Seattle Girl (2 page)

“Yeah, I noticed,” I said, barely kind enough to leave the words, “you idiot” out of the sentence.

I made the mistake of looking up at the oaf just then and saw how genuinely distressed he was. Which made me immediately feel bad about being so harsh.

In view of how un-smooth this guy clearly was, he probably already had a hard enough time with women. And I was only making his track record worse by the second.

Fortunately, however, he hadn’t noticed me telling him what a loser he was, because he was too busy telling me what a loser he was.

“I shouldn’t even be a Delt. I don’t play sports and I don’t have a trust fund and my name isn’t Blake. But they had to let me because of University rules and regulations,” he said as he awkwardly blotted at the beer dripping off my shoulder with the t-shirt he was wearing. In doing so, he had revealed a surprisingly nice looking six-pack. (But there was no point in noticing something like that since I just couldn’t see him as anything other than the annoying person who had dumped beer all over me, so never mind.)
 

I looked up from wringing out my once white but now dank yellow tank top and gave him a skeptical glance.

Obviously sensing my growing impatience, which, to be perfectly, brutally honest, was mixed with a fair measure of utter indifference regarding finding out more of his personal details, he quickly added, “They need me to keep the house GPA above water.”

Strangely enough, even though my shirt was sticking to my skin in some spots and growing crunchy in others, in that moment he started to grow on me a little bit. It was that whole honest-with-himself, honest-with-others thing.

Which I absolutely love, but rarely find.

So instead of cutting our conversation short per my previous plan, I said, “Really?” It wasn’t a great reply, but I figured it was probably enough to give him hope.

“Yeah,” he said with a wry grin, hope definitely restored. “I’m sort of like a free live-in math and physics tutor for the guys on the football team.”

I laughed. He was kind of funny. And, amazingly enough, I found that I was actually on the brink of forgiving him for dousing me in beer.

“I don’t get it. Why would you even want to be a Delt?
 
Why would anybody want to be a Delt? Is there some redeeming quality that I’ve missed?”

He grinned ruefully. “I thought it would be really cool, I guess, the whole frat guy thing. But you know what?”

“What?”

“No matter how much we clean up after parties, it still smells like piss in here all the time.”

I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

He held his hand out. “I’m Bill and I really feel bad that I spilled beer all over you.”

I shook his hand. “Georgia and you’re forgiven.”

He looked so pleased with that big grin plastered across his face that he struck me as cute for the first time. (Like I said, the six pack thing didn’t count.) I gave him the once over and had to admit that what I could see wasn’t all that bad. Dirty blond hair, right around six feet, tortoise shell rimmed glasses. Judging by the spark behind his eyes, he was definitely smart. It even looked like he had a pretty good body to match his abs, as I thought I detected a hint of biceps underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt.

The thing was, although he was perfectly okay looking, and I had started to enjoy talking to him, he just didn’t strike me as my type. Of course, since I had never had a serious boyfriend before, I wasn’t exactly sure what my type was quite yet. But I had a hunch the man in my future was dark and mysterious, with a little bit of bad boy throw in for good measure.

In any case, it was time to cut my losses. I didn’t see Diane anywhere, but I was heading home anyway.

“I should probably go home and take a shower. Who knows what Coors will do to my hair follicles,” I said in a lame attempt to make it sound like I wasn’t ditching him on purpose.

But I had underestimated Bill. Turned out that he wasn’t one to give up on a gal so easily. “I’ve got a better idea. Come do my radio show with me at the station.”

“Huh?”

I couldn’t believe Bill was so lame that he had asked me to go the campus radio station with him. Any other guy would have been trying to lure me back to his bedroom to change into one of his clean t-shirts. Not that that tactic would have been smooth either, but at least it was more in line with what a normal guy could have done.

Truly, it boggled the mind that anyone could be such a nerd.

At the same time, oddly enough, it was kind of endearing.

“My show starts in a half hour,” he said. Doing his best to convince me to join him he added, “It’s pretty cool.”

I said the first thing that came to mind, without editing out the not-so-nice quotient. “Yuck, why would I want to sit around while you play bad punk music?”

