Best Laid Plans Ch. 10

Okay so this is the final one. It has been a pleasure writing about Callie and I know some of you liked her spunk. Thank you to anyone who read her story and thank you especially to Dave. I will continue trying to improve Callie because I think she could make it.

Please give feedback, it is always helpful!

Chapter 10: Showdown at the Big Bang

I woke up naked and undignified. It was starting to become a trend. For the past few months I had been trying to put the Callie Cronin moves on my boss, Nolan. Last night he took me out on what I thought was going to be a romantic candle lit dinner complete with fancy deserts and a three hour make out session. I had even waxed my down-there area to look like that of my favorite porn stars, Vanessa Hudgens. Tapas were served, sangria spilled onto my blouse, and then Nolan admitted that he was just taking me out to celebrate my winning some employee of the month award. Instead of making a fake plaque and posting an ill taken photo of me, he picked me up in a sexy hot red truck, took me out to dinner, and then, like the gentleman that he is, he took me home.

I had spent months fantasizing about Nolan in between the sheets. I had imagined his Johnson to be the perfect proportion of length times width plus head size that would equal a screaming fantasmagasm. But no Christmas for Callie. No roast beast in my Whoville. I wasn't the proud head held high Who that went outside to sing praise regardless that Christmas hadn't come. I was the one stomping my feet and pouting waiting for the Grinch to come to his senses and bring my goddamn presents back!

So like any rational self preserved modern girl, I sexted photos to my ex. Sexting, is a dangerous endeavor indeed. It creates this premise between two individuals, that individual A will willingly and without much effort have sexual intercourse with individual B. I made believe that there was some magical connection between us. He sprang over here knowing he was getting laid and maybe getting breakfast the next morning. I came to the realization that Jeff was entering my life over and over again not because I wanted him there but because I let him. And when you start rolling out the welcome mat, it's hard to not let people walk all over you. I told him I didn't want to do it anymore. What I left out was an apology for teasing him by withholding entrance to vagina world, the most magical place on earth second only to Disney World.

To top off my cherry pie of intolerable cruelties, my brother Joe was moving in today. My mother's attempt at keeping me under her watchful Irish Catholic eagle eye. What she didn't know was that Joe was more of a heathen than I was. Joe single handedly tipped eighty cows in one night by sneezing and I've heard the horror stories of what to expect when dating him. He dumped Hannah Chamberlain because her hips started knocking into things involuntarily. He said it was a sign that she was going to turn into a blimp. He burps, farts, flushes the toilet with the lid up (does he not know about the fecal matter factor) and makes the absolute worst Country Time Pink Lemonade. I felt the bile of self pity rise up and ran to the bathroom.

By three o'clock I hadn't heard from either Jeff or Kevin. When four o'clock came around and passed I started getting nervous. I had looked at my phone over a hundred times waiting for a text message or an email. Phone calls were a thing of the past with Jeff and Kevin was voted most likely to die from a slurpie overdose covered in comic books and holding a light saber. I was tempted to go into work early to keep my mind off of the lingering truth that I was dumped. Given that I wasn't technically in a relationship, getting dumped by friends is harder than being dumped by a boyfriend.

So begins the turnaround phase of the antagonist. I could make new friends, start a website that didn't involve cooters or hand-jobs, and become the power driven smart and sassy working woman with four inch stilettos and a closet full of Banana Republic. Or I could start going to church, get hooked up with a mama's boy from one of the other large dominate Irish families and pop out a few kids. I choose the former.

This meant cleaning out the second bedroom used to stash a broken futon and three totes of college books I couldn't sell back and was too lazy to put on e-bay. Becoming a self-driven power woman would involve finding a direction and sticking to it. Not sitting on my fat ass and waiting for fate to find me. This eventually lead to thinking about Nolan and his hold on my affections. Denial is a strong place. I liked harboring there while working my ass off waiting for some sign that Nolan would at least give me a raise, let alone marry me and whisk me off to France for a honeymoon. Last night only proved that he doesn't want to go with me to France. He doesn't want to date me. He doesn't want me. Realizing hopes and dreams were smothered, I bit back tears while pulling apart the broken plywood of the futon. If you're a woman or have ever been a woman, you know that crying while redecorating is a cleansing process. Women better than myself have torn down tapestries, repainted walls, and erected mausoleums in order to restore order to their lives. I was kicking a POS plywood futon to the curb. Order wasn't exactly restored, but it was a start.

