"Pretty good until the essay question. She really stuck it to us."
Tripp pulls into the parking lot of Catalina Cantina. All the spaces up front are taken, so he drives around back. "Yeah, I mean, who even reads the prologue of a book?"
"Right! And how are we supposed to remember that far back?"
Tripp turns the car off and rushes around to my side to open the door for me. He has earned another gentleman point. (Mom would be proud!)
We walk up to the front door of the restaurant, where Sam and Krista are waiting for us. Oh, my God, I so called it. She's wearing a little black dress. Man, I wish I was that good at predicting things that really mattered. Like when Adam was going to get off my back and when Tripp was going to kiss me.
I will give Krista a chance. Maybe Mom is right. Under that shallow wanna-be-a-celeb mask is a decent human being. I give the lovely couple a small wave. "Hey, guys."
"Whassup?" Sam says. "We put our name down. A table should be ready in a few minutes."
"Cool." Tripp nods.
"I hope they hurry. I'm starving," Krista whines. "All I ate today was a bowl of cereal and an apple."
Ugh, please spare me the starving-girl routine. "I love the food here," I say.
"Me, too, but it's so fattening." Krista spots an empty seat on the bench and plops down.
"Yeah, I can't wait to fatten up." Sam pats his stomach. At least he has a good sense of humor.
A voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Hubert, party of four."
Krista jumps out of her seat and we all file inside. The host leads us to a table in the center of the dining room. Krista sits down first, right under the track lighting. It's like she sought out the spotlight.
I reluctantly take the seat next to her.
She stares down at my bracelet. "That's pretty. From Nordstrom, right?"
"No, I made it."
"You?"
"Yeah. I make a lot of jewelry."
"That's cool," she says.
Okay, so maybe Krista is not such a bitch after all. I mean, she did give me a compliment.
Tripp wraps his arm around me. "You've got to make me something."
The hairs on my arms stand up. I hope he doesn't feel them prickling into his soft skin. He smells good, too. Like that Irish Spring soap. "Sure. Definitely."
"Yes, a good pair of earrings to go with his skirt." Sam laughs.
"I make necklaces for guys, too," I say.
The waiter places a basket of chips and salsa in front of us. She takes our drink orders and moves on to the next new customers. I look over at the table on my right. The woman looks familiar. I think she's in my mom's book club. Ugh, how convenient. Hopefully she doesn't notice me.
The guys order burritos and I follow Krista's lead and get a chicken fajita salad. I'm usually not such a poser, but I don't feel like chowing down on a first date, either.
The conversation is pretty mellow. We talk about school for a bit and then the guys launch into a side discussion about football. So I turn to Krista and ask how she likes working on the Raiders' Pride show.
"It's great. I've always wanted to be on TV." Really, I could never tell. "I'm good at it, too. I think I was born to be in the limelight."
I shove a chip into my mouth. I have to or I might burst into laughter. She rambles on about how everyone loves her. I shove more chips into my mouth.
"And my next piece is going to be on you. About your website and blog rant. I just found out about it today."
My blog? I spit up a piece of chip. My website? More flying chip particles. I spray the table with my residue. I quickly wipe my face with my napkin.
"Disgusting," Krista winces.
Her squeal is enough for the guys to abruptly stop talking. They stare straight at me.
"Indigo has a blog?" Sam asks.
Even Krista drops her table manners for gossip. She answers with a mouth full of lettuce, "Oh my God, yeah. I couldn't believe some of the stuff she has on there. I've got to give it to her, she has balls."
Hello, I'm right here. And, eww, I'm on a first date and the last thing Tripp needs to hear is that I have balls.
Tripp turns to me. "Whoa, am I on there?"
"On where? What are you talking about?" I ask.
All eyes roll over to Krista. I wipe my face again. I know I can't wipe my embarrassment off, but still, I try.
"Your pic is on there. And it's basically your story and the history behind the song, `Indigo Blues."'
"Is this a joke? Seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about."
