sat down on the other side of Luanne and examined the binder. "Are you putting only actors in there, or both actors and movies?"

"Just actors. I have another binder for movies."

"Then I like the front cover title best, because it fits the subject better," Flynn said.

"Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t see that." Luanne ripped the title page out of the binder.

"Luanne!" Zoe was horrified. "All that beautiful lettering!"

"No big deal." She crumpled the page and stuffed it in her backpack. "I can do that stuff in my sleep. Now, let’s get down to business."

"Okay." Zoe exchanged a smile with Flynn over Lu-anne’s head. It was a nice moment; one could even say a parental moment. Now that was scary.

"I’ve divided the notebook into sections," Luanne said. "First by female and male actors, and then each actor has several different categories of information."

Zoe gazed in wonder at the rows of colored tabs. She’d never been that exacting about anything … ever. "Amazing," she murmured.

"Thanks."

Flynn nodded in approval. "Nice job."

On the other hand, Zoe thought, Flynn was very exacting, especially about the things that interested him, like studio contracts and Bigfoot and … well… the color of her eyes. Every time she thought of that description she wanted to kiss him some more. But Luanne was sitting between them at the moment, which was probably for the best.

"I’ve put the female actors in the front," Luanne said. "And that’s ’cause frankly, they get a raw deal most of the time in Hollywood. Take Sean Connery, for instance. Name me one woman of his age who gets the romantic lead! It’s not fair."

Zoe leaned her chin on her fist. "I agree."

"I mean, Zoe Tarleton is already thirty-two. She’s getting up there."

"I don’t know about that." Zoe sat up straighter.

"Be realistic! How many years does she have left as a big box-office draw? Four, five, six years?" Luanne cast an assessing glance over Zoe. "You’d better rake in the money as her body double now, before she’s all washed up."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

"Zoe will last longer than another six years," Flynn said. "For one thing, she doesn’t look her age."

"That’s nice of you to say." Feeling tons better, Zoe winked at him.

"That may not be enough." Luanne shook her head slowly. She wore an Eyesore expression of doom. "Nobody looks their age in Hollywood. It’s a tough town."

Zoe bit her lip to keep from laughing at Luanne’s worldly attitude. "I suppose that’s true."

"Don’t get me wrong," Luanne said. "Zoe’s already made enough money to live on until she’s old and gray, but her peak earning years are mostly behind her."

Luanne’s comments were starting to hit a little too close to home. "Maybe she’ll start getting character parts and expand her repertoire."

"That would be good. I think she could do it, too. She’s underrated as an actor, if you ask me."

Zoe wanted to hug her for that, but Vera wouldn’t have a reason to hug her, so she restrained herself.

"Instead of arranging the actors in alphabetical order, I put them in order of my most favorite down to my least. I have an index in the back so anyone could cross-reference the names, if they need to."

"Looks like you thought of everything," Flynn said.

Zoe glanced at him and emotion put a major squeeze on her heart. He was loving this. She hoped someday he’d have a kid like Luanne who was into details.

"I’ve tried to," Luanne said. "I also rank each actor with stars. Five is the best, and I only have one ranked with five stars." Then she turned the divider page over to reveal that her first female actor in the book was Zoe Tarleton.

All Luanne’s comments about Zoe being nearly washed up were forgotten. Zoe was ready to take her home. She and Flynn could share her.

"This is what I have so far in the picture section." Luanne proudly displayed pictures neatly cut from magazines or printed off the Internet, each with the date when it was taken or the movie it was from.

As Zoe looked at the pictures, which ranged from her early publicity shots to more recent ones, she could see herself aging, but she could also see a sameness there. She had to break away from the glamour-girl roles, both to keep her career fresh and to stay sane. The audition was taking on more importance by the minute.

"And here I have personal information." Luanne turned to a page she’d obviously created on the computer. At the top she’d typed Tarleton’s Traits. Underneath was a list of things Zoe recognized as being mostly generated by her agent and publicist. Some of it was true and some of it wasn’t.

For example, under a category called Zoe’s Taste in Men, Luanne had written: She likes her men to have muscles, a great smile, and star power. Evidence: Keanu Reeves, Ben Affleck, Trace Edwards. Not true, it turned out. Lately she preferred guys with glasses and law degrees— one particular guy, as a matter of fact. She winced when she realized that Flynn was reading this page, too. She didn’t want him to feel bad.

