Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  “I know Celia, you’re right. I’ll apologize as soon as I walk in,” I say, handing her a brownie from the snack cart.

  “Pastries don’t forgive proper etiquette, Mr. Garrity,” she calls after me, unwrapping the brownie from the cellophane.

  Walking through my door, “Mr. Clevenger, thanks for coming,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “Who’s cheating now?” he asks, sitting back down. “You got another snake of a brother-in-law who needs caught? I gotta say, I ain’t never seen a man screw so many women before.”

  “The guys’ a prick, but no, it’s not so much as watching someone. This time, I want you to find someone.”

  You know when a dog gets ahold of a bone and just won’t relent, has no intention of letting go? That is exactly how I’ve been since Char told me that she wanted to find her father. I think her quacky therapist just might be right this time. Dr. Van Hawken may have hit the nail on the head, finally. I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.

  If Char could meet her father, start to see his perspective on things or even see him for what kind of person or man he is or was could rid her of some her abandonment and security issues and maybe even give her a sense of peace with her past. God, I’d love to give her that. I’d love to see her let go of all that anger and resentment she harbors within her. I want to give her that lightness of mind. Maybe Nelle’s been right all these years. Maybe I do have some sort of “Savior Syndrome.”

  I spent the first few days trying to find him myself, but I’m not even sure if Ross Palmer is his real name or not. Sounds like some name her strung out mother made up for the sake of saying Char had a dad and not that she was knocked up by some guy who wanted paid for donating drugs to the addict.

  Who knows?

  But, I’m going to find out.

  Nearly three weeks later…

  “EXCUSE ME? WHAT did you say we’re doing tonight? There’s no way, I could possibly have heard you correctly,” I say, wishing I hadn’t agreed to let Char plan the night and actually drive to our destination.

  “Oh come on, it might be fun,” she says, laughing and patting my thigh condescendingly. “Plus, it’ll give you a chance to talk to Briggs about using Garrity Advertising for his show.”

  “So let me get this straight… Janelle thinks you’re going over there to fuck Briggs, because she… I can’t even finish that statement,” I say, shaking my head and rubbing my forehead.

  “She needs to make sure he isn’t in love with her, which he clearly is. It’s all so stupid. But hey, anything that makes her feel better, I’m good with,” Char says, checking her hair in the mirror.

  “Why are you checking yourself out? You don’t want to fuck—”

  “Oh shut the fuck up, of course not. I always check my hair before I get somewhere, you know that—that’s why it always looks so good,” she says, flipping her behind her shoulder.

  “So what’s your plan here? What if he’s pissed, because he really thought he was going to screw you tonight?” I ask, feeling very uneasy about this absurd plan.

  “We’ve been texting all day. Nobody is fucking anyone. He’s so fucking in love with Janelle that he can’t see straight. Dude bought her a guitar,” she explains, rolling her eyes.

  “So you assume that because he bought Janelle a guitar that he still wouldn’t want to bend you over his couch?” I ask, wondering how in the Hell girls could be so stupid.

  “Of course he wants to bend me over the couch! Who doesn’t? But, that’s not the point here. The point is: it doesn’t matter what he wants to do, because he won’t. He’s into her… not me… and plus, I wouldn’t let him.”

  “I don’t know about this,” I say, shaking my head. “This plan has a lot of holes in it.”

  “The only problem with all of this is that I feel badly for Briggs,” Char admits.

  “What? For what? Not having sex with him?” I ask, not following any of her convoluted thinking.

  “No, because I keep pushing for Briggs—keep telling Janelle ‘oh pick Briggs. He’s so hot… Briggs… Briggs… ’ knowing damn well Leo’s been the front runner all along.”

  “That’s what Joz says too. How could you guys possibly know that?” I wonder. “I’m not gay or anything, but Christ, both of them are… are…”

  “Fucking hot as shit? Yeah, I know,” she squeals, kind of pissing me off. “But not as hot as you, J,” she adds for good measure.