I look over to the table next to us to make sure my mom's friend isn't listening to our conversation. She's getting up to leave. Our eyes meet. Oh, crap. "Hi, Indigo," she says.
I force a smile onto my face. "Hi."
"Say hello to your mom for me."
"I will." I breathe a sigh of relief as she pushes her chair back in and leaves. I return my attention to our group.
"So you're a blogger?" Sam asks.
"Not me. That's probably Blank Stare's home page or something," I say.
Krista lets out a gust of air. "No, this is definitely your side of the story." Then she turns away from me and addresses the guys like they have front-row seating at a political debate. "The first thing Indigo says is, In sick of this crap. Im not the girl from the song. I'm Indigo Jackson ... and then some blabby stuff about her life that I really don't remember."
In my head I'm screaming, Eli, I'm gonna kill you. But I force the only words out of my mouth that make me sound sane: "I swear I never set up a site." (Insert: me with daggers, stabbing Eli.) "It sounds like something my brother put together. He was asking me stupid questions yesterday."
"Oh," Tripp says.
"Oh," I say back.
I can barely eat. I'm sure Eli wouldn't put something really damaging on the site. Would he? I haven't done anything to piss him off lately, or anything more than usual anyway.
The table has fallen silent. There's a lot of crunching and chewing. I scan everyone's eyes, trying to read what they think of me.
"This is so embarrassing," I finally say. "I hope no one else saw it."
"Yeah, you better hope not!" Krista scoffs.
"`I won't look," Sam says.
"Me neither." Tripp agrees.
"Mum's the word." Krista makes a popping sound with her lips.
The TV gossip queen is going to keep her mouth shut? Isn't that against her religion?
"I appreciate it, guys." I feel slightly better, but I'm totally freaked about the reality of what the site might say about me. Eli and his damn reporter's notebook. I should rip that thing to shreds!
"I think it's cool that you're in a song." Tripp smiles.
"Thanks. I'm still trying to get used to it."
So maybe he doesn't hate me.
I peer down at my food. I've totally lost my appetite, so I duck out to the bathroom while everyone's still eating. I close the stall door and call Eli. If I get him to take the site down now, the less damage there will be. Damn, the phone goes straight to voicemail. What's he doing that's so important that he had to turn off his phone?
Luckily, when I get back to the table, they're talking about some cheerleader that got expelled for selling E during a game, not me and my pathetic web crucifixion. Even though I want to strangle Krista for even bringing the topic up, I manage to stay composed the rest of dinner and cross my fingers that I get to the computer before Tripp does. And, I hate to say it, before Adam or the rest of the school does. Or even worse, Candi Campbell, Krista's idol. Candi would have a fun-filled day with this. I can just see the headline now: Ungrateful Girl Spotlighted in Song-Even More Ungrateful Than We Previously Imagined.
I'll just have to prove them all wrong. How, I don't know. It's not like I can start rescuing endangered animals and then be hailed an instant hero overnight. So then how can a song be an overnight success? So unfair.
The guys pay for the meal. I try to give them some money but Tripp waves
it away. Krista doesn't even attempt to take out her wallet. Not sure if she owns one. Maybe that's the approach I should take-don't even try to be nice. Somehow, acting like Krista would probably only backfire on me.
I consider tripping Krista on the way out, perhaps giving her a black eye just so she can't go on TV on Monday, but I'm sure that would only give her more ammo for blasting me on the morning school news. I don't need to collect any more enemies.
The four of us stroll up and down Central Street a few times before ending up at Starbucks. Tripp takes my hand and guides me inside. His hands are large and firm. The kind that Dad would say belonged to someone with a solid handshake. I lean against him in line. His body heats me up, leaving me all tingly inside. I feel secure next to him. Tripp is a good six inches taller than me and I just about die when he starts playing with my hair. We're next in line, so I know it's going to end. How is it that we were walking around downtown for thirty minutes and now is when the romance happens? At Starbucks. Figures.
"What can I get you?" the barista asks.
