A.N.: Yay! I finally updated! Get over your shock and cheer with me, people!

Seriously, though, I’ve had to pull six all-nighters in the past two weeks just to get through my finals, and obviously anything not related to school just wasn’t a priority. Still, I apologize for going AWOL on everybody.

And I realize that there isn’t quite as much Smirky in this chapter as there have been in the last few. There’ll be plenty of Christian in the next chapter, I promise. Besides, if he showed up all the time, I think we’d get sick of him. Or at least Ria would, and since she’s so violent, he probably wouldn’t survive it.

Don’t forget to review! My goal is to hit a hundred, and I’ve decided that the hundredth reviewer will get a special mention in the next chapter. Not much of a prize, maybe, but better than nothing, right?

CHAPTER SEVEN: Sniffing Glue

I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to tell Mia about my latest—and, if I had my way, last—encounter with Smirky. I knew she’d just get on my case and claim I was cheating on Rick again, and then I’d have to vomit on principle. So much safer to just block the whole incident from my mind and pretend it had never happened.

Though I’m still thinking of moving to Florida, because I’m honestly becoming just a little creeped out by Smirky. I mean, seriously, in the short time that I’ve known him, he’s already tried to steal from me, has shown up on my date and invaded my workplace, and then, to top it all off, somehow learned and memorized my apartment address. Maybe it was all coincidence, but am I the only one seeing the stalker-like behavior here?

As it turned out, though, I didn’t have to say anything, because Angela did it for me. She called only a few hours after Smirky brought me home, and though I mercifully slept through that conversation, whatever she said sent Mia storming into my bedroom at a truly ungodly hour.

Okay, so it was almost noon. Details, details…and no matter how late it was, Mia could have been a little more gentle about waking me up, even if she was mad. The water really wasn’t necessary.

At least she didn’t put ice cubes in it this time.

Or use toilet water, because she’s done that before, too…why else would I have started using the little tablets that turn the toilet water blue? They’re tacky, but at least this way I know when Mia’s being more vindictive than usual.

I pushed a strand of wet brown hair out of my eyes as I glared up at Mia, who was still standing by my bed, a very large and conspicuously empty glass in her hand. “Did you really have to do that?”

She didn’t bother to answer what wasn’t quite a rhetorical question. “Christian Calloway, Ria?” she demanded crossly instead.

I just stared at her. My brain doesn’t work before noon, and I’m rarely up to Mia anyway. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, looking almost offended by my stupidity. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re dating someone? I wouldn’t have pushed Rick on you if I’d known you were actually interested in somebody else, but how can you not tell me anyway? I’m your best friend!”

Amazing. She hadn’t stopped to breathe even once through the whole rant, and she’d been speaking so quickly that if I hadn’t been so well-versed in Mia-talk, I wouldn’t have been able to understand a word she’d said.

Not that I understood her anyway. “Are you on crack?”

Mia only rolled her eyes again. “Angela called this morning,” she impatiently informed me. “She told me all about you and the man you were flirting with last night.” Her glare intensified. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded again.

Again…what? “What are you talking about? And since when does Angela ever call us at home, anyway?”

I wonder if crazy is catching? If so, I need to stay far, far away from Mia.

Eh. I’m already exposed. And I doubt that I can escape the crazy, anyway. My siblings are proof that it’s in the genes.

Mia crossed her arms over her chest, looking annoyingly sane. “There’s a meeting later today, and she wants us both to come. I don’t know what it’s about. And I’m talking about the Calloway guy.”

I blinked, too tired even to feel frustration, though I wondered if I needed to start hiding the glue. Mia was obviously sniffing something. “Who?” Maybe if I ask the question a few more times, she’ll finally deign to answer.

Mia was still glaring at me, but she must have decided that my confusion was genuine—which, you know, it was—because she sighed. “Christian Calloway,” she clarified, some of the anger leaving her face. “Angela said you two were all over each other last night.”

I blinked. I was all over someone last night? Was I sober? I’m not exactly the flirty type, so either I was drunk—in which case I’d still be more likely to punch a guy than make eyes at him—or Angela is also sniffing glue.

That actually would explain a lot.

Well, not her voice, because nothing on God’s green earth can explain that.

I thought back to the night before, then winced as I finally realized who Angela and now Mia thought I’d been chasing.

She’s talking about Smirky…er, Christian. I’d already forgotten his real name, but Mia’s ranting was finally starting to make sense.

As much as it ever did, anyway.

Still…flirting with Smirky? Ew. Not enough alcohol in the world for that! I’d rather kiss a rabid lemming.

