Geek Actually Season 1 Omnibus

by Cathy Yardley

  Taneesha: I get this. Christina is somebody I don’t want to piss off ordinarily. But… this wasn’t cool. And now he’s blaming it on me. We’re both suspended from work for a week, while they “sort this out.” I meant to tell you guys, but I was just too pissed.

  Aditi: They SUSPENDED you? Oh, that is BULLSHIT!

  Taneesha: IKR? I’m doing what I can to get my receipts ready, screenshots and my police reports and stuff, but you know how that goes. Like they even listen.

  Aditi: Get a lawyer. Seriously. This has gone way too far, and they are being dicks. Like, actionable, lawsuit-worthy dicks.

  Taneesha: I don’t want to go that route if I don’t have to. Not unless I want to kiss the whole damned industry goodbye. It’s a closed ecosystem around here—I burn somebody in Texas, they’re going to feel it in Seattle and Silicon Valley.

  Elli: Isn’t there anything you can do?

  Taneesha: I’m just taking the suspension right now. But God help Steven if he comes at me again with more of his white male tears. Anyway, enough about me. How’s the writing going? Still hating that promo stuff?

  Aditi: Michelle told me not to follow up on my post for Jezebel.

  Taneesha: WHAT? But I thought it was super popular?

  Aditi: It was. Michelle said it pissed somebody off, and there were political repercussions. Or maybe I was just too political? Whatever. You know how it is. Now, I don’t even know if they’re going to do ANYTHING to support my book.

  Taneesha: Why does the world suck?

  Aditi took a big bite of pie, wincing in delight at the sour tang. “I have no idea,” she said aloud around a mouthful of the citrus custard. Not that they could hear her, but it made her feel less alone. She swallowed. “But it sucks a big bag of dicks.” Elli finally started typing, interrupting their conversation.

  Elli: Taneesha, have you heard of asexuals?

  Taneesha: Um, random! Oh, I see—reading back through the earlier conversation now. Guess I interrupted you guys. I have some idea about them, but I don’t think I know any, either.

  Elli: You do now.

  Aditi: No way! Have you known for a while? Or is this a new realization?

  Elli: New realization. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even know it was really a thing. Ruby told me about it.

  Taneesha: Um… I don’t know that I understand it. What does that mean?

  Elli: It means I’m just not attracted to people that way. I mean, I guess I could be. But from what I’ve experienced, no. It’s just not something I’m interested in.

  Taneesha: Okay.

  Aditi: How do you feel, knowing it?

  Elli: It’s such a relief.

  Aditi: Relief? Why?

  Elli: You know, you all would talk about guys—or in Christina’s case, girls—and Michelle’s figuring out her thing, and Taneesha’s got a new guy, and you’ve got your Tinder stuff. And I’m just like—I’ve got Pikachu footie pajamas and that makes me SOOOO happy.

  Aditi: LOL! That is so you!

  Elli: I found this comic online about asexuals, and how it’s like all these people are like “I like bacon” and how they love bacon and always want to have bacon, or whatever, and I’m just sort of like, “Meh. I’d rather have cake.” It’s not that I hate bacon, but I never really crave it. It’s a food, it’s not my preference. There are literally a million things I’d rather do, that I can think of offhand.

  Taneesha: That makes sense.

  Elli: And I thought—well, maybe I was weird. You know. Christina was always trying to get me laid. And Michelle would say things like “Well, maybe you’ll meet someone who changes your mind” or “You’ve just had bad experiences, you just need time.” They mean it in the best way, but it always felt like “Ooh, let’s fix Elli.” I’m not broken. There are lots of other people like me—enough that they have a name for it. I’m not slow or immature or lonely. I’m just ME. That feels so amazing.

  Aditi: That’s awesome, Elli. Good for you. Connecting to what really makes you feel good—being authentically you—is fucking tremendous.

  Elli: Thank you! I feel like dancing.

  Taneesha: You always feel like dancing. :) But I’m with Aditi. Good for you. You’re not broken, or any of that crap, and screw anyone who tries to tell you differently. Do you, sweetie.

  Elli: I’m so happy! You guys going to be on later? I have to do some more work for Ruby, but I’m going to do some quests tonight to burn off some energy. I got Elder Scrolls Online. You guys up for it?

