Til Somebody Loves You, Romantic Comedy Quick-Pick

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Til Somebody Loves You, Romantic Comedy Quick-Pick Page 4

by Dee Detarsio


  Chapter 4

  Just Lust

  It wasn’t until Wednesday afternoon, following no phone calls, no emails, no text messages, not even work-related or pretend work-related, that Dino swung by my desk.

  “Hey,” said my man of few words.

  “Hey?” I said. “Hey? That’s all you’ve got to say? I have bruises that have stuck around longer that you,” I said in a whisper. I did, too.

  “Shh, sorry,” he said, looking around. No one was anywhere near my cubicle. “I know I look like a total jerk, and I apologize. Friday was un-fucking-believable,” he said, his lips curving up at the ends.

  I could hear Susie now. “You want a relationship with a guy who uses the word ‘un-fucking-believable’ and uses it in concert with the most precious experience a girl can have? You’re better than that.” Truth was, I didn’t think I was better than that. I picked up every crumb he dropped.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. While I was seated at my desk, I swiveled my chair around to face him. His hands were in his pocket and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, thrusting his hips back and forth, maybe juggling his other set of balls, who knew? He stepped in a little closer and all I knew was that if I turned my head a few inches he could have popped his penis right into my ear. Although why he would want to do that I couldn’t imagine. I shifted back in my chair, and away from that disturbing image, afraid I was going to break out in the laughing-at-a-funeral chuckle. I swallowed, and tried to ask myself. WWSD? What would Susie do?

  I had to set aside emotions and petty thoughts, and keep my eye on the ball, er, prize. What did I want to happen here? Other than Dino dropping to the floor on bended knee and proposing, that is. I guess, if I had to be honest, I did want his commitment to being in a relationship with me, even though it did happen a little backwards, what with all the mind-blowing passion kicking things off. Even though I knew Dino had his suspicions, I knew our hook-up was not merely a result of the Rapunzel perfume or Ph-uX factor. If it had anything to do with it at all, it may have added a little Sriracha hot chili sauce to the enchilada, a little Party in the USA to the dance floor. So yeah, I wanted to do it again, and this time sans any so-called aphrodisiac. I wanted to do it after a real life, honest to goodness date. I wanted to be wined and dined and wooed--I wanted to learn his middle name for goodness sake--what does a parent stick in between a Dean and Dineno? Was it too much to ask for him to get to know me, the real me? To find out that with a name like MaryBeth, you didn’t even need a middle name.

  “What do you think about me?” I couldn’t resist flirting and even tried to wind a strand of hair around my finger. Strand was such a strong word.

  “You know. You. That night. God.” He ran his fingers through his curls and I was consumed with jealousy of his hands. He looked down at me. “Was it really the perfume that caused all that?”

  “What do you think?” I tried to make my voice husky, alluring, without sounding like I was from Australia or something. My inflection wasn’t the problem; my question was. Never ask something you don’t want the answer to. No wonder I wasn’t in a relationship, I didn’t understand the rules.

  “Well, to be quite honest, yeah. I think you put that stuff on to drive me crazy.”

  His hands were now resting on his hips, a defensive stance against my feminine allure?

  “You’re kidding right? You...” I had to stop. “You really think just because I put on a dab of perfume, you were hypnotized and lured in by me, not acting of your own free will, but powerless to resist my charms?”

  “You’re a nice girl, and all, MaryBeth. But, come on. Well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I think you kinda liked me before. A lot. I used to catch you staring at me.”

  He noticed. Drats. Regroup. “Yeah, Dino, I liked you. I still do. I thought you were cute. But I never, ever, set out to trap you. Especially with some lame celebrity scent. How was I supposed to know you were coming back that night? You were the one who forgot your cell phone and came back to look for it. I was minding my own business. You can’t really believe one whiff of me in that perfume and whammo! You were under my spell?”

  “Since you’re throwing around those kinds of words like ‘spell,’ and ‘hypnotized,’ yeah, I have to tell you, I felt bewitched.”

