David's POV
So... sleeping with Pepper... that probably was a mistake.
No, David, it was the very definition of a mistake. When you die and the blooper reel of your life is being played up in heaven, St. Peter will turn his head away from the screen in horror rather than endure watching that train wreck moment in your life played out in slow motion. To a laugh track.
But how do you know?! How can you be so sure that screwing Pepper will lead to an epic disaster? What did your shrink say about catastrophizing? Maybe, underneath all that snark and bitterness, she is really a lovely person inside. Maybe you will even grow to like her!
Sure, that's what mom said about Brussels sprouts, Sunday Mass, and learning to play the harpsichord.
You did learn to like playing the harpsichord!
There you go again, taking mom's side like you always do.
I don't normally talk to myself. Well, occasionally I do, but usually only to amuse myself while passing the time. And right now I was bored to tears. We had showed up early at the lecture hall and had to wait as the seats slowly filled up. Our "tryst" had taken less time than I think Pepper expected. Who knew eight months without a sexual partner would blow up in my face? At least she had been...understanding... about the whole situation.
Anyways... who else was I going to talk to, if not myself? I couldn't talk to Pepper even though she was seated right beside me, staring out into space and chewing her gum like it was her cud. We had already exhausted all that we could possibly say to each other. This night was never going to end!
"So, why did you want to come here anyway?" I said to relieve the boredom. I tapped my now faded indigo jeans (she just had to go wash them in hot water!) with the can of Red Bull I had bought... just in case... for later.
Pepper narrowed her eyes as she looked towards the stage and asked, "You mean to the lecture?"
"Yeah," I said with a shrug. "You don't seem that much into science."
"Ew! Gross, of course not," Pepper replied, her gaze fixed in a daze at the two stagehands fiddling with the podium.
Well, that explains everything. "And...?" I prompted her.
Pepper finally threw a hot glance in my direction. "If you're so smart, why don't you figure it out," she challenged me with arched eyebrows.
"If I was so smart...?" I repeated after her. Really, are we twelve? I sat back in my seat and pressed the tips of my fingers together, which is my "pensive" look. I tried to think of a reason, but I was completely stumped. I couldn't imagine going to a NASCAR race if I didn't care for cars...which I don't so I never have. "I have no idea. Why?" I said finally, shrugging.
Pepper hung her head towards me with a wicked smile and said in a singsong voice, "Not until you admit you aren't so smart!"
I resisted rolling my eyes and letting them fall back down into my skull where they could rattle around inside my hollow tin innards.
Pepper must have sensed I wasn't about to give up because she finally heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fine, if you must know: Dr. Rath is a hottie."
It took me a moment to compute this. What's that got to do with the price of cheese?
"So....?" I asked.
"Wellll..." Pepper drawled, her tongue darting out of her mouth and curling up over her lip in what I had to admit was a rather cute way, "I'm going hit him up afterwards."
"Hit him up for what?" I asked, perplexed.
Pepper smiled bashfully and punched my arm, "You knowwwwwww."
"No, I can't even begin to imagine," I started when it suddenly dawned on me, "Oh! You mean... oh my gawd...Reallllllly?"
"Not that!" Pepper exclaimed and corrected me, "For his autograph!"
"Ah, I see," I said, and I felt strangely relieved. I couldn't tell you why. It wasn't like I was jealous.
As if.
I took a swig of the Red Bull.
"Yeah," Pepper nodded, "I'm going to see if he'll sign my boobs."
I suddenly choked on my drink and coughed it out all over the empty seat in front of me. Holy shit! People turned around and stared. I was glad no one was sitting in it at the time. I started to rub the seat down, wishing I had a napkin to wipe it up with. I took off my stained cardigan to dab the upholstery. The cleaning staff must be used to taking care of these types of messes... right?
Pepper patted my back as I gagged and sputtered. When I finally regained composure, I sat back, stunned, and said, "Wow."
And then a moment later: "Well, good luck with that."
Pepper narrowed her eyes and stuck out her chin defiantly, "How do you mean?"
"Look," I explained carefully, "he's a man of science. I'm sure he has no time for 'groupies' the likes of you."
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Pepper bragged.
I folded my arms over my chest. "Orly?"
"Uh huh," she retorted.
"So you are saying that women just throw themselves at the feet of scientists," I challenged her.
"Sure, why not," she said, her eyes darting back to the stage where it seemed as if things were finally getting underway. The lights over our heads dimmed while those on the stage brightened.
"Do you do this often? How many scientists have signed your... you know?" I asked, while trying not to look down at her... you know.