  Taneesha: Diego’s coming over. I’m going to try to have sex with him. So my night is, fingers crossed, booked. That doesn’t make you uncomfortable though, does it? If I still talk about wanting to have sex?

  Elli: I didn’t tell you guys to make you uncomfortable! You don’t have to be asexual, for pity’s sake!

  Taneesha: Good, because I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen. LOL. But I don’t want to be all in your face with it, either.

  Elli: Love you, T. Do you!

  Aditi: Correction—DO HIM!

  Elli: *giggle*

  Taneesha: Roger that!

  Aditi sighed, leaning back. This is why she loved these girls. They were accepting. They were… just remarkably real. Even crazy Christina was so bleeding-edge Christina that you couldn’t help but see her, shining like a lighthouse. Maybe not Michelle, but Michelle was locked down in her own way. She had her own shit. She was trying to deal with it.

  Maybe Aditi needed that. To just face her shit. Own it.

  Try to be more herself.

  The phantom plot bunny she’d been kicking around for a few months twitched.

  Aditi: Can’t play tonight, Elli. I think I’m going to be writing.

  Elli: Really? Thought you were stuck! This is great!

  Aditi: Well, fingers crossed. Talk to you guys soon!

  She clicked off Slack, then opened a new document.

  There were only women inside these walls, she wrote. It was a clinic. A prison. A nursery. A slaughterhouse. And if she didn’t get out soon, she was going to die like the other defectives. But she didn’t want to be sold, didn’t want to be bred. And she didn’t want to die.

  There had to be another choice.

  Aditi chuckled to herself. This had absolutely nothing to do with the sequel she was under contract to write, the sequel that Michelle was dying to get her hands on.

  And it was glorious.

  CHRISTINA

  It was three a.m. before Vivi made it back to her house. Christina was waiting for her, simmering, just this side of pissed.

  She probably meant well, Christina told herself, whenever the anger tried to settle in and get a good grip on her. Vivi might be a rising star, but she hadn’t been in the business all that long—certainly nowhere near as long as Christina herself had been. She didn’t know about all the bullshit politics that happened with the production crew, either. She more than likely had no idea just how shitty the second second AD job was.

  Vivi was more than likely just trying to do something nice, Christina continued arguing with herself. Which was why Christina wasn’t going to tear Vivi’s fucking head off for pushing her into this.

  Vivi staggered in. “You there, babe?” She let her leather jacket fall to the floor in the foyer as she dropped the eight-hundred-dollar stilettos she carried in one hand. “Christina?”

  Christina sighed. “Yeah, I’m here,” she said, going out in the hallway.

  Vivi slung herself around Christina like a scarf, giving her a sloppy kiss that missed her mouth, landing on her chin and jaw. She licked slightly, giggling. Her pupils were the size of quarters.

  “Why didn’t you come find me?”

  “I didn’t know what party you went to,” Christina said, feeling old. And tired. “Besides, I didn’t get here till after midnight.”

  “You didn’t?” Vivi sounded puzzled. “Where were you?”

  “I was working on the fucking call sheet,” Christina said, her anger creeping out. She stopped,
taking a deep breath. “It’s one of my new responsibilities… since I got promoted to second second AD, remember?”

  “Yeah, the job!” Vivi pulled back to stare at her, with a broad and loopy smile. “Surprise! Were you surprised?”

  “Yes, I fucking well was,” Christina muttered as Vivi gave her a big hug, then released her and started to head towards the kitchen.

  “I am starving. Are you starving?”

  “No,” Christina said, following her. Vivi removed clothes along the way, leaving them strewn in a careless trail behind her. She headed to the fridge, opening it. “Vivi, why did you tell them to promote me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Oooh, cake,” she said, pulling out a yellow cake with chocolate frosting and pulling off a chunk, taking a big, messy bite out of it. Some frosting fell to the floor. “Mmmm! This is good! Soooo good. You should have some. Celebrate! Cakes are for celebrating!”

  Whatever she was on, she was happy with it, Christina thought with a sigh. “I appreciate you going to bat for me, Vivi,” Christina said, trying not to be sharp. “I just wish you’d talked with me about it first.”

