Nerd Girl

by Jemma Bell

  “Waxed? You’re getting waxed too, right? I like soft things, soft is good.” Riven’s eyes are heated and about to pop out of his head as he questions Layla. She simply gives him a cheeky grin.

  “You’ll have to wait and see,” she teases him. Dramatically, Riven falls to the floor on his knees.

  “You are a cruel woman! Just tell me yes or no,” he pleads, while grasping Layla’s shorts. Layla takes hold of his chin, tilting it up, leans over and kisses his lips softly, then whispers in his ear, but, still loud enough for us to hear.

  “I’ll be nice and soft, but I bet you won’t be.” With a laugh, we leave the two stunned guys in the hallway. Derrick is leaning against the wall with a surprised look on his face, but his eyes are flashing passionate fire at me. Riven is melting into the floor with his arm tossed over his eyes. What a pair. All it takes is the mention of a little lady-scaping to bring these guys to their knees.

  *****

  Before I know it, party day has arrived. True to her word, Layla showed up bright and early to drag my lazy butt out of bed. I was under the impression that spa’s and salons were for relaxation, not places for medieval torture. I’ve been subjected to the first round of torture by having a pedicure. My feet are incredibly ticklish, so each time the technician got me in the right spot, I had to hold back from kicking her in the face. I know most people are attached to their noses and she took it easy on me after her first encounter with my feet of fury. The second round of torture was a manicure. I opted to have tips put on my nails because my stubs just wouldn’t look right painted. I didn’t realize the tops of my nails had to be sanded down with a tool that looks like a Dremmel so the glue and tips would adhere to my hands. This treatment left my fingers sore and, if you’re like me and have an injury somewhere inconvenient, you always, always bump it into something. Each time I did, I almost went through the roof. But my hands and feet looked fantastic. My suffering continued with waxed eye brows. I swear the girl ripped off a layer of my skin and then she had to use tweezers to pluck out every single stray hair. I thought that’s what the wax was for. You know quick and painful.

  I started to get uneasy when she told me to strip from the waist down and climb on the table. Um, I don’t know about most women, but when someone tells me to strip down and present my privates to them, I expect dinner first. I do know in order for her to wax me I have to strip down, it’s just incredibly uncomfortable doing it. Deciding to buck up and be tough, I complied with the order and went through with my first Brazilian bikini wax. Holy cow!! If you’ve never had that shit done before, let me just tell you, it freaking hurts! I was brave up until the first pull. After that, I tried to get up and leave. I told the cosmetologist “It’s ok, I’ll shave the rest.” She nudged me back down on the table and ripped off the remaining cloths. I think I saw stars, I know I screamed and I’m sure I’ll never be able to sit again. Once the waxing portion of my torment was complete, I was urged to climb on the table on all fours so she could painstakingly pluck out all the let over strays. This is cruel and unusual punishment. Not only is it undignified and embarrassing, but there is nothing relaxing or soothing about this procedure. Why the hell is it a service done at a spa? I must give myself some credit, I did it and my vajayjay has never looked prettier. Beauty is pain, I guess. Layla was getting hers done as well but has yet to come out.

  I stagger down the hallway and gingerly sit on one of the waiting room chairs to wait for Layla. I grab a magazine and start flipping through it. Right between a cologne add and a movie review, I see a celebrity interview, and there, in startling color, is a photo of Derrick and Mitzi. They look real cozy in the picture, big smiles full of teeth, and they are hugging. The blurb underneath the photo reads:

  “Derrick Walker, fitness trainer and model, set to be a future spokesman for FitNexx Energy. Celebrates with lady friend, Mitzi Decker. Walker beat out thousands of other potential applicants for the job. He holds a degree in Fitness and Nutrition and his glorious physique graces the covers of over nine romance novels penned by Best Selling Author, Anita Wells. These two beautiful people have a lot to celebrate. Decker shares with us that she and Walker plan to revel in their success together. Could there be love in the air? If there is, don't these two make an amazing couple?”

  Way to make yourself more important than you are Mitzi. Love? Yeah right. Loving her would be sort of like loving a marble statue; cold, hard, and unfeeling. I can’t look anymore. If I do, I might throw the magazine across the lobby. Layla finally joins me only to find me pouting and bouncing my leg up and down.

