by Skylar Dawn
I texted Noah.
You’re killing the internet.
My cell phone buzzed a few seconds later.
What?
I had to explain.
Everybody wants a piece!
I paused while he was typing, but I couldn't stop myself.
Of you.
I waited for the message to appear on my feed without closing the conversation.
I don't think I taste good. I’m probably salty.
I stared at the phone laughing.
We like what we like.
I saw on our chat window that he was typing, but then he stopped and I didn't receive anything else. I was sure he had gone back to sleep, and I thought it was best to do the same. Sunday wasn’t a day to get out of bed before noon. My routine was going to be very simple, sleep, lunch, sleep, dinner, sleep. And who knows after all this, sleep some more right? I felt so tired and my body was so sore that I needed to lay under my covers and be happy. But that didn’t happen. I closed my eyes for two minutes and woke up with the doorbell ringing non-stop. I dragged myself to the door with my eyes closed and I opened it, leaning against the doorframe.
"Emma, is everything okay? I've been calling you since lunch." Noah had a concerned look on his face.
"Lunch? What time is it?"
"Almost 6 P.M.. "
"I was asleep," I mumbled. "I'm going back to bed."
He twisted his neck, examining me.
"Since morning? Have you eaten anything today?"
I shook my head.
"I'm tired."
He opened my door and put his hand on my forehead.
"You're burning up."
I closed my eyes almost asleep.
"I was under the covers, that's why."
"I don’t think that’s the reason," he walked into the apartment and closed the door behind him. "Go to bed, I'll make you some soup."
I frowned in disgust.
"I hate soup."
He narrowed his eyes in my direction as one who is not only judging me, but who was also not taking into account anything I said. I wasn't strong enough to argue, so I went back to bed. Ham had jumped off my bed and gone after Noah in the kitchen, the poor pig was starving.
"Where do you keep the spices?"
I said something inaudible and Noah decided to let it go. I went even deeper under the covers, pulling the duvet up to my neck. The apartment was cold today, at least for me. It wasn't long before Noah sat on the edge of my bed with soup and turned on the lamp.
"Time to eat." He made a spoon airplane.
"But I hate soup," I cried.
"If you finish fast, you can go back to sleep."
It was a good trade and I hated to admit it, but even the soup tasted good. And there were noodles inside. Everything with noodles is delicious. He flashed me a smile, but his eyes were full of concern.
"You can't skip meals, it will lower your immunity, and if you get sick, who am I going to annoy?"
I smirked.
"You're annoying me with this soup idea."
"You haven't seen nothing yet," he laughed. "You'll have oatmeal later."
My other most feared word.
"Oh no!"
"No complaining," he gave me another spoonful. "You complain way too much when you're sick."
"I'm not sick. I'm sleepy."
"You're still burning."
I thought I'd obey. First because the soup was tasty, then because I wanted to sleep. And if I was a good girl, I could bargain the whole oatmeal thing later on. There was no such thing as a good oatmeal, I was sure of that. I ate little more than half a plate, my stomach was strange, and my eyes weighted a ton.
Noah put the plate on the bedside table and helped me to lie down, covering me with my duvet. Actually, he stuck the duvet around me in a way that I felt like a real burrito. It didn't take me long to fall asleep and I had the weirdest dream. I dreamed that Brett was in Vegas and wanted to cook for me, but Noah turned him into a lemon zest for a cheesecake and kissed me on my forehead. I was pretty sick to hallucinate about these kind of things.
The good news is I managed to escape the oatmeal! Victory! But I didn't have the need for Noah to sleep watching me. At some point he lay on my side, over the duvet, and fell asleep. It was a danger to have him so close! If I had a virus, he'd end up sick and then it would be my fault! And on my side of taking care of things, I only buy soup cans from the supermarket, I don't cook fancy recipes for the sick.
"Good morning," he scratched his eyes still half open. "Are you feeling better?"
I studied my body for a moment and decided to sit down. The whole world jumped into three somersaults, a pirouette and threw itself from an endless abyss. I definitely had to lie down.
"I'm dizzy."
He stroked my hair and I felt a shiver run through my body. It was definitely a fever.
"Then lie down."
"I need to call Lou," I tried to get up again and again the universe pushed me to the bed. "I'll text him."
"Then text him, I'll make the oatmeal you should have had yesterday."
"This subject again?!"
Noah smiled and disappeared in the kitchen.
"You grunt a lot Emma Woods."
What did he mean? I was sick, I had every right to grumble, complain, talk, and hide under the covers. He had no obligation to look after me. In fact, I didn't even ask him to do that. I didn't even ask ... and I was being annoying. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my spirits, I didn't have to be angry at anything, I should have been thanking him for spending half of his Sunday taking care of me. And a full night.
When he arrived with the oatmeal I didn't made any faces, didn't complain and sat like a lady.
He wrinkled his forehead.
"Aren't you going to say anything? Not even a grunt?"
I shook my head.
"Thank you for everything, Noah. You didn't have to."
He widened his eyes in surprise.
"What's got into you?" He gestured for me to hold the oatmeal as he checked my temperature. "You're still feverish, but not enough to talk nonsense."