  Vivi’s blue eyes—or at least, the rim she could see around those huge black pupils—were wide and guileless. “Why? Why should I have talked with you about it?”

  Christina felt like the world’s biggest bitch. “It’s a bit of a change for me,” she said, rather than her original “Because this job sucks ass and I wouldn’t want to work this close to Warren in a million years and there’s a reason I’ve never gone for the AD positions.” Instead she said, “I was happy where I was.”

  “You deserve better,” Vivi said expansively, opening her arms wide. More cake fell to the floor. “You just needed a push, that’s all.”

  Christina felt her blood pressure elevate. “I don’t like being pushed,” she said coldly.

  Vivi laughed. “I know,” she said. “You’re a badass bitch. But you let me push you.”

  Christina frowned at that. “What pushing? We party.”

  “And fuck,” Vivi said. Purred. “Wanna go celebrate some more?” She smeared some of the chocolate frosting on her breasts.

  Christina felt her own sex go wet. Damn, the girl was something else. “In a minute,” she said, hoping to get through it before Vivi managed to derail her train of thought again. “Seriously, baby, I don’t need any more pushing. I’m going to have less time with you now, too, did you know that? I’m not going to be able to just hang out and get stoned and fuck you before your scenes anymore. They’ve got me doing real work now.”

  Vivi shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to move in, maybe. So we can get all that out of the way when you’re not so busy.” She made a face.

  Christina froze.

  Move in?

  “You… want me to move in?” Christina repeated, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

  Vivi took her hand, smearing frosting on it thoughtlessly. “Come to bed,” she said. “Catch up with me.”

  “You want me to move in,” Christina repeated.

  “I like you,” Vivi said. Her smile was like liquid sunshine, and Christina felt the burning warmth of it. “I want you to fuck me all night long. I wanted to do something for you. So can you stop overthinking it, and just come to bed already?”

  Christina felt her heart pounding. She’d never lived with anyone. Hell, she’d never really dated anyone on a regular basis. But this girl wanted to help her. Wanted to do something with her beyond just fucking.

  It was terrifying, but some small part of her longed for it. That connection.

  She couldn’t say yes to moving in—not yet, anyway, she found herself hedging, and felt a quick slice of shock at that little revelation. But she could at least stop being an ungrateful cunt to Vivi. The girl cared about her, and whether she liked to acknowledge it or not, she cared about Vivi. Maybe more than she’d ever cared about anyone she’d been with.

  “Yeah, I can come to bed,” Christina said. She pushed her hand in wavy brown hair, kissing her hard. “Thanks, baby. For the job thing.”

  “I like it when you call me baby,” Vivi said, tugging her to the bed. “Now make me come.”

  TANEESHA

  Taneesha cooked. She made chicken goddamned marsala with some fettuccine, a spinach salad, and even her world-famous chocolate peanut butter pie. If that wasn’t a dedicated commitment to getting laid, she didn’t know what was.

  She told herself to calm down. She’d neatened up, shaved her legs and armpits, and trimmed her landing strip. She was wearing her lucky thong and bra combo in fire engine red. She wasn’t in full Queen Bey mode. She didn’t think Diego could handle all that just yet, and while she wanted to be obvious, she didn’t want to overwhelm him. Still, she wore a sundress for easy access, and because it made her curves extra-kicky while still looking casual.

  God, she wished Elli hadn’t brought up the whole asexual thing.

  Which made her feel like a bitch. She was glad that Elli had figured out her sexuality, or was at least homing in on it. It actually made a ton of sense. For as long as she’d known Elli, Elli had never gushed about hot guys, or girls, the way the rest of them had. Considering Elli’s childlike demeanor, Taneesha hadn’t been sure if it was just innocence. Given Elli’s difficulties in some of the finer points of things, like actually holding down a job, Taneesha had wondered if maybe Elli wasn’t a little bit… damn, she didn’t want to say slow. But Elli wasn’t always all there, it seemed.

  Anyway, now Elli had a job she liked, with a person who seemed to get her and work with her, rather than forcing her to be something she wasn’t. Someone who accepted her.