“Angela is delusional,” I retorted, finally pushing myself up from my soggy bed. How could so much water come from one glass, anyway? “I barely know the guy, and frankly, what I have seen isn’t exactly endearing. I’ve never wanted to kick someone so badly in my entire life, and how in the world can you call that flirting?”

My voice had risen just a little during my rant, because even thinking about Smirky made me want to commit murder, but when I noticed how Mia was staring at me, I swallowed the rest of my words. Mia already thinks I’m insane and violent, but there just wasn’t any point in giving her more proof, was there?

I don’t think Mia needed it anyway. She was still staring at me, and from the look on her face, I’d apparently just sprouted a second head. “So you do know him, then?”

I groaned. “Christian is Smirky from Starbucks,” I admitted, knowing that would be all the explanation required. “I keep running into him, but it’s not because I want to. He’s just…like a fungus, really. He won’t go away, and he keeps popping up everywhere.” I paused, considered my own words, then added, “And I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me.”

Mia didn’t answer. She only continued staring at me for a moment, then abruptly spun and left the room. I didn’t bother to follow, but as I bent my head and began to ring the water—the blessedly clear water—from my hair, I called out, “Where are you going?”

Her voice floated back to me from the hallway outside my bedroom. “I’m hiding the glue.”

Mia was still a little mad as we climbed into her car and headed to Angela’s place, but that didn’t stop her from pressing for details. I’d already told her about my encounters with Smirky, but now I had to go over them again, this time focusing on every little thing he or I had said, everything he’d done, how he’d looked.

Especially how he looked. “Is he really as gorgeous as Angela claims?”

I grunted, wondering why she was getting so hyped up over Smirky. He was just some guy, and not even a particularly likeable one. What was the big deal?

It probably had something to do with Rick. Mia has been trying to marry me off to that boy ever since we were old enough to know what marriage was, and the only time she ever really gets angry with me is when she believes I’m wasting her efforts. Still, I’m starting to think that if Rick weren’t around, she’d be pushing me on Smirky right about now. Why else would she be asking so many questions about him?

Unless she wants him for herself. Angela clearly does, so apparently people who sniff glue find him attractive.

I wonder if Smirky realizes that being high is a prerequisite for liking him? Maybe he’s just so used to dating airheads—the woman from the restaurant was certainly one, because only an I.Q. in the single digits could excuse those puke-colored shoes of hers—that he doesn’t expect his women to have functioning brains anyway.

Whatever. I’ve just realized that I’m thinking about the man a little too much, especially considering the fact that I can’t stand him.

I took a deep breath. This is me letting it all go. This is me clearing my mind of—

I blinked as Mia waved a hand in my face. “Hello, earth to Riiaaaa….”

So I have the attention span of a goldfish. Sue me. “What?”

She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Is he pretty?”

My thoughts flashed back to Smirky’s face—so much for clearing my mind—and I had to concede that to other girls, he probably was. Piercing grey eyes, thick black hair, perfect jaw and G.Q. worthy face...yes, he’s pretty. Too bad he’s such a jerk that it doesn’t matter in the slightest. “If you’re into arrogant schmucks, sure.”

Mia’s voice was a little too sly. “Angela thinks you are.”

Oh, by all that is holy, was Mia teasing me? About Smirky? I’m officially committing suicide.

“We’ve already established the fact that Angela is either insane or going through a mid-life crisis. Her opinion doesn’t count.”

Mia’s only reply was another sly look.

Gah.

Angela practically dragged us into her apartment the second we rang the bell, and while she seemed genuinely excited to see us, she also sounded like she’d been sucking on helium again. Even on her good days, Angela’s voice tends to hit registers only the dogs can hear, but when she’s excited…my ears were already hurting. I was not looking forward to this meeting.

My boss ushered Mia and I into her living room, wedging us down onto the couch next to two of the other kitchen workers. More employees were scattered around the now-crowded room, their expressions just as baffled as I’m sure mine was. It just wasn’t like Angela to call us over like this, and we were all wondering what she’d done this time.

We waited until one or two others had arrived—fortunately, they chose to sit on the floor, because I already felt like a sardine—and then Angela suddenly clapped her hands in what could only be described as pure glee. “I’m so glad you could come!” she began, smiling at us as if we’d had a choice…and as if her voice wasn’t causing us to hemorrhage from our ears. “I have wonderful news!”

Mia and I exchanged a worried glance. The last time Angela had been this excited, we’d somehow ended up cleaning trash from a highway alongside a chain gang. I’m still not sure how that came about, but hopefully whatever was making Angela so happy this time wouldn’t involve painfully bright orange life jackets and litter. Or, you know, convicts.

