Someone Like You

by Timothy J Beck

  “It’s all bread to me,” Vienna said dismissively. “Way too many carbohydrates.”

  “What do you think fruit—”

  “If I ate waffles every day, I’d be a tank,” Vienna interrupted. “Growing up, I never got fresh fruit. It was always that stuff from a can. You know the type? Drenched in that awful syrup? Or else it was in a pie. Apple pie, rhubarb pie, peach pie; Mama was always baking a pie. Or else someone was always bringing one by the house. It was like a calling card of the neighborhood, or a moral code: If you’re going to knock on someone’s door, you must have a pie in your hands. Or cake. Bread. Any sort of baked goods, I suppose. But we were poor, so everything and anything was appreciated. Lord knows, I ate it all. Why am I telling you all this?”

  Derek grinned at Vienna and said, “I have no idea. Keep talking.”

  They were seated at a table in the Congreve’s restaurant, having one of their usual breakfasts before work. Vienna loved eating at the Congreve. It made her feel like she was in a movie or a television commercial. Something fabulous, unlike the monotony of her actual life. She loved that her fruit cup arrived in a crystal dish, which was placed on a china plate with a silver spoon resting beside it. She loved unfolding the crisp white napkin with the embroidered C and placing it on her lap.

  What she didn’t tell Derek was that her fruit cup represented her a little too perfectly. The fruit was cut into haphazard shapes and sizes. Just like her emotions, there was no rhyme or reason to the ratio of apple to banana, strawberry to orange. When you ordered a fruit cup, you never really knew what you were going to get. The little slices of mayhem were then placed into a bowl; chaos and disorder served up in a pretty package.

  The only difference between Vienna and her fruit cup was that the fruit cup usually contained cherries. Although, Vienna felt like hers was about to return any day now. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, and she was beginning to feel it. She missed holding a man. She missed sleeping next to somebody, hugging him all night. Or even the feeling of waking up and knowing that she’d let go in the middle of the night, only to wrap her arms around him again.

  Sometimes her need made her feel silly. Sometimes it made her feel angry. She’d remember her ex-husband and why she didn’t want to get attached to anyone. It would be difficult for her to trust someone that much again.

  Davii would often remind her that a roll in the hay didn’t require a commitment. She didn’t fool herself into thinking that it was different for gay men. Or any man, for that matter. She wasn’t a believer in a woman’s need for emotional intimacy with her sexual partners. Especially if the sexual partner was a man. In her opinion, men were detached anyway. Whether it was with a woman or a cantaloupe, as long as they got off, what was the difference?

  Vienna silently picked at her fruit cup, remembering a time when even her husband had revealed himself as a typical man. He’d always been attentive, trying to impress and connect with her, at least for the first few years. But one night, she was feeling particularly amorous and seduced him in their living room. She was performing oral sex on him, and he was obviously enjoying it, encouraging her aloud, moaning, running his hands through her hair, but not holding on to her head and pushing it down on himself, which she absolutely hated. She felt so in control, so giving and completely able, totally in tune with his needs. She stopped right before he was about to have an orgasm, wanting him to climb on top of her.

  It was then that she noticed he’d been watching television the entire time she was blowing him. She couldn’t remember what was on that night, only that she felt like a rerun rather than a prime-time special episode. She’d stared at him, mentally counting to ten before she got up and went into their bedroom alone to finish what she’d started. He never said a word about it, and she didn’t either. She filed the moment away, recalling her mother’s advice that she had to watch out for herself. But surely her mother hadn’t meant masturbation. Had she?

  Vienna studied Derek as he polished off his plate of waffles, wondering if they looked like a couple to their fellow diners. She stared at him affectionately, grateful for his company and friendship. She tried to imagine them as a newly wedded couple having breakfast during their honeymoon, but the image was too blurry to look real in her mind. She knew a leopard would never change his spots, especially when animal prints were in vogue. Gay men often looked at her, but it was always with appreciation and admiration, as if she was a flawlessly decorated cake that they couldn’t improve upon.

  Derek noticed her staring and asked, “What?”

  Vienna felt her face become hot and said, “Nothing. I was zoning out. Pay no attention to the woman with the dazed and listless expression. I’m tired.”