  “Problem, Jenks?” She asks. I notice her delicately rubbing the inside of her thigh. Yeah, girlfriend, I’m tender, too.

  “Oh, you know, just waiting for my friend and read an article about Derrick. Interesting read and speculation as to whether he and Mitzi have a thing going.” I tilt my chin and look up at Layla’s face. She snatches the magazine out of my hands and starts flipping through it until she finds the article and reads it quickly.

  “That little twatwaffle! I can’t stand her, Jenks, she needs to be brought down a couple pegs.” I agree completely, but Derrick did ask me to try and get along with her. She’s been helpful lately and has Derrick’s best interests at heart.

  “Give her enough rope, Layla, she’ll eventually hang herself with it.”

  “For your sake, I hope so. Come on, let’s get the hell out of this dungeon and I’ll do your hair. Cancel that hair appointment, I can make you look better than anyone out there.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve had enough of spas and salons today.” Layla and I settle our bill and hop into the comfort of good old ‘Dotty.’ The rumbling of the engine is making the seat vibrate, soothing my tender flesh.

  Layla drives directly back to my house and starts working on my hair. We only have a few hours left before the guys are supposed to come get us. She sets my hair up in hot rollers and then touches up her hair. Layla has the easiest hair to maintain. It doesn’t take a lot to do; she calls it wake and shake. All she needs to do every morning is add a little gel, throw down her head, and shake while running her fingers through it. The spikes always come out perfect. Tonight Layla is adding a black stripe to her bleached blonde locks. The black stripe is to match the black vintage lace dress she picked up at a consignment store. She takes her time artfully placing my curls in a graceful up do. The curls cascade down my back and the look is very Grecian. I love it. Next is makeup. Thank god I have such a creative and trendy friend. She gives my eyes a smoky look and encourages me to wear my contacts tonight. I hate wearing them because my eyes dry out quickly and I spend all night trying to scratch them out. I agree to wear them, but I’ll bring my glasses just in case. GG brings us a few snacks to munch on as we get ready and she hangs out long enough to zip us both into our dresses. Neither Layla nor I went to our high school prom, so GG just looks her fill at us and starts to cry.

  “Oh, my girls look so lovely,” she says, resting her hands over her mouth, “your young men are very lucky to have such beautiful girls on their arm.” She kisses each of us on the cheek and runs out of the room to get her camera.

  “They better know how lucky they are,” Layla says, elbowing me in the ribs.

  “I’m sure they do, Layla, I’m sure they do.” I close my closet door and see a sensual looking young woman staring back at me in the mirror. My hair looks amazing, my dress is spectacular, and my makeup is flawless. Grabbing the shoe box, I take out my shoes and place them on the floor so I can step into them. These shoes are killer. They give me a few inches more in height and make my legs look like they never end. Layla decided on a pair of strappy, black pumps instead of her signature Docs. Smart move on her part, the Docs wouldn’t go with the dress. At least the pumps make her look a little taller so she won’t be so tiny compared to Riven’s large frame. GG comes back with her camera, Clyde following close behind. She starts snapping pictures of Layla and me, even when we’re not posing for her. GG just loves can
did shots.

  “Ugh, Clyde, you better not drool on my dress.” Layla scolds Clyde as he tries to sniff her. They’re relationship is strained and they tolerate one another because they both love me. Clyde just gives her a deep woof, saying, “would I do that?” Layla shoos him my direction. Clyde comes over and rubs his head on my leg, so I lean down and grasp his sweet face in my palms and kiss him between his eyes. I get a face lick for my kiss, and Layla flips out.

  “Jenks, I spent all day making you look drop dead gorgeous and you let that mongrel destroy my work.” She claps her hands on her hips and starts tapping her foot. “Not only will you smell like a dog, but I also have to patch up what Pupperoni over there licked off.” Clyde quickly turns around on her insult and swats her with his tail. Never a good sign. Clyde is sensitive. “Ouch, keep it up, Clyde and I’ll stop bringing you treats.” GG helps to usher Clyde out of my room and he sits on the other side of the door pawing at it, whining to be let back in.

