Read Lovesick for Free Online Page B

tapping the contraband.
    “No way,” I lie. “Those are for the children.”
    “What-ever. You’re such a wuss. I got my own stash anyways. One box always manages to fall off the truck, if you catch my drift.”
    “Nice,” I tell him. “So you literally steal candy from babies.”
    “You should shut your piehole. I’m sorry I said anything to begin with.”
    Once I’ve moved all the supplies, drugs, and candy inside, no thanks to Manny, I take my California-sanctioned fifteen-minute break.
    The storeroom is windowless and I nearly break my neck tripping over Gregory’s boxes. The overhead fluorescents in here flicker uncontrollably, so I flip them off, pop on the computer monitor, and begin mocking up a simple diagram of what I plan to give Paige for her birthday. I draw the quadrilaterals. The one on the left is exactly five inches tall at its highest elevation.
    I can hear Gregory in the next room talking to a customer about cough syrup.
The generic is the exact same thing
, I lip-synch alongwith him. I know this monologue by heart.
If you want to pay twice as much for the brand name, be my guest, but they both contain the SAME dosage of dextromethorphan.
Gregory gets too much pleasure out of saying words like
dextromethorphan, pantoprazole
, and
fluvastatin.
Actually who
doesn’t
like saying
fluvastatin.
    Paige is feeling tremendous anxiety about turning thirty later this month. She’s made it abundantly clear that she cannot be held responsible for what happens the next time someone asks her if she’s excited about turning “The Big Three-Oh.”
    I complete the third and smallest quadrilateral and inspect my work. Paige is going to love this one.
    Homemade gifts have gone over well in the past. Paige still uses that custom makeup case I built her for Valentine’s Day. The makeup applicator worked just fine up until the accident. (Three words: temporary eye patch.) Then there was the automated plant watering system. It took me three freaking weeks to snake those tiny hoses through the walls of Gregory’s living room, affix the timers and sprinklers, and install the elaborate irrigation system. Gregory was such a sourpuss about the whole thing, but Paige was quick to call the project a “moderate success.” Most of her plants were dying, anyway. Plus who paid the rental cost of the wet/dry vac? Me.
    It’s going to take a few days to track down the supplies I need to build a proper prototype of my gift in time for Paige’s birthday. Meantime, Sid and I have some other collaborative projects to attend to.
    The door to the storeroom wildly swings open. White light pours in like a portal to the afterlife. I fumble to find and eventually hit the on-off switch on the computer monitor. It’s hard to know how much Gregory’s seen.
    “Altman! What are you doing in here? Are you disturbed?” he asks, clearing his throat and shaking his head, dumbfounded by my oddness. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
    “I’m not” is all I can think to respond.
    “You’re not sitting in the pitch-dark?”
    “I wasn’t. At that exact moment I just finished catching up on some Medicare stuff, shut the computer, and you walked in.”
    Neither of us believes me. We stare at each other.
Hey, quick question: Could I have your daughter’s hand in marriage?
    “What?” we both ask at the same time.
    “Your lips were just moving, but you weren’t saying anything,” he says.
    “Sorry.”
    “We’ve got a line of customers and you’re in here doing who-knows-what. I need you back on the floor,” he barks. “I’m going to be here late enough as is.”

C HAPTER 5
Reversing the Polarity
    THE deal: I supply the car. Sid supplies the vacuum cleaner.
    The car: My car—“Hulk.” A swamp green 1995 Oldsmobile Series II Cutlass Supreme coupe complete with worn pleather bucket seats, one functioning fog light, multiple dings, dual air-bags, and a 3.1 liter 3100 V6 engine. This beauty can go zero to sixty in about