Nerd Girl (2 page)

Chapter #3

Nerd Girl Problem #103

Realizing much too late that the guy of your dreams is probably incredibly unavailable and wasn’t interested in you to begin with. Queue sappy, sad love songs for the splintered heart.

I
t’s just past 9:00 PM when Layla and I hit the NJ Turnpike. We left Philly shortly after the author event came to a close. I managed to get a few more signatures for my books and even got a few of my favorite Indie authors to sign my Kindle cover. Layla took a few more pictures of me with authors and a couple other cover models. Brandi Parsons was just a fantastic lady and Jackson Kent is as flamboyant as the puffy pirate shirts he wears. There was quite the stir when, at some point near the end, a loud blast of screams could be heard from where we left Derrick.

“What’s going on over there?” Layla asked some woman as she high-tailed it for that corner of the ballroom. “Derrick Walker just took off his shirt!” She squeals and takes off with her friend. Huh, I guess it’s all part of the fantasy for some people. Shame I missed that.

We coast down the turnpike towards home in
“Dotty”
, Layla’s reliable but old Ford Bronco. Layla likes to think of herself as a hard-ass driving this beast of a truck. The look is complete with quirky bumper stickers that say “Silly boys, Trucks are for girls!” or “Chick Truck.” I love my friend, but I’ve always thought of her as one of those Cadbury Eggs. Hard coating on the outside, soft on the inside.

I can’t help but think about the events of the day and whether or not that butt rub was intentional. Layla’s chattering on and on about something. I must have spaced out for a second, because I catch her saying, “Jenks, you have to post that pic to his Facebook page and try to keep in contact with him. I swear, the fuck-me eyes you two were giving each other were so freakin’ sexy.”

“Layla, you clearly imagined things. He was only doing the flirty thing to play a part. I’m sure he winks and smiles at all of his adoring fans.” Yeah, there was attraction, on my part. There was also a bit of annoyance on my part because of his humongous ego. But why did he continue to hold my hand once the job requirement of picture taking was done. Foiled by Mitzi, the dragon lady. I don’t know why I’m dwelling on this; I’ll probably never see him again unless he’s at another event like this one. What would Mr. Yummy want with an awkward, clumsy, plain girl like me? He could have his pick of anyone he wants and I’m sure I don’t meet his usual criteria.

“Imagining things? You didn’t see the fascination from where I was standing. I think he could be into you.” The radio plays in the background, and I hear “Between the Raindrops” by Life House coming through the speakers. “That uber wench swooped in at the worst possible moment. Who was she anyhow?” Layla says probing for more information.

“I caught that her name was Mitzi and she seemed really bossy telling him what to do and stuff. Agent maybe?”

“Well, whoever she is, she needs to be taken down a few pegs or get a swift kick in the ass. I’m wearing the perfect boots to do it, too,” Layla says, pointing out her Docs. Slowing down, we pull into the Molly Pitcher Rest Stop and park the Bronco. The smell of gas is strong and the parking lot is full of eighteen wheelers.

“I’m in need of a Dirty Chai,” Layla shares, indicating her favorite caffeinated beverage. Chai tea with a shot of espresso sounds heavenly right now. I could use an energy pick me up since we’re still about 45 minutes from home. I nod my head yes, and Layla climbs out of the beast and trots across the parking lot to the coffee shop. I turn up the radio to drown out my thoughts. Unluckily for me, I hear an old song by Van Halen that clearly is perfect for this occasion.
‘Yeah, Sammy sing it! Why Can’t This Be Love?’
As I sing along to this ironic song, I hear my iPhone ping telling me someone tagged me with something. I open my screen and touch on Facebook and there, in my face, are two pictures of me and Derrick. Conveniently posted three minutes ago. One with both of us facing the camera, he’s smiling happily, and I’m, well I look like I’m constipated. Good one Layla! The next photo is of me glaring up at Derrick for some comment he must have made and he’s looking down at me with a sensual smirk. Wow, does he ever not look good? Scrolling through the comments from friends and family I notice one from Derrick Walker; damn you, Layla, why did you tag him as well? “Had a great time today and I met a special pair of lovely ladies! Thanks for the friendship, Layla.” Oh no, no, no, no, no! I quickly flip over to Layla’s home page and there sits a new picture of Derrick in her friends’ box. “I’m going to strangle that hag!” I mutter to myself.

I glance up to see her coming out the door with two cups in a cardboard carrier. Opening the driver side door with a rusty squeak, placing the carrier on the center console, she pulls herself up onto the seat.

