Please … this was amateur hour. I knew better than to fall for that one.
“I did not have sex with that woman,” I said in my best Bill Clinton voice.
“What?” Brook asked, confused.
I guess she was right to be confused. That reference was from before we were born.
“Bill Clinton …”
“Oh. So, who
“You have that backward,” Alan said, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.
“What?” Brook asked again.
“Who hasn’t he had sex with would be an easier question.”
“Run along before I beat the shit out of you,” I suggested.
“Just saying,” Alan said with a smile as he scurried off.
“You look nice,” I said.
“Really?” she asked as she looked down to check out what she was wearing.
She suddenly realized what I was doing and gave me a glare. I gave her an appreciative leer.
“Stop flirting. I’m mad at you,” Brook said.
I just raised my eyebrows, and she realized I wasn’t going to say anything in my defense.
“My mom told me you think I spend too much money and we should take a class on how to budget.”
“Your mom is a big fat liar.”
“What?”
“My business manager is of the opinion that you’re a bad influence on me when it comes to spending money. She talked to your mom, and they agreed that we needed to sit down with Caryn and become fiscally responsible. I never said you spend too much money,” I explained.
“Do you think Cassidy could get us out of it?”
“I like Caryn and your mom. I don’t expect Cassidy is the solution for this, but I do believe she might be the solution to my Alan problem,” I said. An evil plan began to form in my mind.
“Well, what should we do?”
“Tough it out. I bet Caryn can teach us some stuff.”
She just huffed at me and stormed off, but I wasn’t overly worried. In a few days, I had a full week in the tropics with her. I was confident I could talk her into working on budgeting, or at the very least could get her not to be mad at me.
◊◊◊
I followed Brook into the school and noticed everyone had their phone out, looking at it. Some looked at me and frowned, while others were talking excitedly. I started to get an uneasy feeling as more people would look up, see me, and either turn away or let their conversations die. Then I noticed something strange: Lisa Felton was standing by my locker, and she looked nervous.
Usually, Mr. Happy would attempt to wrench away control of the body when Lisa was around, but her expression allowed the big brain to remain in charge.
“Lisa,” I said in greeting.
“I’m really sorry,” Lisa mumbled and turned to leave.
“Hold on. What are you sorry about?” I asked.
She looked around and saw everyone was staring at us. That uneasy feeling suddenly escalated to DEFCON 4. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom.
“I’m really sorry,” Lisa said again.
“For?”
“I’ve kept a private blog since middle school. Someone hacked it, and it became public last night,” she said.
“Why are you telling me you’re sorry?” I asked.
“Remember when I had that huge crush on you?” she asked, then paused, waiting for me to nod. “Remember when we finally had sex and how sad I was that you wouldn’t date me afterward?”
I blinked.
“It’s all in my blog,” Lisa said and then hurried on. “I also wrote about how nice you were when my brother was sick and how you thought we were related.”
“I can’t be the only guy featured in your writings,” I said.
“No, but you’re the only guy I’m worried will be mad at me,” she admitted.
“When you wrote your blog, were you honest about how you felt?” I asked.
“Yes, but you didn’t come off in the best light.”
“Are you okay? You must feel terribly violated,” I said.
Lisa looked confused.
“You’re not mad?”
“I just had a couple of tabloids make up stuff about me. It would be nice if what got out was true for a change.”
She gave me a sad look.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Mortified, shocked, relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“In a way, it’s freeing not to have to pretend anymore. People have said some terrible things about me that were untrue. I talked about how hurtful they were, and I don’t have to pretend that it didn’t hurt.”
“Bill Rogers?” I asked.
Lisa’s face darkened. Tracy wasn’t the only one who had been terrorized by that piece of excrement. The rumors of Lisa being promiscuous had started with Bill and his degenerate friends. At one point, I’d gotten sick of the things my friends said. I told them I didn’t want to hear about it again until one of them could name someone who had actually been with her. There had been many claims that she was a slut, but no one had ever come forward.
At that time, I’d asked that question, the one everyone should have been asking. Perhaps I hadn’t asked that question loud enough or as often as I should have.
I’d bet the whole school would be shocked to learn that she was a virgin the night we got together. I’d gotten to know her better once we’d bonded over her little brother having cancer. One thing working against her was that she still dressed like a naughty girl.
I made a decision: Lisa had been labeled the class bike long enough. I was putting an end to this.