  “Me, too,” Derek said, even though he sounded chipper and had wolfed down his waffles like a hungry beast.

  “You should be tired. You and Davii were out late last night,” Vienna admonished.

  “We went to Pluto,” Derek said, gulping down his orange juice. “We danced for hours; it was fantastic. Davii, of course, was up on a platform half the night, putting on his own little show.”

  “The Davii Show,” Vienna mused. “Starring Davii. Produced by Davii. Directed by Davii. I know it well. Did either of you get lucky? Did you finally finish that aborted date?” Derek made a face. “I’ll take that as no. You two have been out together a lot since that date.”

  “It wasn’t a date,” Derek corrected. “We’re just friends, and we’re fine with that. I’m kind of relieved, actually. I feel like I didn’t do anything wrong as far as Hunter and I are concerned.”

  “Ah,” Vienna said.

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  “Do you think it’s true?” Vienna asked.

  “I’m not playing psychologist and patient with you,” Derek said and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

  Vienna took a long sip of coffee, then said, “Neither am I.” When Derek just stared at her, she added, “No, I don’t think you did anything wrong. Come on; let’s go.”

  Derek frowned and said, “But we still have a half hour before our shifts.”

  Vienna gave their waiter her credit card, saying, “True. But I’ve been late way too many times. I need to kiss a little butt. Besides, I have a lot to do today.” As they walked through the mall, Vienna weighed her words carefully before saying, “I know you didn’t go on real dates with Davii and Christian, but you were testing the waters. What do you think that means?”

  When Derek didn’t answer, Vienna wondered if she’d pushed things too far. She didn’t understand the complexities of his relationship with Hunter, she was aware of that much, but she refused to let Derek walk around in denial. He had to accept that in his unhappiness with his situation, he might be pushing buttons he didn’t really want to push.

  “I think you’re bringing up Christian because you’re secretly thrilled that he’s straight,” Derek said, poking Vienna in the ribs.

  Vienna slapped his arm. She loved it when Derek teased her, but she was slightly annoyed that he was diverting the topic. She decided to give him a break. “I have no secrets,” she said. When Derek looked like he was about to challenge her statement, she continued, “I’ll admit that my kitty’s getting hungry and wants to be fed, but I don’t think Christian’s the man for the job. He’s cute and all, but if you insist on being friends with him, that makes things too complicated.”

  “He’s really nice,” Derek insisted. “I think you and Christian might be a good fit.”

  “You make it sound like a seizure. Or like shopping.”

  “Dating is like shopping,” Derek said. “You have to try a man on and make sure he’s flattering, that he’s the right size.”

  “The right fit is very important,” Vienna agreed.

  “Does this man make my ass look too big?” Derek pretended to wonder.

  They parted company when they reached Drayden’s, Derek shuffling his feet toward Women’s Shoes and Vienna clocking in before heading to
Cosmetics. She dreaded the day ahead. She suspected that Derek was feeling the same. Derek had told her that he’d never imagined himself selling shoes. When she asked what he’d rather be doing, he couldn’t come up with anything. Because she’d been so driven all her life, that was a new concept for Vienna. Even though she’d had many different jobs in the mall since moving into the Galaxy Building, she still felt like she had a purpose. She wanted to work at every store in Mall of the Universe. Since there were more than four hundred of them, she figured it would take a long time to accomplish that goal.

  Bianca had opened that day and was darkening a blond woman’s eyebrows when Vienna approached. She greeted Vienna warmly, then her face clouded as she said, “I’ll never be able to do eyebrows like you, Vienna. What do you think?”

  Vienna stowed her purse behind the counter, then assessed Bianca’s handiwork. The woman seated at the counter was younger than Vienna, with a creamy smooth complexion, cornflower blond hair, and blue eyes. She was a strange juxtaposition of ordinary features and striking beauty. Vienna could tell that she was all slender limbs and tall, despite the fact that she slouched on the stool in her loose, casual clothing. She wore minimal makeup, not that she needed any, which made the eyebrows that Bianca had filled in stand out too much. As Vienna studied her face, the woman smiled shyly, revealing a slight overbite.

