The Bad Jokes #1: The Redhead

Chapter 2: Mr. Wright

After we talked over every miniscule detail of my encounter with Mr. Right, we all fell into my king-sized bed and began formulating strategies to find the man again.  Gracie's suggestions involved psychics, bloodhounds and billboards, and Justice and I vetoed every one. It wasn't until the black, moonless sky began to turn gray that we all finally fell asleep.

Less than two hours later, the doorbell chimed. I burrowed deeper into the pillow. "I am not getting that."

The doorbell chimed again, setting Killer off with his yapping.

"Make it go away," Justice grumbled. I hoped she was talking about the doorbell, but I suspected she was referring to Killer. 

"I'm suffering emotional trauma from meeting Mr. Right. I am not getting that," I declared.

With a disgusted sigh, Gracie threw back the covers as the doorbell sounded for a third time. She swore as she stumbled over one of the unpacked boxes in the living room. "You moved in four days ago. You should be unpacked by now," she snapped.

"I've been busy with the play. You move, start rehearsals and wind down the school year with hormonal teens all in the same week and see how far you get," I snapped back. We were all such morning people.

I heard Gracie undo the locks, open the door...and then I heard her shocked exclamation all the way in the bedroom.

"It's you!" she cried out.

Then I heard the front door slam.

Justice and I were already in motion, running toward the front door.

"Rory, it's your man! It's Mr. Right! He's standing right there in the hallway!"

"Please tell me you didn't just slam the door in his face," I pleaded, already knowing the answer.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"Maintenance," came the terse reply. "Here to fix your dishwasher."

"This is not happening," I whispered. "I tried the dishwasher yesterday and it made funny sounds, so I called the office. They said someone would be here first thing this morning."

"So if you hadn't met him last night, you would have met him today. He is so obviously your destiny," Gracie sighed.

"Speaking of obvious," Justice chimed in, giving me a nudge, "you need to let him in."

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

That he immediately recognized me was apparent from the narrowing of his eyes. Grey eyes, I noted, beautiful, silvery-grey eyes that cut into me like a blast of arctic air.

"So...we meet again," I observed, offering him a cheery smile.

It wasn't returned.

I tried again, and held out my hand. "Rory Matthewson."

For a few, uncomfortable seconds, I was afraid he was going to ignore polite conventions. Then, with obvious reluctance, he finally grasped my hand for a brief second and shook it once. 

"Xane Wright."

"Right?" Justice interjected as Grace gasped. "As in Mr. Right? You're Mr. Right?"

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse. I was kind of hoping my cousins would fall through the floor, but no such luck.

"Wright with a W," he said shortly. "Can I come in to look at the dishwasher?"

"Oh, right!" I said, scrambling to make my brain function. "Ha! I meant right as in yes, not Wright as in your last name. I mean, it is your last name, but --"