Angela was still beaming at us, and after only another moment, one of the newer girls finally cracked. “What’s your news, Angela?”

Pfft. Weakling. Angela’s smile was a bit on the creepy side, but the rest of us weren’t caving under torture, were we?

Our boss smiled benevolently at the girl. “I’m retiring,” she announced, still in that overjoyed tone.

I think Angela’s voice must have finally ruptured my eardrums, because there’s no way I heard that correctly. “You’re doing what?” I demanded incredulously. “Why?”

I was flummoxed, and one glance at Mia’s face told me that she was feeling the same way. We’d been working for Angela for years. She wasn’t allowed to retire!

Her smile only widened. “Because I can, obviously. I’m selling the business.”

Mia still looked just as shocked as I felt. “To who?”

Angela’s smile didn’t falter in the slightest. “To Maria Calloway, the woman from the banquet last night.”

Huh. Honestly didn’t see that one coming. Probably should have, but didn’t.

Aw, booger. Does this mean I’ll have to deal with Mrs. Satan again? Or worse, her devil spawn? Maybe, if I’m lucky, it’ll just be Lucifer himself. I’d much rather take on the devil than his smirking son or sneering wife.

And what does she want with a catering company, anyway? It’s not like that kind of woman would eat anything but babies and puppies, and while our business is pretty famous in this area, I’m sure there are easier ways to make money. Then again, judging by the clothes she was wearing last night, money obviously isn’t an issue for her...maybe she’s just bored with stealing souls and thought ruining the lives of a few dozen caterers would be more fulfilling?

Angela was still speaking, and I forced myself to listen. “…bring in some of her own people, but she’s promised that all of you will keep your jobs, so you don’t have to worry.”

I pictured Mrs. Satan’s face, and then rolled my eyes. I hope Angela got that last part in writing, because otherwise we’re all going to be fired the second my boss leaves.

Then again, if I’m going to be working with Mrs. Satan, I don’t think I want to keep my job, anyway.

I frowned as the girl next to me suddenly stood and walked out of the room, at first thinking that she was protesting—as I wanted to—and then realizing that the meeting must be over. Really, really need to stop zoning out all the time.

Mia also stood, and I quickly pushed myself to my feet. “What did I miss?” I whispered in a voice low enough that Angela wouldn’t hear.

My best friend was too used to me to question my lack of attention. She only sighed, then replied in an equally quiet voice, “We have a month before Angela turns everything over to this Calloway woman.” She glanced over at Angela, who was speaking with one of the waiters, and then looked back to me. “Angela said she was at the banquet last night. Did you meet her?”

I nodded absently, but didn’t bother to go into any sort of detail. I was too busy thinking about what Mia had said.

A month? I only have a month to find another job? I sighed and wondered if the bookstore was hiring.

Mia and I should have gone straight home after Angela’s meeting, but we were both avoiding a paper due Monday, and of course the only sensible thing would be to put the schoolwork off a little longer and catch a movie instead. We knew we’d pay for it later, but we’ve always been firm believers in procrastination, so that hardly mattered.

Then again, if I’d known that Mia would be inviting Rick, I might have chosen my paper. She must have sent Skeevy a text, because by the time we’d driven to the theater and then circled the lot a few times in search of a parking space, he’d somehow already purchased the tickets and was waiting for us in front of the cinema.

I scowled at Mia as she dragged me towards her brother, perfectly aware that she was matchmaking again, but she only grinned at me. “Free movie,” she whispered.

Pfft. As if that’s enough incentive!

…okay, it really is. I’m poor, and I’ll take any freebie I can get.

I sighed anyway. “Fine,” I muttered in return, “but if you ditch me again, I’ll maim you.”

If Rick was still upset over the debacle at the restaurant, he didn’t show it. The smile he turned on me was as welcoming as ever, though I noticed that he didn’t try to hug me as he usually would have. I felt the smallest twinge of guilt over that, but then buried it under the hope that maybe, after all this time, he finally understood that I just wasn’t interested.

And yes, I do get that I’m being rather horrible to Rick, but is it really my fault that the boy just won’t take a hint? I’ve been telling him for years that I can’t see him in a romantic light, and I’m too tired to be nice about it anymore. Cruel or not, he’s just going to have to accept that we don’t have a future as a couple.

And…gross. I feel like vomiting again, because the idea of doing couple things with Rick…ew.

Of course, getting Rick to leave me alone would be so much easier if Mia weren’t always throwing us together. She’s lucky I’m so patient and understanding and—

“…do this often? I’ve never seen her look so…so…”

“Vacant? And yes, she does. All the time, actually.”

I blinked, suddenly realizing that Mia and Rick were staring at me, Rick with concern, Mia with a sort of fond irritation.

