I hate this woman. I hate her with every cell of my being.
Hal lets out a chuckle. “Other way, buddy!”
“Wow, those are some tight pants!” Lacey inserts. “I can certainly see his center of attention!”
The audience laughs as I scramble to find the damn X. It’s actually quite large and is in bright green tape, so it’s pretty hard to miss. I stalk down the catwalk feeling like a piece of poorly-dressed meat. The audience — mainly older women — start to hoot and whistle and, I swear to God, one woman is waving a five-dollar bill at me.
How the hell did I end up here? I have my PhD. I work for NASA.
I head back toward the hosts while that awful woman talks about astrology. I’m so busy trying to make sure I land on the X this time I almost don’t hear Hal say, “Geminis really must be flighty because our other guest, Dr. Ben Williams, didn’t bother to show up for Star Day. I understand he’s a Gemini as well.”
I stop in my tracks and stare at him, sweat trickling down my back.
Hal looks at me while making a scooting gesture with his hands. “You can go now.”
Astrology girl gives me an urgent head nod toward the exit. Now is my only chance to fix what has gone terribly, terribly wrong. “I’m Ben Williams.”
All three of them stare at me like I’ve just said I’m from planet Zorbits. Lacey gives me a sympathetic look, as though she feels so bad for the male model who’s so dumb he doesn’t know his own name. “Um, no. Ben Williams is a rocket scientist. You’re a model.” She says this slowly like it’s the only way I’ll be able to understand her.
I wait while the audience has a good laugh at my expense. Off to the side, Justin and some other woman with a headset are frantically waving at me. “I’m not a rocket scientist.”
Giving me a condescending look, Hal says, “We know you’re not, buddy. But you’re still special, okay? Now, off you go!”
The fashion show music stops, and the audience becomes so still you’d think they were waiting for me to perform a magic show. Out of the corner of my eye, I see two security guards at the ready. I swallow hard, then keep going. “There’s no such thing as a rocket scientist,” I say. “What you’re thinking of is actually called an aeronautical engineer or an astronautical engineer. The phrase rocket scientist is a dumbed down label for the job.”
“Wow,” Lacey says, blinking at me. “You know a lot about rocket science.”
I shut my eyes at her inane statement, then open them and say, “That’s because I’m an astrophysicist.”
The astrology “expert” (and I’m using that term lightly) seems to be the first one of the three geniuses to figure out who I am. “Wait, if you’re Dr. Williams, why are you masquerading as a male model?”
Don’t be rude. Don’t be rude. Even though she’s most likely the worst person on the planet, you’re here trying to win fans for NASA. “Because … the staff here wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain who I was.”
Hal’s face fills with panic. “Well, we’ll need to get you up here with us, then, Dr. Williams.”
I nod at him. “Sounds good.”
Lacey, the other show host, laughs awkwardly, before saying, “What a crazy mix-up! Can you believe it?”
“No,” Hal answers, still chuckling even though his eyes say he’s going to kill someone. “Why don’t we take a quick commercial break so we can bring out another chair for our esteemed guest?”
“Why don’t we?” Lacey says. “We’ll be right back in a couple of minutes with astrophysicist, and part-time fashion model, Dr. Ben Williams from NASA. Don’t go anywhere.”
Seven
Serafina
“What did you do with my model?” I hiss at Ben Williams as soon as he’s seated next to me.
He rolls his eyes. “Obviously I murdered him and stuffed his body in the closet so I could make my lifelong dream of appearing on national television as a complete ass come true.”
Before I can slay him with a witty comeback, Lacey waves her hands frantically to shut me up. Then she turns to the camera and gushes, “Welcome back to Wake Up America! In case you’re just joining us, we have astrophysicist Dr. Ben Williams on today, here to talk about NASA’s Earth Two project. But before we get to Dr. Williams, Serafina Lopez, creator of the smashing Live for Your Star Sign app, is going to give us a fashion-forward look for your star sign.”
