Seattle Girl (14 page)

I stood up and gave him a hug. “Okay.”

* * *

We said we’d meet on the third floor of Nordstrom and I knew exactly where she’d be: The sales rack.

“Mom,” I called out.

She glanced up from the rack, looked past me and then turned back to the 75%-off-the-last-marked-sale-price bounty before her.

“How weird was that?” I mumbled, suddenly wondering if she was madder at me than I had previously thought. She’d never failed to acknowledge me before.

Maybe it was my outfit. I looked down at the classy maroon v-neck tank and well tailored black slacks that I was wearing and knew it couldn’t be that. Weren’t these the kind of clothes that she’d been dying to get me into for years?

I walked up beside her and said, “Hi mom.”

She spun around, saying, “I thought I heard you, but I didn’t see...” The words died in her throat. “Your hair! Your clothes!” Leaning in closer to my face, she said, “Your eyebrows? What did you do with your eyebrows?”

I was not going to be insulted. Even though I already was.

“I had them plucked,” I said, already feeling the muscles of my face tightening up under her uncomfortable perusal.

“But you had such nice eyebrows.”

“I did?” Why hadn’t she told me this before?

It was an amazing thing to witness, but I think, for the very first time, she may have actually realized that she was hurting my feelings. So she backtracked. “You did. But you look very nice.”

I opened my mouth and then shut it, not quite sure how to deal with this woman who was obviously masquerading as my mother.

And then she said, “I hope you’re having better luck with boys now,” and I felt the comfort of sliding into that familiar place that she and I had always been in.

* * *

Somehow I made it through my time in the mall with my mother in one piece and spent Sunday night collapsed on the couch in front of reruns of every bad TV show every made. But no matter how much I wanted to let my worries be erased by Dr. Stubing and that annoying Kung-Fu guy who isn’t even Asian, they weren’t going anywhere.

I was as freaked out as I could be about having to work with Steve again. When I had hatched my grand plan to lose my virginity with him, I sure as hell hadn’t given enough—okay any—thought to what the “morning after” would be like.

Especially if there was no after. Only coitus interruptus humiliatus.

All night, instead of sleeping, I planned out my wardrobe—lots of black was called for so that I looked tough, like I could have cared less that Steve had sent me home, crowned by a skull-hugging black hat that said SEATTLE GIRL on it—and I cultivated my newly uninterested-in-sexy-male-DJs pose.

Unexpectedly, as soon as I walked through the door of the station Monday morning, Ken, the station manager, asked me to come into his office. All kinds of awful thoughts ran through my head. Maybe Steve was so upset about our date that he had made something up about me and asked Ken to fire me.

Or maybe Ken had found out about it through the grapevine—read, Bitch #1, Lola—and decided to fire his intern before he lost his number one DJ.

Or maybe, in a sick twist of fate, Lola had had a nervous breakdown and in her suicide letter she implicated me as the cause of death.

Frankly I was hoping for door number three.

I sat on the edge of my seat and braced for impact.

“Georgia, glad you’re here. I’ve got a question to ask you.”

Oh shit. I was wondering if I should bother lying or if I should just be totally honest and try to salvage what was left of my internship. I hadn’t put all the effort into this job just so some DJ could turn around and get me fired because his dick got limp at the wrong time.

“Sure. What’s up?” I said as calmly as I could get the words out from between my clenched teeth.

“James has had an emergency that he needs to take care of and frankly I can’t find anyone to replace him from 1 a.m. until 4 a.m. I was wondering if you would mind giving it a shot?”

I was so surprised that I wasn’t being fired, my mouth fell open partway. I clamped it shut and just as I was about to fall to my knees to thank God for his magnificent bounty, Ken added, “Just until I can find a permanent replacement, of course.”

I finally found my tongue. “Ken, thanks so much! I would be completely thrilled to fill in for James.”

I was thinking replacement, my ass. I’m going to be so hot you’re going to never want to let me go.

Ken’s face split into a relaxed grin. “Thank god you’re around to do this for me. Can you pull off a show by tonight?”