Aw, dang it. I zoned out again. I wonder if I have ADD? It would explain the—

“You don’t have ADD,” Mia suddenly told me, irritation lost under obvious amusement.

I scowled, desperately hoping Mia hadn’t suddenly developed telepathy. “I wasn’t thinking that I do,” I retorted, though of course I had been.

And from her expression, my best friend knew it. Still, she only grinned, then abruptly reached out and condescendingly patted me on the head. “Sure you weren’t.”

Um, yeah, not a dog, thanks. I batted her hand away. “Come on,” I muttered. “We’re going to miss the movie.”

We made it all the way to the concession stand before Mia ditched us again. I’d broken down enough to ask Rick about the movie he’d chosen for us, and of course Mia, being the crafty, evil creature that she is, used my distraction to get away.

It was my own fault, I suppose. I wasn’t in the mood for the romantic comedy Rick had oh-so-shockingly chosen—anything connecting Rick and romance was bound to give me hives—and I’d been trying to talk him into seeing the newest hack-and-slash flick instead. I wasn’t big on scary movies, but not even Rick would try anything while some idiot was getting chopped to bits on the screen in front of us, right?

Plus, if Rick did do something skeevy and I was forced to kill him, I’d just have to time it so the movie would cover up the sound of his screaming. Kind of a win-win, wasn’t it?

Of course, Rick just had to throw a wrench in my plans to murder him by absolutely refusing to see the movie at all. He claimed that gore simply wasn’t his thing, but I wasn’t fooled. He was still Rick, even if he’d kept his distance earlier, and hitting on me had become a habit he obviously couldn’t break. He’d probably been hoping a romantic movie would make me realize that I’ve been in love with him since we were children and that I should accept the inevitable and just throw myself into his loving embrace.

…because that was really going to happen. After all, why wouldn’t an hour and a half of cheesy, predictable romance make me forget a decade’s worth of attempted gropes and general skeeviness? Or, you know, the fact that dating him would be only slightly less sick and wrong than dating one of my own brothers?

I groaned as I glanced to the empty space beside me and realized Mia was gone, though I was more irritated than surprised. I turned, scanned the lobby for my errant friend I knew would be long gone. “She’s done it again,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’d think she’d come up with something new.”

Rick had begun studying the candy menu above the concession stand, but he must have heard my complaint, because he instantly glanced over at me. “Done wh—?” He bit off his own words as he noticed the rather distinct lack of Mia, then sighed. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

He seemed almost irritated, which kind of surprised me. Rick was usually perfectly willing to go along with Mia’s plotting, but maybe he was finally realizing how badly they tended to backfire. Still, I didn’t bother to nod. He knew his sister as well as I did, and it just wasn’t necessary.

“Think she’ll come back?”

I shook my head. Mia was long gone. Heck, she was probably already at home, coming up with blackmail to keep me from maiming her as I’d threatened.

Not that it’s going to save her this time, because seriously. She did it again!

And speaking of reasons for killing her…

What to do? I’d rather bite off my own tongue than spend time with Rick in a darkened room, but not even I would be so mean as to bail on him. I’m not that bad even on my worst days.

Dang it. I’d put off my paper for a few hours’ of relaxation with my best friend, and instead I get to fend off her brother’s wandering hands. Whoopee.

Though to be fair, I will admit that he hasn’t been quite so bad lately with the groping. That year in New York was obviously good for him, because he’s only molested me once since he came home. It used to be a daily thing, and I suppose I should be grateful that there’s been any progress at all, right?

Still, if he lays a hand on me, I will murder him.

Venus Smurf’s Jokes of the Day:

Courtesy of Lethargiclove:

Men think that women like guys who are dangerous. As a result, guys will often smoke cigarettes, drink too much, and ride a motorcycle without a helmet. The reality? Women don't like guys who are dangerous. Women want us to think that because women are trying to kill us. (V.S.: Hee.)

Courtesy of number564182:

10 dollars for the knife you wanna throw at Smirky.
67 dollars for that hideous outfit Smirky’s mom is wearing.
For every time Ria acts crazy…priceless.
And for all the normal people, there’s Master Card.

(V.S.: Ha! I think I love you, number564182!)

Courtesy of woodstock1969:

How to annoy people...

...in an elevator

1. Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers that this is your “personal space.”

2. Scribble furiously on a notepad while looking at each passenger. When they try to look, hide the pad.

3. Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce “You’re one of THEM!” and move to the far corner of the elevator.