  “It’s called lust,” I said with a sigh. “Just lust.” I started to turn my chair back toward my desk, but then I stopped. I couldn’t go on living this way, waiting for his call or text that never came. I had to say what I wanted, and want what I said. “I had enough passion for the both of us, Dino. I didn’t need any aphrodisiac. I thought we were having fun that night, dancing around the office and goofing off. I guess maybe that gave me a little boost of confidence. Did you ever think that was what you were attracted to? Not some magic tantalizing aroma, but maybe just plain ol’ me?”

  I felt the tears squinch up behind my eyes. Some girls can pull off damsel in distress weeping, encouraging TLC from a nearby Lothario. I was not one of them. Mucus would build up and spew in an uncontrollable geyser from my nose; tears would cascade over my entire face, making sure to power wash every last drop of mascara and eye shadow I had on, creating dirty purple/black rivulets that congealed on my cheeks. And the noise, dear God. Whichever was worse, yawning during a hiccup or a cat retching up a hair ball, that’s how I sounded when I wept. I almost hyperventilated in my efforts not to cry, especially not in front of Dino.

  His hand reached for my shoulder and squeezed. I decided anger beats sorrow any day. “You never noticed me, Dino. I have a lot to offer.” I gulped back a sob which came out like the hideous megaphoned hiccup during a yawn. “I happen to be an awesome drummer at RockBand.” I sniffed. “Maybe there’s a girl in here that’s worth getting to know, but guys like you who are always blinded by blonde hair and boobs have no idea what you’re missing out on...”

  “What are you guys talking about?” La-ura snuck up on us, as usual; she was wearing 8-inch stilettos, what else could she do but tip-toe?

  “Rapunzel,” I said, answering La-ura.

  “RockBand,” Quick Draw McGraw said at the exact same time.

  “Um, yeah,” I added. “We were trying to figure out what kind of music could go with the perfume campaign, you know, to try to get a handle on the branding.”

  “Well, since the perfume was created by a rock star, I would say you should start there, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. Of course.” I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand.

  “They want to see some creative by the end of the week. Can you handle that?” La-ura asked me, still looking suspiciously suspicious. Even though I didn’t now what all she heard, I was pretty sure her ego would never ever consider me a threat.

  “Yes, sure, Laura. I think we’ve got some good ideas...”

  She cut me off and yanked on Dino’s tie. “I need to speak to you.” I watched her sashay down the hall toward her office, Dino following in her wake. Again, Susie’s words came back to taunt me. He did kind of remind me of Fred Flintstone’s pet dinosaur, yammering down the hall looking for a juicy bone to chew on.

  Chapter 5

  Bewitched

  Nick at Night used to rerun some pretty cool shows, like Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie. I was more team Samantha than team Jeannie, although I loved Jeannie’s bottle--it reminded me of my elevator. When it came right down to it what I loved most of all was the magic. Who hasn’t dabbled in love potions and magic spells, or trying to move objects with their mind, or even staring down traffic lights trying to force them to change? Doesn’t everybody do that? Susie pretends she never did, but then again she’s got her very own case of neurosis going on. Like she always, always puts her right shoe on before her left, every time. One time she tried to prove to me she didn’t have to but then I later caught her slipping off her shoes to do it “right.” She never lets food on her plate touch, and even admitted to me in times of stress, she counts her teeth with her tongue.

&
nbsp; “And you call me weird,” I had joked with her.

  “No,” she said. “I call you sad.”

  Susie claimed that superstitions were one thing; soothing rituals of an orderly mind, but that believing in magic was downright crazy. Another pep talk followed with her telling me to have my dreams, sure, but be realistic. Ah, what does she know? I needed another dose of Susie like I needed another pimple in my ear. Reality, like a festering whitehead nearly blocking my auditory canal, though no one else could see it, was proving to be irritating beyond belief. But I had a secret weapon: another sample of Love Potion #9, Rapunzel. It was delivered to the office last night, to me. I told no one.

  Cinnamon pop-tart with my name on it aside, I couldn’t wait to get out of bed the next morning. I showered, blew dry my hair in a record two minutes, I know, I know, not exactly a selling point of amazing beauty, and miserly dabbed on two light touches of Rapunzel behind each ear.

