Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01 (14 page)

Gladis laughed. She was about to
settle back and watch Gladiator with me, but then said, “I almost forgot to
tell you—Tom Davies said he would call your boss to let him know you wouldn’t
be in tomorrow.”

Geez, Tom was really putting his
nose in it. Not that I wasn’t grateful, but still! The man apparently thought
money meant he ruled the world.

I shook my head. “I am not missing
Monday. I have only been there a short while and I am not missing a day
already. Not a chance. I don’t want to be labeled as that girl.”

“What girl?”

“The one that has worked less than
a month and already calls in sick.”

“But you have a legitimate excuse.
You can’t go in looking like that, with your face ‘n all.”

“I have make-up. Ugly people look
worse than this all the time, and they still have to go to work.”

Gladis and I both laughed at the
absurdity of my statement. She shrugged like I had done a minute ago, and
settled down with me to watch Russell Crowe get dirty.

The next couple weeks was a shit
storm. Everyone at work wanted to know what happened to my face, my throat,
etc., but no one wanted to come out and ask. I was the center of attention
everywhere. I kept my mouth shut about the whole thing, and so did Candace, but
that just made it worse.

Lump and all the girls were in
contact non-stop. I got an email or call or text from each at least once a day.
I had long talks in the evenings, usually curled up in bed. Except for Lump and
Claire, who were both in
Australia
.
They emailed mostly, since the time difference was so different. I felt loved.
And connected.

I missed all of them, but was glad
I was exploring the world in my own way. The one thing I always left out of my
stories was Apollo. I didn’t want to hear the collective, “Go for it!” I was
tired of ending up squished by hot men. This time I would heed Gladis’s advise
and just stick to dreaming about him. He had as many suitors as stars in the
sky, so I made myself a black hole.

Gladis thought that analogy was
just terrible…

By the end of a two weeks I looked
mostly normal again. By the end of a month I was seeing Gladis’s friend George
regularly. It was helping, but I never admitted it. No one needed to know my
crazy could be fixed. It kept me unpredictable.

By the end of two months, I had a
date. With a guy from the I.T. department. He was fairly good looking, nice
enough body, seemed really nice if not a little dry, was smart, and seemed
mature and put together. He was exactly my speed.

As I was closing everything down,
Candace popped her head in my cube.

“Hey Jessica. You want to come to
happy hour with Ty and I?” Candace asked, leaning against my flimsy cube wall.

“You guys bump uglies yet?” I asked
with a leer.

As expected, she giggled. “No! I am
being good.”

“Until when? He obviously likes
you! The guy freaking sent roses to your work.”

Her face was red. “I’m just…” She
angled her head and picked at her nail. “Waiting a while.”

“Making him work for the goods?” I
waggled my eyebrows.

“At least two months.”

“And how long has it been?”

“Officially?” She waited for my
nod. “A month and a half.”

“Prude. Anyway, can’t tonight.
Going out with Randall.”

“Oh right. Shoot. Sorry, I forgot.
He’s a nice guy. Kinda quiet, though.”

Juniper leaned out of her cube and
said, “That man is as useless as teats on a bull! My computer is still on the
blink!”

Candace matched my eye roll.

“Juniper, he works on servers. Not
your computer. That’s Don you want,” I hollered. You couldn’t just talk to
Juniper, you had to holler. It was something I learned in the second week.

“Him, too! They’re so dumb, if you
shoot them through the head, they’ll heal.”

Candace and I were quiet for a
moment, hoping she’d go away.

“Anyway,” I said, giving another
tiny pause in case Juniper was still actively listening, “Randall is picking me
up at
6:30
so I have to run home and
change.”

“Poop. Well, fine. But it was
supposed to be really fun. Oh well. But, if you change your mind, Ty and I are
going to Ester’s. Or if you get stood up.” She smiled and headed away.

That wasn’t a nice thing to say.
Now I probably would get stood up!

At
6:15
there was a knock on the door. I was mostly ready, mostly looking glamorous in
new clothes, and mostly nervous.

I opened the door to Gladis and a
bottle of champagne.

“Hey Glads, what’s up?”

“Hello dear. My, you look lovely!”

“Oh thanks. I have the date tonight
with the IT guy.”

She nodded and pushed past me. The
ol’ broad had manners, but she chose when they suited her. At present, they
obviously didn’t.