"Lots and lots," Pepper said with a shrug. In her line of sight, a matronly woman in an upholstered dress suit sauntered towards the podium. It was the Dean. My stomach tightened.
"Really," I said flatly.
"Yup," she said, popping the P.
"Like who?" I asked with an accusatory tone.
"Oh you know," Pepper said while looking up to the ceiling as if deep in thought, "The usual. Stephen Hawking..."
"STEPHEN HAWKING has signed your BOOBS?!" I sputtered with incredulity. I must have said it far too loudly, as several people in the rows ahead of us turned around to deliver me dirty looks. And then I realized that the introduction had already started on stage.
"You are such a spaz!" Pepper whispered-yelled at me.
"Stephen Hawking," I returned, shaking my head with derision.
Pepper shrugged.
"Well, who else?" I pumped her. I don't know why I had to know. I just couldn't believe there was a secret cabal of female groupies sexing up the nerds. It was like Bizarro World.
"I don't know," Pepper said looking far off in the distance, "Bill Nye...?"
"BILL NYE???" I almost shouted again, and then lowered my voice again, "Bill Nye! The science guy!??"
"That's his name... don't wear it out," said Pepper, popping her words.
I stared at her with wide eyes until I saw the little trickster twinkle in the corners of her eyes.
"You've been shitting me," I shook my head, "This whole time. You've just been spitballing."
Pepper had to suppress a giggling snort. Of course, she laughs like a pig.
"You are so easily had, David," she said while pulling her sweater up over her mouth to mute her incessant giggles.
"You had no intention of having him sign your boobs," I stated.
"No, of course not," Pepper admitted dryly.
"I knew it," I said, trying to claim the moral victory.
"I'm going to fuck him instead," Pepper announced with a leer towards the stage as the man of the hour finally took the podium to a rumble of applause.
"Uh....wow," I said, feeling as if I had been just punched in the gut. I squinted. He's not that good looking.
Sensing the moral judgment simmering below my words, Pepper darted her eyes at me. "What's that supposed to mean?" she said, daring me.
"Well... you know," I said, backing down from my position somewhat, taken aback by her menacing tone. "We just... Did. It."
"Barely," Pepper scoffed, and that time I could feel the punch hit below the belt.
"Gee, thanks," I mumbled.
Pepper's whole countenance changed to saccharine as she swiveled her voluptuous body towards mine and began to run her one hand up the back of my neck and into my hair. "Oh, I'm sorry, baby," she cooed, "I didn't know you wanted to make this exclusive. Maybe we should move in together."
"Now you're just mocking me." I stared her down.
"You're quick," Pepper spat back.
"Thanks," I sighed.
"And I mean that both literally and figuratively," said Pepper, going in for the kill.
I sank into my seat as she burst into peals of laughter.
"At least I can name off more scientists than just Stephen Hawking and Bill Nye," I muttered to myself, scowling. Not loud enough for her to hear me of course. And then I turned toward the stage and avoided looking in Pepper's general direction.
I'll admit I probably spent more time sulking during the rest of the lecture than actually listening to it. And why should I listen to a word? This guy was such an obvious hack, but nobody could see past the charisma, and good looks, and regal disposition, and the way he broke down complex abstract theory into simple illustrations for the masses to easily grasp. But beyond that, he was a complete phony! Just another pretentious twat shilling his wares on the bestseller book circuit.
Why does this stuff always happen to me? Stuck in a horrible lecture with a girl I just bedded (well, barely bedded) who would rather be dry humping the charlatan on stage and apparently just about anybody else to boot.
With my luck, I've probably gotten Pepper pregnant. That's what you get for being the Fastest Shooter in the West... Oh gawd. Why did I have to go and think of that for? It's like my brain is sadomasochistic and likes nothing better than torturing me.
I suddenly imagined a row of little Pepperettes seated beside us, all chewing their cud and swinging their thick legs back and forth languidly, with Uncle Attie at the end of the row turning and smiling at me with a wicked grin and a glint in his eye: Your soul belongs to me now, boy! (((boy ((boy (boy) boy))boy)))... Because, you know, evil echoes.
"David!" I heard a hoarse voice whisper, and I looked over at Pepper staring at me with wild, wide eyes.
"What?" I asked, and realized my leg was tapping wildly.
"You're hyperventilating!" she exclaimed with concern.
I shook my head "no" but she shook her head vehemently "yes" in response.
I closed my eyes and just listened for a moment. Then heard the sharp intakes of breath: huhh huhh huhh huhh huhh... yeah... I was hyperventilating.
