Free Al’s Blind Date: The Al Series, Book Six by Constance C. Greene Page B

sight of her gorgeous bod. How he’d said if she posed in his window he’d pay her, that they’d take one look at her and break down the doors.
    â€œHow about if I go with you next time you go there?” Polly suggested. “I could use a little of that body-building routine.”
    â€œIf there is a next time,” Al said. “We’ve run out of freebies and he’d probably want us to sign up for six months or something like that.”
    â€œHow come you’re dressed up like that, Al?” Polly said. “It isn’t time to get suited up for Halloween yet, is it?”
    â€œShe’s Mother Zandi,” I explained. “Al’s got another letter in the works to Brian, and Mother Zandi’s giving her advice.”
    â€œYiyiyiyiyi,” Polly crooned, closing her eyes and swaying back and forth. “Another letter to old Brian, eh? I can’t handle it, kids. I’m off. What’s the word for me to carry to Harry? This is your last chance.”
    â€œTell you what,” Al said. “I’ll get Mother Zandi on the line, and after I check about the party for Sparky’s mom’s brilliant nephew, I’ll get the vibes on Harry’s thé dansant.”
    Al rearranged her turban and leaned heavily into her crystal ball, and Polly said, “Sparky? Sparky’s mom’s nephew? What is this, anyway? I hope it’s not contagious. You guys must be on something. I’m leaving before I catch what you’ve got. Who’s Sparky?”
    Al and I exchanged a long, significant look.
    â€œShould we?” Al asked me. “Tell her, I mean.”
    I thought about it.
    â€œO.K.,” I finally said. “But maybe you should leave out the really good parts. She’s only a kid.”
    So we told her. And the way we told the story, it took quite a long time.

Thirteen
    The next morning was chaotic.
    My mother had one of her migraines.
    My father was tight-lipped, the way he gets when she has one of her headaches. They immobilize her. She stays in bed with the shades pulled for two or three days until the migraine goes away.
    I hate it when my mother’s sick. The whole house goes topsy turvy.
    â€œMaybe I should stay home,” I started to say. But my father thought he heard her calling and dashed away. Teddy opened his mouth, which was full of half-eaten breakfast, and pushed his face close to mine. My stomach lurched.
    â€œListen, cretin.” I took Teddy by the scruff of his neck and talked fast and low. “One false move and you’re dead meat. It’s out the window with you. And I don’t think I have to remind you we’re fourteen floors up, right?”
    I heard my father coming back and let go of Teddy.
    â€œShe’d like a cup of tea,” my father told me.
    â€œI’ll fix it,” I said. “You want me to stay home, Dad?”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary. Rest is what she needs. But you’d better come straight home from school to see if you can do anything for her. She may want something to eat by then. I’ve got an early meeting.” He checked his watch. “I better get going. When your mother is laid low, I expect both of you to behave. No bickering, no horsing around. Think of her, not of yourselves, please. Teddy, are you listening?”
    Teddy took his finger out of his nose and stuffed it into his ear. He kind of nodded and didn’t make a peep.
    Stiffly my father bent to kiss both of us.
    I fixed the tea and thought about how Al stood by her mother last summer. How she gave up going to the barn dance and everything. She never complained. Never once.
    The fact is, I didn’t want to stay home. Al and I had plans to swing by the health club after school to see what was up. We liked that place. It was full of oddballs, weirdos we found fascinating. A couple of blondes came in yesterday as we were leaving. They were pretty tough kahunas with big muscles and