  “Clyde, go sit with Ben, this is girl time,” GG yells. She spends the next ten minutes fussing over me and Layla. Fluffing my hair, straitening our dresses, spritzing us with perfume and just gushing over the two of us like a grandma should. The doorbell rings and I swear GG just about jumps out of her skin. She’s so excited for us. Clyde starts howling and I can hear him rush to the door followed by Pops telling him to settle down. Good Luck with that Pops, you know Clyde never listens.

  “I guess that’s your young men come to pick you up. I’m so happy for you both, have a great time.” GG quickly kisses both of us on the cheek and proceeds us out of my room and down stairs.

  I can hear voices coming from the living room and as I turn the corner, I see Derrick and Riven standing next to each other talking to Pops. Clyde, at Derrick’s feet, is getting his ears scratched. Derrick looks so damn handsome in his black tuxedo. His vest is a light champagne color, chosen to match my dress and he went with an elegant champagne print tie instead of the traditional bow tie. His hair is gelled to perfection, I think my heart just skipped a beat, he’s that gorgeous and he’s my date tonight. This moment is almost surreal, like a dream come true. Riven is outfitted in a black tux as well only his vest and tie are all black. His longish hair is wet, making messy waves, but still looks fantastic. The black on black makes his deep blue eyes stand out. If he weren’t such a goof, I’d think he were hot. Riven, who wasn't engaged in conversation, spotted us first. His face cracked into a beautiful smile and his eyes widened to almost saucer size. Derrick was busy talking to Pops about something and Riven started elbowing him in the ribs to get his attention. Casting Riven a threatening look and rubbing his side, Derrick finally looks up and sees me standing there. With a predatory look in his whiskey colored eyes, Derrick strides over, looking me up and down. He appears to be just as in awe of me as I am of him. I guess from the captivated look on his face, he approves of Layla’s hard work.

  “Have I died and gone to heaven?” He asks, giving me another once over and zeroing in on my lips. “I must have because you look like an angel.” With that, he takes me in his arms, right here in front of our friends, my grandparents, and my dog and lights up my world with a kiss. He hasn’t even acknowledged Layla yet.

  “Derrick, you haven’t even said hello to Layla yet.” I manage to get the words out in between kisses.

  “Hello, Layla,” He says without looking at her and continuing to kiss me. Riven laughs at us and saunters up to Layla giving her a tight hug and a kiss on her forehead.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks, don’t you look fine this evening. It’s ok, you don’t have to return the compliment, I already know I look fan-freaking-tastic.” There goes that ego. I’m sure Layla will have a witty comeback for Riven’s comment.

  “Sure stud muffin, you’ll be the bell of the ball. What’s with all the black anyway, you going to a funeral later?” Layla arches her eye brow and cocks out her hip. “You look like an undertaker in all that black, ever heard of color? Color is good.” Riven just stands there with his mouth hanging open. Finally, he snaps out of his stupor and gives as good as he just got.

  “Oh, baby, you’ve got room to talk. Are you going for the Pepe Le Pew look this evening? Nice stripe in your hair, by the way. In case you’ve missed it, you’re wearing all black, too.” Derrick and I pull apart to watch the back and forth between our two friends. They playfully insult each other a few more times and that’s when I hear the toilet flush and someone wearing high heels come clicking down the hallway. All the people in my world that matter are in this room, so who the heck could that be. Mitzi comes strutting into the room on designer heels, wearing a stunning red dress. That is so not the dress she bought when we went shopping. This dress looks like a one of a kind couture dress and she looks like a movie star. Hair perfect, makeup perfect, and just the perfect selection of jewelry to adorn her long neck. I’m shocked for a few reasons. The first is the dress; the second is why she is here with us?

  “Oh, Amy, don’t you look charming, I simply adore that dress on you.” Mitzi gushes a little too much and her smile is just a little to fake.

  “Get all the lipstick off your teeth, Mitz?” Riven asks bringing up a sore spot for Mitzi and making Layla laugh right in her face. “It’s called lipstick, I don’t know why you feel the need to color your teeth.” Mitzi just shoots Riven the stink eye and shakes her head at him. He just laughs at her.

