by Anita Claire
At halftime, we enjoy the show. Cassie and I take a couple selfies, until the guy sitting next to me offers to take a few pictures using my phone. I notice some messages, but decide not to spend time checking them.
The game is fun to watch even though the two of us can hardly follow what’s going on on the field. We scream, yell, and jump up and down with the best of them. Our guys win, so everyone’s in a great mood. At the end of the game, we head back into the clubhouse. Cassie says Luke will text her regarding when and where they’ll meet. She hands me her keys while pleading, “Take care of my baby.”
It’s exciting to think I’ll be driving that car, but it’s also scary since I couldn’t even afford to pay the insurance on it, and I have a job.
Once in the clubhouse, we head to the fancy bathrooms so Cassie can primp, all I do is add a little gloss. We then hang out in the clubhouse waiting for Luke’s text. Of course, there’re a lot of guys buzzing around Cassie, who are more than willing to buy her drinks. Since I need to drive home, I’m back to drinking iced tea.
About forty-five minutes after the game ends, Cassie gets a text from Luke. Her face shows a wave of excitement as she says, “Let’s go, the next party begins now!”
Shaking my head, I say, “Well, the next party might be starting for you. I, my friend, get to join my parents for dinner with my grandmother in the dining room of her senior living facility.”
We part with a smile and a wave. Cassie’s car is easy to find since the parking lot is virtually empty. It’s real fun to drive. For the whole fifteen minutes it takes to drive home, I feel flashy.
Chapter 29
Monday morning comes way too soon. Heading off to swimming, I’m still laughing about how much fun we had at the football game. Surprisingly, I wind up walking in with Zach. He looks sexy with bedhead, and his face unshaven. The corners of his mouth turn up into a small, flirty smile. In a voice still rough from sleep, he says, “Hey…did you have fun at the game?”
“Yeah, I had a great time.” I smile back.
I take longer getting back on deck, so I’m too late to see him in his speedo. Instead, I do an extra kick set at the end of the workout. This way I get to check him getting out of the pool. That man has a beautiful body.
At work, I get to the 8:00 a.m. meeting only five minutes early and am still the first person in the room. The AV guy runs in at one minute to 8:00 to connect us into the New York office and another location. Both sites have their mute buttons on. The New Yorkers are all assembled as they talk amongst themselves. Who’s dialing in from home, I wonder? As people pull in, I see a body get in front of the other computer, and then a face—it’s Flint. He must be traveling for business. You can tell he is looking at the monitor to see who’s in our room. It takes a few more minutes for everyone to straggle on in. He starts the meeting at 8:05.
I’ve decided to continue to take notes. I’m using them mostly to keep myself awake and, in the unusual case, if Roger asks me a question. Adding more names to my notes keeps me on my toes. When it’s my turn, I start saying the same three lines that I said last week. Flint quickly cuts me off, yeah, I got that last week … any changes?”
“No, change, we’re still working on it.”
At the end of the meeting, he commands “Juliette, stay.”
I’m slammed with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I am being called to the principal’s office. Most people are still in the room; they stop to see what he has to say. He says “Are you taking notes on this meeting?”
“Yes.” Shit. Roger never said I shouldn’t take notes
“Good, can you send them over to me?”
“OK.” Double shit. Some executive is going to take a look at my notes….
“Oh, and did you have fun at the game?”
My jaw must have dropped. What? How did he know I was at the stadium? Then I think, he must have seen me when they zeroed in on Cassie for the jumbotron.
On my way back to my desk, I check to see if Doctor Nate has messaged me. Sure enough: Great game, looks like you had a fun time.
Yes, it’s always fun when they win. We had a great time at the game. Are you a fan?
Now this is a surprise, he responds immediately: Buffalo all the way – they’re not doing as well as your team.
Wow, we’re having a dialog, what’s going on? Not wanting to impinge the communication flow, I immediately text back: There’s always next year … or you could cheer for a better team.
Instantly he messages me: Blasphemy!
This is fun. I like interactive communication. So you pray every Sunday to the Buffalo team?
Another quick text back: I pray every Sunday FOR the Buffalo team.
Now I’m getting in the swing of it: That was my first professional football game—lots of fun–need to do it again.” As I wait for a response, I realize that today’s communication must have run its course. I don’t receive anything back.
Back at my desk, I clean up my notes from the meeting. Yikes, I only have names for about half the people who attended. When possible, I add the person’s name with their status. When I’m not sure who they are, I give them fictitious names like Goldilocks, Twitchy, Bald guy, and Chin strip…. Before sending my notes to Flint, I want to talk to Roger. While waiting for Roger to get in, I perform my regular work. Eventually, the other members of my team arrive. At some point, Roger yells out my name.
He looks up briefly, giving me partial eye contact—a sign that I’m supposed to give him my status. “Roger, Flint didn’t even let me finish my sentence today.”
Roger nods, “Yeah, Flint was already on my butt this morning. It works well sending you to these meetings; maybe I’ll send you to all my meetings.” He has a smirk on his face while delivering the last line, which is a surprising look for dour Roger. He must see the shocked look on my face, cause he adds, “Just kidding.”
