Rain Check?

~47~

 "Did you tell her?" Scott asks me as he slips into the seat next to me.

  The local high school's auditorium is hosting the elementary school's speech competition tonight, Friday night. My family takes up most of the third row as we wait through the next fifteen minutes for the speeches to begin.

  "How do you even know about this?" I question him, turning my body away from the rest of the family. I adjust the ball cap on my head, hoping to not make it completely known that I'm here tonight. 

  Scott gives a smirk, raising his hands palms up. "Who do you think told them?"

  "Dude!"

  "It was crappy move and you know it. Don't try to deny it, ya idiot," he scolds. 

  Leaning back a bit in my chair I move my head closer to his ear, hopeful that not everyone around us can hear. 

Flashback

  My heart begins racing as I see that particular interview pulled up on Dempsey's screen. So she obviously  has seen it and along with that my mother and Carly might actually be right in the effect it had on her. 

  "Did you get the code in right?" she asks, taking a sip from her bottle before turning towards me. "Oh."

  "So, you watched some of the interviews?" I ask, trying to keep my tone even, almost uncaring about whether she saw any of them or not.

  "Yeah, some," she answers quietly. I can tell she's getting nervous by the shakiness in her voice.

  "Was this one of them?"  She nods her head quickly, going back to her pizza. My mother's words of 'get ahead of it' running rampant in my mind. "So, then you saw me messing around with the interviewer?"

  She pauses mid bite, turning her head to look at me. "Messing around? That's what you're calling that 'look' you gave her?"

  Guess that nervousness didn't last too long.

  "Well, yeah. Actors mess around with some of the interviewers on occasion. It makes the experience less boring to see them get a bit flustered," I admit, holding onto that confidence I'll need to get by with only telling what's necessary in the moment.

  "I feel the need to ask if you've seen the video, Chris. Because she certainly wasn't flustered, but it appeared you made yourself that way." Dempsey tosses her slice back into the box, becoming agitated.

  "What's your problem, Demi?" 

  She jerks her body further away from me, anger now reflecting in her hazel eyes. "MY problem?" she accentuates the first word, giving me the idea that I'm about to have a bigger problem.

  I don't want to actually match her tone, because then I may blow it all. "It's a part of my job, you  know that."

  "Sharing the way you look at me, with other women, is a part of your job? Or, are we just messing around too?"

  It's the second half of those questions that catch me off guard, and make myself begin to question her. "Messing around? You think that we're still messing around?"

  "Do you even hear yourself, Chris? You just said that you were messing around with her, giving her the same look you give me. So therefore you're making me think that YOU are the one that must think we're messing around!" her voice is becoming louder the longer this conversation goes. 

  "It was just a look, Demi!"

  "Well, it looked like you wanted to help her slip those boots off, or maybe you were thinking about her keeping them on as you screwed her!"  I can see her hands shaking as she moves away from the couch, not out of nerves or anxiety, but anger.