Could I pull off a show by tonight? Holy shit! Talk about being under the gun!

Never let ‘em see you sweat, right? So instead of placing Ken’s hand to my heart to feel the palpitations for himself, in my most calm, most composed voice, I said, “No problem, Ken. I already have a few topics I’ve been thinking about.”

Which was utter and complete bullshit, of course.

Immediately, Steve’s face sprung into my head. Not surprising, considering the fact that I hadn’t been able to think about anything else since The Worst Date Ever. Maybe I could do a show on men who couldn’t perform?
 
Maybe lots of irate women would call in and we could fry the men who made us feel unworthy and unwanted?

God, what if my show sucked and Ken never let me anywhere near the control room ever again?

Keep it together, Georgia!

Calm face, dry palms, no worries at all. That was the me Ken needed to see.

“Great,” Ken said, with a happy smile on his face, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil and self-doubt. “This will be your last day shadowing Steve and Lola, ok?
 
And I’ll need you back in the studio by midnight.”

I nodded energetically, stunned by what a beautiful twist of fate this was. Not only was I getting the chance to have my own show on a real commercial talk-radio station, however temporary, I was going to get a break from working with Steve or Lola. Could things have been any sweeter?
 

Of course, I did have to make it through one last day of hell—no, let me rephrase that for accuracy, HELL—with both DJs, but knowing blessed nirvana was waiting for me on the other side, I figured however bad it was, I’d make it through.

Leaving Ken’s office, I stood and saluted him. “Thanks for the opportunity, boss.”

That morning as I helped out with Steve’s show one last time I was floating on air. Even though something deep inside of me felt bruised and sore, frankly I just didn’t have the time to worry about dealing with him anymore. My whole being was totally focused on being on the air that night and how I wanted to organize my show.

Besides, for the first time I couldn’t help but notice how many times he said ‘baby’ to callers.

It was annoying in the extreme.

At 11:30 a.m. when his show was almost over, he took off his headphones during a commercial break and motioned for me to come over.

“Georgia, we have to talk.”

I stood there in front of him, not the least bit interested in anything he had to say. He was forty-eight hours too late. I tried to think about how Diane would look if someone had thrashed her on a date the way that he’d thrashed me—a laughable proposition, of course, being Diane—and let her haughtiness invade my body.

“Why?” I asked. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much to be said between us.”

He looked crushed. “I need to explain, baby. I really like you and I don’t want you to misunderstand what happened.”

I probably could have been nicer right then, but the ‘baby’ threw me over the edge. Everything about Steve that had seemed so cute at first was suddenly awful and smarmy. I wondered how I had ever let him kiss me, let alone thought I wanted to feel him between my legs.

I had heard people say, “Everything happens for a reason.” For the first time in my life, I totally got it. Even the merest thought of Steve touching me, suddenly made my insides turn barfy.

Feeling better about my life, so much better, I walked out of the control room without a backward glance.

* * *

That afternoon, wonder of wonders, it even looked like I was going to get out free and easy with Lola. I was more grateful than I can say. For some reason she was being mellow, both off and on the air. I was wondering if she had finally gotten on some meds or something. Lord knew, she needed psychiatric help and drug prescriptions more than anyone.

Ironic, isn’t it, that she was psychologist to the masses when she was in dire need of some therapy herself?

But then, just as the clock was about to strike 4pm, and I was out of her hair for good, she pierced me with an evil glare. Finishing up her last response to a caller, she flipped a switch on the board for a commercial, and kicked her feet up on the desk.

“So, I hear you get to play DJ for a few days,” she said, snidely.

I stood with my shoulders back and tried to act unconcerned by her venomous tone.
Channel Diane’s attitude again
, I urged myself. It had worked so well with Steve, after all.

“Ken asked me to fill in for James,” I said in a voice that made it perfectly clear that not only was it none of her business, but that my show was going to wipe the floor with her show.

She sneered at me. “And what’s your little show going to be called?” She looked me up and down like I was a five year old with mud in my hair and zeroed in on my hat. “Seattle Girl?”