Hal continues, “We had a surprise model in the form of Dr. Williams here. Tell us, Ben, are you really a Gemini?”
“I have no idea.”
“According to our research, you are,” Lacey hurries to say. “You’d think you’d know that, being a rocket scientist and all.”
Dr. Grumpy Pants pauses, then slowly explains, “Science is the systematic, logical, and relentless pursuit of knowledge to help us better understand the universe and all things in it. Astrology is the pursuit of unsuspecting people’s money through trickery, predictions so vague they could apply to anyone in any given location, and blatant insensitivity to empirical evidence.” He glances at me, then turns back to Lacey. “For you to presume I should possess the knowledge of which utterly irrelevant category I land in based on my date of birth is about as useful as knowing which house I’d fit into at Hogwarts. It’s meaningless. It’s nothing more than a party game.”
“A party game?” I blurt out. “I’ll have you know that the practical use of astrology dates back to the third millennium BC. It is rooted in the calendrical system as a predictor of seasonal shifts and even helped drive the development of modern-day astronomy.”
“Please, that’s like saying the first grunt from an Australopithecus is responsible for modern literature.”
“Australo-what-a-cus?” Hal asks, hamming it up for the audience.
“Australopithecus — the first ancestor of man.”
I jump in, righteous indignation bubbling in my chest. “I would argue that the first grunt from an Australopithecus is the origin of modern literature and speech.”
“You’d be wrong. Just because ancient astrologers looked into the sky, doesn’t mean they had the first clue what they were seeing.” He gives me a satisfied smile that I’m tempted to slap off his face. Then, turning away from me as if I’ve been dismissed, he leans closer to Lacey. He smiles at her and shrugs his eyebrows in a sleazy fashion. “What’s your sign? Can I buy you a drink?”
Lacey doesn’t seem to gather that he’s being facetious because she winks back and answers, “How about if you take me for a ride on your rocket ship?”
“Okay, there, Lacey,” Hal laughs nervously. “We don’t want to get sued for sexual harassment.”
“Then Dr. Ben shouldn’t have worn those pants,” Lacey says.
The audience laughs appreciatively, and one woman even calls out, “Stand up and show us your rocket ship again!” This of course leads to more hilarity.
Dr. Jerkface grins, before instructing, “Eyes up here, ladies.”
Oh great, now they’ve burst into applause and are hooting. How did this become the Dr. Ben show? I need to take back control of this segment before I lose the viewers’ interest in my app. So, I do the only thing I can think of. I stand up to draw attention to myself and loudly say, “If you’ll start the music again, I’d like to introduce Cancer!”
The mystical flute soundtrack I chose for this segment starts to play as a fifty-something model with long silver hair and rose-colored sunglasses sashays out. She’s wearing a flowing batik-patterned summer dress, “Our celestial hippy chick likes to be comfortable while showcasing her innate psychic abilities. Just don’t cross her or she might pinch you like the crab from her astrological symbol.”
Lacey gushes, “I would so wear that dress! I love how you paired it with sandals that lace up the calves. Really chic.”
“Cancer thrives while displaying their carefree fashion sense,” I tell her brightly.
“No, they don’t,” Dr. Jerky McIHateHimFace mutters. “Because that’s not a thing.”
/> “Yeah, it is,” I tell him as my Cancer model finishes her walk. When she’s offstage, I announce, “Leo is the royalty of the zodiac.” My model is in her twenties, and she has bright orange curls that are slightly teased around her head like a lion’s mane. She’s wearing a gold lamé evening gown that only has one strap, the other shoulder is completely bare. “Leos love to strut their stuff, so if this is your star sign, going bold with your fashion is going to help bring you to your best life.”
“I doubt that very much,” Dr. Ben grumbles. “I can tell you for a fact I wouldn’t be living my best life in these ridiculous banana pants.”
When my Leo model reaches the end of the catwalk and walks back toward us, Hal growls like a lion while gesturing with his hands like he’s the aforementioned cat about to pounce. “Rooooooar! I like that one. She looks like a queen!”