"I’m serious," I flashed him a tender smile. "Thanks."
He disarmed himself from the saucy reply he had conjured up and smiled without saying a word. I continued my speech.
"Not only for yesterday, but for everything you do for me."
"You don't have to thank me. I do it because I want to."
"I'm thanking you for the fact you want to. You're a good friend."
He smiled, but if I didn't knew him, I'd say his eyes were sad. Or I was seeing too much.
"Are you going to be fine while I go to work?"
I shook my head, affirming.
"Yes, I will."
He kissed my forehead, like in my dream, and stood up from the edge of the bed.
"I made mashed potatoes for your lunch. You have microwave it."
"I'll remember."
"See you tonight."
I smiled.
CHAPTER eight
Rehearsal Gone Wrong
Mrs Dunn was holding a piece so small that I thought it was a baby slipper, but considering it was the fifth lingerie store that we visited today, I was sure no baby had gone through any of them. Perhaps they were the result of some of the artifacts when properly used, but they were definitely not the target audience of the store.
I reached over the dresser's curtain and she handed me a piece that fit in the palm of my hand.
"Try this sweetie, it may be a bit uncomfortable, but it's part of the job."
I examined that tiny piece of lace fabric and decided it was better to see what was that about. Within two seconds I wanted to tear off that irritating little thing that settled in the middle of my buttocks as if it were the coziest place in the world. I could see everything. Where was the part of leaving something to the imagination? I could see my throat from down there. I was able to identify my usual pharyngitis that attacked during this dry weather. A
nd worse, looking in the mirror my butt looked like a lunar eclipse that went wrong and got stuck before it even started.
"Mrs. Dunn, are you sure that's all there is?"
Mrs. Dunn flung open the dresser's curtain and I almost died of embarrassment. The store was reasonably full, like, there were a couple of people out there, but that was enough for me to want to hide under the rug. She stared at my parts for a few seconds, which by the way seemed like hours, and gestured to the salesgirl to bring in a few more pieces.
"Looks great! It will help a lot when we start exercising the pole dance. You legs are free."
"Don't you think everything is hanging way too freely?"
She laughed and shook her head in denial.
"Of course not, dear. There's still plenty of fabric there."
What did she meant with a lot of fabric? How could anything have less fabric than that?! I couldn't even make a bird's hat out of it if I wanted to. And would I still have to work out dressed like that?! If I opened my legs too much, the whole thing would disappear at the first opportunity, and then in my next root canal treatment it would appear on the x-ray. Or the piece would fly away without a trace.
"There's nothing like, less invasive?"
"How so dear?"
I got closer to Mrs. Dunn and whispered.
"That's not stuffing my buttocks sandwich."
Mrs. Dunn patted my shoulders in comfort and smiled.
"Oh dear, that's the easiest one! When you get used to this, we’ll try one that's stuffing material only."
I definitely didn't want to know how an artifact like that was, not now and not in the future, but I still had to try a collection of strings that tied up several things and held none. If I had glued insulation tape on, it'd cover a lot more and be firmer. But since it was part of my training, I had to endure it.
I didn't imagine that such a lack of cloth was so expensive in my pocket. Seriously, I could buy an entire trousseau for myself and Ham with only two of these things I could end up swallowing if I weren't paying attention.
"These are beautiful," Mrs. Dunn was pleased, "let's take one last look to see if there's anything special around the store."
By now, the special item could range from a band-aid to a schoolbook sticker that wasn't going to make a difference. Nothing that was in my bags covered anything whatsoever. The idea of wearing this in public was scary, in fact, the idea of wearing it was scary.
She came back with a long strand, adorned with a bright pebble.
"Now add this to complete your look."
I took the piece from her hand and examined it. I had no idea how I was going to wear it, where I was going to attach the tiny snap-lock, let alone what that paraphernalia was. I looked back at Mrs. Dunn, who, realizing my dilemma, couldn't contain her laughter.
"It's for your neck, dear."
I put the artifice around my neck and felt like a pigeon, but at least they had the advantage of carrying important messages on their feet. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, wearing all those very thin black pieces and I didn't grasp what was the appeal of this whole paraphernalia. I was looking like a scribble, but since Mrs. Dunn found it appropriate, I wasn't going to argue.
"Go get changed honey. Our next step is waxing."
I opened my eyes scared.
"But what's wrong with mine?"
"There's a lot of stuff in there," she looked at me worried. "You have to do a deep cleaning, like the Brazilians."
I'd heard about the horror stories. But I always thought they were urban legend.
"But-but are the stories real?"
Mrs. Dunn giggled.
"Of course not! I'm a fan. It's beautiful. We'll go there next."
I wasn't ready for this. My stomach twisted like crazy before we even crossed the parlor door, and when the girl took me to a remote room and asked me to put on a thong, I swear I thought about giving up.
"Do you want to squeeze a tennis ball?"
Lying on the stretcher, I thought I had misunderstood her. But she held out a ball to me. And pulled a strap.
"Ahhhhh!" I screamed in agony. Mrs. Dunn's face appeared into the room.
"Do you want me to hold your hand, dear?"