Visibly, I let out my breath. Having no idea where to go with that comment, I just go with “Roger, Flint asked me to send him my notes on the meeting, is that OK? Do you want to review them first?“
Roger looks up at me. “No, no need to share,” then looking back at his computer, he says, “I figure you couldn’t make it through college and grad school unless you know how to take notes. Call in Rajive for me.”
Walking over to Rajive’s area, I stop and wait for him to finish what he’s doing, so I’m not interrupting. Rajive is a small, wiry Indian guy around my age. His skin is very dark. He has a mustache and wears cheap polyester clothes: always a button-down shirt and slacks. Rajive’s quiet, whenever any of the women talk to him, he acts shy and kind of giggles. He went to IIT—the big Indian engineering school—and got his masters at Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Currently, he’s working with an H-1B visa. Hita says he’s a typical Indian guy, once his green card is secured, he’ll go back to India on an extended vacation and his mom will arrange a marriage. It doesn’t take too long before he looks up.
“Rajive, Roger wants to see you.”
Immediately he gets all nervous. “About what?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I have no idea.”
Rajive heads into Roger’s office, and then calls back to me. “Juliette he wants to see you too.”
Rajive and I are now both in front of Roger, who doesn’t even look up from his computer when he says, “I need more manpower on this problem we’re having. The two of you need to get with Mark and Jim.” He swivels in his chair, leans back, and looks at us. “Drop what you’re doing, and get with them to put together a test suite. You two need to be testing what they’re working on.”
We both nod in sync. As we head on out the door, I suggest, “You talk to Jim, I’ll talk with Mark.”
Before speaking with Mark, I go back to my desk to finish putting my notes together for Flint. Going through my notes one more time, I make a new copy and take out the fictitious names I’ve given people.
Buddy, the obnoxious dog, bounds up and flips my hand with his nose as
I try to type on my keyboard. Well at least I know Mark’s here. Quickly, I swivel around in time to watch him walk up the hallway. Meeting Mark at his desk, I say, “Roger wants me to work with you to create a test suite.”
Mark places his bag down. Blinks, looks me in my face and says, “Good Morning.”
Yikes, I’ve become as socially incompetent as the rest of the people around here. Taking a deep breath, I start over. “Good morning Mark, I hope you slept well. Roger told me that I need to work with you. When you’re ready, call me so that we can meet to go over creating test suites.”
Mark smirks “Give me a minute.”
He then requests that I bring my computer over by him, which results in the two of us spending the rest of the day pleasantly working together.
Chapter 30
At the fencing studio, the women watch one of the high school boys and me practice as they straggle in for their lesson. The high school kid is good, I have a hard time holding my own. As I take off my epee mask, I am met with a round of applause. Smiling I bow; with a laugh, I say, “I didn’t think I was that good.”
One of my students follows up with, “It’s more for your Hollywood performance yesterday.”
“What are you talking about?”
Another woman adds, “Every time they panned to you and your friend, I stood up and screamed, ‘That’s my fencing instructor!’ My husband was about to kill me by the time the game was over.”
Now I’m even more confused “Really? What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday, at the football game, the blond you were with. The guys in the booth couldn’t get enough of her. I think they had a camera on the two of you the entire game.”
I’m still a step behind. “The game was on TV?”
“Yes, the football game was nationally televised. You were wearing a red team T shirt; your friend was wearing the hot pink #12 shirt. They kept on showing the two of you.”
All I can manage to say is, “I had no idea.” No wonder everyone was asking me about the game.
The rest of practice goes well.
Cassie’s sitting on the couch watching another reality TV show as I rush in breathless. “Cassie, do you know that we were on national TV yesterday?”
She jumps up and does a little dance. “Yes, it’s the best thing that happened to me since the beer ad.”
I grab her iPad to bring up the Internet on our TV. “I want to see the clips.”
“First let me show you this.” She screams in my ear while grabbing her iPad out of my hands. She navigates to a blogspot whose latest title is Who’s the Hot Blond Luke Tomlinson’s Dating? The picture shows a standing Cassie blowing a two-handed kiss to Luke. In the lower left corner, you can clearly see me looking at Cassie as I laugh and clap. Focused on my own image I notice that my eyes aren’t closed, and my hair isn’t in my face—which is nice relief—but Cassie looks fantastic, she just glows making me look simple and pale in comparison.
Cassie then scrolls down to another picture of herself standing and cheering. In the corner of the screen, under her raised arms you can clearly see me smiling, my eyes are following where she points. What I find cringe worthy is I’m leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. This shot gives the camera a great cleavage shot. I had no idea….
Further down is another picture of Cassie in the midst of doing a little dance. And there I am—both hands clenched while my arms are extended over my head cheering—again with my ample cleavage in full view. The last picture is mostly of me as I dance with Cassie.
I’m clearly in every shot. What’s upsetting is that shirt. It was way too revealing for my conservative tastes. I’ll admit it’s thrilling to have been on national TV. With Cassie’s overwhelming beauty, I’m hoping that not too many people noticed me in any of the frames.
