1989: Once Bitten, Twice Shy: Love in the '80s: A New Adult Mix

by Martin, Kelly

  “Oh my God! It’s Chad Harris!” some girl squeals so loud I think the dogs three counties over have busted eardrums. Poor dogs.

  Chad Harris… my Chad Harris… flinches a little, but doesn’t take his eyes off me. He has his hand held down to help me up, and here I am looking up at him like a moron. “I was looking where I was going. I’m not sure you were. You looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  “Did you notice that before or after you knocked me down?” I have yet to take his hand. I have yet to figure out what he’s doing here.

  “Before. I noticed your big brown eyes after I knocked you down.”

  Smooth, dude. Real smooth.

  “Chad!” Another girl squeals next to the first girl and I cringe. There will be a mob around her before long if these two idiots don’t keep squealing.

  Really, what has this guy done to deserve such tomfoolery? He’s not an actor. Not a singer. Not an anything really. He’s cute and his father is famous. That’s it. He’s tabloid fodder, a guy who makes money from his pretty face. I don’t see a future in that. In twenty years, I don’t think no-talent, sex symbol people will make money solely based on their appearance and how many gossip columns they are in. I mean, what kind of a world is that?

  While I’m thinking all this, Chad leaves me alone and goes over to the girls. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I do notice that they finally stop yelling. One girl is crying. For the love of…

  The rain is getting harder, but that doesn’t stop Chad from signing one girl’s shirt and the other girl’s bra strap. I sit and gawk. I should probably get up.

  He waves at them when they run away giggling. Yup, he totally made their lives. I have to smile, then I wipe it off my face. Sure, I was going to meet him at the coffee shop, but he’s made it way easier on me. He’s my mark and there is no amount of helping the celebrity-needy can change the task at hand.

  He comes back and offers his hand to me. Oh yeah, I’ve forgotten I’m sitting on the sidewalk.

  My butt hasn’t forgotten it, though. It hurt. I know it’ll bruise. That’ll be fun.

  I take his hand and try to stand. When I put all my weight on my right leg, though, my ankle screams at me to stop. I must have twisted it on the way down. Of all the indignity. “Hey, take it easy.” He holds me up while I balance on my left leg.

  Please don’t let my foot be hurt. I can’t afford any sort of hindrance.

  “I’m fine,” I say, totally ignoring my aching ankle and my bruised butt. I wonder which one will be bluer.

  “You aren’t fine.”

  Thanks, Captain Obvious. “You’re right. I would be better off if you hadn’t run into me.”

  “I imagine you would be.” He puts my arm his shoulder. He’s so tall I have to stand on my toes on my good leg. That’s easy. “Where were you going?”

  Damn freak rainstorm making my hair stick to my eyes. “Coffee shop on Second.”

  “That a fact? I just came from there. I’m a regular, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there.”

  He wouldn’t have, would he? “Never been before. A friend suggested it.”

  “A friend, huh? What’s her name?”

  “Who said it was a her?”

  “Fair enough. Do you want to go there or do you want me to take you to your apartment?”

  That’s a good question. I really want to go back to my dorm and lick my wounds. Actually, I’d rather go home to my Dad’s house and soak my weary bones in the bathtub. Warm salt water, take me away.

  As it is, I need Dana’s money and it would be stupid for me to turn this opportunity down, no matter how bad I feel.

  “The coffee shop is okay.”

  “You sure?”

  I nod, already wishing I hadn’t. How am I going to sit in a set when my bottom is more than likely the color of a Smurf?

  “Ok, let’s get a cab, alright?”

  He’s making my job easy on me. “Alright.” I hobble right along beside him, totally forgetting my backpack until some nice lady runs up and gives it back to me. She never meets my eyes, but by golly she gives Chad an eye full.

  The second cab we wave down stops, and Chad helps me inside. I scoot over and give him plenty of room. Before, I had a plan. A very good plan, if I do say so myself. I’d be confident and smart. I’d be all sexy and whatnot. There is no sexy with a screwed up ankle and blue butt. That should be my new stage name: Blue Butt… Aqua Ass.

