It was a few minutes past midnight. My cell phone was ringing in the kitchen which is where I charge it. Fuck. If I have to come into the office right now, I might go postal. I propelled myself off my bed and into my blue furry slippers. The name Bill popped up.
“Hi Baby,” I answered. “What’s up?”
“I want to come over. I want to see you.”
“Ummm, I’m not your booty call.”
“I’m right outside. Tell me again which one is your buzzer?”
“I don’t know, Bill. I don’t buzz my own buzzer.”
“Aww, honey, please. I’m drunk. Which one???”
I walked over to my window. I could see him standing outside peering at the different buzzers.
“Gawwd. I’m #1 or A…whichever buzzer that one is. Jeez. I so don’t even want you here!”
My buzzer rang. I buzzed him up. I let him in.
“Look, I am not your booty call, alright? I just feel sorry for you because you’re a big fat, red-faced frat boy who might’ve killed some poor petite asian girl on the street. I’m just looking out for my peeps.”
“Ok, honey. Are you done lecturing me? Can I brush my teeth now?” I dismissed him with my hand.
He climbed into bed with an air of fresh breath and blood-shot eyes. “Ugh, your eyes are all red. You look like an albino. And what’s up with the acne? You really should see a dermatologist.”
“I have one. But she’s mad at me because I banged her nurse.”
I laughed. “My good friend is a dermatologist. You should see her. Really, you need to do something about that awful face of yours.”
There’s no doubt that Bill and I got along well. I felt comfortable with him…especially now that I knew there was no future for us. “What are you doing?” He breathed with an undercurrent of Colgate regular flavor.
“I told you I’m taking a writing class. I’m working on my pitch. Want to hear it?”
“Of course, honey.” I was surprised. He propped himself up and concentrated while I cleared my throat.
A few sentences in, he stopped me. “Wait, honey, do you want to get published? Where do you want to get published? I’ll get you into whatever magazine you want. 7×7, San Francisco magazine? You name it.”
I was visibly perplexed.
“Do you know how much money I spend on advertising? I know exactly who to send your writing to. Leave it up to me.”
I hadn’t given it consideration, but knew he was right. His company had pages and pages of glossies in all the city magazines. But my conscience got the better of me. I had to do this just like everyone else. Starting from the bottom. My writing would speak for itself.
“Will you just listen?”
He scooched himself back up and nodded ok. He went back to paying attention.
I couldn’t believe it, but after I had finished, he gave me excellent feedback. I felt like I was working with my best friend. “I really like how you start off. It’s catchy, but then it falls apart from there. As a guy, I want to know what’s in it for me…but it’s like your writing is only for women. Don’t you want your writing to appeal to men and women?” He continued with examples that were more appropriate. He rounded out his feedback with one more piece of advice. “And also, honey, you were reading so fast. I could barely understand it towards the end. Take it slow. Maybe that’s why I only liked the first part and not the rest of it, you know?”
I was taken aback. I hadn’t expected he would pay attention. I hadn’t expected to hear such useful advice.
After the tutoring session, he launched into attack. “Ok, my turn,” he whispered as he locked his arms around me.
I allowed him one long kiss before he passed out from drunkenness and me from sleep-deprivation.