Social Girl

Excess Steam

As expected, Adrienne didn't give two shits about Simon.

"Who cares they were engaged? Obviously it didn't work out, and obviously they're over it. Ami needs to stop being such a drama whore."

Tell me about it. "It's her job to be sensitive to these types of things."

"Whatever." She sips at what remains of her piss-warm 'Goodbye Adrienne!' office beers. "Anyway, you can stop pretending that you like me now."

"I never pretended with you."

Her eyebrow arches.

Adrienne has a very expressive face that people like. In fact, people generally like Adrienne a lot, which is why Pria, BaKE's CEO and one of three co-founders, is so pissed off that she's leaving. Especially after Helen spent so much time grooming her, but that's Adrienne for you. She moves up quickly and moves on even faster. I've learned a lot from Adrienne (safe hookups; co-worker's vices; security camera locations; who's screwed who first; the list goes on) and I'm almost sad to see her go.

"Right," I say with a smile. "I just won't miss you."

Adrienne laughs. Her generous mouth opens wide, displaying two rows of perfectly straight overlarge teeth. Her best feature is her smile. It's megawatt, bold, and brazen. Just like Julia Roberts'. Adrienne wishes she had Julia's great big breasts to go with her great big smile, but that's just one more thing she sees as being wrong with herself. Who am I to argue? I agree that she's too flat. I used to look forward to getting her fired until I saw how much padding was in her bra. Now I just feel sorry for her.

"Liar," she rightfully accuses. "That's not what you wrote in my goodbye card."

"I don't know who wrote that. I signed my name beneath it so that you knew I cared."

"A liar and a bitch. Never change, my friend. Never change."

She raises her glass. We both wrinkle our noses in the same way as we choke down our tepid, high-calorie beverages. We could give up on them but she and I are both masochists in our own right.

We stop talking as a sobering techie shuffles into the kitchen. The culture clash is an old one, and it amuses me that it still confounds people so completely. We all stand there, quietly refusing to mix, like a heterogeneous mixture of lard and water. The geek and the jocks. The wizard and the knights. A tale as old as time. Except that now, with the internet making magic more real and less fantasy than ever, the wizards are more powerful than ever before. Which is why nerds now rule the world and everyone's hoarding dollars and favors like they're points in a game; and why someone like me can win.

Adrienne and I are silent as the young woman with two small ponytails jutting out from the base of her skull watches us out of the corner of her eye. Managing to avoid acknowledging that we're there, she pulls open the refrigerator and removes a glass jar containing an entire meal, like a lentil and spinach layer cake, and makes a mug of caffeine-free peppermint green tea. She's wearing wool leg warmers in the summer, and no shoes on her socked feet. She also has on a rainbow colored wool brooch. 

I have no doubt she knit it all by her crafty, single, self.

"Excuse me," I say, surprising the techie but not Adrienne. She's seen me do this a thousand times before.

The DIYer looks up. Her bulging eyes shine with mistrust.

"Yah?"

I smile tentatively. Not huge, like Julia Roberts here. "Do you knit? I mean, did you knit those yourself?" I kneel down for a closer look at her legs while still remaining a safe distance away. Out-of-the-ordinary interest, the kind you'd show a particularly captivating canine, but still respectful of the fact that it has sharp pointy teeth. Come here little doggy, I'll scratch behind your ear just so. "The quality of stitching is incredible!" Come closer so that I can kick you in the stomach and hear you squeal!

Her feet shuffle under the flattery of my gaze which is my cue to raise back to a stand. She blushes, and her eyes flicker down to the floor.

Gotcha, you squirrely little bitch!

"Thank you," she says with a broad grin that lights her face like a ceramic lawn dwarf. "It's an old hobby of mine. I let it slip for a bit but am getting back into it. I have a store now too!"

"That's wonderful. You're a QA with the web marketplace team, aren't you?" As she nods, genuinely surprised that I'd known who she was, I indulge myself in glancing at Adrienne's shocked visage. Adrienne's thick enough to still believe that my success stems from recognizing what makes the industry frothy, and not just recognizing what people need to hear. "Oh wait, I'm so sorry. You just got promoted to Lead didn't you. It's no wonder you're so good at stitching. You must have exceptional attention to detail!"

"I guess you could say that." She rocks back and forth on her unshod, socked feet, like a child on Christmas morning.

"Could you send me your store? I have a niece who would adore a pair of your legwarmers for the fall. Not to mention a partner who would think they're pretty cute."

With eyes still round like moons, she nods and bustles out of the kitchen, pulling the plug on our interaction. Stimulation overload. She's about to implode into a trembling pile of zeroes and ones. I'll receive her email, probably sometime next week, and then I'll ask Ami to choose two pairs of her ugly hippie leg warmers to buy for Keith to give to his fake, whiny little niece. Good ratio. Three birds, one stone.

"Wow." Adrienne's voice breaks the silence. A whoosh of blatant admiration. "Your niece? Really?"

"Keith's adopted niece. I misspoke. Easy mistake."

"Masterful. She's all yours, now."

"I'll need to place an order through her store first, and then post a picture with a review. Say Thanks in person. Then maybe..."

I give a modest shrug and sheepish smile. Then, no doubt about it, she'll be mine. A believer. An acolyte of Evelyn. But I'll never go to so much trouble for someone so diminutive. I'll let her come to worship me on her own terms.

It really has been fun to have Adrienne as a quasi-confidante, even if she is simple. It's confidence building, the way she kicks herself when she's down and keeps herself low. Like she's begging to be used and thrown out with the rest of the trash.

"Have you ever considered what I'm going to do without you?" she asks.

"You'll probably get a boob job!" We both laugh. "Anyway, this is your night. Adrienne's night! Where does Adrienne want to go, tonight?"

Her wide smile falters.

"You didn't make reservations?"

"Relax! You're such a twat. I'm just teasing. Of course I made reservations. In fact, we should go now because the ride's going to take forever with all this construction. Trust me, I had an appointment with my therapist at lunch, and ohmigosh, I wore these new heels..."

"Oh no. Your poor feet! We're not walking anywhere tonight, Social. First car is on you."