  “My name is Chad,” he says, wiping the water from his hair with his hand. I notice that the tabloids are wrong. He doesn’t have straight hair. It is, in fact, really wavy. Pretty actually. I’ve always liked wavy hair. Straight hair is sorta in, but I like the natural look… says the girl with five tons of Aqua Net on her tresses. “What?” he asks when he notices my staring. I need to stop that. I have a job to do. Staring isn’t part of the description. “What’s wrong?”

  “Aside from the obvious?” I deflect the question on to the rain and my current painful predicament.

  He laughs. He has a nice laugh. “Aside from the obvious.”

  “It’s just…” Here is the moment of truth. Do I admit to knowing who he is and play it that way? Or do I pretend I have no idea who he is and act completely surprised when he tells me? I’m sure there is a right way, I have no idea at the moment what it is. I’m usually better at this, but my stupid brain—no, it is my injuries. It isn’t that my brain has gotten all mushy around Chad, because why would it? Did I not just last night pride myself on how much I didn’t care about if a person was a celebrity? So it’s not Chad. It is my injuries. They are knocking me off my game.

  Stupid rock.

  Stupid ankle.

  Stupid Chad Harris with the hair I want to run my fingers through.

  Stop that.

  “Um… this is going to sound really strange and pretentious, but do you know who I am?” He bites his lip and looks at me through is glasses giving me puppy dog eyes.

  What are words?

  Focus!

  “Chad.” Cause he told me his name.

  “Right, but I mean like do you know, know who I am?” I can’t imagine asking someone that. How pretentious can one person be?

  “Should I?” Great response. Actually, now that I think about it, it is! It gives Chad the chance to talk about himself, and me the chance to swoon over him because, frankly, that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m supposed to be setting him up for the fall, no pun intended, and this is just the way to get started. I’m not failing. I’m a freakin’ genus!

  His cheeks turn a little red. Humble would never have been a word used to describe Chad Harris in any of the tabloids I’ve read, or even by Dana Knox. I think, though, that he genuinely is embarrassed that we have to have this conversation. I doubt it, though. It has to be a trick. People like him don't get embarrassed. They pretend to be embarrassed as to easily ensnare innocent girls like me. Uh-huh. “I don’t know if you should but some people do.”

  “Like those girls on campus?”

  He nods sheepishly. I smile. “Yeah, those girls. I’m a bit of a celebrity.”

  “Really?” It is my turn to have a little fun. Hey, he made me fall and nearly break my bottom. The least I can do is make him squirm a little bit on the way to the coffee shop. “What have you done to make you a celebrity? Anything I would have heard of?”

  “I had a sex scandal once.”

  And with that the driver nearly ran off the road. So much for humility. Not it is my turn to turn red. “Uh… okay. Thanks for sharing.” I knew that about him. About two years ago, Chad Harris was the talk of Inside Edition because a sex tape came up between Chad (who was eighteen at the time) and his father’s twenty-five year old new wife. The papers had a field day. Senator Harris was a good role model to his party and didn’t divorce his wife. He publicly forgave her for her transgressions and in the process gained lots of new voters. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he orchestrated the whole thing to get s
ympathy supporters. It wouldn’t be the dumbest idea ever.

  “Sorry to be so blunt.”

  I don’t think he’s sorry.

  “But honestly I haven’t done anything else to be a celebrity for. That tape got my name, among other things, out there. Magazines sort of latched on to the story, and before I knew it, I’m this Romeo character.”

  “Character, huh? So that’s not the real you?”

  He shakes his head. When his eyes meet mine, they are dark and intense. “Not in the slightest. If they knew the real me, they wouldn’t sell their papers. Chad Harris.” He holds his out to me.

  I accept it. “Nancy Corbin.” His hands are calloused, not hands I’d expect of a senator’s son. Somewhere along the way, he’s done hard labor, maybe in a field or on a farm. I wonder why. Why in the world would Chad Harris need to work at anything that isn’t an office?

  “Nancy Corbin, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He kisses my hand all romance book-like. Somewhere Fabio is proud.

