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.