So she pointed to that entry. "You know, I’ve talked to Zoe about her boyfriends, and star power isn’t such a big deal with her."

"But all she dates are famous stars," Luanne said.

"I know." Zoe didn’t want to ruin Luanne’s carefully constructed page. The girl was liable to rip it out and start over. "And she likes those guys, but she also likes men who aren’t actors."

Luanne pulled a pen out of her backpack. "So how should I fix this?"

"You could add something to the part about what kind of man she likes. There’s room."

"What should I add?" Luanne waited, pen poised over the page.

"How about: She also likes brainy guys?"

Luanne nodded and started to write.

"That’s good to know," Flynn said.

Zoe glanced over at him. "I have it on good authority."

"I guess you’d know, being so close to her."

Zoe held up two fingers pressed together. "Zoe Tarleton and I are like that."

The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh but knew he couldn’t. "Must be nice to be that close." He was flirting, and she knew it.

She should pretend not to notice, but that would be tough when her cheeks felt blush-warm. He hadn’t known the color of his girlfriend’s eyes, she reminded herself. She wasn’t stealing him if Kristen had never had him in the first place.

"O-kay." Luanne slapped the page. "Let’s get some more information. What’s her favorite color?"

Zoe and Flynn spoke at once. "Red."

"How did you know that, Tony?" Luanne looked puzzled.

Zoe was intrigued. "Yeah, how do you know that, Tony?" "She’s always wearing it."

"That doesn’t mean anything if you’re talking about movies and publicity pictures," Luanne said. "That’s why I left the answer blank, because you can’t tell from what you see. That’s all decided by other people. I want to know what color she wears when she picks her own outfit."

"Red." Zoe wondered if Trace had ever noticed how much she liked it. But Flynn had. He’d been paying more attention to her than she’d realized.

"Excellent." Luanne wrote in the color. "Now we’re getting somewhere. How about food? What does she like to eat?"

Zoe thought about the food she’d shared with Flynn.

None of it had been very good, but all of it had become her new personal favorite. "Hot dogs, and spaghetti, and eggs Benedict."

Luanne wrote furiously. "Hot dogs. That’s very retro. Just plain spaghetti? Not some special pasta?"

"Nope." Zoe looked over at Flynn. "Plain spaghetti, with a sauce made from canned tomatoes, garlic, onion— you know."

"If you say so." Luanne sighed. "Not very original, though. I was expecting something sophisticated like frog legs sautéed in white wine sauce."

"Ick." Zoe had never ordered frog legs and never intended to.

"But the eggs Benedict is more like it. I hope you didn’t try the eggs Benedict down at the Sasquatch Diner, though. I’ve never had the real thing, but I know that can’t be right."

"It isn’t," Zoe said.

"Oh no." Luanne let her head fall forward with a thump onto the page. "You did order it. I should have warned you." She lifted her head. "Wasn’t it the grossest thing you’ve ever tasted?"

"Pretty much," Flynn said. Then he cleared his throat. "Listen, Luanne, this has been lots of fun, but Vera needs a break."

"A break? I just got here!"

"I know. But it’s been a long day." Flynn sounded kind but firm. And he avoided looking at Zoe. "You’re welcome to come back tomorrow morning to ask more questions. We won’t be leaving until about four in the afternoon."

Zoe began to hyperventilate. Flynn was taking charge and sending Luanne home. She didn’t have to search very hard to find his motivation. To have or not to have sex— that was the question.

Luanne closed her binder and turned to Flynn. "I know what’s going on," she said. "You two want to be alone."

He nodded. "Yes, we do."

"Well, that bites."

"Sorry, Luanne." Flynn didn’t sound all that sorry. "But we did come up here for some privacy."

"I know." With a martyred sigh, Luanne put her binder into her backpack and zipped it closed. "I suppose someday I’ll have a boyfriend, in about a trillion years. And then I’ll feel the same way."

"Thanks for understanding," Flynn said.

Zoe didn’t trust herself to say a word. Her blood was too busy racing through her body to send an adequate amount to her brain. No telling what she might blurt out in her current state.