“Have you ever done a triathlon? I’m doing Escape from Alcatraz in June.”
And on …
And on …
And on.
We hit the iceberg as the waiter brought us a plate of California rolls.
“What equipment do you use?” he said.
Equipment? Like I ever went anywhere near the equipment.
I dipped a roll in soy sauce and wondered if his butt was smaller than mine. “Um, once I used a machine for hamstrings, but I’m not sure what it was called. And my legs totally hurt the next day, so that was the end of that.”
We were sinking fast.
“I work out six days a week,” he said. “It’s my passion.”
“Six days? Wow. That is a lot of days,” I said.
“Yep, six days a week, rain or shine.”
“Cool,” I said.
And then we slammed against the ocean floor.
“Here, feel my muscles.” He leaned toward me and flexed his bare bicep, right there in the middle of Godzila Sushi.
I winced and looked around. I’m not a religious person, but at that moment I was praying to God that no one was watching, especially Mandy. I lightly touched his upper arm with my index finger and pulled it away as if I had just touched a rattlesnake.
“Yes, uh, that’s quite a muscle,” I said. SOS … SOS …
When Eric walked me home later that night, he gave me another bear hug and then went in for the kiss. I dodged it and gave him the cheek.
“Can I call you?” he said.
“Uh, sure.”
He called me two days later to ask me if I wanted to go for a run, but I lied and told him I had to go out of town for three weeks for work.
After an awkward silence, I lied again and told him I would get in touch when I got back. It was more dating karma out the window, but another date with him and I would have thrown myself out the window.
A couple weeks later I met a guy I actually liked. And I couldn’t believe it, because he liked me back! His name was Reid, and he worked at my bank. The only time I actually went inside the bank was when I needed a roll of quarters for the laundry, and that was to the teller’s window, so I never noticed all those other people who worked at the desks in there. Another thing to add to my grown-up list: You know you’re a real grown-up when you have a meeting with one of those desk people inside a bank.
I went in there one Saturday morning to get some quarters, and on my way out I noticed Reid leaning on the edge of one of the desks. He was talking to an older woman, like 90 years old older woman, and he had such a nice smile that I just sort of stopped walking and started standing there, right in the middle of the room, watching him smile at this tiny old lady.
After about ten seconds, he looked over and flat-out busted me.
“Do you need help?” he said.
“Um, no, just getting quarters for the laundry,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Well, do you need some help folding?” he said with a smile.
“Ahh,” said the little old lady.
For about two weeks I saw him a lot. It was so fun! He was charming, funny, handsome, tall, and smart. He even smelled good. And he was fascinated by my job. “You got paid to hang out with Shane Kennedy?” he said over and over. “Do you know how many guys I know who would pay to hang out with Shane Kennedy?”
It was like there was nothing wrong with him.
The problem was that I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
One Saturday night we went to a big charity party in the Marina, and in an unfortunate demonstration of the dateable male-female ratio in that area of San Francisco, at one point I reached for his hand, and he didn’t take mine in return. I gave him a confused look, but he still didn’t take my hand.
An epic Waverly moment followed.
First I looked up at him and smiled. “Hey, you, don’t you want to hold my hand?” I said playfully.
He shook his head.
I smiled again and tilted my head. “Really?”
He shook his head again.
Then I sort of stopped smiling and said, “Why not?”
No response.
Then, like one of those lab mice that repeatedly shock themselves, I tried for the cheese one more time.
“Reid, will you please just tell me why you won’t hold my hand?” I said.
He finally looked at me and said, “Because I’m dating three other women at this party.”
“Oh,” I said.
It should come as no surprise that I never heard from him again.
But I’m sure I’ll run into him at the Marina Safeway someday.
So I was out there looking, but Waverly moments and Honey Notes were all I was really finding.
Front: Know what I want to know?
Inside: Honey, what are guys who wear tank tops THINKING?
Front: Is his butt smaller than yours?
Inside: Honey, run for the hills, and run fast. It’s not worth the humiliation, and yours is only gonna get bigger.
Front: Want to keep yourself from going too far on the first date?
Inside: Honey, don’t shave your legs. And if you need extra insurance, wear your oldest granny panties.
Front: How long should you wait before sleeping with a guy you’ve just started dating?
Inside: Honey, if he’s hot, why are you wasting your time asking me?
Front: Been on some bad dates lately?
Inside: Honey, at least you’re out and about, right? That’s better than cleaning your oven, which you know you never use anyway.
Front: Found out a guy you really like is seeing other people?
Inside: Honey, let’s see how he looks in about ten years. There’s an inverse correlation between success as a player when they’re young and success in the battle of the bulge when they’re not.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On occasion, May in San Francisco can do a fantastic imitation of October, and that year, April did a fantastic imitation of May’s imitating October. The days were unusually warm and balmy, the daylight reaching further and further into each evening. (But don’t get me wrong. It was still as freezing as a popsicle at night.)
One Wednesday morning, Scotty Ryan called me out of the blue.