  “Hey thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But that’s not exactly what I was going to say. I think both guys would be good for her.”

  “Well yeah, they are. That’s the problem,” she explains. “But the bottom line is the way she looks at Leo. You can almost see the little hearts bugging out of her eyes and the little love birdies tweeting around her head.”

  I actually remember thinking the same thing about the way I feel about Char. You just can’t fake or hide that crap. It is what it is. You can’t help whom you fall in love with. That’s why they call it “falling” and not “jumping.” Falling is something you can’t help; something that natures takes over and does for you. There’s no rhyme or reason; it just is.

  “So why tell her to choose Briggs if you know she’s not going to?”

  “For starters, so you can get a confirmed signature on his contract… and … well, Janelle needs a little… a little… fun, before she jumps back into another marriage.”

  “Jesus, you already have her married to Leo? It’s been three weeks!”

  “God Jasper, are you blind?” she asks, glancing over at me. “It’s so obvious! I bet Janelle’s already got her kids’ names picked out with him… and trust me, I never thought she should be with Marcus, but this time, I know who she belongs with… and so does she. So, I’m glad she’s taking her time… this time.”

  “Well that blows for Briggs.”

  “No it doesn’t. He gets to fulfill every schoolboy’s fantasy. He’s fucking his hot teacher. Have you seen him? I’m sure he’ll get over it,” Char states.

  “They’re already having… forget it… I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “You didn’t think she was already sleeping with them? How naïve are you?” she questions, as we pull into his apartment complex.

  “Both of them? Jesus, my sister works fast… plus she’s still married. Hell, it’s only been a few weeks,” I argue, my head spinning with unwanted thoughts and images.

  “Not everyone waits nine years Jasper,” she jokes, shaking her head. “Hell, it’s been almost a month and anyway, that marriage was over before it even started. You know that as well as I do,” she says, getting out of the car.

  “Wait… how do we know this is even going to work? Where do I go when Janelle gets here? How do you even know she’s even going to show?” I ask, drilling Char with questions as we go up the flight of stairs to Briggs’ apartment.

  “Trust me,” Char says, sliding her sunglasses up on her head and kissing me before she knocks on the door.

  “SAY IT AGAIN.” Char orders, straddling my stomach.

  “You were right. I was wrong,” I groan, rolling my eyes.

  Char was 100% right. Once we got there and Char explained that I owned an advertising company, I didn’t even have to ask Briggs to check with his agent. He offered to check into it before we even brought it up. Now, I don’t feel as if I’m pimping out my kid sister for my own financial gain.

  Briggs was pretty perceptive—or maybe Char and I are too obvious—but he immediately asked how long we’ve been together. His exact words were “how long you been tapping that ass?” Man, if he only knew how great that ass really was. Thankfully, he truly had no intention of “tapping Char.” He’s got it bad for Nelle. Makes me feel pretty sorry for him. Like I said, Janelle doesn’t embrace sticky situations. But right now, she’s in a pot of honey, floating in a vat of tar, because she’s in one pretty sticky situation with Briggs and Leo.

  We hung out for a while, talking abo
ut Briggs’ ESPN show and playing a little Madden. Char took one picture sitting on Briggs’ lap, and then I left to circle around the block a few times. When I got back, Janelle was storming up the steps, and Char came prancing out of the door five minutes later. Char’s good—very good.

  “Now, since I was so right and you were so wrong, I get to do something,” she says with a devilish grin on her face.

  “What’s the tie for?” I ask, as she loops it around my wrists.

  “Trust me,” she says, smirking. Once she has me tied up, she orders me to close my eyes and just relax. Not having a clue as to what she’s up to, but becoming very aroused, I close my eyes and let her take over.

  I can feel her breath on my face as she leans toward me. “Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes,” she reminds me.

  “Oww—what the fuck?” I scream, opening my eyes and turning my head. “Jesus Char, what the Hell?”

  “Come on Jasper, just let me do it this one time, if you hate it, then I’ll never ever do it again. Please!”

