It was unbearable, but only because I had a visit from not one, but three of my ‘favourite’ customers.
“Guy who asks for new release list” and then stands there as I recite them was followed by “guy who rents a pile of dirty movies and hides them under a regular movie”.
After the two of them, I thought there was no way “guy who hits on me” was coming in, but he most certainly did.
Anyway, as soon as my shift was over I headed to Ben’s house. The drive took about a half hour, which included a stop off at an ice cream shop on the way because work sucked and I had no idea what sort of a mood Kyle was in.
Five year olds have a lot of them of course, but most involve some level of screaming. When I showed up, Ben was just closing the door.
“He’s in the living room. I just ordered a
pizza, and the dude is watching Finton and Fergus? I don’t know. Some kid’s cartoon.”
He had the name comically wrong, but I knew
what he meant. Also, there was someone else in the front seat of his car, but whoever it was didn’t look very effeminate. My first thought was ‘Ben is gay?’ instead of ‘oh he’s going out with a guy to the bar to watch a game’ which probably says something about me. He was in such a hurry though that it almost immediately slipped my mind.
“Well,” Ben said with a smile.
“Thanks again. I owe you one. Maybe two. I won’t be gone very long. Maybe when I get back we can play some Parcheesi or something?” I grunted a laugh.
“Maybe you have something else in mind?
Anyway, won’t be gone long. Couple hours, maybe. See ya soon.” He hopped in the car, shut the door and was down the driveway by the time I realized he was gone.
Yeah, I have something else in mind. Damn
right I do. I pinched myself for being so dirty-minded. I had to quit that and I had to quit it soon. Inside, Gia, get inside.
Playing with that kid will get your mind off things. Kyle was in a surprisingly un-screamy mood,which was cool, so we just kinda sat around and ate some pizza,watched some kiddy cartoons and played a game or two, which reminded me, as weird as it might sound, of being around Ben when I wasn’t much older than Kyle.
Like I said about my mom, she was always
going-going-going and never had much time for either me or my daddy. Ben never really liked it, but for some reason, Drake puts up with her intensity a lot better than Ben ever did.
This is gonna sound really, really lame, but
Ben was the ‘rock’ in my life. He taught me how to ride a bike, and get up whenever I fell. That lesson really stuck with me, the getting up one. It works with everything, not just double-tired little vehicles. When my first boyfriend dumped me, I spent all night crying about it to Drake, since I started dating late, and
Ben was already gone, but his voice was in the back of my mind.
“Just keep on getting back up, sweetie,” I remembered him saying. “No matter what, life can’t kill you until it does. And then, what is there to worry about?"
He used to laugh and laugh every time he said
that, and I never really got it until later. He was right though. Nothing ever got me down because of him.
Nothing got me worked up, depressed, or anything else. He taught me how to be strong. How to be a good person, and all that, and I loved him for it. He also was
the first man I ever teased. God, this is so embarrassing to admit, but as a little girl, I would put on the most ridiculous outfits I could find and traipse around trying to get Ben’s attention.
He never gave it to me of course, but good
Lord did I ever try. Then again, I was so young that I didn’t even really know what I was doing. My concerted efforts to get attention didn’t really start until Drake came into my life.
Drake, Drake, Drake. What is there to say?
First of all he’s almost unrealistically gorgeous. He’s got these dark blue eyes that work just perfectly with the dark, wavy hair. I could tell what my mom saw in him from the first time I saw him. I was sixteen, obnoxiously curvy, and actually just obnoxious
in general if I’m being honest. But I was still, you know, Gia.
Meaning, shy and awkward. I never believed, not really, that I was anything but a plain, boring, homely girl. My mom is smoking hot, even now pushing 40, she’s got it. Anyway, by the time she brought Drake home,
I’d developed a very honest and earnest enjoyment of the male form, shall we say. I’d stolen a couple of her lingerie catalogues and devoured the male models. I’d even discovered the joys ofnshower-time while everyone was gone.
God I was loud back then. I’d lie on my back in the bath tub, turn the water on warm and let it bounce between my legs. I could do that for hours at a time if I was left alone. Before she brought Drake home with her, I’d
usually spend my time fantasizing about those underwear models.
Afterwards, though...
And it never struck me as wrong. As shy and utterly helpless around men, or even boys my own age as I was, the idea of trying to steal my mom’s boyfriend was just a kind of a game, I guess. Besides, it was all just fantasy. Nothing ever happened, and why would it? He had my mom, and she was a thousand times the woman I ever thought I was. Until one day, when I was
wandering around the house in my too-tight shirt that I had worn since I was just starting to grow...you know...grow.
“You look just like your mom, you
know?” Drake had said. He wasn’t letching or anything, at least when I was looking anyway. He just looked me in the eyes and paid me the biggest compliment anyone ever had; that I, the awkward little Gia, looked like my gorgeous mom.
That, of course, really got me fueled
up. My fantasies got naughtier and more outlandish, and I started to throw myself at him. Short shorts, workout sweats that barely fit over my still-growing tits, the whole nine yards, you know? But never once did he pay any attention. Every now and then, he’d drop one of his lines. He’d tell me I looked like my mom, or that I looked especially good this day or that day. But it was all totally innocent. Just a little game we played.
Or rather, a game I played that he was
an unwitting participant in. Looking back though, I was sixteen going on seventeen. Fit, good body – though I’d never admit it at the time – and cute as a little button. And innocent. Oh God was I innocent. Hell, sitting there in the living room playing Super Mario with Kyle, I was still innocent. I can’t even imagine how much Drake must have enjoyed me throwing myself at him day
after day.
That’s like every red-blooded guy’s fantasy. Some nubile young girl, stupid in love with you. Doesn’t hurt if she’s wearing such tight clothes you can see every line and curve and...I can’t believe I did that to the poor guy. Still, I’m sure he didn’t mind too much. I never did catch him trying to cop a glance, but that doesn’t mean much.
Kyle stood up, dropped his game controller on
the ground and loudly announced that he was “all tired out” and wanted to go to bed.
I was so full of pizza and so sleepy from the
couple of beers I’d grabbed from the fridge – feeling naughty the whole time of course, but I wasn’t going back to St. Mary’s until tomorrow, so I wasn’t breaking any rules – while we ate that I had to agree.
It was only quarter-to-nine, and usually when
I’m over there sitting, he flat-out refuses to go to bed before ten, so it was surprising, if welcome. With his teeth brushed, and his fat little legs decked out in Transformers footie pajamas, he was packed off to bed and snoring within minutes. I collapsed on the couch, turned on the TV, and laid down. I hadn’t noticed how tired I was before my head hit those pillows, but as soon as I sunk back into the cushions and closed my eyes, I was done for.