  I may be able to (and actually have) slept soundly through the night impaled upon my own cell phone, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t eligible for some shiny magic star points on the belle of the ball dance card. The Princess and the Pea be damned, I was diva of my own destiny, micro-managing my very own personal focus group. I was conducting my own little experiment to see what, if anything, Rapunzul and her Ph-uX effects had going for them--and me.

  I sniffed, and physically had to restrain myself from dousing more elixir on my body. Just because I couldn’t smell it, didn’t mean it wasn’t working. I had no desire to become “The Lady”--a middle aged woman who worked on the fifth floor and wore so much perfume she nearly couldn’t fit into the elevator. On the occasions I shared the elevator with her, I bonded with the other car-mates who were along for the odiferous ride; we would all practically meditate together in one giant mass sensory overload as we tried not to breathe.

  I stared in the mirror, smoothed back my hair, threw back my shoulders and sucked in my stomach. I challenged the day to prove that Rapunzel had it, or not.

  If the guy bumping into my boob as I clung to the handle riding the El to work was any indicator, maybe Rapunzel was emitting some powerful invisible lures. I was awash in feminine wiles I never knew I had. I didn’t think it was my imagination that I was whistled at walking toward my building, because I also received a tip-o-the hat. (Granted, the hat wearer was old enough to be my grandpa, but still.) I was three-for-three before I even set foot in the door at my office.

  I couldn’t wait for the morning meeting, and my first sighting of Dino. I had had a suspicious unknown number hang up last night and was pre-tty, pre-tty certain it had been him. When I walked into the conference room, I sashayed all the way around the table, stopping to say “‘Morning, Dino,” before heading to the other end of the table to take my customary seat. I don’t know how one makes one’s eyes twinkle, but I’m pretty sure I did as I smiled back at him.

  My contribution to the creative session for the ad campaign for Rapunzel was the magic. “We’re selling the possibility, nay, probability of romance,” I argued. “The cleaned-up, belle of the ball, fairy godmother-sanctioned airbrushed version of living happily ever after.”

  “Did you just say ‘nay’?” Stella asked me. The group laughed.

  “I’m channeling the old timey fairy tales.” I could feel the tips of my ears tingle. It was hard for me to speak out, in front of anyone, let alone this jaded crew. But they knew nothing of my secret weapon. Fools.

  “Well bippety-boppety my boo, and call me Cinderella,” Stella said. “How do we turn the fairy tale of Rapunzel into sizzling hot sexy sales? And did another sample come yet?”

  I swallowed and crossed my fingers. “I’ll check on that,” I said, not exactly a lie.

  The senior writers and directors sat around rehashing what they knew of Rapunzel. Then they played a round of which fairy tale babe they’d most like to sleep with. Interesting, Snow White beat Rapunzel, two to one, a la MaryAnn beating Ginger. The meeting drug on, with a general consensus of going with one of my original ideas, as touted by La-ura.

  “Listen up,” La-ura said, clapping her hands. “The art department needs a decision now. We just don’t have any more time. We have to have this ready to present in two days. I’m not proud of it, but I say we go with ‘Happily Ever After.’ It’s the strongest theme we’ve got right now. We’re just going to have to have smokin’ hot visuals to try to camouflage the fact that this is a stinker.” She waved her hand in front of her nose and tossed her hair back. “Well, at least we’ll have something to show the client, and then be able to take their comments and see what direction they want to go in.”

  The group began picking up their pens and papers, and standing up and stretching. La-ura sailed out and the second she was gone, I felt Dino at my elbow.

  “Good job, MaryBeth,” Dino said. “I like it. ‘Happily Ever After’ is fun, and generic enough that with the right visuals our client could really go for it.”

  “Thanks, Dino,” I said, inclining my head, feeling a burning within my bodice. Bodice? Where did that come from? I shook my head. “I have fairy tales on my brain,” I told him. “Believe me, it was no great stretch stealing that line. Besides, I love happy endings, don’t you?”

  I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes as he stared down at me. Maybe because I’d always been so tongue-tied in front of him, he was surprised to learn I could string together a sentence or two, all without curtsying. Or maybe, he was remembering the other night. Or maybe, that dang perfume really was all that.