  Taneesha was going to work on accepting Elli a bit better from now on, too.

  Is Diego asexual, as well? Is that why he hasn’t made a move?

  She didn’t think so. But she’d given the guy plenty of options. They’d cuddled a little. He’d kissed her—okay, on the cheek, but the way he’d leaned in made her think he wouldn’t mind more. He’d given her looks that made her toes curl and her panties dampen. An asexual person wouldn’t play that way, would he? Was she bacon, and all he really wanted was cake—or board games?

  God, she hoped he wasn’t. She really liked this guy. And she wanted him to like her. And yeah, dammit, she wanted to have some sex.

  With him.

  Tonight.

  His knock at the door made her jump, spilling the glass of wine she’d poured for herself in an effort to calm down. This was ridiculous. She’d dated men before. She’d seduced men before.

  She could do this.

  She opened the door, smiling brightly. “Hey, you.”

  He blinked. He was wearing a Steven Universe T-shirt and his usual jeans. “You look… amazing,” he said, handing her a bottle of wine. “Are we going out? I feel underdressed.” He squirmed.

  She motioned him in, then shut the door behind him. “No, you’re fine,” she said. “I just had all day, felt like going a little personal spa and putting on a dress,” she said with elaborate casualness.

  “Well, it looks good on you,” he said, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

  She leaned against him, feeling his warmth sink into her. She hugged him, pressing her breasts against his chest for a long second… letting them start to weave their spell. This sundress did good things for her breasts. The push-up bra did the rest.

  He wasn’t staring. Rather, he was aggressively not staring. “So, um, what’s cooking?” he asked, inspecting the pans on the stove as if his life depended on it. He was sweating.

  Asexual, my ass, she thought, a burst of feminine calculation curling through her. This man wanted some. He was fighting it.

  Why was he fighting it?

  “I made chicken marsala,” she said. She leaned back against the counter, waiting for him to turn toward her. Waiting for him to look. “Hungry?” she prompted.

  “I’m…” he started, then got a good look at her pose. She saw his gaze c
rawl over her, from her painted toes, up her legs, to her hips, to her boobs, then back again. Then he shot her a quick look, full of edgy need. “Starving,” he croaked.

  “Let’s eat, then,” she said, brushing past him deliberately to get the plates. Oh, yeah. Stuff was definitely happening downstairs. She hummed happily to herself as she got the plates.

  They talked about usual subjects as they ate—his latest gaming night, her last con with the girls, how each person’s respective family gatherings went. But she wasn’t paying attention to any of it. She was minutely focused on the subtext. He claimed to be starving, and the groan of pleasure he’d made when first tasting the chicken was gratifying, but he seemed to have trouble focusing. He pushed the food around on his plate, and seemed to practically wriggle in his seat, like a ten-year-old.

  “Do you want me to turn the AC on?” she asked. “You look hot.”

  She smiled as she said that last syllable.

  “So do you,” he said, then took a swallow of wine. “Dinner was delicious.”

  “You didn’t eat that much.”

  “What?” he said, obviously distracted. “Oh. It was absolutely delicious. I’m just…” He made a vague motion. “Scattered. Lot on my mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Baseball and quadratic equations,” he muttered, getting up and clearing the table. She couldn’t help it. She giggled.

  “You want some of my pie?”

  He blinked. “Sorry?” he squeaked.

  She laughed. “Chocolate peanut butter pie. I’m known for it.” She paused for a second, then hit him with the follow-up. “It’s orgasmic, I’m told.”

  He made a little strangled sound. “I’d love some,” he said.

  Oh, yeah, she thought. This is happening tonight.

  She got two dessert plates, putting two sloppy slices on them. “Sorry. The first piece is always a mess,” she said, with a slow smile. “But it tastes…”

  She’d barely gotten the plates down on the table when he reached for her wrist, stroking it. Then he tugged her to him, onto his lap. And laid one on her.

  YASSSSSSS, she wanted to shout, as she felt his hardness—and quite a bit of it!—underneath her thighs. He was kissing her hungrily, and she could taste the wine on him. He held her lightly, but his kiss was definitely eager. Their teeth clinked, and she pulled back. He looked like he wanted to devour her.