Your Coffin or Mine? Read Online Free PDF

Besides, my mother was already slipping valium into her AB negative thanks to my youngest brother, Jack, and his impending nuptials to a human. Why ruin a good thing and shift all that motherly disapproval back to moi?
    “Have you tried contacting him ?”
    I nodded. “He’s not responding. That, or I’m not doing it right.”
    “Are you focusing? Projecting?”
    I nodded. “Yes. I think.” When he flashed me an exasperated look, I added, “I’ve never been mentally linked to anyone before. I’m still on the learning curve.”
    “Keep trying. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can come up with here.” He pulled a card from his back pocket. “Here’s my cell number. Call me if he contacts you again.”
    I pulled a Dead End Dating card from my purse and handed it to him. He stuffed it into his pocket.
    “I’ll be in touch if I find anything,” he told me.
    “That, or if you get lonely.”
    A grin split his face and my heart gave a tiny little pitter-patter. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
    I tossed a major shut up! at my hormones and frowned. “I’m not trying to pick you up. I’m a matchmaker. It’s my job to help lonely men and women the world over. So,” I eyed him, “are you?”
    “Am I what?”
    “Lonely?”
    “No.”
    “Are you married?”
    “No.”
    “Do you have a girlfriend?”
    “No.”
    “Boyfriend?”
    “No.”
    “A blow-up doll named Ginger?”
    He shook his head. “You do talk a lot.”
    “It’s part of the job. Surely you don’t just work all the time.”
    “Actually, I do.”
    “You really should get out more. Think of all the wonderful life experiences that are passing you by.” He gave me a get-outa-here look. “Okay, fine. But think of all the really hot women who are passing you by. Don’t tell me you don’t like women.”
    “I do. Occasionally. But I’m not interested in dating one.”
    “That’s what they all say. But sooner or later, the lonely bug bites everyone and then you do something desperate. One minute you’re watching television by yourself and the next you’re cruising the Internet, surfing chat rooms and viewing profiles on MySpace. You wind up talking dirty to a hot little Swedish number named Inga.” I made a tsk-tsk sound. “Tragic.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Because Inga is really a five-hundred-pound Japanese guy with a pot belly and bunions. But you don’t know this because he’s got all of these great pics posted and so you fall into a deep, meaningful back and forth exchange, only to have your heart broken into a thousand pieces when you find out the truth. Then you’re scarred for life, afraid to trust anyone. You turn into a hermit, invest in a couple dozen cats. They find you one day, facedown in the kitty litter. Dead. Alone.”
    He eyed me for a long moment. “Does that story usually work?”
    “Usually. Sometimes I tell it with dogs instead of cats. Or even Chia Pets. But you didn’t really look like the gardening type.”
    He grinned and shook his head. “Call me if you hear from him again, okay?”
    I nodded. Not that I was going to sit around waiting on Ty and worrying. I didn’t do worry very well. Rather, I was going to be proactive. I would send out a message to him every hour on the hour, and the rest of the time I would spend working.
    I had bills to pay, after all, and as ominous as things seemed (Ty was missing and there was still the little issue of me being followed), I’d still had an extremely productive evening. I’d met John-the-insurance-fraud-investigator, who obviously needed some serious help in the soul mate department. I’d also passed out a ton of cards and even gotten several in return.
    Love was definitely in the air.
    Unfortunately, love wasn’t the only thing. The realization hit me, along with the smell, when I left Ty’s building and started down the street toward the corner. My nostrils flared and the foul scent grew stronger with each step and—Ugh.
    I glanced