  “Likewise.” And it is a pleasure. The pleasure is that I didn’t have to hunt him down and I can just get this job over with. Yay, money, here I come.

  Chad sighs and lets my hand go. I have to admit, I’m kinda sad to see it go. “So, do you live around here?”

  I raise a brow.

  “I mean originally. I take it you go to college here.”

  “Yeah, not too far away actually. I always thought I’d go away to school and never look back.”

  “And here you are.”

  “Here I am.” It’s my turn to sigh. I can’t say staying here was ever part of my big grand plan for my life.

  “You must really love it.”

  I shrug. “It’s cheaper to stay around town. Well, cheaper than going to big places like LA or New York. I’ve always wanted to go to New York, catch a Broadway show.”

  “You don’t strike me as a Broadway type girl.”

  It’s my time to stare intensely at him. “You don’t know me well enough to strike you as any kind of girl.”

  “I hope to change that.” His voice is deep. I think my toes curl.

  Something curls, I know that.

  The cab stops before I can form any other sort of coherent question.

  Chad helps me out of the cab and leads me under the awning so he can run back and pay the cab driver.

  My hero.

  The rain has gotten harder, and by the time he gets back to me, his white shirt is stuck to every bit of his chest. White was an unfortunate color to wear today. I’m reaping the benefits.

  He sloshes the water out of his hair, takes my hand, and with a smile asks, “Shall we?”

  Yes, yes we shall. I nod and smile back. I tell myself it isn’t sincere. Chad places my arm over his shoulders and I hobble into the coffee shop under the watchful eye of several patrons. I wonder if we will be bombarded by folks looking for an autograph? It might be cool if we were.

  We settle in the booth near the back. I’m not sure which part of my body to take care of first. If I sit with my leg propped up, it hurts ye old butt. If I sit with my leg down to help my bottom, my ankle protests.

  I want to go home. I mean, not really, but ouch.

  Chad sits across from me. He sighs briefly before that kilowatt smile brightens up the room. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Um…” Honestly, I don’t like coffee very much. I was just heading here to meet up with him, and since we’ve already met up, I’m not sure what to do with my time. “Anything you’d recommend?”

  “I take mine black.”

  That doesn’t sound good to me. “Regular with two creams and two sugars.” That sounds nice and simple. I hope it tastes good. I’d hate to gag on it in front of him.

  He grins from the corner of his mouth as he slides from the booth and heads to the counter. There are about five people in front of him. Who knew this town liked coffee so well? I don’t. I’m more of a lemonade type of girl, a Slush Puppy maybe. But I’ll be a coffee girl if it gets me a thousand dollars. God, I sound like a prostitute, a coffee prostitute.

  Help me.

  While he’s gone, I take the time to settle my nerves and come up with a new game plan. This guy has totally thrown me for a loop. He’s nicer than I imagined, not nearly as much of a jerk, and he’s actually been fairly kind. I mean, sure I’ve only known him for all of twenty minutes and part of that time was me sitting on my duff on the sidewalk, still, I can see why all the poor airhead women fall for him. He's charming, I'll give him that. Charming to a fault, I'd say. Good thing this isn't my first rodeo. There is no way I'll let him manipulate me like he did those other girls. I'm the one doing the manipulating. Justice is sweet.

  I have to focus on my game plan and forget how charming Chad is. I’m sure he’s a lovely guy, but I have a lovely client who is willing to pay me lovely money. That trumps his smile.

  Even though it is a nice smile.

  By the time I settle in a seating position that doesn’t hurt my butt or my ankle, Chad is back with my coffee. I didn’t even get a chance to figure out my next move. Great, just… great.

  He slides my cup across the table and settles in. “Uh… where’s your drink?”

  “I don’t like coffee much.”

  I nearly drop my cup, and he laughs. “You assume I did because I frequent a coffee shop.”

  “Well… yeah. Seems like a reasonable assumption.”

  His dimples shine as he glances down at the table. How had I not noticed his dimples before? “You know what they say about people who assume.”