“Your dirty chai, my dear.” She says handing me my cup. I don’t take it and continue to stare out the windshield. My arms crossed tightly across my chest.

“Jenks? Earth to Jenks. Care to share with me what crawled up your butt during the ten minutes I was gone to get drinks?” I slowly turn my head and glare at her. She knows what’s up. She just wants to hear my argument on why I think she was wrong to do it.

“You are such a twatwaffle! I know why you posted those pictures, but why would you accept him as a friend?” I whine.

“Why shouldn’t I accept him as friend? Give me a real good reason, Amy, and I’ll unfriend him just for you.” She says while giving me a squint of her eyes. Uh oh, it’s never a good thing when she calls me by my name. I back down from my argument, because I can’t give her a good enough reason.

“Amy, odds are you’ll never see Derrick Walker again. So what if I allow him to be a pretend friend online. It’s not hurting anything!” Layla starts laying into me. “Your big problem is you like him, but don’t think you're good, pretty or sexy enough for him or someone like him. Well, news flash butt munch, he
was
flirting with you, he
was
interested in you, without meddlesome Mitzi crashing your little eye fucking scene, he might have asked you for your number.” I’m guessing Layla is on a rant because she keeps going.

“Jenks, you are a gorgeous girl, I would kill to look like you. You’re the complete package; good boobs, nice ass, pretty face, and fabulous hair.” I just stare at her as she lists what she thinks are my assets. “With a little help from me and realizing that I am always right, we might be able to work with what we’ve got and turn you into a sex kitten instead of the lonely cat lady.”

“Layla, I love you, you jerk, but I don’t think it can be done.” I plead. Layla hands me my dirty chai and cranks up the beast.

“Just leave the details to me, my friend, Derrick
might
be out of our reach, but we most definitely will change your luck with guys. Operation get Jenks laid is about to commence. ” Oh lord save me!

*** Derrick ***

Home sweet home, finally! It was starting to feel like this day would never end, I think to myself as I crash down on top of my bed. Running my fingers through my hair, I loosen all the extra hold gel that I use to give me my signature faux hawk. Relaxing is just what I need. I lay back in my pile of pillows and am enveloped in the smell Downy fabric softener. Fresh and clean! I unbutton my jeans for some breathing room, toss my arm across my eyes and settle in. Reflecting on the day’s events, I’d consider it a success. Tons of book sales for Anita, awesome exposure and a phenomenal response from fans for both of us.

My cheeks are sore from all the smiling I’ve done today. Posing for pics with fans, being happy to see everyone, just being an all-around friendly guy. All fake! The only genuine smile I had today was when I bumped into a girl in the men’s room. It still gives me a chuckle. She was just as surprised as I was. It’s too bad I was trying to hide from a mob of chicks. She probably thought I was an incredible wuss, locking myself away in the most predictable hiding spot. I’m typically a guy who prefers blondes, but something about her just sucked me in. Incredibly cute, rocking body, great tits, strawberry blonde hair, blushed cheeks and grayish eyes concealed behind tortoise-shell glasses. Boy, would I like to steam up those glasses with some dirty talk and deepen that blush with a more pleasant exertion. Just thinking about her is getting me hard. A sexy librarian all buttoned up and proper. Give me a chance baby and I’ll annihilate that image for you and make you wonder how you ever survived without me!

“Dude, I hope that chubby you’re sporting isn’t because you’re thinking about me,” my buddy Riven announces. “You know my door doesn’t swing that way, man.” He says continuing to egg me on.

“Riv, man, leave me alone, it’s been a long-ass day,” I plead, without removing my arm from my face. I know it’s in vain because he’s going to want details about the signing and if anything interesting happened.

“Alright, so give me a count, how many butt grabs, junk rubs and nipple twists this time?” He asks with a laugh.

“I lost count and some woman old enough to be my grandma gave me all three and then asked me to be the cream in her coffee, whatever that means. Could have been worse though. Mitzi only lets them feel me up so much and then she sends them on their way. Got to allow some of the heavy petting, so the ladies feel like they are living in the book fantasy, you know!”

“Ah yes, and how is Moaning Mitzi today?” Riven inquires. He’s referred to her by that name, because occasionally Mitzi accompanies me home. She is an overly loud lover and just like her everyday personality, she’s a pit bull in the bedroom, too. Aggressive and assertive. She’s a determined woman and a great manager, not happily ever after material. So with her, it’s always a fuck and duck. We both get-off and she goes home. No strings emotionally, well on my part at least. Mitzi does like to mark me as her territory, just like she did with that girl Amy today.

“Mitzi was satisfied with the turnout and is booking a few photo shoots and appearances for the coming weeks.” I respond.