“Who’s getting sued for sexual harassment now?” Lacey says with a phoney smile. I’m starting to wonder if Hal and Lacey actually like each other. I’m guessing a good deal of their success as a hosting duo is based on discord as it keeps everyone on their toes. Even so, I would absolutely hate to work with someone I couldn’t stand on a regular basis. Talk about upsetting my sense of balance.
The highpoint of the show for me is when Charley comes out in her red dress and animal print pumps. She struts like she was born to the catwalk and I can tell that she’s really feeling her power.
I do my best to talk up each outfit and get in the name of my app all the while trying to ignore Dr. Hateful’s snide jibes. By the time the last model is leaving the stage, I’m ready to kick him right in his banana.
He definitely stole attention away from my segment.
Lacey smiles at the camera. “Star Day continues when we come back to chat with Dr. Ben Williams about NASA’s Earth Two project.” Turning to me, she says, “Why don’t you stick around, Serafina? This has been so much fun.”
I nod while forcing a wide smile to remain in place until the director calls out, “We’re in commercial …”
Dr. Ben stands up. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go change into my own pants.”
“No time, buddy,” Hal tells him. “Sorry about that. I bet those things are a real bear to sit in. Bunching up your junk and all.”
“Hal!” Lacey hits him on the arm. “You can’t say that kind of stuff.”
“You saw the man when he came out, Lace. The whole world is going to be talking about it. I can only imagine the kind of hashtags that are already trending.”
I suddenly have a great idea that will keep my app alive in the public’s mind. I just have to find the right place to insert it into the conversation.
When the producer indicates we’re coming back from commercial, Lacey says, “So, Dr. Williams, may I call you Ben?” He nods so imperceptibly I barely see it. “Ben,” the hostess continues, “tell us when science thinks they’ll find an Earth Two planet that can be inhabited.”
“It’s a long process, I’m afraid,” he says. “But the hard part won’t be finding the planet — we know they’re out there. We need to increase our knowledge of space travel so we can actually get there in a reasonable amount of time.”
“You mean like on Star Trek when they used to beam themselves up?” Hal asks.
“We’re thinking more along the lines of creating a vehicle that will allow us to travel on magnetic waves. Hypothetically, if we can do that, we can travel a million miles in as little as an hour.”
Now is my moment. I announce, “While I understand the science of that, Dr. Dogmatic, what are the chances you’re going to be able to succeed in doing that in your lifetime?”
He glares at me with such hatred, I feel myself leaning away from him. “What did you call me?”
“I was just teasing because you’re so blind to the possibilities of the Universe.” I force a light tone. “But in all seriousness, don’t you think it might be more beneficial to focus your energies on Einstein-Rosen bridges?” I turn to the camera and add, “Or wormholes, as they’re more commonly termed.”
Before Ben can have at me — and believe me when I say he looks like he’s about to attack — Lacey interjects, “Wow, Serafina, it sounds like you know a thing or two about science yourself.”
“I did graduate at the top of my class from Yale,” I tell her.
“There’s no way…” Ben starts to say.
I interrupt him before he can officially call my intelligence into question. “Just because I use my education in a different way than you do, Dr. Williams, doesn’t mean I didn’t get one.”
“Yes, but…”
“In fact,” I tell him, “It seems to me that science has only benefited when researchers keep an open-mind.”
He scoffs, then says, “But astrology—”
“Is a science in its own right,” I tell him forcefully.
“According to fortune tellers and genies that pop out of old lanterns.” He rolls his eyes dismissively.
Before I have a chance to retaliate, Lacey announces, “I can’t believe how quickly the time has flown! Unfortunately, we have to tie things up because it’s time for the news.”
Hal interjects, “Serafina, Ben, thank you so much for joining us this morning. Maybe, if we’re lucky, you’d both agree to come back some time soon.”
“Absolutely.” I say enthusiastically before smiling at Ben. “What do you think, Dr. Dogmatic? Want to face off with me again?”