"Tall mocha frappuccino." Oh, and I need to get Tripp something, too. I turn to him. "What do you want?"
"Whatever you're having." He gently kisses the side of my neck. It tickles.
"Okay, make that two."
"Your name?" The barista asks.
"Mine?"
"Yeah."
Tripp leans over my shoulder. "Indigo."
Crap, why did he have to answer for me?
"Indigo?" She asks loudly.
Please, oh please, don't jump on the are-you-from-thesong-Indigo Blues bandwagon.
"Yup." I nod.
She calls the order over to the guy making the drinks. "Two tall mocha frappuccinos for Indigo Blues."
The drink guy's eyes shoot open wide. "Cool. Is Blues really your last name?"
I look over at Sam and Krista in line behind us. A huge smirk appears on Krista's face. "She even has a blog on her new website, indigojackson.com. It's full of surprises."
I grab my drink and stomp over to her. "Somebody make sure to get a picture of this." I pop off the top and pour.
Krista's instantly covered in cold brown gunk. "You bitch!" she shrieks.
"You wanted a story, you got a story." I throw my cup in the trash and storm out of the store.
I don't look back. Not even to see where Tripp is.
ude, umm ... you might want to check this out." This is the longest sentence I've heard Conjunction say. Ever. I'm over at the guys' place just chilling after grabbing a few beers at the Local Bar (real name).
"What?" I really don't want to get up from this couch. I'm totally wiped from recording, lack of sleep, and the beer swimming through my system.
"Now." He points to the computer monitor.
I drag my ass to his desk. My face immediately drops as a photo of Indigo pops up on the screen. "`Indigo's story'?"
Conjunction stares at me like a huge boulder just fell on my head. I kind of wish one did, because I'm not liking what I'm seeing. "Why would she do that? It's not her style."
"Man, she really trashes you. Says she's had enough of you." He clicks to the next page. "They do say you never know a woman until..."
"Until she fucks you?"
Conjunction's eyes bug out. "Yeah."
I'm shaking. I pull out my phone. "I don't even know what I'm going to say to her. How could Indigo do this to me? How dare she call me a liar!"
Tommy snaps up from his perch on the windowsill and tries to snatch my phone. I pull it away. "Don't call her," he warns.
"Send her a cease-and-desist letter," Zach offers from the couch.
"I dunno." I walk over to the end of the room and plunk down in an old plaid armchair that Conjunction rescued from his neighbor's attempt to toss it into the dumpster. I understand if Indigo's mad, but she should've talked to me first. It's not like I haven't called her enough. If this is her idea of revenge, I'm out. "How long has that site been up? How did you even find it, Jack?"
"First time I've seen it. Just dicking around. Looking for feedback."
Who knew Jack was working so hard behind the scenes. Didn't even know he cared much for "feedback."
Dammit. I'm so screwed. People are going to think I'm some dumb prick.
Zach finally gets up and peeks at the screen. "Buddy, this is a good thing."
"How?" My heart feels like a ticking time bomb.
"It'll give us more publicity."
"Not everything is about making money." I don't want to sell my soul to the devil. I know Zach doesn't think the same way, but I like my privacy. I don't want to be taking a piss in a public restroom and have someone ask for my autograph. Zach, on the other hand, would sign the guy's dick if he wanted him to.
"So far there are only eighty-four hits on the site, lame," Conjunction says. "And it's basement-made. Any dude with half a brain can set this up."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I pull out my phone again.
Zach grabs it from me. "No, but I have something that will cheer you up."
I raise my eyebrows. I'm skeptical. Very skeptical.
"Got you a date tonight. Remember Hannah from the bar?" Zach is practically yelling.
"Yeah. Hot bod. Plastic breasts."
"Tight ass. Anyway, we're meeting her and Erica at Pirate's Booty at ten."
I shove my phone back into my pocket. "A hot chick and a few beers, maybe that's what I need."
"That a man." Zach pats me on the shoulder. "Be ready to get some prime boo-tay."
