The Chronicles of Moxie Page 7
David
David Goldman
Senior Vice President
Sanco Sports Company
I felt like I’d asked out a boy I had a crush on in high school and he said yes. Although I was hoping this went a little bit better than with Evan Harrison in 9th grade. I asked him out and we went to the movies together. Midway through he said he needed to go to the bathroom. The movie ended and I was worried when he hadn’t returned to his seat. Then the lights in the theater went on and I saw him in the back, making out with Misty Collins.
To: tennispro4u@sancoequip.com
From: moxiebun86@ibsglobal.net
10:30 a.m. CST
Subject: No, happy Saturday to YOU!
David,
The plans that I had for tonight got cancelled. So does the bar Dickies work for you? Around 8:30?
Moxie
___________________
To: moxiebun86@ibsglobal.net
From: tennispro4u@sancoequip.com
10:42 a.m. CST
Subject: Saturday night
That time works for me. I will see you then.
David
David Goldman
Senior Vice President
Sanco Sports Company
I let out a deep sigh of happiness. I needed a night out to shake the whole Miles
conundrum out of my head. I couldn’t play the conversation that I had with him in my head anymore, or I’d go insane. I still didn’t understand why he was so hot one minute and cold the next. Did I accidentally let one rip in my drunken stupor? Renee did tell me that alcohol tends to make me a little gassy. But I didn’t think that was the case here. I shook my head to clear out the thoughts. I grabbed my laptop in one hand and my coffee in the other. I had a date tonight and I’d better load up on the pimple cream.
I was in my closet, shifting through my clothing options for tonight. The prospects were not looking so great. Most of my clothes were suited for teaching small children. This meant no skirts, for fear of the kids deciding to play hide and seek and using my skirt as the hiding spot. I also did not have a lot of things that were high quality because chances were that I would end up with tempera paint, dirt, or, more likely, a big blob of snot on my clothes.
In a desperate attempt to find something suitable, I decided that a shopping excursion was needed. And who better to ask for company than my gay best friend with an excellent eye for style. I found my phone and texted Ryan.
Moxie: Hey, handsome.
Ryan: Sounds like you need something.
Moxie: I can’t call you handsome?
Ryan: Moxie, the only terms of endearment you’ve ever given me are cock sucker and donut puncher.
Moxie: Well, I’ll remedy that if you go shopping with me.
Ryan: So the truth finally comes out. Where shall we meet?
Moxie: At the mall. We can grab sushi for lunch and then hit the stores.
Ryan: Fine, meet me in 20 minutes. And you’re paying for lunch.
I got to the mall parking lot and looked for a space. I have a small issue when it comes to parking my car. I have this thing that I need to find the closest space possible. It isn’t because I’m lazy and don’t like to walk. Maybe that’s some of it, but I see it as a challenge.
I drove up and down the aisle until I saw someone backing out of the first spot in the next row. I swiftly turned my car around the corner, but there was a BMW waiting for the same spot.
It quickly became a scene from an old Western-style movie. I could have sworn I saw tumbleweed pass by and heard music starting to play. I inched closer, showing the BMW my dominance. Well, I may not have looked all that scary in my Honda Civic. I met the eye of the woman behind the wheel and an idea struck me. All of a sudden, I started flaying my arms around and put on my best sobbing act.
The BMW driver looked at me with wide eyes and backed her car up, finding another space. Ha! The mentally ill woman act got me the space I wanted. My improv teacher would be so proud.
I saw Ryan standing in front of The Sushi Boat, waiting for me. He looked hot in jeans and his tight t-shirt.
“Hey there,” he said.
“Hi. Thanks for meeting me. I have a wardrobe emergency,” I said as I leaned into his hug.
“You know, Mox, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I have all the secrets of style programmed into my brain.”
“You yelled at me for what I was wearing last week and said I belonged on the Wally World website.
“What’s Wally World?” he asked.
“Remember, the website that makes fun of what people wear to Wal-Mart. In fact, you pulled up a picture of a woman who looked like she crapped in her pants and told me that was what my jeans looked like.”
“Right, now I remember. And I have to say that some of your clothes make people on that site look like Miss Universe,” he chuckled.
I flipped him the finger as he linked his arm with mine and we went into the restaurant. I have never been to this Sushi place before, but was told it was fantastic. Besides, I wasn’t terribly hungry because I was nervous about that evening.
Ryan and I decided to share a sushi sample platter. He picked up a piece of eel and popped it into his mouth. “So, why the need for the emergency shopping excursion?” He paused. “Does this sushi taste fishy?”
“First off, how would you know what fishy tastes like? You only prefer the pickle,” I snickered. “Second, I have a date tonight.”
“And who gets the pleasure of your company this evening, may I ask?”
“A guy Martha sorta set me up with.”
Ryan was putting another piece of fish into his mouth, but froze. “Martha? I thought we went over this and decided that it was better for you to sell yourself on the streets than to go out on another date set up by Martha.”
