Geek Actually Season 1 Omnibus

by Cathy Yardley

  Taneesha thought this would be enough for the police to get involved. She thought that the law afforded some reasonable measure of protection to women—or anyone—in this situation. Hell, the news covered Taylor Swift’s stalker going to jail or Selena Gomez’s stalker being held on a 5150. But the police had given her nothing besides perplexed looks.

  “Has anyone approached you?” they asked, as though that were the dividing line with propriety.

  Taneesha pointed out that taking a photo required a significant approach and that the person was likely standing right near her. To which another officer—a fucking woman, which made it all that much worse—said, “People have telephoto lenses these days. This jerk could’ve been two blocks away.”

  Somehow, labeling a stalker a “jerk” made it more insulting in Taneesha’s mind. Made it sound like she was the one overreacting, when she should have merely rolled her eyes and tossed the photos in the trash. Dead animals meant nothing more than idiots with too much time on their hands? Taneesha had been frightened for days, but the photos pushed her over into raw anger. The police wouldn’t even drive by her house unless one of these assholes came right up and knocked on her door.

  Fuck these people. Fuck all of them for thinking it was okay to come after her. Fuck any man who used the word “rape” to try to bend a woman into submission. Except, what would submission be in this case? She didn’t know who these people were, so she couldn’t even apologize (not that she felt particularly sorry for pwning the WoW douchebag). She could see no remedy to this situation.

  After speaking with the police about the photos, Taneesha sat on her couch and tried to watch a movie. And then a TV show. And then play a video game. But nothing worked, nothing held her interest for more than a sentence or two. She was angry and hurting, and just sitting there made the pain all that much more acute. She could talk to Bobby, but she didn’t want to get him worked up again, and she didn’t want to keep talking about this. As it was, he didn’t like that she hadn’t completely moved into his apartment during this shit storm. Her brother had finally settled on telling the post office that no mail should go directly to her front door, and conducting nightly check-ins and drive-bys. This was a no-win situation. Of course there was Diego, but they were just getting to know each other. She didn’t want to come across as the crazy drama chick.

  Right as Taneesha went to flip off the TV, she came upon Lemonade. Beyoncé wouldn’t put up with this shit. She’d have seven burly bodyguards at a troll’s home after the first threat. The police would’ve barricaded her front gate. Too bad Taneesha wasn’t Beyoncé.

  Frustrated beyond belief, Taneesha wondered why she couldn’t be Bey. Of course, she couldn’t sing and would have to rob the Federal Reserve to be that rich, but she was fabulous in her own way. Maybe she just needed everyone else to see it too.

  A hint of an idea flickered in her mind, and she couldn’t let it go. She made a phone call to her favorite salon. They had an appointment open early the next morning, but needed a couple of hours to take care of her. Well beyond giving a shit about her job or any of her coworkers, Taneesha took the appointment and emailed her office, saying she would be away from the office and offering no explanation for her absence. No one bothered to respond or acknowledge that she might miss a half day’s work. Hell, it wasn’t like they needed her for anything.

  The morning of beauty was just what she needed. Joking, laughing, women enjoying themselves and bitching about the state of the world. It made Taneesha feel connected to something good, something warm, just when the rest of the world was starting to feel so cold and angry.

  At noon, when she stepped out of her car at Starwisp, Taneesha was feeling herself. Braids flowing, makeup on point, perfectly manicured claws, a dress more expensive than her couch (hey, they had given her a giant raise, she might as well spend it), Taneesha was having her own Lemonade moment. And this Queen Bey experience wasn’t about feeling pretty, not in the slightest. For years, she’d worked to fit in with the dude-bro devs, never dressing up, never dressing down too much, doing whatever she could to fit in as the broke-ass cliché of “one of the boys.” And for a while, she thought it worked. Back in the days of Maniac Games, Taneesha had what she considered real friends at the office, people she could confide in.

  But then Starwisp had come in, and the support around her evaporated. Sure, some of her coworkers had already moved on to LA or San Francisco or Seattle, but some of them stayed in Austin, and a couple had merely shifted into different departments at Starwisp. But not one of those people called to check up on her. No one invited her out for drinks after work. The couple of times she’d suggested a meet-up, vague interest was shown with no follow-through.

