Death, Taxes, and Peach Sangria by Diane Kelly Read Free Book Online

young woman with white-blond hair pulled
     up into two long pigtails on either side of her head. Her blue eyes were opened wide,
     giving her a youthful, innocent look. She wore a white short-sleeved sailor-style
     top with a blue collar that ended in a big red bow over her chest.
    “Does she work for a cruise line?” I asked.
    “No.” Josh rolled his eyes. “She’s dressed as Sailor Moon.”
    “Sailor who ?”
    “Sailor Moon,” he repeated. “She’s an anime character.”
    No wonder I hadn’t recognized her. I knew less than squat about anime, though I could
     quote Homer Simpson, Hank Hill, and SpongeBob SquarePants verbatim. Hey, I’m not totally
     uncultured.
    “She fights evil by moonlight,” Josh said, “and wins love by daylight.”
    “The girl who responded to your ad?”
    “No!” Another eye roll. “Sailor Moon.”
    “Oh.” I supposed I was a bit like Sailor Moon, though I generally fought evil between
     8:00 AM and 5:00 PM and preferred to win my love in the more romantic evening hours.
    Josh read from the screen. “The bio says her name is Kira and she’s a freelance Web
     designer.”
    Another tech nerd. “She sounds perfect for you, Josh.”
    Lu took control of the mouse and pulled up her account next. She’d received three
     responses. The first was from a forty-year-old man with greasy hair and a sleazy grin.
     “No thanks,” Lu told the screen. “I’m not a tiger mom.”
    “I think you mean cougar,” I said.
    She waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’m not dating someone my son’s age.” She
     clicked on the second link. This potential suitor had the opposite problem. He was
     a man in his late eighties looking for a “nurturing” woman. Lu’s lips pursed in disgust.
     “That’s just a nice way of saying he wants someone to change his diapers.”
    While Nick, Josh, and I leaned in, she pulled up the third respondent. This guy was
     sixty-five, which made him age appropriate for Lu. The bio indicated his name was
     Carl. He wore a navy-blue polyester leisure suit with visible white stitching around
     the collar and buttonholes, along with black plastic horn-rimmed eyeglasses.
    “He’s very fashionable,” Lu said, gesturing at the screen. “He’s wearing those new
     stylish glasses that are so popular.”
    Nick and I exchanged glances. Carl’s glasses weren’t the geek chic look that was in
     vogue today. No, his were definitely original horn-rims from the 1950s. To make matters
     worse, the guy had a horrid comb-over. Well, maybe “comb-over” was the wrong word.
     “Comb-forward/comb-across” would be more precise. His hair, which appeared to originate
     on the back and sides of his neck, had been combed up and over his bald dome in a
     sort of crisscross pattern, like a hairnet made of real hair. He’d glued the stuff
     in place with Brylcreem.
    I looked at Lu, taking in her pinkish-orange beehive, false eyelashes, and lemon-yellow
     dress trimmed in purple rickrack. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so hard on Comb-over Carl.
     He could be just the guy for Lu.
    Josh put a hand on the mouse. “Let’s check your responses, Nick.”
    As Nick leaned in closer to the screen, a slight twinge of guilt tightened my gut.
     Poor guy. He still didn’t realize I’d sabotaged him with that horrible bio and angry
     photo. I hoped he wouldn’t feel bad when he learned there’d been no interest.
    Josh clicked the mouse. “Holy crap!” he cried, his eyes wide as he turned from the
     screen to look up at Nick. “You’ve got seventy-three responses.”
    What!?!
    I leaned in closer now, too. Yep, sure enough, seventy-three women had responded to
     Nick’s ad. Well, make that seventy-two women and one guy named Sergio who encouraged
     Nick to “be open to new experiences” and “take a walk on the wild side.”
    To my surprise, Nick didn’t look so much excited by the responses as exhausted. Josh
     clicked on each of them in turn, taking us through a long line of