“I remember. That’s why I brought
the bubbly," she said, moving to the kitchen. “You have to have someone
here to answer the door and usher him in for a drink while you finish getting
ready.”

“But...I’m ready.”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s how it’s
done, dear.”

“Uh, okay. But what if he knocks on
your door?”

“I left instructions at the house.”

She had it all covered. I let her
open the champagne, poor two glasses, and we sat in the living room to live out
1946 when this kind of thing was normal.

When the doorbell rang, I paused.

“What’s a’matter, dear? Are you
constipated?”

“Wha—Gladis, don’t ask people
that.” Over her laughter I said, “No, I am waiting for butterflies.”

“Ah. Well, wait upstairs. I’ll
bring him in.”

As we moved, Gladis glanced at her
watch. “He is late, but no matter. Hurry on, now. Come down in ten minutes.
Shoo!”

“Gladis, really, I--”

“Get up there girlie!”

I sighed, making sure she heard,
and climbed the stairs. Then, because I had nothing else to do, I hid so I
could spy.

The door was answered to a very
confused Randall, who stammered while asking for me. Gladis, in all chipper
cordiality, showed him in and I presumed poured him a glass of champagne. Then
to small talk. Poor Randall was probably bored to tears, because he wasn’t a
word smith.

Staring at my phone for time—also
playing a quick game of solitaire—I started down the stairs in exactly nine
minutes.

As I walked into the living room to
greet my guest, Randall stood up in a hurry and accidentally ruined the moment
by spilling his drink. Gladis then made it worse by clucking her tongue loudly
and fretting while they cleaned it up.

Not a great entrance.

Finally both pairs of eyes looked
up at me, whereby I immediately ignored Gladis’s frown. She would not like a
botched entry, fearing my sails would deflate. If only she’d known my track
record. At least this time I hadn’t been the cause!

Randall finally did deliver. His
eyes were wide and starry. They slipped down my form fitting dress, a style
which flirted with casual but still pointed towards glamorous. They snagged
briefly on my br**sts before he shook his head to wiggle them loose, back to my
face. He’d never seen me outside of work. Which meant, this was the first time
he’d seen me actually try to look good.

Apparently I was a real dog at work
‘cause he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Hi Randall. Are you ready to go?”
I asked sweetly.

“Oh...yes. Yes. Sorry about the...”
He gestured toward the dark spot on the rug.

“It’s fine.” I smiled to try and
dispel his uneasiness. His face lit up. C’mon man, it is just a dress and a
little make-up. It is not like I transformed or anything!

I led the way to the door. As I was
about to open it, I was pushed aside by a frail old woman wearing a scary mask
of disapproval. Through her teeth she whispered “Men should open a ladies
door!”

She was scaring me, I will admit. I
gave an apologetic smile and quickly exited. Randall was right behind me, jumping
loudly when the door slammed.

“She, ah… hasn’t taken her meds,” I
apologized.

He just nodded, risking a glance
back.

Gladis wasn’t peeping through the
windows, which meant she was probably finishing off the champagne.

It wasn’t until we were on the road
that he ventured to speak. “You live in a really nice place.”

“Oh, thanks. I rent it from Gladis.
It’s a pool house.”

“Nice pool house. Gladis must be a
millionaire.”

I shrugged. “So it would seem. She
is a really nice lady. I think she’s a little lonely and bored in her old age.
I've become her best buddy. I don’t mind, though, she is a cool old broad!”

I loved calling her an old broad.
One, because it made her seem hip. Two because she huffed at me every time. One
time she even threw a pillow. Funny stuff.

“I don’t know if I would be
comfortable in all that,” Randall admonished.

“All what?”

“Money. Too much. It would corrupt
the soul.”

“Oh. I’ve never thought of that
angle. It really isn’t like that with Gladis. She has money, but she values
life and friends. Money just makes her life easier, and she shares that with me
and whoever else is around. No soul corruption that I know of.”

“It is just a matter of time.”

Since we were talking about an old
woman that’d had money her whole life…I opted to move on. The debate wasn’t
worth having.

“Where are we going tonight?” I
asked with a fresh-eyed, chipper tone.

“Well, we are almost there. What
did you want to do after dinner?”