  “Thank you, Mitzi, I don’t recognize that dress. I thought you chose a classic black dress for the party.”

  “A girl can never have too many little, black dresses. I just added that one to my collection and had a well-known designer friend of mine create this for me. Isn’t it fantastic?” Mitzi strikes a pose and does a twirl around, showing the plunging back. It is a gorgeous dress and she looks like someone’s trophy.

  “You look great Mitzi.” I’m not feeding into her vanity any more than necessary.

  “Yeah, Mitzi, you look fantastic,” Derrick agrees. Mitzi looks at him with hooded eyes and gives a flirty smile. Derrick just gives her a sheepish grin and starts talking to Riven. GG and Pops introduce themselves to Mitzi and converse with her for a bit. Clyde just sits at my feet, staring at her. I know he’s protecting me from her in his way. Everyone talks for a while longer and then Evening Gown Barbie claps her hands together, alerting us that party hour is almost upon us and we need to make haste. Otherwise we’ll be late. Make haste? Who the hell talks like that? She ushers everyone out of the house and into the waiting black limo. Layla and Riven slide in first, and then me, Derrick, and finally Mitzi.

  It’s a short ride to the gym from my house; Mitzi completely monopolizes the conversation. She tells Derrick who he simply must talk to and mingle with. Derrick nods his head, agreeing to work the room, but tells her, he wants to enjoy himself as well. I’d like to know why Mitzi felt the need to ride over with us. Couldn’t she have given him this pep talk earlier in the day or yesterday? Derrick just looks at me with an apologetic expression and holds me closer to his side. Layla sits across from me, looking out the window, biting her bottom lip. My guess is, so she doesn’t rip Mitzi a new one. I also note, her and Riven, holding hands. Good for them, I’m glad they’re seeing each other. Layla needs a good guy in her life.

  As the limo pulls up to the front entrance of the gym, I notice a multitude of photographers standing around outside the lobby. There’s also two rotating signal lights spinning around, drawing the attention of anyone within a few a mile radius. As the chauffeur opens the door helping Mitzi out, I’m blinded by flashes of light from the many cameras waiting to snap a picture of Derrick as he exits. We all file out and I glance over to see Mitzi posing for the paparazzi with Derrick. I’d almost think he forgot I was here if not for Riven, tapping him on the shoulder and gesturing in my direction. Glancing back and catching my wounded expression, Derrick looks apologetic. He didn’t forget about me, he just overlooked me for a minute. Leaving Mitzi to her preening, he joins me once again. Layla just rolls her aggrav
ated eyes.

  “I’m sorry, sweets. The photographers wanted a few shots of me with my agent. It’s for publicity, you understand, right?” Taking my hand and staring pleadingly into my eyes, Derrick wills me to understand. I do, I just don’t want to be left out in the cold, feeling like a fool.

  “Sure, I understand. It’s required and all that.” I reply

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t. That was a real dick move, Derrick,” Layla fires off at him.

  “Layla, don’t, its fine,” I argue.

  “No, it’s not, Jenks; you’re his date tonight not, that preening peacock over there.” She snarls, pointing to Mitzi. “He just left your ass hanging there to get his picture taken. Not cool, Derrick, really not cool.”

  “Layla, I’m okay. Derrick is the man of the hour and has to do this to promote the product and himself as a spokesman. Calm down, please.” I beg. Taking a deep huff of breath, she finally relents.

  “You’re right, Layla; Amy is my date tonight. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t.” Derrick leans down to kiss my forehead and whispers lovingly in my ear. “I’m sorry, baby.” I nod my head in response and we all head into the building. The lobby is decked out in beautiful arrangements of black, red, and white roses. Very elegant. As I take in all the people coming and going, most of them are dressed as formally as us. The men turned out in tuxedos, or expensive suits, and the ladies are parading around in elegant cocktail dresses. I’ve never been to a black tie affair before. Doing my best not to stumble in my ridiculously high heels, I hold on to Derrick just a little bit tighter. I can hear the music pumping out of the sound system and as we get closer to the courts, it gets louder.