  She’d spent years of her life working to be part of the group, and she looked around to realize she was all alone. So, no, she wasn’t going to be one of the boys anymore. She wasn’t going to leave her makeup bag in the drawer or pretend to like shitty jokes about women only learning to tell time because the stove had a clock. She was Taneesha Fucking Adams, a fabulous unicorn, and everyone was about to recognize that.

  Sweeping her newly luscious hair over her shoulder as she entered the lobby, Taneesha gave the front desk clerk a smile. “Morning.”

  “Morning, ma’am,” the guy responded. He watched her walk past the desk for a moment before adding, “Um… you’ll need a badge to get to HR, ma’am.”

  This halted Taneesha in her tracks. “I’m sorry?” she asked.

  The clerk stood up, looking embarrassed. “Anyone new to the building needs a temp badge, and I need to call ahead to HR and have someone meet you. Starwisp doesn’t allow visitors to walk around the building unescorted.”

  The front desk clerk had been with Maniac since before the merger with Starwisp and come over to the new offices. His name was Jordan, and Taneesha had once brought him dinner when his night counterpart didn’t show up. He’d called out a good morning to her—by name—for years. She knew she was a little fancied up today, but she didn’t look like a completely different person.

  Taneesha yanked up her badge from its usual position, looped around the straps of her purse. “It’s Taneesha Adams,” she told him. “I don’t need to go to HR. I’m headed to my office.”

  Jordan turned scarlet. “Oh… I’m so sorry, Ms. Adams, you just look…” He trailed off and for a moment, Taneesha thought he wouldn’t finish the thought at all. “Different.”

  Different. Not dressed up, not lovely, not even the garden variety “nice.” Just different. Maybe it was appropriate today, because Taneesha sure as hell felt different. “Needed a change.”

  “Well, it is that,” Jordan replied. “Have a great day, Ms. Adams.”

  “You too.”

  As Taneesha walked to the elevator, she saw another man from the company enter and lean in to Jordan as he passed. “Who is that?” the man asked. His tone was leering, overtly sexual.

  “One of the developers,” the clerk responded.

  Taneesha moved faster, sure she didn’t want to hear the man’s response.

  If Taneesha thought things were going to get better once she reached the bullpen, she was mistaken. Steven glared at her as she crossed the room, making a stink face that said he didn’t think much of her new look. And Taneesha had no more than sat down before one of the lead developers, Vikram, approached her desk. His breath always smelled like stale coffee. One of these days, she was going to gift him with an anonymous toothbrush, dropped off on his desk.

  “I don’t mind if you have a lunch date,” Vikram told her. “It’s your own time, after all. But taking a half day for one seems excessive.”

  “What?” Taneesha blurted out.

  Vikram used his hand to gesture across the length of her body. “I assume this get-up all took some time and that’s why you were late?”

  “Why would you assume I was on a date?” Taneesha asked. “I could have been at the doctor’s.”

  He looked dubious. “Then I sugge
st getting a new doctor. His dress code is unreasonable.”

  Taneesha was near her boiling point. “First you assumed I’m dressed nicely because of a date. Then you assumed any doctor I referenced must be a man.” She was pleased to watch him redden. “I’m dressed up because I felt like it. I didn’t do it for a man, I did it for me.”

  Vikram blinked back at her, seeming unsure how to react. She was so tired of the deer in headlights look she kept getting from people, from the police to front-desk Jordan. “Oh. Well, good for you then, I guess.”

  “And I have nearly a month of vacation saved up, not to mention that I emailed the team—and Steven—last night about coming in midday, which no one seemed to have a problem with then.” Taneesha knew she should shut her mouth, but she couldn’t. She was too angry. “And even if I had been getting ready for a lunch date—which I was not—I’m fairly certain our vacation policies allow me to take PTO for whatever reason I want. Tony from the experience team bragged to everyone that he was taking two days off to binge Iron Fist, and no one cared about that. Though they should have, because it was a piece of garbage.”