“We did, but at this rate the Cooch is getting so old that I wouldn’t even get a guy off the streets that would be willing to work past the cobwebs of my Bat Cave,” I said in a snarky tone.
“Well, we’ll pick out something hot that will get this guy cream his pants for you.” Ryan winked.
“Lovely,” I said in a deadpan voice.
We headed over to Macy’s and I pulled a few things off the racks. Ryan was busy talking to the shoe salesman about a pair of Valentinos for men. I saw a cute dress on a mannequin and was about to ask the sales clerk where I could find it when I spotted him.
Miles was at the women’s cashiers counter, paying for a purchase. I wanted to hide behind the mannequin so he wouldn’t see me, but I didn’t get so lucky. As soon as he spotted me, he smiled and walked my way.
Shit, shit, shit. Did I have food in my teeth? Did I put on deodorant? Did I shave my legs? Why would I need to shave my legs?
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, looking insanely delicious in jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Yeah, funny.” I plastered a bewildered look on my face. “What are you doing here? I mean, not that you can’t be here. I mean, I’m sure you have better places to be besides Macy’s. Where’s Dillion? I mean, you don’t have to tell me where Dillion is. It’s not like I’m going to call DCFS on you.”
Shut up. Shut up.
He gave me a crooked smile. That smile made me want to jump all over him and smoother him with my jiggly bits.
“I had to get a gift for someone,” he said, holding up the bag.
“Well, that’s good. I was wondering if you decided to start to cross dress,” I said jokingly.
I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die.
“Can’t say that I’m taking that route in life. What brings you here?”
Ryan finished with the shoes and caught up with us.
“Miles! How funny you’re here.” Ryan smiled at me and I gave him dagger eyes.
Ryan took Miles’s hand in a mandatory guy handshake. “I was just asking Moxie what she was shopping for,” Miles responded.
“We were just looking for a hot outfit for her date tonight,” Ryan said.
“Oh, well, don’t let me interrupt you guys,” Miles said quietly.
“You’re not interrupting,” Ryan said. “Why don’t you join us? We could always use another male opinion.”
I was thinking of all the places I could stash Ryan’s dead body when Miles interrupted my plotting.
“Sure, I would love to see the things Moxie picked out. I’m sure we can find something to suit her body.”
Both Ryan’s and my mouth fell open as we looked at Miles. He had definitely put an emphasis on the word body. I moved and grabbed the last dress off the rack, and started walking to the dressing room, feeling mortified.
I was in the cramped little dressing room, looking at all the outfits Ryan had picked out for me to try on. I twisted and turned to look at myself in the mirror thoughtfully with each outfit.
“What are you doing in there?” Ryan exclaimed.
“Hold on. There were a few I didn’t like, so I put them back on their hangers,” I shouted.
“Screw that,” he continued. “Leave them on the floor in a big puddle for the sales people, like the rest of humanity does.”
I put on the red dress that I had picked out right before we ran into Miles. I hadn’t shown Ryan and Miles any of the outfits that I had tried yet because I was petrified to go out there. I looked at myself one more time in the mirror. I normally wasn’t that self-conscious about my weight, but I was a little nervous about what Miles would think. But the dress looked great. It curved around me like it was made exactly for my body. It was sleeveless, with a low cut top that framed my girls perfectly. The material hugged around my hips and my ass in a way that would make J.Lo jealous. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the dressing room. I looked at Ryan first. He had an enormous smile plastered on his face.
“You look smokin’!” he beamed.
I turned to look at Miles, but his lips were in a thin line and his arms were crossed.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s fine,” he replied.
“Fine?” Ryan screeched. “She is guaranteed to get bonked in that dress!”
I decided that stabbing Ryan in the throat would be too kind of a demise. I glanced at Miles, who for some reason looked like he was going to combust any minute.
“I’ll go and pick out a great pair of shoes to go with that dress. Just hang tight,” Ryan stated and hurried to the shoe section.
I returned my eyes to Miles.
“What?” I demanded. “Is it totally hideous? Do I have green stuff in my teeth?” I held my hand to my mouth.
Miles got up from his seat and began walking slowly towards me. I started to back up until we both ended up in the small dressing room. I felt the air suddenly get tight. Miles put his hand on my hip and pulled me close to him. I could smell the peppermint on his breath.
“You’re right,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t like the dress.”
“Why not?” I asked, thinking I didn’t want the answer.
“Because I don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing you in this dress.”
I was gaping at him. I started to feel self-conscious.
“I suppose that’s very nice of you, to save me the embarrassment of people seeing me in this dress. Especially since you think it’s as pretty as a hippo’s ass.”
“I don’t want anyone else seeing you in this dress because I don’t like the idea of anyone looking at how the dress curves around your sweet ass. Or maybe it’s the fact that your tits stand out as if they are offering anyone to touch them.”