I guess scoring a little booty never hurt anyone, right?
I lean against the wall and try to remember Hannah's sexy body the night we met at Hatchback. Why would a girl like that want to go out with a guy like me? She seems like the type to swoon over bad boys, the guys who drag race at three a.m. and chain smoke out by the dumpster.
I head back to my apartment just before nine, at Zach's insistence. Of course, he reminds me before I leave, if I give up my apartment and move in with the rest of the guys, then I wouldn't have to walk the fifteen minutes home. But three guys in a one-bedroom apartment is crowded enough for me. My place may be tiny, but it's all mine.
Apparently I need to prepare for my date. I figure that means I have less than an hour to shower and chug a beer. Both are of equal importance-loosen up and smell nice, and the night should be a success.
The hot shower relaxes me. I vow not to talk about Indigo for the rest of the night. To not even think about her. Instead, I concentrate on reconstructing Hannah's physique from memory. At first it's a bit forced, but it doesn't take me long to get inspired. Her straight teeth. Big brown eyes. Smooth curves, soft brown hair, firm ass. I stay in the shower until the water goes cold.
I towel off and reach for a gray T-shirt, but figure I better find something to match my new mood. There's a lot of color in my drawer, thanks to Gina taking on the role of personal shopper. A red shirt that I don't remember buying calls my name. It still has the price tag on it. I rip off the tag and slide the shirt on. As usual, I'm ready early. I need to do something about my perpetual earliness. The only thing I can think of is chugging down another Bud. I do that until it looks like I might actually be late, which freaks me out a little. I give Zach a call to tell him I'm on my way. And of course, he says he'll be leaving in a minute and to chat up the girls until he gets there. Figures.
Pirate's Booty is just three blocks from my place, sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a coffee shop. It's a small dive with a skull and crossbones carved into the front door. I go inside and give the place a scan. No pirates in here. It's still early for the bar crew, so it's pretty mellow-a few couples hanging around and a group of women in their office gear. I can't even imagine working in a cubicle right now. I was going to study engineering like my dad, but now I'm not so sure. I know Dad's less than thrilled that I'm taking my second year off from college, but it's better than spending all that money for something that might not be my thing. And since I inherited so
me money after Mom died, I was actually able to keep my pad this year after Dad announced, "No college, no rent money."
It's funny that while Dad's always been a big fan of music, it's solely as a listener. He could spend hours soaking in Frank Sinatra and Ray Charles on the back porch. Does he think I'm not good enough to sing on his backyard stage?
I'm standing here in the middle of the bar like a statue. I peek outside and see the girls round the corner, and it looks like they found Zach. No denying it-they do look fine. And almost like twins. It takes me a second to realize which one is Hannah. Longer hair and bigger boobs?
"Hey, Adam," both girls say, giving me hugs. Strawberry and Mango. Zach slings his arm around Mango, so it's confirmed-Strawberry is mine. We all go inside and take a window table. Can't beat facing the New York streets nestled next to two sweet-looking girls.
We order a couple of appetizers and a pitcher of beer. Damn, these two fish can drink! By now my head is pretty much doing the beer backstroke, since we started early today. I wouldn't say I was in the deep end, but I'm happily treading water.
Hannah's playing with one of her many silver bracelets. I lean over. "You look really pretty."
"Thanks. And has anyone ever told you how cute you are?" She scoots in so close that she tickles my ear with the heat of her words.
"Do relatives count?" I ask.
She laughs. "You're so funny." I don't tell her that I'm not trying to be a comedian. Besides my crazy relationship with Indigo, no girl has had time to say that about me. I've had a couple short-lived flings, one back home and one the first week we moved to the city. I don't know if I'm proud of them. I stayed with the first girl long enough to lose my virginity to her, but not long enough for her to develop feelings for me. My experience with the second girl was even faster. I never even learned her last name.
"Thanks. So how's school?"
"I'm only taking half a load of classes this semester."
"Why?"
"Working on my career. Trying to go to as many modeling auditions as possible."
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