Heading into work early meant running into the employees who didn't work your shift. I passed a cute blond who's ass cheeks were perfect hemispheres and I wanted to gag. Of course Nolan didn't want to bang me when he could have his pick of the ex hooter's waitresses who applied here daily. Some of which he hired. At least he bought me fifty dollar mozzarella sticks. The Big Bang was banging already and it was only six p.m. During the summer it's usually quiet for the college bars. A few brave souls out there stay to catch up on flunked classes and to endure the hot-as-balls heat and the next-to-nothing entertainment. Somebody upstairs must really hate me to defy the odds. There are only so many cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon one town can own.

Cody was manning the bar so there were about five girls ordering drinks. At the same time. All wearing tube tops and hot pants. Nolan was nowhere or he was stuck in the middle of the giant blob of dishwater heads. Nolan would be considered blond to a three year old and a strapping hunk to the anyone female with hormones. There wasn't time to take creatine and make bulging muscles in his schedule, but he did run and I've heard fairy tales about his six pack. Lean and handsome whoops roid rage any day. Cody is the loveable Goofus to Nolan's Gallant. He could probably tickle the pants off of ten women with all ten fingers while singing the lyrics to every Tim McGraw song; but he's a slacker when it comes to applying anything other than tanning bed lotion.

My partner in crime and fellow waitress, Penelope, was dolling out turquoise colored shots that the girls' rugby team downed their gullets then shouted, "ROUGH AND TOUGH WE KICK AND BITE!" Penelope faked a yawn and slipped out of the rugby pile up when she saw me. "Heard you had an interesting night," she said folding the tray under her arm. "It was an employee of the month 'thank you' dinner," was all I could choke out. He thought I was just being nice when I offered to substitute sleep, food, and sanity to help him run two businesses.

Penny gave me a weird look; she could smell fear and loss of dignity three miles away. The butterfly in my stomach flapped its little wings and I felt nauseous. Cody winked in my direction as a sorority girl looked over her shoulder and stink eyed me. Another butterfly flap. Nolan, who'd been speaking Spanglish with the kitchen staff, popped out from behind the double doors and waved his hand at me, saying his platonic "Hello." I felt like I needed to vomit. Throwing on an apron and slipping the essential bar tools into it; bottle opener, shot glass, and a vuvuzela for idiots. I whisked myself behind the bar before anyone could make a comment on my sappy demeanor.

Cody smiled big like he had something up his pant leg causing him an itch. Penny made some weird hand gesture involving her right hand. It almost looked as if she were auditioning for the Shake-weight infomercial. Hmmm. I ducked behind the counter and hyperventilated for a moment while I thought up an excuse to leave. I'm on my period only works once a month. Family emergency, more suitable now that Joe lives with me, but I promised myself I was going to Pretty-In-Pink this out. Come on Andi. Suck it up and go to prom.

"Are you alright?" Nolan's just-wanna-be-friends voice asked behind me. I stood up gripping a bottle of Grey Goose like I was going to smash it against the counter and bar fight him. I nodded and gripped the bottle tighter.

"Fine. Just think I might be coming down with something." Set it up, Callie. In ten minutes I'll pretend to have a fever. In twenty minutes I'll excuse myself to go "throw up" in the ladies room; and in a half an hour, I'll be faking Mono to hide my shame.

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything." Nolan patted me on the shoulder. I let my mouth do its smiling thing and watched him walk away. Penny slid in to take his place. Jesus, it was like the changing of the guard.

"Hey there, fat ho," she said knocking into my ribs with her elbow. My secret life was starting to bite me in the ass.

"Hello, white-trash," I countered. Penny is black for one. She is also an IIT graduate. Penny gave me a big smile, not even fazed by my poor attempt at irony, "I had no idea how nasty you were, but girl, it's cool."

My spidy senses tingled. Should I play the denial card or admit defeat and move to a different state.

Penny shook her head guessing at my obliviousness and snuck closer to whisper in my ear, "There were a few guys in here earlier. They had nudey photos of you on their phone and a video of you jerking off Cody."

Oh boy. Suddenly the paranoid feeling I had coming into work started making sense. If I had a dime for every time I thought someone saw my vagina, . . .

"I um. . ." denial, denial DENIAL, "Are you sure it was me?"