“All good brother, get some shut eye. We have a three-hour workout session in the AM.” Riven informs me. He’s not only my buddy and roommate, he’s my co-worker and trainer. We work out and work together at Galaxy Fitness Club. “And, by the way, what babe were you thinking about that caused you to sprout some wood?”

“Fuck off, Riv,” I shout and toss a pillow at his goofy face.

“Alright, douche bag, get some rest. You’re going to need it to survive the session I have planned tomorrow. Nothing but gains.”

And with those parting words, he leaves me to my thoughts. Thoughts surrounding a certain strawberry blonde. I was shocked as shit to see that her friend posted those pictures on Facebook and sent me a friend request. I immediately accepted that. It’s pathetic, I know, but I can at least look at pics of her and post an occasional comment. Perhaps something more; after all, its a very small world.

Chapter #4

Nerd Girl Problem #104

Finding out that Ben Wa is a lot different than Benihana.

T
he buzzer on my alarm sounds off at 8:00 the next morning; I’m so not ready to get up and face the world yet. I click the snooze button for an extra ten minutes and roll over to face the wall so the light from the window doesn’t shine in my face. I’m met with a cold nose to my cheek, proceeded by a very large tongue giving me a face bath. Sounds kinky, right? Yeah, not when that tongue is attached to a 60 pound Redbone Coonhound.

“Clyde, get off my bed. Your breath smells like Milk Bones,” I say as I attempt to avoid the mad licker coming at my face again. I manage to push him away with both arms. Grunting his disapproval at me, Clyde climbs off the bed and slinks out my bedroom door that’s cracked open. “I love you, boy,” I yell to Clyde. He answers back with a loud hound howl. He always has to have the last word.

I do love Clyde; he’s my Pops’ dog. We rescued him from a high-kill shelter in Newark. He was an eleventh-hour rescue because the trainers said he was unable to learn the most basic commands like sit, stay, speak. Those skills make dogs attractive to possible families. Pops didn’t care. He saw that rich red coat of fur with sad, pleading eyes and found his new four-legged child. They were right. There’s only one command Clyde understands and follows. Pops taught Clyde to pee on command. Have you ever watched the Clint Eastwood movie
Any Which Way You Can
? You know the one with the orangutan? Well, this is Pops’ favorite movie. When he found out the dog’s name was Clyde, Pops went on a mission. At the command of “Right Turn, Clyde” the orangutan in the movie would punch someone standing on his right side. You see where this is going? Yep, Pops taught our Clyde to pee on the command “Right Turn, Clyde.” Totally gross, but on the bright side, it shows Clyde is capable of learning, he just chooses not to do dumb dog tricks. He’s more sophisticated than that.

The buzzer sounds again and this time the day cannot be ignored. I’ve got to go shower, shave my legs and show up for work; the three S’s. I’m so tired today. It took ages for me to fall asleep last night and, when I did, I had dreams of Derrick that turned into nightmares when Layla made a vain attempt to sexify my nerdy self for a date with him: teased hair a mile high, blue eye shadow, and hot pink lip stick. I looked like a throw-back to a Twisted Sister music video. Scary!

The hot water pours down on me and it feels so good, I could stay in here all day, but duty calls at the bookstore, along with another long evening of my online computer college courses. Most of the online work is complete, I’m set to graduate from the University of Phoenix Online in May with a degree in Business Administration.

After I blow my hair dry, I pull it up into my usual signature ponytail. I quickly choose my outfit for the day: black skinny jeans, a button up red and navy flannel shirt and my favorite black Chuck Taylors. I add a black leather and bead bracelet just for a girlie touch and sling my leather camel colored purse across my chest. With one last look in the mirror, I give myself my usual pep talk about my appearance. “Alright, Amy, just like any other day, this is as good as it’s going to get.” Skipping downstairs, I quickly bustle through the kitchen, grab a cinnamon roll, kiss Pops goodbye and run out the door.

“Amy, are you going to be home for dinner?” Pops yells to me. “GG is making baked chicken and mashers.”

“I’ll call you after work Pops, not sure yet,” I answer as I climb in my little red Hyundai. It’s a short, fifteen-minute drive to work at The Book Mark, a local mom and pop bookstore and coffee shop. What can I say, I love books, I’m addicted to caffeinated beverages and I’m a poor college girl. Working here is no hardship. I park my car in my usual spot two doors down. The downtown area of Red Bank is never busy at this time of the morning. Climbing out and locking my doors, I quickly walk down the street. The door is unlocked and the welcome bell chimes as I enter the store. I turn the closed sign over to open, seeing as Barb, my boss, forgot to do it.

