Alone at last, I decided that the most relaxing thing I could do would be to give myself a pedicure. And after all, I deserved it. So I dug out my long abandoned hot pink nail polish and my nail care kit and set to work. I sat down next to the phone, in case it should ring, and plopped my toe separators in and got to work. No sooner had I started then just as I suspected the phone rang. Since I had been prepared for this, I simply picked up the receiver and continued on with my business.
"Hello!" I chirped.
"Hey beautiful," said a male voice on the other end that I recognized as my friend Lin.
"Who is this," I teased.
"What- you don't know? I'm shocked and hurt!"
"Whatever, silly! What's up Lin?"
"I just called to see what's up. See if you're feeling lonely tonight..."
"You sweet-talker you. Actually, I'm feeling pretty good. Giving myself the pampering treatment."
"Oh really?" I noticed his voice went way up at the end of the sentence. "I could help you out in that area." . "I bet you could."
"Come on Nikki. I could give you a nice back rub. You know you love it when I massage your neck for you."
"Yeah, I love it so much, I can never tell you no."
"That's the idea," Lin said devilishly.
"I know. It's tempting. I'm really tempted."
"But...?" he prompted.
Lin is a real scoundrel. Defiantly the cad among my fiends and acquaintances. I adore having him around because he's always willing to go the extra mile to try to convince you that he's not the bad guy you think he is, but trust me, he is. He's your classic, "I'm not like other guys" guy. And in the next breath he'll tell you that women deserve to be treated badly, because we let men do it. Still, he knows all my weaknesses and he's good at exploiting them. And he knows how hard I find it to resist his charms. (Charms and snakes go hand in hand, I try to remind myself. But it does not good. Not in Lin's case.)
Lin's name is Lyndon, after the President, a fact that he's quite vain about. But we all call him Lin. I'm not sure if it's just to knock him down a peg, but if so, believe me, it hasn't hurt him a bit.
Lin is nine years older than me which makes him 38, but he still thinks he's a college frat boy. He wears sweatshirts, drinks beer and chases women. I think it's his job! Actually, he's a D.J. for a local outfit that works weddings and parties and other functions. He's also a designer for a graphics firm during the day, and he plays the guitar for fun (and seduction) and takes nature photographs which he sells to magazines. He's a very busy man, yet he always manages to look like a slacker. His dark brown hair falls into his eyes regularly, and I think he uses that as an excuse for why he can't see half the time. He would never want to admit that he's starting to need glasses. A course beard is usually growing a-la Sunny Crocket from Miami Vice on account of the fact that he usually shaves at night before a gig and lets it go the rest of the day. Beneath all of the unkempt hair, he's actually a very nice looking guy. But most of the time, you just have to take my word for it.
Actually, he has no trouble attracting female attention, even at his worse. That's because even in this horrible state of neglect, he's still better looking than 9/10ths of the population. And charming. But I repeat myself.
"If I say yes, you'll forget all about me and not come over anyway."
"No! I would never-! OK, maybe I would," he admitted chagrined.
"I'm not going to wait all night for you," I warned.
"No of course not."
"I didn't have plans, but I'll leave just to spite you," I threatened.
"Why you spiteful little bitch!" he exclaimed with a laugh.
The laugh was infectious. "You've got an hour. If your not hear by then, me and my hot pink toes are going to see a movie. Whether we can afford to or not!"
"I'll be there."
"I won't count on it," I said dryly.
"Hey! Don't be like that!" He sounded defensive and wounded. I rolled my eyes.
"YOU don't be like that and I won't have to. Now bye. You've got an hour."
"Slave driver," he complained before hanging up. I should write a book, How to Tame your Lin. There was really no way around it, he needed to be treated roughly if you were going to get any respect or compliance out of him at all. Trust me, I've tried nice. It just gets me ignored. He must be a secret masochist, because the more of a bitch I am, the more he comes back for more.
I'm not really like that, but it's a roll I play well. And I don't feel bad about it either. Sometimes being nice just doesn't work. And if you can't be compelled by nice, then it's your own damn fault if I have to resort to uber-bitch because it's the only thing that works. Hey, it's hard to be a woman sometimes. We have to use what we've got. Especially if it's something that usually works against us. I take great pleasure in the irony of those moments.
Would he show up? Who the hell knew. Who the hell ever knew with Lin. Some other pretty girl might catch his eye, and he'd be off chasing her skirt like some stray dog. But if he didn't show up, I was going to bed, despite what I told him. I was too tired and too broke to actually go see a movie. Hey, what a man doesn't know doesn't hurt him. That Lin walks all over my heart to easily as it is. I would be giving him no more extra ammunition tonight.
I resumed painting my toenails. Well, actually I had never stopped and was on the second to the last toe already. Those nails were so small, I really should have used a toothpick to do it. So in no time I was done and with nothing to do but sit there and literally watch paint dry.
I grabbed the clicker and started flipping through the channels. I've been told I channel-surf like a guy, barely stopping to see what's on before going to the next channel. Usually I stop were a guy would to, explosions or boobs. Hey I ain't to proud to admit it. Those are the things that tend to get my attention.
Only this time it was something else that I whizzed past and had to back click to see if I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing. Indeed! There was a news story about the new gallery, and they were showing my picture as what appeared to be the main illustration.
I had never felt so psyched. I had butterflies in my stomach all right. It was just the local news, but my painting has been shown and my name had even been said. It was a banner night for l'il old me.
I watched that but found that I had missed the majority of the story. It seemed favorable in tone anyway, so that was one good thing. It seemed that every were I turned, there was my painting. Maybe I really was on my way, just as my mother had told me.
That ended so I flipped over to some cartoons to pass the time. After an hour, my nails were good and dry and there was no sign of Lin, so I went to bed, thinking was the end of him for the night. How wrong I was. I was awakened to the sound of loud pounding on my door and opened my eyes to see that several hours had passes and it was the middle of the night. I threw on a robe and staggered out to see who or what was at my door, and sure enough it was Lin. He saw me and waved, so I gave up on sneaking back to bed and ignoring him.
"Are you drunk?" I asked in an irritated voice when he nearly fell into my living room.
"Just a little," he admitted.
"What the hell are you doing here at this hour?" I demanded in a grouchy but sleepy voice.
"Well you said you were going out, so I figured I'd wait till a bit later and I went down to the pub to pass the time."
"You are a shit," I said with the beginning of a grin. I don't know why I couldn't stay mad at him. "Get your ass over on the couch and lay down. And no throwing up on my carpet."
"Scouts honor," he said slumping onto my sofa.
"Phfft!" I dismissed his comment. I doubt he was ever a scout- they probably kicked him out.
We talked for a little while, after I locked up, about how his life sucks and how I'm the only one he can always count on- the kind of stuff you can always count on a drunk to opine about in the wee hours. I simply nodded and made sympathetic noises. I doubt that he would remember a thing I said in the morning, so what was the point?
"You can sleep here tonight," I told him, slipping his shoes off and covering him with a blanket.
"No no, I don't want to be any trouble sweetie."
That made me smile, drunk or not. "It's no trouble. You're no trouble- you're a friend."
"I'll be going here in just a minute or so," he promised. The next thing I heard from him was snores. He sure was one to fall asleep fast. He looked so oddly vulnerable lying there on my couch like that all passed out and barely conscious. I kissed him on the cheek and pulled the blanket up to his chin.