  “They’re a little too dark, Bianca,” Vienna finally said. “Try Allure’s Desert Sands pencil. It’s a few shades lighter.”

  Bianca softly stamped her foot and sighed audibly, reminding Vienna of a little girl in need of a nap. As she pawed through the samples, she whined, “Of course, you’re right. You always are. I don’t know why they don’t fire me. What are you doing here so early anyway?”

  “I thought I’d get a head start in the stockroom, getting ready for the big day tomorrow,” Vienna explained. “Where’s Meg?”

  “Behind you,” a voice said, causing Vienna to tense in surprise. She moved out of the way so a shorter Korean woman could get behind the counter.

  “You’re both early,” Bianca stated. “Why? What’s going on tomorrow?”

  Vienna and Meg exchanged incredulous looks. Meg’s eyes were rimmed with dark kohl, the lids painted a bright red that matched two streaks in her long, shiny hair. It was her signature look, and other than that, she didn’t wear any makeup, which annoyed the other Cosmetics associates to no end. She always wore black clothes and platform boots or shoes. Her look screamed rock and roll. Or, “Don’t fuck with me.” Nobody ever did. Vienna respected Meg’s sarcastic humor and blunt approach to people.

  “We’re doing a performance piece titled ‘Symphony in Blue Vomit.’ We have rehearsals all day,” Meg said dryly to Bianca. She turned to Vienna and asked, “I hope you brought the grenades.”

  The blonde in the chair stifled a giggle behind her hand.

  “Damn! I knew I forgot something when I left the apartment,” Vienna said, playing along.

  “It’s okay. I borrowed enough for both of us from my mother,” Meg said, rooting around in her purse. “But they’re family heirlooms, so be careful with them.”

  Vienna laughed, but when she saw Bianca’s hurt look, she explained, “Tomorrow is the Zodiac event, remember? They’re filming an ad in the morning, then their spokesmodel, Sheila Meyers, is doing an in-store appearance.”

  As Bianca nodded her head to let them know that it was all coming back to her, she wiped off her previous work and began redoing the blonde’s eyebrows.

  “We have to unpack all the new products they sent for the event,” Meg explained further. “Cleaning and organizing the stockroom—just what I wanted to do all day! I’m so thrilled. Not! I guess I should be grateful. My relatives back home do the same work for a dollar. Maybe less; I’m not sure.”

  “I’d rather spend a day in the stockroom than kowtow to some blond WASP model all day,” Vienna stated. “And you know nobody’s going to buy anything. They’ll just come by to get her autograph and stare at her like some animal at a zoo.”

  “Do not feed the model,” Meg quipped, as if reading a sign. The blonde in the chair laughed, causing Bianca to draw a line up her forehead. “It’s going to be nothing but teenagers wanting advice on how to be a model and their overweight, undersexed fathers.”

  “Right? I hate these things,” Vienna agreed.

  “You two are awful,” Bianca reprimanded as she rubbed a cotton ball drenched with makeup remover over the blonde’s forehead. “I’ve heard that Sheila Meyers is the most down-to-earth and wonderful person.”

  “I’ve heard that, too,” the blonde agreed.

  “Besides, she works for Lillith Allure Cosmetics. You should watch what you say about her, especially in front of customers.”

  “She has a point there,” the blonde said.

  “Oh, please,” Meg scoffed. “Why should I care what some model thinks of me?”

  “It’s not like Sheila Meyers is president of the company,” Vienna said in rebuff.

  The blonde looked up at Bianca and said, “They have a point.”

  “It’s just not nice,” Bianca said and pouted. She looked at the blonde’s eyebrows and said, “That’s a lot better. Can I add lipstick to balance it out?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll take a tube of Aquarius,” the blonde said. She stood up, dug through her purse, and handed Bianca her credit card. She accepted a fresh tube of Zodiac’s Aquarius lipstick and said to Vienna, “I can’t believe I left home and forgot my makeup. I guess I’m the quintessential blonde.”

  “Get her,” Meg whispered when the blond woman was busy applying her lipstick.