“Amy, is that you honey?” Barb calls out from the back room.

“No, Barb, it’s the boogie man,” I answer her jokingly. Barb is great. She’s exactly what I want to be when I grow up. A successful business owner doing something she loves. She’s clanging things around in the back, getting the coffee bar ready for our morning rush. After I stash my purse under the front counter, I help out by getting the cash till set up for the day and booting up our computers.

“Don’t give me that lip, missy,” peeking around the wall, Barb scolds with a shake of her finger at me. We both burst out laughing at this ridiculous reprimand. Barb loves my sarcasm, dry though it may be at times, but we have a blast and a terrific working relationship. The ringing of the phone interrupts us and I reach over to answer it.

“Good Morning, this is Amy at the Book Mark. How may I help you?” I greet.

“Jenks, it’s me. I’m stopping by in a few to give you something. I want to introduce you to Ben Wa today; it might help to loosen you up.” Layla says quickly, her words are rapid like a machine gun.

“I’ll be here, see you in a few.” I return and hang up the phone. The flow of people in and out of the store is steady this morning. Barb and I keep up with the orders for coffee and we sell a few copies of a new best seller. Just as we get a chance to breathe, Layla comes bustling in the door. She has a blue streak in her spike today to match her blue Docs. She clomps up to the counter where Barb and I are catching a quiet minute.

“Hello, Layla, are we on a combat mission today?” Barb asks indicating the boots and army green cargo pants Layla’s wearing. Barb and Layla have a strange relationship. Barb wishes Layla would dress more girly and not be such an abrasive person. She's been trying to soften Layla for years. Never going to happen. I’ve often wondered what the issue between these two is. Barb strikes me as having been a rebel of sorts in her youth. Perhaps she sees a lot of herself in Layla. Whatever the reason is neither of them is talking.

“Yeah, Barb, a mission to loosen Jenks up and get her laid,” Layla answers sounding annoyed.

“Layla King, there is nothing wrong with Amy,” Barb says as she starts to chew Layla out. “Furthermore, she is a good girl that deserves a decent man, not one of these boys who like to spread themselves around like some other people I’m acquainted with.” Barb finishes with a raised eyebrow and a hand on her hip. It’s never a good thing to throw Layla’s sex life up in her face. Though promiscuous she’s not, she’s not a nun either. Layla refers to it as tasting the flavors to see which one is her favorite.

“I guess that attitude is why you have cobwebs growing on your ancient vajayjay then, huh, Barb?” These two just love to have a go at each other.

“So, Layla, my good old buddy, old pal, what did you want to give me?” I interrupt the two of them. Lines were about to be drawn in the sand and this is not the time or place for that kind of explosion. Eyeing each other up, Layla finally gives me her attention and Barb heads to the back mumbling something about needing more sugar packets. Gah!! Will these two ever get along?

“Here, Jenks, I picked these up for you,” She says clunking down a small red satin bag on the counter and sliding it to me. “I want you to use these; they help to strengthen muscles, relieve stress, and just make you feel good. I’m introducing you to Ben Wa today,” Layla says with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a sly smile. “Use them and I’ll call you later,” she announces and blows back out through the door.

I pick up the small bag and pour out the contents. Two shiny, medium sized balls fall out into my hand. I’m a little confused at first and then it dawns on me. These must be those stress balls people use. I start to rotate the pair of balls in my hand and realize that Layla is right; these are great stress relievers. All my focus is on turning the balls round and round in my hand and not thinking about my problems. I can also feel the muscles in my hand being worked as I grip the balls. “What a thoughtful gift,” I say to myself as I drop the balls back into the bag and put them away in my purse.

It’s pretty much a usual day at the Book Mark: making coffees, giving book recommendations, stocking shelves, and ringing people up. All too soon, 5:00 rolls around and it’s time for me to leave.

“Take it easy, Barb, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say as I kiss her cheek and collect my things to leave.

“Night honey, see you tomorrow,” Barb answers with a big smile and a return kiss to my cheek.

Leaving the bookstore, I walk down the block to my car, climb in and turn up the tunes for my ride back home. Fifteen minutes later I pull into GG and Pops driveway. GG’s car is there. Shit! I think to myself. I forgot to call and say whether I was going to be home for dinner. I’m pretty sure Layla said she wanted to introduce me to a new Japanese restaurant. I grab my purse as I get out of the car. As soon as I walk in the front door, I’m greeted by the president of my fan club, Clyde. Heavy paws land on my chest and that tongue gives me a face bath.