My jaw dropped down so far, I swear it hit the floor. I couldn’t believe he was saying that to me. But then I remembered the previous night, and how he’d turned cold on me when “Hun” called. I felt annoyed. He had no right acting like he was.
“Then I suppose the dress is perfect for what I’m trying to communicate to my date,” I said with my jaws clenched.
He lifted his hand and put it into my hair. His blue eyes connected to mine and he was taking deeper breaths, as if to control himself. His phone started to ring.
“Shit,” he barked quietly. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. But he was still looking at me and hadn’t let go of my hip. “Yup,” he answered. “Fine, I’m on my way.”
He let go of my hip and ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated. All I could do was stand there, feeling beyond irritated. He really had a big set of balls to think he could pull the shit he just had and run back to his “Hun”.
“I have to go. Don’t wear the dress.” And he turned out of the dressing room as Ryan walked back in with a pair of silver heels.
“What the fuck happened there?” Ryan asked, seeming confused.
“Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing,” I retorted. “Give me the shoes. This is definitely the dress.”
Chapter Eight
I came home from my shopping nightmare feeling a little queasy. I figured it was a combination of the nerves I had for tonight’s date and the little run-in with Miles at the mall. I decided I would rest a while before I had to go out and meet David. I plopped myself on the couch and opened my laptop to check my email messages.
To: msummers@d521.org
From: iliketoyap@ibsglobal.org
2:32 p.m. CST
Subject: School celebration
Hello Miss Summers,
After meeting with the other PTO members, we have decided to do without the individual classroom celebrations for the spring. Instead, we are having an all-school camp-out in which families can come, set up a tent and sleep under the stars! We will be having a cook-out, as well as a fire and s’mores. All teachers are required to attend. I am sure that the entire school will look forward to this wonderful “adventure”. I know that the scouts look forward to it every time.
Marsha Simmons.
PS. Did you tell Katie that panda bears eat little children for snacks?
I had to take a moment after reading that email. There were two things that were wrong with it. First and foremost, I do not camp. Not only do I not camp, I don’t even like being outdoors. I am heavily lobbying for indoor walkways to be built building to building. My idea of camping is vacationing at the Super 8 motel. Chances are, you’ll find just as many bugs in the bed there as in the great outdoors.
And I didn’t say that pandas eat children as snacks. What I said was that the Chinese eat little girls who forget to wear their girl scout sashes to meetings. Sheesh.
Since I had a little more time before I had to get ready, I thought I’d do some homework. I wanted to know more about David, so I did what any other person would do to gain information: I Googled him.
I typed David Goldman into the Google search bar to see what came up. His name appeared in the first website that was found. It was a Sanco Sports newsletter, the company that David came to Chicago for. I read the small paragraph that welcomed him into the company.
The Sanco Group would like to welcome David Goldman as their new Vice President. David comes to us from Arizona, where he formally worked at Oatis Health Enterprises. David is a graduate of University of Arizona, where he got a dual degree in marketing and finance. David is an avid marathon runner and teaches tennis in his spare time.
I made the mental check list in my head. College educated, check. Goal oriented, check. Physically fit, check. He certainly looked good on paper. I had a little bit of a hard time believing that he hadn’t been snatched up already with all these high credentials.
I was beginning to wonder if he had donkey teeth, or reeked of spoiled hummus or something.
I stared at the computer screen for a second. I thought back to earlier, when Miles’s hand was around my waist. His hands were firm and big. They were rough, with just enough hair on t
he knuckles. His arms were thick and his muscles were well defined. I couldn’t stop thinking of those blue eyes blazing into me like he wanted to eat me alive.
I typed Miles’s name into the Google search bar, curious to see if anything would pop up. I scrolled down the screen. After a few hits I saw his name highlighted, along with the words “Maine” and “Crash”. The article was from a newspaper in Maine. I clicked on the link, then scanned the text.
A four-car pile-up occurred due to the harsh weather conditions…
Several people dead…
Wife of Miles Dane…
Child survives crash…
I couldn’t continue reading. The thought of Dillion being in that car and witnessing his mother’s death tore me into pieces. He was a good kid and no one should ever have to go through that. Now Miles was parenting alone and Dillion would only have little memories left of his mom. I felt somber after reading that, thinking of Miles’s and Dillion’s faces. That’s when the chirp came from my inbox.
To: moxiebun86@ibsglobal.com
From: msummers@ibsglobal.com
5:47 p.m. CST
Subject: Date
Moxie honey,
I heard that you were going out with the Goldman boy tonight. This is incredible news. Barbara at Mah Jong just asked me if you were gay. Not that there is anything wrong with that, of course. Your aunt Irene had a girlfriend once. She was a lovely lady until she poured gas on your aunt’s car and blew it up, claiming that she cheated on her with Uncle Morrie. I hope you remember to be a lady this evening. Remember to sit with your legs crossed and your back straight. I hate it when you slouch. Curvature of the spine runs in your family.