I smiled into the phone. “Hey, Scotty, what a nice surprise. How are you?”
“I’m good, beautiful. Can’t complain at all.”
“What have you been up to since Cynthia and Dale’s wedding? Are you still seeing that Tad guy?” I said.
“Actually, I am. Can you believe it? Three months and counting. I may be going soft in my old age, but I think I’m in love,” he said.
I tossed my squishy stress ball in the air. “Now I’ve heard everything. So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Mr. Ryan?”
“Actually, I thought I might steal you for a few hours at lunchtime today.”
“Today? You’re in town?”
“I am indeed. I’m interviewing Bono before the U2 concert down in San Jose tonight, so since I’m here I thought I’d catch the Giants game today and hoped my favorite PR lady might want to join me. I’ve got two tickets to a friend of a friend’s luxury box.”
I sat up straight in my chair. “Wait a minute. You’re interviewing Bono, and U2 is my favorite band OF ALL TIME, and you’re inviting me to the Giants game? The Giants, who finished in last place last year, I might add?”
He laughed. “I know, I’m a horrible friend. But as usual, the producers decided on this assignment at the last minute, so I can’t get any extra tickets to the concert. I’m so sorry, love. I’ll make it up to you some other way, okay? I promise.”
“You’d better, Scotty Ryan, you’d better.”
“I will, I promise. Now what time do you want me to pick you up? The baseball game starts at one fifteen. Can you ditch work for a few hours?”
I smiled again. “Hey, if I’m spending quality time with a big-shot reporter from the Today show, it’s not skipping work,
it’s professional development. Have I taught you nothing about PR?”
“Ah, of course,” he said. “So does twelve thirty sound good?”
“Sounds perfect. See you then.”
I hung up the phone and saw Mandy Edwards standing in my office door.
“Hey, Waverly, did you just say you’re going to the Giants game with a reporter from the Today show?”
I nodded. Busted.
She smiled. “That’s so cool. Do you think he might be interested in hearing about Adina Energy’s new line of energy bars? They taste really good, you know.”
“Uh, probably not. He covered that trend last year.”
Her smile didn’t move. “Oh, okay, just thought I’d ask. Because Adina Energy has such a high-profile brand name, we’re targeting high-profile press with our campaign, you know, so I just figured the Today show might be interested too. So you’re going to watch a baseball game in the middle of the day?”
I nodded again. “Yep, is there something else you needed? I’m really sort of busy here.”
“No thanks, just stopped by to say hello. I’m really busy with this launch, you know.” Because it’s so high-profile, you know.
“So I’ve heard,” I said.
She turned to leave. “Well, have fun at the game,” she said a little too loudly as she walked away.
“Thanks, Mandy, I will,” I said to the pencil in my hand, which I wanted to snap in half.
As soon as she was gone, I immediately went to ask Jess if it was okay to go to the game before Mandy got to him. Thank God he said yes. Thank God for our clients who were desperate to get their products in front of the millions of people who watch the Today show.
Three hours later, Scotty and I were in a half-empty luxury box at AT&T Park, watching the Giants get killed by the Padres. But we didn’t really care about the game, because there was an open bar!
“So it’s the real deal with this guy Tad?” I said, as he handed me a beer and a plate of the ballpark’s famous garlic fries.
“It may be, my dear, he may be. But time will tell. The distance thing is forcing us to take things slowly.”
“He lives in New York, right? Do you think you’ll move there?” I picked up a handful of fries. “Wouldn’t it be easier for your job anyway if you were in New York?”
He took a sip of his drink and nodded. “I’ve thought about it, and it would certainly be more exciting than Dallas, but we’ll see. What about you—how’s your love life these days?”
“Hey, did that guy just get a hit?” I leaned forward in my seat and pointed down at the field.
He looked over at me and laughed. “Are you avoiding my question?”
“What question?” I grabbed some more fries and stuffed them in my mouth.
“Waverly?”
I stood up and smoothed my skirt. “Hey, I’m going to run to the restroom. Do you need another drink from the free bar? It’s on me.” I pointed to the small bar by the door.
He shook his head and smiled. “Okay, okay, I won’t ask any more questions. But I will have another beer when you get back.” He handed me a ten-dollar bill. “And why don’t you grab another plate of garlic fries from the snack bar since you just inhaled most of these.”
I took the money and blew him a garlic kiss. “Okay, dearie, I’m on it. I’ll be right back.” I walked out of the luxury box and headed down the pristine corridor toward the restroom and the non-crowded snack bar. Being a VIP at the ballpark was an entirely different experience from going as a regular spectator. In many ways it was like the first class versus coach scenario on an airplane: free drinks, no crowds or restroom lines, and my snob attitude that appeared out of nowhere.
Five minutes later, I was walking back from the snack bar holding a huge tray of garlic fries. The smell was a little overwhelming, and I could only wonder how lethal my breath must be after eating so many of them. But man, were they yummy. I picked up three more and stuffed them into my mouth. Thank God I was only with Scotty, who had just kissed me on his way to the restroom and pretended to faint from the smell. I mean, could you imagine being on a real date and scarfing down a huge pile of garlic fries and then—
I stopped in my tracks.