Penny roller skated her eyes over to Cody, "He's been bragging that he's a porn star for the past hour. Obnoxious, but if you think about it, it really is a suitable job for him."

I have made a lot of mistakes in my life. Regrets on the other hand are few and far between. I didn't regret choosing Cody as my co-anchor, but I did regret not threatening him within an inch of his life that if he spilled the beans I would chop off his willy wonka. Lorena Bobbit aside, this was serious. Reality came rushing back as shifty glances from the warm bodies in the bar stools turned my way.

One. Take a deep breath.

Two, figure out a way to kill Cody and hide his body in the freezer.

Three, take a Tums because this butterfly feeling might be the three slices of meat lovers greasy pizza I just wolfed down.

Four. I rushed past Penny and threw myself up against Cody about as fast as my little Irish body could go.

Now Cody is six foot three. He wears a size fourteen shoe. And I'm pretty sure he's made out of a higher quality steel than Superman. Little Japanese girls ask him for his autograph when they see him. My leprechaun ancestry didn't have a chance.

If a wee little Irish girl is traveling 8 miles per hour and she runs into a stationary, hunk of meat, Italian Stalion, how long before wee little idiot decides to call it quits?

Never!

We collided. No. I collided with a wall and probably broke several ribs doing it. Cody caught me and picked me up to throw me over his shoulder.

I got out, "You moron. I asked you not to tell anyone about it!"

He fired back, "Jeff was the one who sent the photos out and leaked that it was you on the internet."

"Firecracker that one!" I heard below, "Fine pair of tits too!"

I was grunting and croaking like an old man upset over someone stealing his newspaper. Penny was yelling at him to put me down. There were hoots and hollers for him to take me to the back and finish the job. He started spinning me in circles and the three slices of pizza came back up a little bit in my mouth.

Then Nolan showed up.

"PUT HER DOWN! NOW!"

I was back on the floor. My head was spinning. There were laughs and fingers pointed in my direction. My knight on a white horse had showed up defending my honor and for what? So I could tell him I was had a kinky dark side? I ran to the backroom and hurled in a trashcan. Poor trash can.

My knees were jacked up against my ribs. I felt my heart pitch a For Sale sign and head on up to my throat. The cooking staff snickered comments while frying the tatter tots. Not every day you see a girl run away from the big sexy fireman/bartender. Three more deep inhales later and I forgot how to exhale. Nolan shoved passed them, grabbed me by my shoulders and lifted me upwards. Was this a dream? He's touching me, he never touches me.

"Callie, are you alright?" Before I could even nod, he was onto the question I dreaded the most. "What was that all about?"

Honesty. Tell the truth, "I had a fling with Cody and. . ."

It's on the internet so everyone can see it. "He told everyone about it." Close enough. Nolan sighed and prepared to give me the "dad" talk. Oh no, I was going to feel guilty about this later. Stupid God-fearing religious class. "It's not entirely his fault," I stammered. I left Nolan feeling about as confused as I was when I found out girls leak blood every month. I could almost hear his internal "But. . . but,. . .but."

A lady never tells, but a testosteronie male with a huge ego spills the beans every time he gets a hand job. Nolan wasn't showing his poker cards yet. I couldn't tell if he was upset or not. I didn't "sleep" with Cody, in the biblical sense, but I'd seen his willy and that's all that counted in Nolan's eyes.

"Are you going to be able to suck it up and work?" Nolan turned on his business mode. Last night was the last time I was going to get taken out for a thank-you-dinner.

Outside at the bar, back in the seventh circle of hell, Cody was chumming with some co-eds who were feeling his big strong muscles that could pick up weak Irish girls and fling them casually over his shoulder. Penny was at her post, fending off the Japanese school girls.

It had almost turned to normal when I heard, "Wanna show me those fine tits you've got under the shirt? They're really pretty in pictures but you can't beat reality!"

My head swung around and I saw Jeff past the red-neck idiot asking me to strip.

Jeff. Jeff. Jeff. I'm going to murder Jeff! As if my body had forgotten all about what happens when it runs at full speed into a non-moving object, Jeff and I collided, this time I knocked him into a table. My fingers formed a fist before my brain even commanded them to do it. I got in one good punch before I was hauled off of him.

"What? Don't like your fifteen minutes of fame?" Jeff asked wiping off some snot from his nose.