  Vikram held up his hands for calm. “There’s no need to get aggressive, Taneesha. I was just expressing concern.”

  Aggressive?

  She’d barely raised her voice or gotten up from her chair. And like hell Vikram was concerned. “All right.” It was as bland a reply as she could come up with. “Is there something I can help the team with this afternoon? I’m completely free.”

  “I can’t think of anything right now,” he said. “But I’ll let you know.” And then Vikram turned and walked back to his desk, where presumably he would continue to be “concerned” about her.

  How ridiculous, that taking a personal morning was a hardship despite the fact that there was no work for her to do.

  By three o’clock, Taneesha’s energy was waning. The weight of the last few days pressed on her, and even the fire of her newfound fabulosity was beginning to fade. To avoid falling asleep at her desk, she went to get an ill-advised cup of coffee from the kitchenette. She might be up all night, but at least no one would find her curled up under her desk before five.

  Taneesha had just finished stirring in milk and sugar when she felt warm breath on her neck. She jumped in surprise, but managed to keep the coffee from spilling.

  “I see you like Halle Berry too,” she heard from behind her.

  Taneesha turned and saw one of the devs who’d recently joined the company. He worked on one of the higher-level bloodsport games. She wanted to say his name was Kevin? Or maybe he just looked like a Kevin. So many of the new hires looked alike, with their geeky T-shirts, Vans, and khaki shorts, even when it was fifty degrees outside. Like they belonged on the quad at an Ivy, playing hacky sack while talking about their parents’ hired help screwing up the laundry they’d brought home last weekend.

  “Excuse me?” Taneesha asked. She took a step back, disgusted.

  “The coffee,” he answered, nodding toward her cup. “That’s what we call this level of smooth creaminess. Halle Berry.”

  Taneesha almost vomited in her mouth. Comparing the color of coffee with skin color was so much worse than thinking she and Halle Berry had similar physiques. “Oh?” she replied.

  “I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it,” maybe-Kevin said. “Most of the time when I say it at Starbucks, they know what I mean.”

  “They probably get a lot of closeted racism there,” she replied, offering a phony smile. “I just ask for room for milk.”

  “Come on, now,” maybe-Kevin continued. Oh, Jesus, now he was putting a hand on Taneesha’s arm. This was like a slow-motion horror movie. “It’s a compliment.”

  “I’m sure you think it is,” she replied, taking her coffee and quickly side-stepping her coworker’s grasp. This wasn’t the first time Taneesha’d had to work her way out of an advance, but usually the guy was drunk. And it had never happened at work before.

  “It is.” The level of encouragement in maybe-Kevin’s tone was revolting. “You’ve brightened up my day, and I’m sure a whole lot of other people’s.”

  “That’s exactly why I got done up. For you and everyone else in the office.” She wasn’t sure he’d get the thick sarcasm, but she didn’t care. Taneesha then walked away from the guy, winding back through the office to her desk. It came as no shock that maybe-Kevin kept following.

  “Are you seeing anyone right now? Anyone serious, at least?”

  Goddamn, this guy couldn’t take a hint. Maybe he’d understand a cast-iron skillet to the face.

  Taneesha turned back and gave him another smile that was patently fake, but she guessed he wouldn’t have a clue. This was not a person who was sharp with social cues. “Thanks to you, I’ve taken a vow of celibacy. But if I ever decide to date fuckboys, you’ll be the first one I call.”

  Giving him a condescending pat on the arm, she smiled a little more brightly and then deliberately moved around him to her desk. She heard maybe-Kevin begin to speak again, but she put on her headphones and started blasting Michael Giacchino’s Doctor Strange score again.

  Fuck everybody.

  ADITI

  The last thirty hours had been unreal—the best kind of unreal. What began as a total shit show resulted in her strongest blog post by far, and more congratulatory messages than she’d ever received before, including when she’d first scored the contract with Faraday. They’d been pouring in all afternoon, from Facebook and Twitter and via text. Authors she admired but had never met, from Jennifer Crusie to Stephen freaking King. She’d gotten a real live tweet from Stephen King’s verified account. And countless messages from young women who wanted to share their own experiences with doxing and harassment and thank Aditi for standing up for them.