Bill laughed and for the second time I was struck by his rapid transformation from nerdy guy to cute guy with just a smile. “Believe me, I would never ask you to do something as awful as that.”

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “But you just did.”

He shook his head. “I don’t play music. I do talk radio.”

I must have looked confused, because he said, “People call in and we debate issues.”

“I’m not an idiot,” I said in a snarky little voice. “I know what talk radio is.” Making a face, I added, “I grew up listening to Rush Limbaugh.”

“Unbelievable,” he said, and this time it was his turn to look confused, since I’m sure he hadn’t pegged me as the crazed, right-wing type.

“My parents kept talk radio on all night, every night when I was a kid,” I said to clarify.

“Wow. You must be all warped and shit.”

“Pretty much. I seriously doubt it was healthy to have Rush Limbaugh filtering into my subconscious every night. Like living under the Taliban’s rule. Or Communism.”

Bill laughed and then I laughed, suddenly happy to be around someone who could appreciate the travesties of my upbringing.

Out of the blue I was curious about his show. “Does anybody actually listen to you? I mean, it’s practically midnight.”

“You’d be surprised. I’ll sneak you on the air if you want.”

I knew I should probably be getting back to my apartment, but there was something oddly intriguing about Bill’s invitation. More to the point I figured, what the hell, I’m not doing anything anyway, and I’m not tired, so why not?

The campus radio station was in the basement under the drama department. We walked down the stairs and Bill unlocked the door to let us in. It smelled really bad, so much worse than urine, actually, that for a moment I longed to be back at the frat party.

“What stinks so bad?”

Bill grimaced. “Well, I’ve heard rumors about dead rats in the ducts.”

“Rats?” I was definitely going to be sick.

“That’s what they say. But I’ve figured out what it really is.”

“This better be good.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for his explanation.

He paused, clearly hoping to build up some suspense. “The pink and orange shag carpet hasn’t been vacuumed since it was installed in the 70’s.”

“That’s the best you can come up with?”

“And most of the DJs hate going all the way upstairs to take a crap.”

I planned on giving him a stern look that said
, “You’re talking to a lady, here, buster,”
but I just couldn’t pull it off. Instead I grinned. “You know, for being a moron who poured beer all over me an hour ago, you’re pretty funny.”

He looked absurdly pleased, so I added, “I’m still not going to sleep with you, though.”

Bill’s face fell a little, but he came right back at me with, “That’s what you think now, but just wait until you’ve heard me on the radio for an hour. You’ll be tearing off my clothes.”

I laughed again and spent a moment admiring the way he rolled with my sexual rejection of him. I’m sure he must have been hugely disappointed, but he carried on like a trooper. At least I hoped he was a little disappointed.

Because even though I didn’t want to get it on with Bill, I still wanted him to want me.

For my ego’s sake, and all.

We walked down the hall and around a corner until we were standing in front of the studio. A girl with purple hair and earrings in places that should never be pierced gave us the finger from behind the glass.

Bill blew her a kiss while I stood there with my mouth hanging open.

“What’s that all about?” I asked Bill, surprised as all hell. “I usually at least like to know someone’s name before they tell me to fuck off.”

He laughed. “That’s Chloe. She does the Underground Moods show from ten to midnight. Don’t let her greeting fool you. She’s actually pretty cool.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, throwing in a little eye rolling for effect. “I can tell we’re going to be best friends already. She’s just so welcoming. And charming. And delightfully coiffed. Which finishing school did you say she attended?”

Bill grinned. “She’s a little weird, but once you get past the hair and the piercings and the devil worship, she’s not bad.”

“Oh, well, if it’s just the devil.” Suddenly, I was dreading the next hour. I looked around in disgust. “Is everyone like her in this place?”

“Well, to be honest, if you go to any college radio station anywhere in the world you’ll find totally flipped out, weirdos who live in their own worlds.”

“How nice.”

“No, they’re all harmless. The only ones you’ve really got to watch out for, though, are ham radio devotees. Even I’m afraid of them.”

“You are?”

“Oh yeah. Bunch of psychos,” he said, almost gleefully. “If you ever need to write a paper on space aliens that live on earth, go to a ham radio convention.”