  He looked around as the room cleared and leaned in closer. “I need to talk to you, MaryBeth. Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

  Holy Moly, I thought. He was so handsome, he could do whatever he wanted to, including dropping trou, right then and there. I smiled, playing for time and trying to get my emotions in check. If I recalled correctly, the original Rapunzel did nothing but toss down her golden locks to earn the undying devotion of her one true love. I knew I had to work a little bit harder, and smarter. It was tough, but I wrinkled my nose and turned him down, with real regret.

  “Sorry, Dino, I can’t. I have plans tonight.”

  His face went blank. “Oh. Sure. Sorry. Last minute and all. I didn’t mean to...” he shook his notebook as if it were a a Magic Eight ball. “And I have to get ready for the client meeting, too. I should really...” He stopped and cleared his throat. “How about Friday night? Can we get together then?”

  “Sure. Sounds good. It’s a date,” I said, looking meaningfully into his eyes.

  He squeezed my arm and whispered. “I’ll call you.”

  “Wheeeeeeee,” my heart beat as I headed back to my cubicle.

  “Whoa,” my fairy godmother Susie tried to pull back on the reins. I had summoned her for a coffee break right after the meeting to bring her up to date.

  “Smell me,” I said, offering her my head. She took a whiff and pushed me away.

  “I smell nothing,” she said. “Even though you look different.”

  “Different how?” She squinted at me and then shrugged.

  “Good. Perky, I guess.”

  “I’ll take your perky and see it with a fine.”

  “You are in a good mood, I see.”

  “I’ve been flirted with since I woke up this morning,” I told her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. This Rapunzel perfume could revolutionize the world!” I told her, waving my hand and nearly spilling her cup of coffee.

  “You really believe that?”

  “Yes. I got another sample delivered to me last night. I used it this morning and, ‘voila’! You see before you a fairy princess.”

  “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

  I nodded and giggled. “The facts don’t lie. The first night I had it, look what happened between me and Dino. It was heaven. Then, we spilled it and I will spare you the details of where we spilled it and what happened next.” I fanned myself. “So then, I didn’t have any more Ph-uX and he looked
like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t figure out how to behave, or how to talk to me, or if he should call me or not. He was very confused.” I shook my head at the poor boy. “And now, I’m wearing it again and poof! He asked me out for tonight.”

  “He did not.”

  “Yep. And get this. I said, ‘no thank you, kind sir, I have plans.’”

  “Bravo!” Susie smiled. “I can’t believe you had the self control.”

  “I’m telling you. It’s all Rapunzel’s fault. I’m going to yoga tonight and I’m going to wear this magic elixir everywhere I go...”

  “Until it runs out.”

  I clapped my hand over my heart. “Bite your tongue. I can get more.”

  “You’re like a heroin addict.”

  “Yeah, well, and I’m not going to share.”

  “Gee, thanks. Besides, don’t you need to let La-ura and the others check it out?”

  “Sucks for them,” I said, winking over her shoulder at a business man waiting in line for his coffee.

  “A perfume cannot be responsible for your happiness,” Susie said.

  “It can, it will, it is,” I said.

  “What happens when it runs out?”

  “You think my life will rot like a pumpkin in November? Oh ye of little faith.” Even though we weren’t touchers, I took her hands in mine. “This is the new me, courtesy of Rapunzel and good ol’ Ph-uX!” Even though I had barely sipped my coffee, I felt as if I had snorted ground espresso beans. I was kinder, wiser, better. The world was bigger, brighter, righter.

  “I liked the old you better,” Susie said, sliding her hands out of mine.

  Chapter 6

  Let’s Get Ready to Rumble

  The day flew by, but not without a silent but meaningful eyebrow lift from the hot older guy from the 7th floor, Lance Romance, a fist bump from Lucky Chucky,and even an ‘alright then’ from sad sack Mr. McGrimster himself, the security guard.

  I couldn’t wait for my yoga class. As tightly wound as I was, I was ready to kick some yoga butt. Granted, kicking arse is generally frowned upon in yoga, especially during the stress- reducing postures of the Hatha practice. Competition was a dirty word, an abhorrent philosophy contradictory to the four-thousand year old mental discipline that strives to prove a. that we even have a higher state of consciousness and b. that we’re worthy enough to actually achieve it.

 

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