"I gotta get out of here," I said, rising from my seat without looking at her.
"Wait," she called out after me as I started my escape. I turned my head back just in time to hear, "When will I see you again?"
She's kidding, right?
I turned back and whispered, "I don't know... why don't you give me a call when you're done boffing the professor over there." I spun on my heel away from Pepper. Oh gawd, I hope she doesn't show up to work tomorrow.
I walked down the aisle in a huff, completely oblivious to my surroundings, until I heard the voice from the podium say, "That guy's in a hurry. He must have hated my lecture." A generous smattering of laughter from the crowd followed, and I felt many eyes suddenly saddle up my way. He was talking about me!? Well that – that was the cherry on the day's ice shit sundae. I gritted my teeth and turned to face the stage.
"Yeah... I did... IT SUCKED!" I yelled out with my hands cupped around my mouth and kept walking. Jesus, David...why don't you just make an ass out of yourself...in front of a huge crowd at that!
The snake charmer's voice continued to address me. I had almost made it to the door. "Why... was it too complex for you?" The audience tittered in response.
That stopped me in my tracks. I turned around with a chip on my shoulder so heavy I thought it might snap my spine in two, and faced the bastard.
"Complex? You call that dog and pony show... complex?" I shouted. "The multiverse is not 'promiscuous', you ass. It's like sea foam!"
"Sea foam," the greasy professor said in a snide deadpan voice.
I do not see what the ladies see in this guy!
"Yes, sea foam! If two bubbles are pushed into each other, they can share space... a commonality. It is possible for us to occupy more than one reality at once," I explained while demonstrating my two fists colliding into each other, the one opening and enveloping the other.
"So correct me if I'm wrong... but it sounds like what you are saying is that the multiverse is like a Venn diagram?" he said, looking down on me like I was an ant. Damn... why did he have to look so much taller from up there?
"No, the multiverse is NOT like a Venn diagram! IT'S COMPRISED of an infinite number of Venn diagrams," I shouted in exasperation. Wait...that came out wrong.
"Intriguing theory. I'm wondering you obtained your degree," Gabriel baited me.
"My degree?" I asked weakly, feeling the fight flee out of me.
"Yes, where did you go to school? Or perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself and you're still a student?" he pushed. I could feel the entire collective gaze of the audience on me now, making my face burn.
I heard a cough and then saw the Dean on the stage quietly open her mouth and speak. She wasn't miked, so I couldn't hear exactly what she said, but I could assume the gist of it. I took small comfort in the fact that if I couldn't hear it, neither could anyone else (past the front row at least).
I drew my mouth into a tight line and folded my arms over my chest defensively while Gabriel listened to the Dean, smiled and shook his head, then addressed me, "Well, Mr. Blunt, and that is a fitting last name for you, I look forward to visiting you on your book tour where I'm sure you'll explain all these marvelous theories..."
But I didn't hear any more after that because I was already out of the auditorium and striding down the long, lonely corridor, ignoring the laughter and jeers that echoed behind me as the doors swung closed.
"Fucking Hell!" I cried once I was alone, and I started to tear at my hair. I spun around in fury and started kicking the wall. Could this day get any worse? Once I started kicking, I couldn't stop. It was like all my exasperation with all the bullshit that had gone on in my life recently was coming to a head, and that head had a head on it: the snake oil salesman himself, Gabriel Rath. I kept kicking that same spot until the plaster actually broke and my cowboy boot sunk into the wall. Oh Shit!!
Suddenly I felt a figure approach beside me and I paused in mid-fury to look at who it was. Please don't let it be campus security.
And there she was, staring at me with her wide, luminous, moon eyes. Her honey-blonde hair and dark dress were wet and she was looking... ghostly... and fragile... but it was definitely her. Even without the secret smile.
"Wonderbar?" I asked before I could stop myself.
But she just stared at me wide-eyed and said in a tremulous voice, "We need to talk."
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A/N
Tom is sick and I'm feeling under the weather so short A/N today. Hope you all are well and you like this chapter. Poor David, have you ever fooled around with someone to know instantly it was a mistake? Or is he letting his own biases/prejudices not let him see a great thing right in front of his nose?
Stay tuned for Saturday's chapter...Things are about to get a little bit...interesting.
P.S. We are going to start to try uploading earlier in the day now following the success of Monday's chapter release.
Cheers,
~C
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All Your Fates © 2012 Carrie Cutforth, Jim Martin and Tom Liljeholm. All Rights Reserved.