I couldn't even answer it, because the lady pulled it again. I pondered whether I should bite the ball, Mrs. Dunn's hand, or go for the girl that was torturing me. These women are crazy! Who in their right mind takes a torture session like these and pay for it!
"I want to be hairy! Leave my bush alone! Nowadays it's all about diversity!"
Mrs. Dunn couldn't stop laughing, nor the lady.
"I'm going to protest! In favor of freedom! Enough of this capillary dictatorship! I want to be free, make braids! Be happy."
"Don't be silly dear, you will see. You will look beautiful!"
After twenty minutes I was seeing all the constellations of the universe on the ceiling of the room, and I was so dazed and confused, I didn't even know if it was still hurting. The aftermath was even worse. Not only it wasn't beautiful, but walking with my legs open wasn't exactly comfortable either. My poor private parts were bloody red that made me consider getting a sunstroke to see if I could even out my skin. Pure craziness. Okay, I admit that after five buckets of ice and three tubes of ointment, it looked nice, but I made a mental note never to try to imitate a crazy Brazilian ever again. Mrs. Dunn said I was going to convince myself otherwise, and I didn't want to argue. I thought the trauma was too recent to even think about another international torture session.
When the day was over I had to thank Lou's saints because today I needed them more than anyone else. Too few hours for too much information. I didn't even have the decency to pick up a glass, I was sipping the wine from the bottle. I wondered what Noah had done today. Since my illness I didn't see him properly. I hope he didn't get sick.
I checked the clock, and I figured by this time he should have been back from work for a while, so I risked knocking on his apartment. I didn't hear any noise on the other side and the lights were off. Maybe he was out. It was strange, Noah was always at home at this hour, or watching TV or cooking something to destroy with my diet afterwards.
I went back home disappointed. I was hoping to spend some time with him chit-chatting and joking around, but it was me, Ham and Saint Merlot. In fact, me and Saint Merlot, because Ham was already hidden under my bed. I sat on the couch and sipped my wine until the bottle was light. It was getting late and I still hadn't heard any noise coming from Noah's apartment.
#
"Alma Davis," Mrs. Dunn scolded. "You're late for today's water aerobics!"
"I got news," her face lit up in satisfaction. "I got you an audition, Emma."
My jaw dropped to the floor I swallowed half of our pool's water.
"How come?" I asked in disbelief.
"You know that new hotel at the end of the Strip?"
"Isn't that where Noah works?" Mrs. Wilson asked, curious.
"That's right," she clapped her hands and joined us at the edge of the pool. "The whole place is undergoing a staff overhaul, entertainment structuring. I don't know how they call it. Anyway. My grand-niece is opening a nightclub there in a few weeks."
"That's great!" Mrs. Dunn was excited.
"And they're going to start selecting pretty girls for all kinds of performances. And of course, I talked about you." She pointed at me.
I couldn't contain my satisfaction and I gave Mrs. Davis the biggest wet hug.
"I don't know how to thank you!"
"Oh, you don't have to. You'll still have to sweat to get the job."
Mrs. Wilson agreed.
"If you succeed, the merit is all yours, Emma."
"Exactly," Mrs. Davis completed. "I'm only giving you a little push."
Mrs. Dunn hugged us, excited.
"And when do auditions begin Alma?"
"In seven weeks, there is plenty of time for you to prepare."
Mrs. Dunn let ou a little squeal and entered a mini
state of panic.
"It's so close, we're going to need to speed up your dancing routine!" She turned to me. "Emma dear, let's work harder from now on okay?"
I was bursting with happiness.
"You're amazing, I don't know what I'd do without your help!"
"Don't be silly, that's what friends are for. It doesn't matter if they already have sagging skin." Mrs. Wilson laughed.
Mrs. Dunn threw a malicious look at me.
"Speaking of friends and sagging," she gave me a nudge. "How are things with Noah?"
I burst into laughter.
"How did you manage to relate that to him? He looks quite alright."
The girls laughed. And Mrs. Davis decided to complete Mrs. Dunn's sentence.
"Oh, that's because our lower belly has been growing exponentially with cheesecake, cakes, sweets. It's a nightmare."
"Edith was complaining yesterday," accused Mrs. Dunn. "Two more pounds on the scale."
I shook my head in disagreement.
"You look fantastic. Not even a change from my point of view."
Mrs. Wilson stared at me, not biting the bait to change the subject.
"So, how's it going?"
I sighed. Nothing had changed, of course.
"Still friends."
Mrs. Dunn splashed water on me.
"Geez, that's never going to change, she insists on staying at home and not dating anyone."
"A waste of youth." Mrs. Davis laughed.
I frowned.
"Girls, I don't even know what's a date, or what people do on a date nowadays."
"Certain things don't change!" Mrs. Wilson giggled.
Next thing I knew, Mrs. Dunn was bouncing up and down in the pool, waving at someone far away.
"Noah dear, can you come here for a second?"
Oh, no. That's all I needed. Even when he decided to take out the trash at a different time of the day, it ended in a mega-awkward moment for me. I shivered every time Mrs. Dunn called him, because there was always a trap big enough for me to handle. He jogged in our direction.