Standing ten feet in front of me was Jake McIntyre.
Jake McIntyre and those gorgeous blue eyes.
It’d been months since I’d run into him at Cynthia’s wedding, but seeing him still made my legs feel all wobbly. I wanted to say hello, but for some reason I wasn’t able to get those stupid legs to listen to me. So I just kept on walking.
“Waverly?”
My stupid legs kept moving.
“Waverly?”
Finally my brain regained control of my nervous system.
I turned to face him. “Oh, hi, Jake. I, uh, I didn’t see you.”
He smiled and walked toward me. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh, just watching the game.” I tried to swallow the fries I was still chewing as fast as I could, but the smell of them was engulfing my body.
“Who are you here with?” he said.
I smiled and immediately forgot every guy I’d been on a date with all year. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that question since I’m the one who lives here?”
He pointed at the door to the luxury box right next to me. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I mean who are you with at this event?” On the door was a sign that said BA ROCKS VIP ROOM.
I shook my head. “I’m not here for any event. I just came this way to get some snacks.”
“Oh, sorry, I just assumed because of the PR thing … well anyway, how are you?”
I was afraid to speak too loudly because the last thing I wanted was more garlic heading in his direction. “I’m good, good, thanks. What are you doing here?”
“Just a guest of a friend of mine who’s sponsored by BA Rocks.”
“Oh, cool, that sounds fun,” I said. “Uh, so how are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. Well I guess not that good. We just got swept in the first round of the playoffs, so my summer vacation came a little early this year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What do you do in the off-season anyway?” I was determined to be nice to him this time, regardless of how nervous I was. I smiled and felt the sweat beading up on my forehead. Garlic-scented sweat. Nice.
He pointed to the door again. “A couple boondoggles like this, and then I’m going to visit my parents in Florida, then spend a couple months working at basketball camps for underprivileged kids in Atlanta.”
“Gotta love the boondoggle,” I said. “Personally I’m a big fan. And those camps sound cool, too.” God, he was pretty. Those eyes … Keep it together. … Keep it together.
He laughed. “Yeah, it’ll be a fun summer. But first I think I’m going to spend a few weeks in South America. I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil and Argentina.”
Alone? Was he going alone?
I was dying to ask him.
Should I ask him?
Maybe I could ask him.
What could it hurt to ask him?
Suddenly I realized that a lot of time had passed, and I still hadn’t said a word.
Say something, Waverly!
“I went to Brazil and Argentina a few years ago,” I blurted out. “It’s a total party down there. I’ve never kissed so many boys in my life.”
OH MY GOD.
He laughed. “What?”
My cheeks were more on fire than my breath. “Uh, have you ever noticed how much the Giants suck?” I whispered.
Just then a man in a suit walked up to Jake and put his hand on his arm. “Mr. McIntyre, there’s a phone call for you inside.”
Jake looked at the man and then back at me.
I raised my eyebrows. “Mr. McIntyre? Are you more important than I think you are?”
He smiled. “They’re just being polite. Well, I guess I’d better go. It was nice to see you, Waverly.”
I saluted. “You too, Mr. McIntyre. Bye.�
��
He turned and walked into the suite with the man. The door closed behind them, and I just stood there.
I’ve never kissed so many boys in my life?
I was the stupidest person alive.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A couple weeks later, I came home from work early. My throat and head were killing me, and I just wanted to lie down. I walked into the building and grabbed my mail, then unlocked the apartment door and headed straight for my bed. I flipped through the stack as I walked and saw three envelopes from publishing houses. Three very thin envelopes.
“Great,” I said. I sat down on my bed and read one rejection after another. Ugh. Who knew it was harder to get into the greeting card business than it was to get into Harvard? I was trying to keep my hopes up, but the growing stack of rejection letters on my desk was hard to ignore. They all sounded more or less the same:
Dear Ms. Bryson: Thank you for your submission to (insert company name here). While we think your idea is (insert lukewarm adjective here), we don’t think it is an appropriate fit for us at this time. Good luck, and thank you for thinking of (insert company name here).
Was there some sort of rejection letter template in Microsoft Word?
I lay back on my bed and shut my eyes. This truly was worse than applying to college. At least when you applied to college you knew that someone, somewhere, would let you in because they needed your money.
I kept my eyes closed, and before I knew it I was asleep. An hour later I was startled awake by the ring of my cell phone. Half asleep, I sat up, and for a second I didn’t know where I was. I shook my head and tried to snap out of my groggy haze.
“Hello?”
“Hey, kiddo.”
I cursed myself for not looking at the caller ID.
I lay back on the bed. “Hi, Dad.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Oh no, not at all.” I tried to play it off, but it was obvious that I’d been totally asleep. Why doesn’t anyone ever just admit that?
Perfect on Paper: The (Mis)Adventures of Waverly Bryson Page 20