Read Online The Bad Decisions Playlist by Michael Rubens - Free Book Online Page B

coming toward me. And then, yes, a few seconds later she jerks open the door.
    â€œWhy did you tell her that?” she demands.
    â€œTell her what?” Pure innocence. Am I lying here? No.
    â€œThat you’re my b​—” She cuts herself off, unwilling to even repeat it. She looks back over her shoulder, annoyed. She must think her sister made it up to tease her.
    She turns back to me. Then, not even in the ballpark of delight: “Oh, God. What is
that?
”
    That
being the bouquet in my hands, a special assortment chosen with great care from one of the decorative planters at a retirement home.
    â€œUm, I think these are irises, and these are snapdragons, and I’m not sure what​—”
    â€œAustin​—”
    â€œJosephine, I’m sorry. I’m
sorry.
I was late, and an asshole, and I’m sorry, and I’m here to say I’m sorry and ask you​—​
beg
you, be
seech
you​—​to please be my tutor again.”
    â€œAustin, I don’t think we’re a good match,” says Josephine. “I think you should contact the school and get a different tutor.”
    â€œThere’s no one available. And we’re a
great
match! You’re smart, I’m stupid​—​it’s perfect!”
    â€œYou see? Everything is a joke to you.”
    â€œI’ll be serious! I’ll be the best tutor subject, tutoree, whatever, in the world, ever. I swear. Here. Smell this.”
    I pull my shirt collar toward her. She looks at me funny.
    â€œI haven’t had a single cigarette today, Josephine. It’s killing me. I gave up nicotine
for several hours
just for you.”
    â€œI appreciate it. I have to get ready for work.”
    Starts to close the door.
    â€œHold on. Where
do
you work? You never told me.”
    â€œSomeplace mind-numbingly boring. Where I have to go. Now.”
    Door starts to close again.
    â€œWait!”
    She waits. I try to think of something. “Uh . . . that was your sister, huh?”
    â€œWow. You figured that right out.”
    â€œAll by myself. See? There’s hope for me. I have to say, your sister, she’s​—”
    Josephine scowls.
    â€œHot,”
she says, exactly as I say,
“Awful.”
    â€œI
get
it,” she rolls on. “I
know
she’s hot, everyone
knows
—​What?”
    â€œI said, she’s
awful.
She’s terrifying. I mean, yes, she’s hot, but
yeeesh.
It must be like five nightmares at once to live with her.”
    There’s two seconds when she softens, like I might get a smile out of her.
    â€œI don’t know about five, but it’s at least three,” she says.
    â€œI bet. So . . .” I say, “wanna be my tutor again?”
    This time she does smile, just a suggestion of one, shaking her head.
    â€œNever mind,” I say. Then, before she can disconnect, I gesture at the truck with its garish sign. “Your dad’s running for the state senate, huh?”
    She glances at it, makes a face, does a bad job of hiding it. “You figured that one out too.”
    â€œAmazing, right? My mom’s psychic says I’m very intuitive.”
    â€œHer psychic. Your mom has a psychic.”
    â€œWell, strictly speaking she calls herself a shaman. Lots of herbs, turquoise, that sort of thing. You know.”
    â€œNot so experienced with shamans, but I get the idea.”
    â€œI could probably hook you up with a dream catcher, if you want.”
    â€œI think I’m good.”
    â€œSure. How many can one person have, right?”
    â€œYeah, my room is pretty full.”
    I indicate the truck again. “The pickup truck’s a nice touch. Jes’ folks. Man of the people. Proletariat.”
    She looks mildly surprised.
    â€œWhat? ‘Proletariat’? I’m not good at
math.
I like to read. I read Pynchon,” I say. “That’s supposed to impress