  Vienna chuckled but stopped when she saw Bianca staring at the blonde’s credit card with a horrified expression. Meg noticed, too, and walked over to see what was the matter. Bianca began whispering in her ear, waving the card frantically, until Meg grabbed her wrist to keep it still. After examining the card, she looked at Vienna, shook her head, and winced before pushing Bianca toward her customer.

  “Could you sign at the bottom, Miss Meyers?” Bianca weakly murmured.

  “Oh, God, no,” Vienna said, suddenly massaging her temples.

  “Actually, it’s Mrs. Meyers-Clinton now,” Sheila said, flashing her left hand at Bianca. She extended her hand to each of them, saying, “Hi, I’m Sheila.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Vienna apologized.

  “Usually it’s me who’s tactless,” Bianca said.

  “I’d commit hara-kiri on myself right now, but I’m not Japanese,” Meg said.

  “Stop! It’s okay. Really, you didn’t know,” Sheila said brightly. “I probably should’ve spoken up sooner, but I was having fun listening to you. Besides, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow either. You’re right about the girls and their fathers. But the fathers never do anything but stare, and the girls aren’t so bad. We’ll try to have fun. I swear, it will be over before you know it.” Vienna could do nothing but smile awkwardly, as did Meg. Bianca nodded solemnly, as if listening to the Dalai Lama. “You guys have it easy,” Sheila insisted. “I’m the one who has to get up at four in the morning for the shoot, have my hair and makeup done while I’m barely awake, put on seven different outfits until someone finally decides which one looks best, then try to look like I’m enjoying myself under hot lights while people poke and prod me into the perfect pose.”

  Vienna studied Sheila’s earnest expression and finally said, “Oh, please. You love it, and you know it.”

  Sheila suddenly grinned and said, “I do! I really do! Do you guys want to watch the shoot? There’ll be donuts.”

  The next morning, Vienna wondered if she should’ve begged off going to the photo shoot like Meg and Bianca, donuts or no donuts. She shuffled wearily to the Moon level, where the shoot was taking place, in the hall outside of Drayden’s entrance. There were people scurrying around, shouting into headsets, setting up lights, and angling cameras. Vienna stared around her, feeling in the way and wondering if she should go back to bed.r />
  A man with a clipboard rushed by her, stopped, and returned to ask, “Who are you? What’s your name?”

  “Vienna. Sheila Meyers invited me to—”

  “Right,” he said, cutting her off to consult his clipboard. “Follow me.”

  He led her to the craft services table and asked her to wait for Sheila, begging her to stay out of the way so she wouldn’t get hurt. After he left, Vienna nibbled at a donut. Someone offered her a cup of coffee, which she accepted gratefully. As she sipped, she imagined that she was waiting for the set to be ready for her photo shoot and wondered what it would be like if the commotion was all about her.

  “You’re developing a plot to steal my job, aren’t you?” Sheila asked, suddenly appearing at Vienna’s side. She was wearing a diaphanous silver dress, her hair piled high on her head and a pair of silver shoes in her hands.

  “No. I mean, yes,” Vienna stammered. She laughed, then added, “I’m so not awake right now. I was just trying to imagine what this must be like for you.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Sheila assured her. “The bull’s not even here.”

  “What? Did you say bull?”

  “Yeah. Lillith wants new Taurus ads. In the old ads, I was a bullfighter. This year, apparently I’ll be riding one. Sometimes I really hate Blaine,” Sheila muttered.

  “Who’s Blaine? Is this safe?” Vienna asked while looking around for a charging bull.

  “Blaine does all of Lillith Allure’s advertising. Really, it’s going to be fine. Well, you’ll be fine. I’m the one on the bull. We got the same bull as last year—he was a pussycat—not to mention the same handlers and trainers. Besides, Lillith had the bull’s chart done, and she assures me that today he’ll be at his most tranquil,” Sheila explained. “Oh, here comes Chuck now. He’s the bull trainer. I have to go say hi. I’ll be back.”

  Vienna stared after her, wondering if Sheila was on medication. Then she saw Derek, Christian, and Emily-Anne Barrister, and waved them over. “I can’t believe you guys actually got up so early to come to this thing.”