The Story Circle began with a fabulous opening from Shelton Keys Dunning. Shel handed the story over to one of my favorite ladies on the internet, Kir of The Kir Corner. Kir passed this confection of a tale off to a new acquaintance of mine, Troy of As Long As I’m Singing.
Troy thickened this wicked little plot quite a bit!
Without further ado, The Reunion, Part Three
“Self-serving bitch” Taminy growled as the door – which failed to do her bidding by smacking Amanda in the ass on the way out – softly closed.
She slinked up to the mirror one more time, almost afraid to see the new face that she already knew would be there. Had Amanda really not recognized her, or was she just that self-involved? And what was all that about Blake? How could a boy, who did everything but dunk her hair in an inkwell, have ever have had a thing for her? She wasn’t surprised that she didn’t realize it then – as now, she was terrible at recognizing people’s true feelings – but why had he never told her? Hell, how many movies had to be made about the quarterback prince coming to save the nerdy girl before someone would catch on and actually make it a reality?
Concealing a blush, Taminy removed herself from the restroom and rejoined the wait staff, being careful not to get too close to Devon. As usual, the bacon-wrapped scallops were a huge hit. And as usual, that was not the tray that they gave her. This forced her to spend much more time in the front lines, schlepping the drooped and overly complicated vegetable creations that rested at her breast. At each stop, she dreaded opening her mouth, in fear of being placed. Initially, she affected a bit of a southern drawl to help her stay hidden, but realized quickly that she had hardly the stamina to keep it up all night. “Keep it up all night,” she softly giggled to herself, remembering how that had been the rather juvenile punch line to one of Blake’s stupid sex jokes. Of course back then, they were all sex jokes, and not surprisingly, a large portion of them were stupid.
“You know, it’s funny you would say that. I seem to remember some stupid joke where the punch line was similar” said a voice from behind her.
Taminy froze, only just saving the tray from being spilled across the floor. “I’m sawry?” she said, the southern accent resurfacing in fear.
“Oh, I was just reminiscing is all. I seem to recall what you just said as being part of a joke at some point in time.”
Turning nervously to meet the face behind the voice, Taminy spurted “Reid!” involuntarily while almost dropping her platter for a second time.
Reid helped her to steady it before answering “Umm, yes. Do we know each other?” Taminy recovered, saying “Oh, no, no, no. I’m sorry. I just saw your name badge, and it, well, it reminded me of a very dear friend.”
“I see. Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll grab a couple of those vegetable Frankensteins from you. Not because I’ll enjoy them, but to ease your burden a touch, OK?”
“Certainly! I’m sorry again. Please, take some. And here, have a napkin as well. No charge.” Taminy affected a slight bow and a mischievous grin before walking away from Reid a little too quickly. Oh God. How did she not realize that he would be here? Her one true defender throughout the entire bullshit high school experience. The only person in all the earth who was allowed to call her “Tam”. He should have technically graduated a year before her, but he’d been held back for some reason or another. During the years of her sexual awakening, she had often fantasized that it was God himself who held Reid back a year. Held him back solely to defend her. To love her. To make love to her. Of the three, only the first ever happened, and of the three, only the first happened quite often.
As she walked away, she was unable to see Reid following her with his eyes. Eyes that never forgot a pretty face, no matter how much make-up was slathered on to hide it.
Devon, brushing up against Taminy, whispered, “Girlfriend, are you avoiding me? I mean, I’m not the jealous type darling, but it seems like you’ve been doing your best to stay as far away from me as possible! Is it the cologne? Is it my beauty? Your jealous of my beauty, right?”
Taminy chuckled despite the dangerous position she found herself in by conjoining with him. “No dear, it’s just that I know Amanda is on the lookout for me, and I also know that she’s expecting to find me right here, next to you.”
“Oh, gotcha. Well then, I’ll just head over there then – but if you need me, you just come running, OK? And please, if Amanda starts anything, throw up your Devon signal but quick! That bitch has been deserving a slap of the same name from me for far too long!” With that, Devon sauntered off to the other end of the hall, a scallop-laden tray held high above his head.
Taminy, impressed, watched him weave through the crowd. Damn! If she could only walk like that she thought, then NOBODY would ever fuck with her again. She was making a mental note to ask Devon to give her lessons at some point when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Honey,” said the voice. This time the voice was a woman’s, and this time it was a voice Taminy recognized.
“Why don’t you take a quick breather, dear? You look as pale as a ghost, and your tray is shaking worse than a crack addict on his last dose.”
“Thanks Lisa. Just five minutes would be nice.”
“I figured. Just long enough to smoke one more nail into your coffin, right?”
“Right.” Taminy said while handing her tray to Lisa and starting off.
“And Taminy,” Lisa said a bit too loudly, “please remember to pop a mint before you come back, OK?”
Leaving the hall, Taminy found the darkest corner possible, fuming over the fact that Lisa had blurted out her name. Madder still that she had never even given thought to the possibility of it occurring at some point during the evening. Fortunately, none of the attendees had been close enough to hear Lisa. Either that, or none of them actually cared enough about the “staff” to listen. Stupid insufferable pricks. Every last one of them! Well, all but one, at any rate. Taminy slowly closed her eyes, enjoying the gradual loss of vision and the blissful black that resulted, as she dragged diligently upon her slightly crumpled Lucky Strike. She knew they were the worst possible cigarette available, and as such, felt a certain kinship with this particular brand. Feeling the dark heavy smoke fill her lungs, she was finally able to find a small island of solitude amongst all the cacophony – both mental and real – that was surrounding her this evening.
It was a feeling short lived, however, as a newly familiar voice reached out to her and stopped her dead in her tracks, “I gotta say, the ‘fuck me’ make-up suits your friend Amanda a hell of a lot better than it does you, Tam.”