  “You are not… not… plucking my eyebrows,” I grit through my teeth.

  “Oh, I think I am,” she says, dangling the tweezers in front of me with one hand and unbuttoning her shirt with the other. “How about I make you a little deal? If you let me do this, then I’ll do whatever… and I mean whatever you want me to do.”

  “No matter what?” I ask, skeptically. “You can’t back out.”

  “Deal,” she says, leaning over me again.

  “Don’t you want to know what it is first?” I ask, smirking.

  “Nope, I trust you,” she says, winking at me.

  10 excruciatingly painful minutes later…

  “OKAY, YOU WERE right again,” I say, leaning over the bathroom counter inspecting my eyebrows. I don’t know what it is about being in a relationship that turns guys into full-blown pansies, but that is exactly what happens. Never in my life would I be checking out and admiring my eyebrows. “Why does it have to hurt so bad though?’

  “Each time you do it, it hurts less,” Char says, hopping up on the counter next to me.

  “Each time? What does that mean? It’s done, why would I have to do it again?”

  “Well duh, the hairs will grow back within four to six weeks,” she states, pissing me off.

  “What? You expect me to let you do this once a month? No way! Not going to happen,” I say, shaking my head.

  “We’ll see,” she says, smirking.

  “Hey! I thought you were the one who said we weren’t going to go all Danny Zuko on each other?” I remind her.

  “I wouldn’t say this is ‘going Zuko.’ I’d just say it’s just a way to keep improving our images for each other,” Char replies, crossing her legs on the counter, redirecting my attention.

  “Right, speaking of that,” I say, still staring at her long, tanned legs. “I think you promised to do something for me.”

  Opening her legs and pulling me between them, she coos, “Ohhh, I can’t wait to hear what this is. I love when you start revealing fantasies.”

  “How about this? Every month that I let you… you… rip out hairs on my body is a month that you have to… I don’t know… stop cussing?”

  “What? Are you fucking kidding me? It’s not like you have some angelic mouth, you ass,” she argues, kicking me out from between her legs. “Hypocritical much?”

  “That’s true, but I just think… I think… that… you’d seem more classy and professional if you… you…”

  “Stop stalling. You think I sound like a trashy hoodrat and that I don’t sound like someone the great Jasper Garrity should be fucking behind closed doors,” she yells, jumping down off the counter. “Well fucking fuck you, you fucking arrogant, uppity, fucking bastard.”

  I grab her wrist just as she passes me to storm out of my bathroom. “Are you done?”

  “No, I’m so fucking far from being—”

  “Fucking done,” I finish the sentence for her. She glares at me. “Listen to me Char, you are beautiful, smart, talented, sensitive, and so incredible—”

  “But… let’s hear it J, because I know a ‘but’ is coming.”

  “Oh there is, but… but when you talk like that, it’s just so over the top and kind of… I don’t know… a turn off,” I admit.

  “Oh that’s just great. So now I turn you off? Well, you don’t have to worry about me wanting to turn you on anymore,” Char says, grabbing her shoes.

  “Really? You’re really going to walk out of here, because I asked you to stop swearing so much… but, it’s perfectly fine for you to tie me to the bed and rip my eyebrows out just so I can look hotter to you?’ I say, watching her storm around my room, grabbing things that belong to her.

  “You just don’t get it. I’m not going to be one of those women who gets belittled by their boyfriends and keeps coming back for more,” she states, glaring at me.

  “Right, because I belittled you, really just put you down,” I say, feeling my own anger start to get the best of me. “Char, you need to get a couple of things straight. I love you. I love the crap out of you, and I would do anything—anything for you.”

  As I start to walk toward her, I stop, realizing that I’m sick of trying to convince her to let me love her. It shouldn’t be this hard—this much work. “But if I can’t be honest with you about everything, then I’m not sure this is going to work out. I shouldn’t have to hold everything back and hide how I feel about things—just because it might piss you off or scare you and send you running for the hills.”