  The odd part was that Aditi was still alone in her house. Not that this was a problem—if even a handful of people had run up to her like this at a con, she probably would’ve had a panic attack and passed out. But it still felt odd in the safety of her own home, that the world was able to worm its way in through the wires.

  Just after five, Druv called, and Aditi practically leapt to get to the phone. Knowing it was him felt safe, made her feel at least slightly tethered to the ground.

  “There’s my rock star of the literary world,” he said, laughing.

  “Oh, that’s an exaggeration,” Aditi answered, laughing back. But she definitely liked the sentiment.

  “It isn’t! I wanted to call you two hours ago when one of my coworkers came running in, shouting about what a tigress you are,” Druv replied. “Everybody I’ve seen today has talked my ear off about you. But I’ve been stuck in the most boring meetings you can imagine and I didn’t want to share that kind of news over text.”

  “Should we celebrate tonight?” Aditi said. There was no one she’d rather open a bottle of random, weekday cheap champagne with than her best friend. “Terrible pizza and worse alcohol?”

  “I would, but I have those plans we discussed,” he responded. From his word choice, Aditi knew he must be surrounded by colleagues. “I can try to cancel them, but it’s late notice.”

  “No, no, don’t.” There were amazing things about being in a relationship as open and free as theirs. But every once in a while, one of them wanted to literally Netflix and chill together, while the other wanted to figuratively Netflix and chill with someone else.

  “You should go out,” Druv encouraged. “You know how to celebrate better than anyone I know, Ms. Aditi.”

  She knew he meant that she should swipe right, but this didn’t feel like that kind of night. She didn’t feel like random and she wasn’t in the mood for Cuddlebug. She didn’t need to blow off steam, she wanted a pat on the back from someone who knew and understood her. But that didn’t seem to be in the cards.

  “I think the only date I’m interested in is sweatpants and extra cheese,” she replied. “But you have fun tonight. And get into some trouble I’ll want to hear about later.”
>
  “Will do.”

  They disconnected the call and Aditi found herself isolated once again. What was this feeling? She loved being alone. It was the best part of her job. Why did she suddenly feel like the walls were watching her?

  She needed to do something. Get involved in a bad drama on HBO NOW, dive into a video game, order the biggest mac-and-cheese pizza Ian’s would deliver. Just as she picked up her phone, it dinged, another Facebook notification popping up on the lock screen. Smiling, Aditi used her thumb to unlock the phone and went to her feed.

  It was a private message. Clicking into it, Aditi frowned. This came from a member of the closed Faraday author Facebook group. She didn’t know the author personally, but they were supposed to be compatriots. Friendly. And this message was anything but friendly.

  Nice work with Jezebel, bitch, it began. I assume you know you’ve already tanked your career, but are you ready for the real-world consequences of your bullshit words? Buckle up, sweetheart.

  Geek, Actually

  Season 1, Episode 8

  A Dox on Both Your Houses

  Cathy Yardley

  #REBELSCUM

  Aditi: Anybody here?

  Michelle: Just on for a minute—gotta meet with Gwen soon. I’m betting it’s to discuss how KICK ASS your Jezebel article was, and how we can leverage that for your release! *does happy dance* It’s at nearly 250K views now!

  Aditi: I am still in shock.

  Elli: Congrats! That is SO awesome!

  Taneesha: I needed the good news. Totally made my day.

  Aditi: Is it getting any better, T?

  Taneesha: Well, the dead animals seem to be waning, so that’s something.

  Aditi: I think I know how that feels. The hate mail started last night.

  Taneesha: Jesus. I’m sorry.

  Elli: Oh, God. That’s terrible. I’ve been reading Ruby’s mail. The stuff she’s getting… I can barely deal with it.

  Taneesha: What’s going on with Ruby?

  Elli: There are all these men that hate her because she dresses up but is in a wheelchair. You would not believe the stuff they call her. Like ugly—which she *totally* isn’t—and then rude stuff like calling her a “fucking cripple.” It’s seriously vomitous. ☹