Chloe came out from behind the glass door right then. “My dad was into ham radio, dickhead.” And with that she walked up the stairs and out into the night, thank god.

“Prozac dealers could make a killing in this place,” I said to Bill as he ushered me into the closet that was masquerading as a radio station control room.

He hooted his appreciation for my dry wit. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

I said “Thanks” like it was no big deal, but secretly I was thrilled. Someone other than my two best friends actually thought I was funny.

Would wonders never cease?

“Have a seat.”

I surveyed the various knobs and screens that were crammed into the five foot by five foot space. The board was all black and silver with white buttons and blue nobs that I was just dying to push and twist. There were also several red squares that Bill was sliding up and down and I wondered what would happen if I turned all of them up to eleven.

“So, do you have to take a class to learn how to use this stuff?”

I sat on my hands so I wouldn’t do something naughty with them, like hit some red button that said, “Do not push me under any circumstances. Ever. Or else.” I didn’t see one on the board that said that, but I was pretty sure I would accidentally find it if I started poking around.

“Yeah. Actually you need a license to be on the radio. FCC rules.”

He put on some headphones and tossed me a pair as Chloe’s final song,
Heroin Dreams,
was winding down. Leaning into the microphone sticking out from the console, he pressed some white buttons which turned green.

“Hello and good evening to one and all. You’re listening to Doctor Bill on KUW Radio 91.1 FM. I’m here every Thursday night to cure what ails you. Give me a call and we’ll talk about your problems until you’re feeling nice, tight and all right.”

I was surprised by how phenomenal Bill’s voice sounded coming through the headphones. I felt like I was listening to a rock-star on stage at a stadium.

In an instant, I saw the power of radio:
 
A normal person could seem bigger, better. On radio, you could pretend you were a drool-inspiring, sex-object, and nobody would know the difference.

On radio, you could be in complete control, all of the time.

“Tonight, is your lucky night folks. I’ve got a gorgeous guest sitting here with me. I want to extend a warm welcome to...” He put his hand over the microphone and leaned over towards me, whispering, “What’s your last name?”

“Fulton,” I whispered back, feeling sort of ridiculous.

“To the bodacious and loquacious Georgia Fulton!”
 

Bill motioned for me to grab the other microphone that he had been setting up for me. Cautiously I said, “Hey there.” Then, feeling much bolder all of a sudden as I realized that my voice sounded pretty okay coming back at me through the headphones, I added, “And if you keep calling me bodacious, Bill, I may have to jump you after all.”

Bill’s laughter in the mic reverberated through my skull. “Cross your fingers for Doctor Bill, folks. I’ll tell you this much, right now. If this were a commercial station I’d be putting a cheesy pop song on right now so that Georgia and I could take care of some lovin’.”

I leaned back into the mic, saying, “He wishes,” and realized that I was, surprisingly, having fun. A lot of fun, as a matter of fact.

And that was when it hit me. When
I
was on the radio, I sounded amazing too. Kind of like Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
when she says, “You have some amazing gifts,” to Richard Gere as they kiss for the first time while they’re making love.

I felt unstoppable.

Bill laughed again. “It’s gonna be a crazy one tonight. I can just feel it in my bones.”

Right then the red light at the bottom of the telephone lit up. Bill punched it. “We’ve got our first caller for tonight on the line. Welcome to the Doctor Bill show. Who are you and what’s your question?”

“Hey Bill. My name’s Jake and my girlfriend just threatened to dump me ‘cause she says I love my dog more than her. I think she’s messed in the head.”

“Tell me more, Jake.”

“I got Haley, this totally cool Rottweiler puppy in Thousand Oaks last year. Anyway, he needed a lot of training and attention right from the start. You know how smart big dogs are, right?
 
So I decided to quit my job for a year just to be with him and train him and bring him up right. I used to live in downtown LA, but that’s no place to try to raise a puppy, you know what I’m saying? I mean, people aren’t spending enough time with their dogs and so the dogs just want to fight other dogs. So, I moved out to the country so that Haley could grow up in a less stressful environment.”