"You son-of-a-bitch! We shared something private and you published it! Fuck you!"

"Private? Private? Oh Callie Cronin, what we shared was anything but private."

I kicked and tried to squirm away from the assholes holding me back. I wish I'd thought to rip out his tongue instead of punching him in the jaw. The Bang, on cue, went silent. The music even stopped playing. The tears were welling. Jeff threw me one sly look before announcing, "We have a resident porn star in our midst! Callie Cronin a.k.a. Mistress Kink can be viewed on MKink.com spread wide and displayed for all of your viewing pleasure. And believe me, she is a pleasure."

Phones were brought out, internets booted up, my videos downloaded. What would Winnie the Pooh do? I searched around for Nolan. Would he be out in the crowd bearing witness to my demise? He was next to the bar arms crossed, shaking his head slowly back and forth. Our eyes held for a matter of moments before the rush of disappointment streaked across his face. Okay, plan B.

There are three facts that needed assertion. One, that I am involved in a website where I take off my clothes and masturbate. Two, that I took off my clothes and photographed myself and sent them to my fuck buddy so that he would come over and fuck me. Three, that I wimped out and didn't fuck said fuck-buddy because I wanted a relationship with solid ground. Now that I'd whistled and Jiminy Cricket came barreling through my love life, it was time to face the music and try not to turn into an ass.

"SO WHAT!" I cried out, "I started the website so that I could make some extra money. Life sucks after college. I spent so much money on college and when my student loan bills came calling, I didn't know what to do. I spent five years working my ass off to not get hired by a single company. I didn't even get rejection letters. I'm not a whore. I'm not a slut. I haven't had sex in months." Okay. Maybe didn't need to add that, "I just don't mind showing how a girl gets off! And for those of you without a phone with Internet, i.e. myself, here's what you're missing out on!"

I ripped off my apron. I ripped out my ponytail holder. I started to pull off my shirt when Nolan grabbed me and pulled me into the backroom. We toppled into boxes and beer kegs. My shirt was halfway off the top of my head, covering my eyes and tits in perfect touch-me-Nolan position.

"What are you thinking!" Nolan screamed, tugging my shirt back down and running a hand through his perfect sandy blonde hair. I wanted to make a sweater out of it.

Because now was as good a time as any, "I liked you! I thought you were taking me out on a date last night but you just wanted to thank me?! I was so disappointed I called my ex-boyfriend who has nudey photos of me on his phone. When I couldn't seal the deal, he sent them to everyone. He screwed me over because I didn't want to screw him, and I'll be damned if he thinks he can rub my nose in it!"

Nolan crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. He was mentally thumbing through my cliff's notes. Then he asked, "Why?"

Why? Why what? I thought I just gave a decent explanation for everything. I ran out of answers.

Nolan sighed and rephrased, "Why would you start a website like that?"

"I don't know. It started when my friend Kevin saw me. . .what's the guy equivalent, jerking off. He offered me fifty bucks to watch. I let him because it wasn't hurting anyone. Then it got bigger and bigger until we had a website going, I'm making extra dough, paying back my loans on time and my rent." I never thought I'd have to explain myself to anyone, let alone Nolan. I'd given up on the idea of a proper relationship long ago. Having a crush on Nolan was like crushing on Justin Timberlake or Ringo Starr. It wasn't likely to become anything. But him taking me out to dinner to thank me for a job well done was pushing my buttons.

"We all make mistakes," he said brushing the palm of his hand my cheek.

This wasn't a mistake, I heard little Callie in the back of my head. I didn't make a mistake. I may have had one shitty ex-boyfriend, but I didn't make a mistake creating that website and I didn't make a mistake running it. I wasn't as embarrassed about my dirty laundry as I thought I would be and damn it, I DIDN'T MAKE A MISTAKE!

I quit the bar. Nolan was dumbfounded and I felt the pressure of a dozen pink elephants lift off my shoulders. Quitting meant I would not be dragging my sorry lovesick ass over to Drunken Donuts at three am every night I worked. Quitting meant I could have normal sleeping hours and move out of this god-forsaken county. Quitting meant I could grow up, and Joe would be stuck with the apartment. He'd find a lab rat to move in with him and they could both figure out how many slices of pizza and cans of mountain dew it took to screw in a light bulb. Best of all, quitting meant I could start all over.