“I’m sure Hal meant separately,” he says stiffly.
“I don’t know about that,” Lacey says. “It might be more fun if you came back together.” Looking into the camera, she asks, “What do you think, America? Do you want to wake up with Ben and Serafina together or alone? Let us know on social media and we’ll make sure to listen.”
While I would rather run a 5K with my ankles tied together than be on this show with Dr. Know-It-All again, I’ll do it if it means aiding a positive view toward astrology and promoting my app. The good news is that if Ben’s constipated expression is anything to go on, I’ll have the whole segment to myself. I am one hundred percent sure he won’t come back to Wake Up America! Not if I’m a guest.
Eight
Ben
As soon as the director says we’re on a commercial break, I stand, then shake Lacey and Hal’s hands before making a beeline for my dressing room. I don’t bother to acknowledge Serafina. Dr. Dogmatic? I’m the dogmatic one? I don’t think so. She can kiss my banana pants.
Of all the infuriating, insane ways to waste my time, this one takes the cake. I’m going to march right into work and tell Dev this was the very last public appearance I’ll be making. If NASA wants a spokesperson, they can hire one. I don’t have time to argue with some airy-fairy nonsense-spreader.
Shutting the door to my dressing room, I remove the horridly tight pants, freeing my man parts from the confines of their holding cell. “Ahhhh, that’s better.”
Sorry about that, boys. It won’t happen again.
I quickly tug on my underwear and pants, then strip off the shirt and vest. I must be allergic to some fiber in it because I’m itching like I’ve got a virulent case of the chicken pox. Once I’m free from the horrid costume, I take a moment to walk over to the small bathroom and splash some water on my face, trying to relish the fact that it’s all over and I never have to do it again.
There’s a loud knock at the door. I call for whoever it is to come in, expecting it to be Justin. Instead, it’s Serafina Lopez. Her eyes land on my bare chest and she blushes a little, then she straightens her back and announces, “I came to get my clothes back.”
“You can have them,” I say with disgust as I gather them up and unceremoniously toss them to her.
“Thanks a lot.” After she has them, we stare at each other a second too long, but neither of us says anything. I’m momentarily struck by how beautiful she is, which inevitably renders me mute even though I’d love nothing more than to keep arguing with her about her asinine beliefs.
/>
Serafina opens her mouth, then shakes her head at me. “Nope, not worth it.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
She spins on her heel and leaves, slamming the door behind her.
“Good riddance.”
When I walk into work, the entire team stands and starts applauding me. I look up and see my image in a freeze-frame on all the 80-inch screens that line the walls. I’m walking down the catwalk in my Gemini jumpsuit. “Very funny, guys,” I say with a conciliatory nod. “Get your jabs in now so we can move on like grown-ups, okay?”
“That was epic,” Ewan yells. “Fighting the good fight up there for the world to see.”
“You certainly gave the world a lot to see,” Carla adds, glancing at my nether region with wide eyes.
My cheeks heat up and I shift uncomfortably while the rest of the team starts in with their opinions. Their words all rush together, but I pick up phrases and words like “Dr. Dogmatic,” “You got the best of her” and “pants” — lots of mention of the pants. I wait for them to finish, before saying, “We good now? Can we let it go?”
Alec whistles under his breath while shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be talking about this until we actually land on Earth Two.”
Perfect. Just perfect. How the hell am I ever going to be taken seriously again? “Listen, the show is over, and will never be repeated. Once the top brass sees what a failure that ridiculous mission was, they’ll never let any of us near a television camera again.” I point to the screen and order, “Now, shut that off and get back to work.”
I walk into my office and close the door while letting out a big sigh. I hurry to my desk and turn on my computer, wanting to dive back into the safety of work. My phone rings and I see it’s my mom calling. My entire body heats up with renewed embarrassment as I realize the L-Triad saw my modeling debut. Might as well get this over with. “Hi, Mom.”
Text Wars: May the Text be With You ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 3) Page 4