God bless her for saying that.

No, really, I’m serious. Because I swear to god, when she said ‘Seattle Girl’, a light bulb went off in my head.

Yes indeed, that was exactly what I was going to call my show.

Seattle Girl.

Because that's who I was, through and through. The songs might have been written about the California ones, but I didn't need to wear daisy dukes to melt anyone's popsicles, thanks very much.

Of course, I was wise enough to disguise the direction of my thoughts from Lola. I gave her a wide-eyed bewildered look, deciding that perhaps the role of naïve little shepherd girl was the best option at the present.

“I really haven’t thought about it much yet. It’s all happening so fast.”

Thank god right then the commercial ended and she had to get back on the air to take one more call. I slunk out of the control room and headed off to my waitressing job, with dreams of radio stardom dancing in my head.

* * *

I must have been glowing, because it seemed like every guy in the restaurant was hitting on me that night. But the only one to catch my eye was a guy named Max, who made it a point to find out my name—okay, so maybe the bright orange name tag helped a little—and flirt with me every time I walked past his table.

There was something really familiar about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I let it go, figuring I had probably just seen him around the University of Washington campus. He was a good looking guy—tall, well-built, brown slightly wavy hair that brushed against his collar. Just the type Diane and I would have noticed when we were playing a game of spot-the-hot-guy.

Max hung out in the bar through my entire shift, nursing a beer, and after I emerged from the back room in my civilian clothes, he nervously approached me. “Um, Georgia,” he began, and then looked a little lost.

“Um, Max,” I said, flirting with him a little bit, thinking how cute it was that he was nervous about asking me out.

I was also marveling on the glorious fact that I didn’t need Steve at all. Barely forty-eight hours after almost making a huge mistake with a real loser, here I was on the verge of hooking up with someone infinitely more desirable.

Giving me a sheepish smile, he said, “Do you wanna go for a walk on the beach, or anything?”

I smiled back and spent a moment looking him over. Tonight I was going to go on the air at XTRA for the first time, and I had planned to arrive a little early to get things ready. But I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to get to know Max better, so I smiled back and held out my hand. “Sure. But I’ve only got about an hour or so.”

Looking overjoyed, he grabbed my hand and we walked out into the street. As he wrapped his hand around mine, I looked down and appreciated how manly it was. Oh yes, I definitely had a thing for big, strong hands. My thoughts drifted back to Steve and his workman’s hands, and I forced the thought away.

“So,” he asked me, after I dropped my things off in the trunk of my car, “what brings you to Harborside?”

“Would you believe me if I said it’s always been my dream to be a cocktail waitress at a waterfront casino?”

I guess he wasn’t buying my story, even though I had delivered it with a remarkably straight face. He laughed and said, “Nope. Not a chance.”

I let out an overblown sigh of relief. “Thank god. I’d hate it if I looked that stupid.”

He still held my hand in his and it felt so nice and warm to have somebody hold my hand, so I turned my face up to his, threw caution to the wind, and pulled his head towards mine. In retrospect, I might have been a teensy bit on the rebound, because when had I ever made a move on a guy within a hour of meeting him?

Nonetheless, it was a really hot kiss, but I guess I was still reeling from my rather unceremonious dumping the night before, so before things could go too far I found myself pulling away. We were both panting a little, and I wanted to make things comfortable again, so I continued our conversation where it had left off when I attacked him.

“Actually, I’m doing an internship at a local radio station for the summer.”

“XTRA?”

I looked up at him, surprised he knew the station. “Yeah. That’s the one. Do you listen?”

He shook his head. “Not really. But my mom works there, so I know a lot about it.”

“Your mom?” I said, with more than a little trepidation.

Was my worst fear about to come true?
 
I hadn’t just made out with the evil witches son, had I?

“Yeah, her name’s Lola,” he affirmed.

I swear to god I almost threw up right then and there on the beach. At least the tide would have washed it away. But instead I covered my face with an insincere smile.

“Wow. Great. I’ve worked with her.”