How to Date a Nerd

Chapter 37 - How to Lose Your Mind In One Night

Chapter 37 – How to Lose Your Mind In One Night

It's been a long time coming since I've seen your face

And I've never went back trying to replace everything that I broke till my feet went numb

Praying like a fool that just shot a gun

Heart still beating but it's not working

It's like a hundred thousand voices that just can't sing 

I reach out trying to love but I feel nothing   --OneRepublic

I had no idea why they call it victory party if there wasn’t anything won. I sure didn’t have any. Not even close. After several handshakes and exchange of small talks—the most boring part of being an artist—with people I only met for the first time in my entire life, I found a sweet spot inside the party hall. It was a small table in a hidden little corner just beside the bar tender.

Yeah, I had all intent of getting drunk tonight until I couldn’t tell the difference between a girl and a lamp post anymore. I needed to feel numb. I wanted to black out of this mess. Since I was in a party, I might as well party.

Chuck shouted at me from the dance floor. I couldn’t hear him through blaring B.E.P song. Either that or the alcohol was already kicking in. From what I could make out, he was dancing with this girl from a cookie commercial. The new flavor of the month, I guessed.

I raised my glass to him and nodded. Dancing wasn’t my thing. Plus, I was in no mood to make a fool of myself what with all the press invited in here.

I was on my third round of scotch when someone patted me on the shoulder. It was Dad, giving me that sort of worried look that I really hated with a passion.

Yeah, Dad. I’m a mess. Tell me about it.

Forcefully, I managed to twitch my face into what was supposed to be an ‘I’m okay’ smile. I just hoped it worked.

“Hey,  Dad? Just having a few drinks here. What d’you want?” I said, calling the bar tender’s attention to hide the dismay on my face.

Arthur just shook his blond head. He’d quit drinking ever since he had that heart operation that sounded like lettuce… Or cabbage. I couldn’t really remember. The last few years passed by like a big blur and I wasn’t even on drugs.

“Are you okay, Leon?” he yelled near my ear so I could hear. That didn’t just rhyme, did it?

“Uh… Yeah!” I replied, exerting an effort to make my smile bigger. “Of course, I’m okay. How could I not be Okay? Okay is my middle name.” I sniggered mindlessly as I took a few swigs from my glass, staring at it for while before turning my attention back to Dad.

He shook his head again. I couldn’t fool Arthur Walden. He must be Sherlock Holmes in his past life. Or a bloodhound.  

Before things could go downhill, I looked around and struggled for an alibi. Across the room, I found a familiar face. The middle-aged dark-haired guy talking with some models—who I never remembered inviting—was a photographer. We’d done pictorials with him twice or thrice during our recent stay in NYC. I just couldn’t remember his name. Was it Chris Loveres? Ben Meneses?

“Oh, look,” I told Dad, managing to sound almost excited. “It’s Chris! I’ll just… go meet him.”

As I nudged my way through the crowd, I heard Dad calling me back. I pretended to dance, raising my glass over head so people won’t tip over my scotch. I didn’t get acting awards for nothing.