“How about a few drinks or dancing
or something? Candace and Ty are out tonight. We can meet up with them?”

“Maybe. That sounds pretty good.
Here we are.”

We were pulling into a Chili’s
parking lot. I couldn’t help my look of disbelief. But really, Chili’s? I was
dressed to impress, more formal than casual, and were are hitting Chili’s? Was he
punishing me for living near money?

As if he heard my complaints, he
said, “This is one of my favorite places. I wanted to share it with you. This
one is a little more upscale as far as Chili’s goes, so I thought it would
work. If you don’t like it here we can go elsewhere. Outback or something.”

“Oh no. This is fine.” I smiled.
How can you say no when it is preceded with a speech like that.

The devil side of me: His favorite
place? Does he have no taste?

The angel side: Don’t judge! He is
a nice guy. Not everyone is lucky enough to live in LA with the infinite
choices of good cuisine.

We sat down in a booth in a corner
of the restaurant. It did seem better than other Chili’s I had been in, but I
didn’t know if that was because I hadn’t been to one since I was a kid, or this
restaurant was making a valiant effort to improve their image and clientele.
Unfortunately, the menu was the same. Standard fare.

We ordered food accompanied by
large beers each. Then the small talk started.

“So…where did you grow up?” I
began.

“I didn’t really grow up anywhere
in particular. Or maybe I just grew up everywhere. I was an army brat, so I
moved around a lot.”

“Did you like moving around?”

“Well, I didn’t really have a
choice, so I never thought about it in terms of like or dislike. It was hard
most of the time. I would make friends in a new school then have to move. I
have always been a little shy, so it takes me a little while to make friends.
Then, when I finally did, I would have to move.”

“What parts of the country did you
live in?”

“Well, I was born in
Florida
.
I lived there until I was five…or six. I don’t remember much of it. Then I went
to
Virginia
for a while, then off
to
North Carolina
, then to
Hawaii
for a while—“

“
Hawaii
?
Nice!”

“Yeah,
Hawaii
was actually where some of my best memories came from. I was thirteen and
wasn’t watched too closely because I had three younger sisters, so I went off
and explored a lot. I surfed and fished and went boating with the locals. It
was pretty cool actually. Short lived, though. We were only there about a year
and a half, and then we went back to
Virginia
.”

“When did you move out here?”

“I was out at eighteen. My family
was moving yet again, and I just jumped ship. I finished up High School and
headed to college here in
Texas
.
Been here ever since.”

“And you are…”

“The sexiest man alive?”

I laughed. “Yes, that is what I was
saying, exactly. Uh, you are how old…?”

He laughed with me. “I am thirty on
the nose.”

I nodded. Five year age gap was
nothing.

We sat in silence for a second as
our beers arrived and we each took a sip. Then the conversation lulled, as it
usually did with first dates. The problem was, he seemed content by that fact,
while my forehead was beading in sweat from the awkwardness.

“Well, I’ll just…ah, go power my
nose.”

He looked at my nose and frowned.

“It means use the ladies room…”

Dawning. He nodded and reached for
his beer.

All right then. I made a graceful
exit, a graceful, half sexy saunter down the aisle, then ducked into the
kitchen. A male cook looked up from his steaming pot, and smiled.

“Oh! Sorry!”

I had an extremely embarrassing
walk to the other side of the restaurant where the restrooms were. Randall
watched me the whole way, a small grin fixed on his face.

He obviously knew the layout of the
restaurant.

The food was served when my
stalling restroom trip was completed.

I washed most the meal down with
artfully placed sips of beer to cover the halting conversation. He wasn’t
kidding when he’d said he was shy. He was happy enough not talking. Which he
proved.

When the food was gone, so was my
way to stay busy. We were forced to resume small talk.

Thankfully, he started this time.
“You come from
L.A.
, huh? Is there
much difference to here?”

I smiled. “Yes. There is a lot of
difference. A lot of difference. The whole mentality is different.”

“Yeah, people here tend to think
westerners are long-haired hippies.” He smiled warmly. “Well, I shouldn’t make
that statement so generic. A lot of people in the bigger cities and most people
in
Austin
don’t share that view
exactly. But generally speaking, y’all are long haired hippies.”

“And Texans, what, like their women
with a butch haircut?”

He put up his hands in surrender.
“Just saying!”