  “Har.” I roll my eyes, wishing this coffee was, in fact, a cherry Slush Puppy. “So why do you come here?” I almost say “every day,” but I stop myself. He can’t know that I’ve studied him. Especially since he thinks I don’t know who he is, minus the sex tape. I feel my cheeks getting hot thinking about that man in a sex tape.

  I wonder if one can rent it.

  Stop that!

  “Who says I come here a lot?”

  “I just… assumed again.” I hate that word.

  He laughs and runs his hands through his still damp hair. “You assumed right this time. I come here every day, well, every day I’m in town.”

  “You mean when you aren’t making sex tapes.” I choke on my own words. I did not mean for that to come out.

  His eyes sparkle. “Yes, when I’m not making sex tapes.”

  An old couple in the seats next to us give me “the look,” the one that says I’m a young whippersnapper who needs to be on my best behavior and shut up about such things. I ignore them, because what sort of fun would it be to listen to the advice of old people? Maybe they need to make their own sex tape, knock some of the sourness off of them.

  I’ve solved all the world’s problems.

  “I’m sorry.” It’s my turn to glance at the table. It is a pretty, dark wood. Not like the plastic ones at the mall food court. I rarely go anywhere that isn’t the mall to hang out, but I do believe I’d love to come here more, as long as I don’t have to drink the coffee. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you are fine. I’m the one who brought it up. And truthfully, sad as it is, I never would have been as well-known as I am without that tape. MTV has called about doing some sort of roommate show in the future. I’m not sure what it is, but it sounds promising. I have modeling prospects. The whole world opened up…”

  “When she did.” I giggle. I don’t feel sorry about that joke. I think it’s pretty good.

  “In a manner of speaking. Anyway, my father isn’t very happy about it. I mean, why would he be? I’m the rebel prodigal son. My younger brother is the good one, I’m the one the old man would rather forget about. Sadly, the media doesn’t let him.”

  “Senator Harris runs on a conservative platform, right? Family values and all that?”

  He tilts his head. “Thought you didn’t know who we were?”

  “It finally clicked when you went to get the coffee. Chad Harris, Senator Harris
. I sort of remember maybe some kind of scandal involving his son.”

  “That’s me. I’m the pride of the Harris clan.”

  “Oh, I imagine.”

  “Come on, you mean to tell me you aren’t the black sheep of your family?” He winks.

  I take a sip of my coffee to kill time while I thought of an answer. I immediately regret it. Not enough cream, way too much sugar. I might die. I try very hard to cover my uncomfortableness up, though I’m sure I look like a baby who just ate a lemon.

  “You alright?”

  I nod, forcing the coffee down. I stink at this. Seventeen clients down and this is the one that will break me. Course, it would be my luck. “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit stout’s all.”

  “So I hear. Why were you coming here if you don’t like their coffee?”

  “You come here and you don’t drink coffee.”

  “I’m not you.” Of all the excuses in the world, that’s probably the lamest.

  The way he looks at me, with his gaze intense, almost as if he can see into my soul, is unnerving. I don’t want him to question me, there are no good answers. “I like coffee.” I take another sip. Kill me now.

  “Uh-huh.” He sighs and rests his elbows on the table. “Can we be real for a second?”

  My heart catches in my throat. I don’t want to be real. I want my money and I want Chad to be the jerk I was lead to believe he was. Is that too much to ask? “I am being real.”

  “Good. Then let me. Let me lay it all on the table. I come to the coffee shop when I’m in town because I like to watch people. I sit at a corner table, no one bothers me except for the random person who recognizes me. It isn’t as frequent as at the campus. People in here, they don’t seem to care if I’m on the cover of Teen Beat.”

  “Teen Beat… very prestigious.” I wink.

  “Right? Next to winning an Oscar, I’d say. Anyway, that’s why I like it here. I can watch people, study them. I don’t know, see what it is like to have a normal life.”

  That certainly catches my attention. “You think the people in a coffee house in the middle of the day have a normal life?”

  “In a roundabout way. More normal than mine at least.” He sighs and runs his fingers over the napkin holder. “They don’t treat me special here, and I like it. I don’t want to be anyone other than who I am.”