4. Walk on with a cooler that says “human head” on the side.

...in the office:

1. Put decaf in the coffeemaker for 3 weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.

2. Subscribe your coworkers to those free trade journals. Give them wacky middle names. Example: Bobby “Pud” McNeel.

...on an airplane:

1. Lead a revolt against the first class passengers.

2. No matter what the meal choices are, demand rice-a-roni.

...in a mall:

1. Dial 900 numbers from demonstration phones in Radio Shack.

2. Buy a jawbreaker from the candy store. Return fifteen minutes later, fish it out of your mouth, and demand to know why it hasn’t turned blue yet.

3. With a friend, speak in a different language (or make up your own) and make a seen, pointing at signs and people as if they were something shiny and new that you've never seen before. Pretend you're a tourist.

...at school:

1. Draw obscure connections between totally unrelated things. For example, claim that abnormal amounts of neutrino activity in Germany caused Hitler to invade France, or that the Roman empire collapsed because of a shortage of qualified botanists.

2. End the paper with "This paper will self-destruct in 10 seconds".

3. Refer to all prominant historical figures by nicknames. For example, call George Washington "Georgie". Call Ben Franklin "Sparky".

4. Support your thesis with quotes from your VCR manual.

5. Write your psychology paper on possible genetic anomalies that might cause a person to prefer anchovies.

Courtesy of Venus Smurf:

Advantages Of Being A Woman: (Why it's better to be a Woman!)

1. We got off the Titanic first.

2. We get to flirt with systems support men who always return our calls, and are nice to us when we blow up our computers.

3. Our boyfriend's clothes make us look elfin & gorgeous. Guys look like complete idiots in ours.

4. We can be groupies. Male groupies are stalkers.

5. We can cry and get off speeding fines.

6. We've never lusted after a cartoon character or the central female figure in a computer game.

7. Taxis stop for us.

8. Men die earlier, so we get to cash in on the life insurance.

9. We don't look like a frog in a blender when dancing.

10. Free drinks, Free dinners, Free movies ... (you get the point).

11. We can hug our friends without wondering if she thinks we're gay.

12. We can hug our friends without wondering if WE'RE gay.

13. New lipstick gives us a whole new lease on life.

14. Its possible to live our whole lives without ever taking a group shower.

15. We don't have to fart to amuse ourselves.

16. If we forget to shave, no one has to know.

17. We can congratulate our team-mate without ever touching her butt.

18. If we have a zit, we know how to conceal it.

19. We never have to reach down every so often to make sure our privates are still there.

20. If we're dumb, some people will find it cute.

21. We don't have to memorize Caddyshack or Fletch to fit in.

22. We have the ability to dress ourselves.

23. We can talk to people of the opposite sex without having to picture them naked.

24. If we marry someone 20 years younger, we're aware that we look like an idiot.

25. Our friends won't think we're weird if we ask whether there's spinach in our teeth.

26. There are times when chocolate really can solve all your problems.

27. We'll never regret piercing our ears.

28. We can fully assess a person just by looking at their shoes.

29. We know which glass was ours by the lipstick mark.

30. We have enough sense to realize that the easiest way to get out of being lost is to ask for directions.

Advantages of Being a Man

Your butt is never a factor in a job interview.

Your last name stays put.

The garage is all yours.

Wedding plans take care of themselves.

Chocolate is just another snack.

You can be president.

Foreplay is optional.

Car mechanics tell you the truth.

You don't give a rat's rear if someone notices your new haircut.

The world is your urinal.

You never have to drive to another gas station because this one's just too icky.

Same work ... more pay.

Wrinkles add character.

You don't have to leave the room to make emergency crotch adjustments.

Wedding Dress 2000 dollars; Tux rental 100 dollars.

If you retain water, it's in a canteen.

People never glance at your chest when you're talking to them.

The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.

New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.

One mood, ALL the dang time.

Phone Conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.

A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.

You can open all your own jars.

Dry cleaners and hair cutters don't rob you blind.

You can go to a public toilet without a support group.

You can leave the motel bed unmade.

You can kill your own food.

If someone forgets to invite you to something, he or she can still be your friend.

Your underwear is 10 dollars for a three-pack.

If you are 34 and single, nobody notices.

Everything on your face stays its original color.

Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.

You can quietly watch a game with your buddy for hours without ever thinking: "He must be mad at me."

You can drop by to see a friend without having to bring a little gift.

If another guy shows up at the party in the same outfit, you just might become lifelong friends.

You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.

You almost never have strap problems in public.

You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.

The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.

You don't have to shave below your neck.

Your belly usually hides your big hips.

One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color, all seasons.

You can "do" your nails with a pocketknife.

Christmas shopping can be accomplished for 25 relatives, on December 24th, in 45 minutes.