Soft Body

5: A Celebration?

"Hello?" I asked into my phone. It had been four days since my interview and I was starting to give up hope. I didn't recognize the number that called and almost didn't answer, thinking it was a telemarketer.

"Hey, uh, Ruby? It's Tucker. Tucker DiAngelo. From the other day?" My cheeks felt hot.

"Oh, hi, how are you?" That was professional, right? He coughed.

"I'm great, thanks. I'm calling to offer you the job. You were just. Great, really," he said. He sounded awkward, the confidence in his body not transferring though the phone lines.

"Really? Well thank you so much!"

"Of course. You can start Monday. Wear tennis shoes and khakis. I'll give you something to wear, er... Jackie will give you a shirt... I'm not sure who you'll be training with yet, but you will be trained," he said, rushing. I couldn't help but think about a different kind of training. The Dom and sub type. Ugh.

"Thank you... What time will I see you?" I purred. I didn't do it on purpose. It just came out of me. It was natural, confident. The linger between the next words said everything I needed to know. It was me who was making him nervous.

"Oh," he finally spit out, "well... You can come at 10. Have a good day."

"Thanks. You too." Click.

My god, that was awkward and not at all what I expected would happen. I thought that maybe I would awaken something in him, by showing him that my interest was returned, but I just scared him. Of course I did.

***

"Ruuuuuuubyyyyyyyyyyy, let's go outtttt. I haven't gone out in forever! We haven't gone out in forever! Let's celebrate! You have a job and a hot boss and I just really wanna get drunk and grind! Come onnnnnnnn!" Liz was begging and I did not want to give into her. I grunted in response.

"No. We are going out. Don't be lame."

"I'm not being lame. I just know it's gonna suck."

"Don't be negative! You never knowwww."

"No."

"I'll get you super drunk," Liz said, already reaching for the bottles of Fireball and Crown Royal we stored below the sink.

"Ughhhhhh," I moaned.

"I'll do your makeup," she offered, while pouring both the liquids into one glass.

"Don't give it to me straight."

"Girl, I know you better than that," she said, pouring herself a glass then pulling Coke out of the fridge. I silently stared at the glass, thinking about something I read in a magazine. In order to make a drink properly, the least expensive stuff has to go in first, then gradually more expensive as you go along. The Coke should have been put in first, then the alcohol.

"I guess," I muttered.

"Oh, what was that? You're going? I know you are!" Liz said, in a sing-song voice. She took a sip from her glass then grabbed my hand. "C'mon. I need to beat that face before I get too drunk."

***

"This is great, right!" Liz yelled into my ear. The music was deafening. Liz had decided that we should go to a club. Not a bar. A club, filled with sweaty douchebags and girls who gave me dirty looks from the second I walked in. My clothes that had felt so cute less than an hour before suddenly felt too tight. There were crop tops and open backs everywhere. Liz herself was showing her entire stomach and most of back, opting to wear only a red bandeau with white short shorts.

I was considerably more covered up. I had a pair of black shorts with a black peplum top. Did I look like trash? No, but I wanted to. I wanted to look like the sluttiest girl in the club, with giant hair and a heavily contoured face. Liz had done a great job on my face, yes, but it didn't feel like enough. I told myself that I wanted it to be more contoured, but really I knew that I just needed a thinner face. I wanted to be wearing Liz's outfit, which I knew I would look better in if only I was thin. The red and white would both compliment my skin tone and dark hair. My boobs and butt were already big and would make me look like any man's dream girl. But instead I was wearing three pairs of Spanx and all black, hoping to disappear into the walls.

Of course, I didn't really want to disappear into the walls. I wanted to have a cliche teen movie moment where everyone lets go of their prejudices and distaste for what I look like and wants to get to know me. I wanted men to buy me drinks. I wanted to be grinded on. I wanted to feel irresistible.

I didn't answer Liz. The buzz of the alcohol was wearing off, and quick. I did a scan of the room, looking for an exit. God, I was sweating. I heard Liz giggle. I snapped my head towards her.

Next to Liz, there were two guys, obviously fighting for her attention, both sticking out their chests, both slightly edging each other out to get into Liz's space. I could taste my jealousy.

One of them looked to the side of Liz, where I was. He had over gelled blond hair and was sunburnt, no doubt from playing on daddy's yacht. I got the vibe that he was slumming it, trying to make Liz his white trash conquest. She didn't look her classy self, and she was more than a little drunk.

The other guy looked like he didn't belong in a club. He looked like he should have been at a poetry reading in a coffee shop. He was skinny, and wore a short sleeved button up with rolled pants. He was wearing white, rectangular glasses, which stood out against his dark skin. He was cute.

I rolled my eyes and felt the heat in my chest. It wasn't the alcohol or the temperature, though I got the feeling that they made things a little hotter. It was the heat of hurt. It was the rejection I felt from these two guys, who hadn't even seen me. It was the burning stares of girls who were disgusted by me. It was every angry feeling I had felt many times before. Rejection, hate, sadness. And all of it came hurling out of my mouth, all over the pristine Sperry's of Frat Fuck and cornflower blue Oxfords of Hipster Man. It narrowly missed Liz's feet, and splashed on to my shin, missing my own feet.

I gave a loud burp in satisfaction and decided to let Liz apologize for me while I wiped my mouth with my arm, tasting the acidity of my feelings and the liquor.