Cassie then says, “That’s not all.” She starts navigating to different blogs that have our picture—mostly her picture—on it. You would think as an engineer specializing in data mining, I would have a bigger handle on all this information. But I’m more focused on how to get at the data than on the actual images. Before this eye-opening event, I had no idea so many people had this much time to waste commenting on such stupid trivia.
The most intriguing blogs are the one titled, Ginger and MaryAnn at the Football Game with a couple photos that include both of us. One of the shots has the two of us in a very animated conversation, leaning on our knees, both of us showing a lot of cleavage. Yikes, that was what people saw on National TV?! The other picture has Cassie smiling in a seductive pose with me standing next to her. I have a natural tendency to lower my chin and look through the top of my eyes. My hair is luxuriously pouring over my shoulder. This shot makes me look shy and demure, while the tight, low-cut shirt gives me a very sexy look.
“Cassie, Who’s Ginger and MaryAnn?”
With a surprised glower, she snaps, “Didn’t you ever watch Gilligan’s Island on TV Land?”
“No.” Who has time to watch TV Land?
She immediately brings up Netflix, types in, Gilligan’s Island.
“This, my friend, is American culture. At least it’s American culture back when our parents were kids.”
We watch an episode of Gilligan’s Island. Cassie might be Ginger, but I think I’m closer to being the Professor than I am to MaryAnn—even though she has the big boob innocent thing going on. Knowing the clips are on the Internet does not make me want to watch them. It’s humiliating enough to know that I look like a big-breasted bimbo on national TV, I’m not ready to actually see my boobs bouncing all around.
Chapter 31
The next day I get a text back from Nate. My buddies didn’t believe me when I said you were the women in California I’ve been texting.
Wow, he told his friends about me? I had no idea Cassie and I were on national TV. I couldn’t understand how people knew I went to the game.
At soccer, I ask Isabelle if she’s spoken to Jennifer since I’m curious how her date with Rocket went.
Isabelle looks at me incredulously. “What, you broke your finger? Give Jennifer a call and ask her how her date went.”
“But I don’t want to be THAT friend. You know the one who calls just to get the latest gossip.”
“But you’re willing to let me be that friend?”
“Isabelle, you know that’s not what I meant. Do you know something or don’t you?”
“Juliette, you need to call Jennifer and ask her.”
“In other words, you don’t know anything and you’re waiting for me to find out?”
“Yes, because you’re the one who wants to know.”
Giving her a direct look, I add, “You didn’t talk to her because you’re still freaked out by his piercing.”
She rolls her eyes. “This is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had.”
Jogging over to my bag, I grab my phone and text Jennifer.: How’d your date with Rocket go?
Jogging back to Isabelle, I say, “I’ll share.”
After practice, I check my phone. Jennifer’s texted back: Fun, Fun, Fun and did I tell you he is so much FUN.
Showing the text to Isabelle, I say, “Well, someone’s having a lot of fun.”
Isabell’s eyes get big and round. “I wonder if fun includes the piercing?”
“I think the fourth “FUN,” the one in all caps, is referring to the piercing. Just a guess.”
On Wednesday at swimming, I don’t get to talk to Zach, but when I look over at lane eight, I see him swimming.
Nate texts me: The camera man certainly made sure everyone knew you and your friend were at the game.
And to think Cassie got all that free publicity without even trying. I text back.
At work, Roger calls Mark and me into a meeting with Jim and Rajiive, regarding the group project. Jim and Mark are getting frustrated. They’re both considered senior engineers. Jim—a physicist by education—tends to be arrogant. My childhood friend, Nick, would call him a dick; Hita ref
ers to him as a macho engineer. Jim starts blaming the problems they’re having on Mark, who is typically easy going and helpful. Meanwhile, Jim’s finger-pointing is pissing Mark off.
Sarcastically Mark says, “Jim, physicists invented Fusion thirty years ago, but to-date haven’t really gotten it functional. I guess if you really need to get technology to market, you need to call in the engineers.”
Jim responds with, “That’s because the engineers are just used for implementation; it’s the physicists who do all the higher level thinking.”
At this point, Roger finally looks up from his computer. With his tough New Jersey accent, he says, “Woe, woe, woe, let’s get the ego’s out of this. You two were hired to do a job, let’s focus on solving the problem.”
Rajive and I give each other the eye from across the table. Neither of us wants to get caught in the middle of those two guys.
When we finally walk out of the room, Mark says, “Jim’s an asshole. He’s pointing fingers at me so that Roger doesn’t realize how fucked up his work is.”
At some point, I get together with Rajive to figure out what he’s testing. It’s better that the two of us work behind the scenes—coordinating activities—than let Mark and Jim spend too much time together.
The next morning, on the run, I ask Meredith, “Has anyone spoken to Jennifer about her date last weekend?
“I thought you texted her?”
“Yeah, I got a text that said fun fun fun four times. What does that mean?”
“I think it means she’s having fun.”
“Really, no one wants to know what’s going on with Jenifer and Rocket?
“Juliette, you’re the one who wants to know what’s going on.”
“Meredith, do you know he has a piercing?”
“So he has a piercing. A lot of guys have a piercing.”
“No, he has a piercing someplace I never thought a guy would want a piercing.”