“Yes, I’m happy to see you too, boy.” I soothe the over excited critter. I gently push him off me, scratch him behind the ears and ask him, “Have you been a good boy today? Want a cookie?” Of course, cookie is the magic word to send him running into the kitchen for a treat. The house smells great, the chicken baking in the oven is making my mouth water. Following Clyde into the kitchen I see GG in front of the oven basting the chicken and Pops sitting at the table reading today's paper. My grandparents are two of the most important people in my life. They raised me after my mother died of complications during my birth. My sperm donor had decided shortly after finding out she was pregnant, that he wasn’t ready to be a dad and left town. Once he was notified of her death, he signed away all his rights as a parent to me and my grandparents effectively adopted me. My mother’s name was Amelia, so GG and Pops called me Amy to keep her memory alive and to make me feel closer to her.

“Well, hello dollface, how was work today?” GG asks as she straitens up and closes the oven door. She’s still a lovely woman, even at 63 years old. Her once brown hair is now laced with silver streaks and the laugh lines around her mouth are more pronounced, indicating that she is a very happy person. Always smiling.

“It was a typical day, nothing too exciting,” I reply. “Layla stopped by briefly and I think we are doing Japanese for dinner. Sorry I didn’t call.” I kiss GG on her cheek and move to get Clyde one of his treats. He’s waiting so nicely in front of the cabinet with that happy tail wagging. I quickly give him his Milk Bone.

“Oh, that was nice of her to stop by. How is Layla?” She inquires.

“She’s good, just kind of breezed in and breezed back out.” I respond. “I’ve got a couple hours of studying to do, so I’m going to lock down. I’ll see you later.” I grab an apple from the blue bowl on the counter and give Pops a smooch.

“Thanks, honey,” he mumbles without looking up from his newspaper.

I close myself off for the next two hours attending my online courses and studying with my group for an upcoming test. I’ve also been spinning my little stress balls in my hand as I work. Just as I’m about to finish up, I hear my phone ring with Layla’s signature ringtone. A “Pink” song, of course.

“S’up girl?” I say as a greeting. “I’m starving! When are you coming to get me so we can try out this new restaurant?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve got a date with Troy tonight.” Layla’s obviously double booked herself this evening. I want to try out this restaurant. I hear they have great sushi and hibachi. There’s no way she’s ditching me tonight. She’s the one who mentioned it.

“Dude, you’re the one who mentioned introducing me to Ben Wa today. Now I’m hungry so when are you coming to get me?” I probe.

“Jenks, are you smoking crack? I’ve already introduced you to Ben Wa today. That bag with the metal balls I gave you earlier.”

“Yeah, they’re great I’ve been using them as stress relievers all day. I thought they were supposed to be bigger though.” I state. “The constant movement in my hand is working the muscles and keeping my mind off stuff.”

“Jenks, you’ve lost me here, why are you rotating them in your hand? You’re supposed to insert them.” Ok, now I’m confused.

“Insert them where, Layla?” I’m scared. This conversation is going to embarrass me, I just know it. I’m talking about food and she’s talking about inserting balls.

“Jenks, I gave you a set of Ben Wa balls, you insert them into your vajayjay. They’re designed to stimulate you and exercise your kegel muscles.” It’s now dawning on me that we are talking about two completely different things.

“I thought Ben Wa was a Japanese sushi and hibachi restaurant?”

“That’s Benihana, you dumb ass!” She insults me and is now cracking up laughing. “Big difference here, kiddo.” I’m now seeing my “stress balls” totally differently. “OH MY GOD, Jenks, you are so totally clueless! Go Google Ben Wa balls and give them a try. You’ll be glad you did,” she coaches. “I’ll talk to you later, Troy just pulled up. I’m discovering I have my work cut out for me. We need something more drastic than Ben Wa balls.”

“Have fun, say hi to Troy for me,” I tell her and hang up. Could I really be that clueless? I guess I am. If she gave me Ben Wa balls to try out first, I would worry about what drastic means. I’m still hungry and it looks like I’m getting no hibachi tonight.

“GG, is there any more chicken?” I shout.

***Derrick***

I spent the morning running through a harsh workout session with Riven. Sometimes I wonder if he’s trying to kill me. But then I think if he wanted to do that, he would have done it in the third grade. He’s always been a little bigger than me, a little taller. He puts up with my moody ass and I deal with his raunchy sense of humor. It’s a good balance. My shoulders are aching and my hands are tender from gripping the weights, but I’m gaining more and more muscle with each stint at the gym. After the three-hour torture session, it was time for work.