Chapter Seven: Don't Get Mad, Get Even

I smiled and shrugged.

“I get the feeling I’m not anything like the guys you typically date. I figure it will take maybe a half a dozen ‘first meetings’ before I make any kind of good impression.”

“I don’t ‘typically’ date anyone, so you needn’t be concerned with that. You’re not like the other physics majors I know, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

I listened to Calla talk. I heard what she was saying. But, God forgive me, I heard Matt translating in my head. Years of association, and he had filled my head with his ideas about what women were really saying. Calla’s protestations about a lack of dating would mean one thing to Matt the Pimp.

“I’m single and available, and bored with the guys I know.”

“So you wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know a lawyer?” I smiled, “We’re culturally acceptable on a level with rats.”

“Like I said, I don’t date. But some of my best friends in the lab are rats, so I don’t have a problem with getting to know you.” Calla smiled again.

Matt’s translation: “I may be saying I’m not dating, but I’m not really saying ‘no’ either. Try harder, dummy!”

“How are you friends with rats?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Have residences at universities deteriorated since I was a student?”

“Not at all, I just spend time in a biology lab as a research assistant.”

“I thought you were in physics?”

“For my doctorate, sure. But I had a double major as an undergraduate, and one of my old professors got me the job with a colleague of his. Besides, we use rats in some of the physics labs too. Research is research, and I’m good at it.”

I smiled. “You should be a lawyer. I’m up to my eyeballs in paperwork sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t know if my rat friends would have much to do with me if I became a lawyer. They have high standards.”

A joke. In Matt’s world that would translate as Now we’re getting somewhere, keep trying.

Her grin and tone forced me to laugh. I couldn’t help adoring this girl.

“So you like the photo?” She asked.

“I think it’s lovely.”

“My friend Bianca took it. She’s quite talented.”

“Do you know the girl in the picture? I can’t see her face, but she seems so melancholy.”

“Melancholy? My, your expensive law school professors must be proud.”

“It just seems like the right word.” I shrugged.

“I’m teasing. That’s me.”

“In the picture? Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. I was visiting Bianca early this summer at her parents’ cottage, and she took that while I was sitting on the swing, thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?”

She shrugged herself. “I don’t know. That was months ago.”

Calla stepped to the next picture, and I had no choice but to accompany her.

“Are you much into art?”

“Well, I’m trying to support my friend. She’s very talented, in my opinion.” Calla looked around at the rest of the student work. “I can’t say that anything else really catches my eye. But then, I’m no expert.”

Matt the Pimp caught my eye from behind Calla, where he was chatting with a few students. He gestured like he was about to come over. I gave a brief shake of my head, “no,” and tried to telepathically scream for him not to approach.

Matt excused himself from the young ladies and came right over. Goddamn telepathy. Why do you only work in movies and comic books?

Calla turned to the new presence at her elbow. While she looked away, I waved my hands at Matt, my eyes wide. “Nooo” I mouthed.

He said it anyway. “So, are you going to introduce me to this crazy chick?”

I ran my hand over my face. Calla put one hand on her hip and the other held out her glass, forcing Matt back a step.

“Excuse me?”

Matt caught my eye. “I mean, the chick that’s making my friend so crazy.”

I waved my hands more fervently. That wasn’t helping either, I didn’t want him advertising how much I liked Calla.

“Chick? Does anyone talk like that?” Calla looked at me. I immediately dropped my hands to my sides.

“You’ll have to forgive my friend, Matthew. He was raised by wolves and has no manners.” Matt raised an eyebrow at me and mouthed the word “hot” behind Calla’s back. I glared at him.

“Is he the one who teaches you the bad pick-up lines?” Calla glanced at Matt.

“Shut up,” I mouthed to him. That worked as well as telepathy.

“I teach him the good ones. Digger just screws them up. He’s known for tripping over his own tongue.” Matt smiled, “I’ve gotten us off to a bad start. Please forgive me. I’m Matthew Pinard, my friends call me ‘Matt.’ I hope, if you’re going to be friends with Digger, that we can get along.”

Damn the bastard and his silver tongue. Calla softened a little.

“Just don’t let it happen again,” she said. She smiled at me. “So you’re a gentleman despite bad company?”

“I think I’m only a gentleman by comparison. Find a real one, and I probably look like a dumb schmuck,” I joked, recovering my wits.

“The way pretty girls highlight themselves by having fat friends.” Matt nodded sagely. My eyes widened, promising revenge. He blinked. “I think I’m going to go now.”

Matt the Pimp with the Big Mouth wandered back through the crowd. Calla laughed as he went and then turned back to me.

“He’s your friend?”

“Since we were small. I kind of can’t get rid of him.”

“He’s charming.”

“Really?”

“In the way that the racism in Huckleberry Finn is charming.”

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