  “Jasper, don’t you get it? I’m not gong to be one of those girls who just changes everything for some guy. I’m not that person—won’t be that person.”

  “Who’s asking you too? Char, I should be able to tell you how I feel without scaring you off. It’s not about ‘changing.’ It’s about bettering ourselves—being the best we can be for each other. I would never change you—or want to change you,” I explain, exasperated.

  “You just asked me to. You basically just told me that I’m trailer trash and not good enough for the perfect Jasper Garrity,” she yells.

  “When? When did I say that?” I ask, losing my sanity. “Oh my God, you’ve lost your mind. Are you listening to yourself? You’re creating some fight for the sake of a fight.”

  “Well that’s just swell. Is ‘swell’ a good enough word choice for you? How about this? How about I walk out this door and you get a good look at my ass… ooops sorry, I mean my ‘bottom,’ because it’s the last time you’ll see me here,” she says, turning on her heel and storming out.

  Women. Are. Infuriating.

  They make no sense. None. How can an entire gender be irrational, hypocritical, and completely insane? It’s amazing the human race has lasted this long. Why haven’t men just gotten together and completely annihilated the whole female species? Life would be so much simpler and make a lot more sense.

  Now, I’ve got to figure out how to get her to come to her senses and realize that I wasn’t trying to hurt her or offend her. The problem is that women do not listen to reason, so I need to come up with a better way to show her that her world is my world now and vice versa. Because there is no way in Hell, I’m losing the best thing that ever happened to me over some fucking profanity—excessive fucking profanity.

  I HAVEN’T BEEN alone with Jasper in ten days—not since the blowout. We’ve talked and texted—even flirted a little when we can steal a moment away. These past couple of days, our lives have been consumed with all things Janelle and the media shit storm that some douchebag and Marcus unleashed upon her.

  I guess we’re okay as far as the whole “us” thing goes, but I’m not sure what’s going on right now. He hasn’t really asked to see me or have me sneak over; I haven’t asked to see him either. He called me that night after our argument and apologized for hurting my feelings. I asked him if he still wanted me to stop swearing. When he said that he did, I hung up on him. The next day at work, I received three dozen
lilies delivered to the house I was showing at the exact moment the couple arrived to tour it. I don’t know if they were infected with my glee and excitement, but they made an offer on the house. Leave it to Jasper to swoop in and save the day.

  When I woke up on the morning of my thirtieth birthday, there was a gift from him on the hood of my car. He got me a giant box of Godiva chocolates and a TED teddy bear that was locked and loaded with a whole slew of profane phrases and words. I decided to toss the bear in the trash and eat the chocolates for breakfast. Just as I was about to toss the bear in, a sparkle caught my eye. I was so wrapped up in my hatred for him and his stupid joke that I nearly missed the enormous diamond earrings in the bear’s ears. When I got back home after work that night, there were 30 roses covering my bed. Jasper left a note that said: “Happy 30th beautiful. I miss you. I love you.”

  I figured that we’d spent enough time apart and planned to call him and ask him to spend the first night of my 30s with me. That was the plan, but the plan fell to shit when a slew of reporters and cameramen set up camp on Jasper’s front lawn, hoping for an inside scoop on the slutty teacher and her two young boy toys. Our life is all about Janelle now. Of course, I feel terribly for her and want to be there for her, but Christ, I’m “jonesing” for some Jasper action.

  Anyway, being away from him these past ten days hasn’t made me sad or worried. We bicker a lot, but we rarely fight—twice in seven months. The fight we had over my unnecessary and extreme amount of profanity is rare and out of the ordinary for us. Stepping back and getting a better perspective on our relationship has helped. Jasper’s right, not about my swearing, but about me. I need to pull on my big girl panties and stop being so childish and immature about our relationship. I’ve got to start accepting that he’s not going anywhere and start realizing that what I’ve wanted my entire adult life, I finally have and start being fucking happy about it—instead of second-guessing it all the time.