Comedy Girl Read online

  Later I had crushes on numerous elementary-school dreamboats. In fifth grade I liked Nicholas, a neighborhood boy who attended a private grammar school. I received my first kiss while playing hide-and-seek one night before dinner. Unfortunately I was too skilled at the game, and when he finally did hunt me down he was exhausted. He missed my mouth and wound up kissing me on my cheek, panting more from exhaustion than love, and was then called in for dinner. I learned to leave a leg showing!

  Junior year I had just experienced smile number one from new transfer dreamboat Gavin Baldwin, when I encountered erotic oddball Eddie Abels.

  It was a rainy Friday night. My parents were at a party and had left me an envelope with forty dollars “for dinner and emergencies,” along with a stack of coupons for every restaurant in Amber Hills. Jazzy was spending the night, and our stomachs were growling like bears by the time the doorbell finally rang. The delivery guy from Pizza Town looked strangely familiar.

  “It’s Eddie from my Geometry class!” I feverishly whispered to Jazzy in the foyer, as we hung back in our nightshirts. He sat in the first row and I in the last, both daydreaming about life outside the lines of isosceles triangles. We hardly knew each other existed.

  Eddie shuffled awkwardly in his red-and-blue polo shirt and bright red pants. His wet blond hair dripped out from beneath his Pizza Town cap.

  “Hey, babies,” he said, leaning against the doorway, eyeing my exposed legs with his sexy eyes, like he had been delivering pizzas and passion all his life.

  “One large Sicilian with everything,” he said, unzipping the red warming box.

  I nudged Jazzy and whispered, “Without cheese.”

  “I hope there’s no cheese on it,” Jazzy interjected. “She’s lactose intolerant.”

  “Not to fear, babies. I personally scraped it off.”

  I shifted nervously back and forth, pulling down on my South Park nightshirt. I stared at my sexy classmate—my body alive with his presence. I was totally embarrassed to be dressed for bed in front of a classmate. I fumbled with the envelope as he stepped into the foyer. He gazed at my legs while holding the hot pizza.

  “We don’t usually answer the door like this,” Jazzy said, twirling her hair.

  “Then it’s my lucky night,” he said to me with a coy glint in his eyes.

  I was startled and dropped the money.

  “Let me get that,” he said, bending down. I kept my eyes on the floor as we scrambled to collect the bills.

  “You’re in my math class,” Eddie said to me. “I knew you looked familiar. You’re the one who never says anything.”

  I couldn’t believe he had ever noticed me, that anyone had noticed me!

  I scrambled to my feet and gave Eddie both twenties.

  “Keep the change,” I stammered.

  He squeezed the bills in his hand. Then he gave me a huge smile and a sexy wink.

  “See ya ’round, babies. Next time remember to wear a robe. Some of these delivery guys might get the wrong idea.”

  I watched him walk to his truck.

  “He’s hotter than that pizza!” Jazzy exclaimed. “He loves you, he totally loves you!”

  I looked at my empty, trembling hands. “Oh no! I screwed up!”

  “You’ll be screwing him, girl! Did you see how he eyeballed you just before he left? He totally digs you!”

  “He better dig me—I just gave him a twenty-five-dollar tip. And I forgot to use the coupon!”

  That hefty tip landed me a date with Eddie.

  I didn’t dare make eye contact with him as I sat with my head in my notebook in Geometry class. But out of the corner of my eye I peeked up and could see how much more attractive he looked without his Pizza Town uniform on. I also noticed him glancing back at me, his blond hair flopping in his face. I shifted uneasily in my chair. For the first time Eddie was paying attention in Geometry—he was paying attention to me.

  What was he thinking? I wondered. “She’s so in love with me that she forgot the price of pizza and gave me all her money.” Or, “She wants me so bad she tried to seduce me with a large tip.” Or, “She obviously isn’t learning anything in math—she can’t even figure out how much a pizza costs!”

  When the bell finally rang, I scooted out of class like a track star. Eddie grabbed his notebooks and followed after me.

  “There’s a party Saturday,” he said, his green eyes piercing through me. He handed me a piece of paper ripped from his spiral binder. “I’ll be there,” he continued, with a wink. “Here’s the address.”

  That was a date with Eddie. No flowers, no movie, no dinner. No seductive invitation, no “What’s your number? I’ll pick you up at seven.” A date with Eddie meant a parentless house, grunger friends, booze. But I didn’t care. Although I hadn’t really ever noticed Eddie before, I now found myself strangely attracted to him. He was tempting, even in his bright red chinos and Pizza Town hat, and I’d go anywhere he wanted.

  I hated parties, and despite Eddie’s invitation I probably wouldn’t have gone without Jazzy. Who would I talk to when I arrived? What would I say? What would people think of me? I preferred a rental movie night with Jazzy. We could scream and laugh and be our goofy selves. Parties were so painfully awkward. Hanging out with a bunch of drunken snobs who wouldn’t talk to me during the middle of the week, let alone the weekend—it was just another place I didn’t belong.

  We arrived fashionably late in our party outfits—tight flowery tops and lots of beaded jewelry, Jazzy sporting a pastel blue headband over her bleached-blond hair and I wearing red heart barrettes in my orange hair. Smoke filled the dark foyer, and the pulsing beat of the Mojo Monsters echoed off the walls. Couples sat on long leather couches in the living room, drinking beer.

  Eddie was nowhere to be found, so I sat on the edge of the sofa next to the TV, while Jazzy scoured the house. Jelly Bean was hosting Saturday Night Live. I escaped into the show, ignoring the critical glances of my schoolmates.

  Gavin wouldn’t act like these idiots, I thought. He wouldn’t ignore a girl sitting alone. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a jet-black-haired guy in a leather jacket coming down the stairs. Gavin! My heart sank. And I’m sitting here alone. Watching TV at a party. He’ll see me and think I’m a total loser geek. I tried to find someone to talk to, but everyone around me was making out. I cringed.

  But when he turned his face toward me I saw it wasn’t Gavin after all. How could I have mistaken this disheveled loser for my passion, my heartthrob, my major crush, my knight in shining Calvins? Maybe it was the dim lighting or maybe I needed glasses. I breathed a sigh of relief. Because as exciting as it would be to see him on a weekend and get smile number eight, how could I bear to watch him glued all night to Stinkface’s pouty lips?

  “These are for you,” Gavin said, handing me flowers as I opened my front door. He beamed a huge smile, smile number eight with an exclamation point, his perfect teeth twinkling.

  “Pink roses, my favorite!” I said, taking the flowers.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confessed.

  The sexual tension between us swelled to a peak; he kissed me on the cheek. His lips felt warm against my flesh.

  He grabbed my hand and led me to his sparkling blue Volvo. “I got it waxed just for you!” he announced.

  He squeezed my hand as we walked up the drive to the party. “I’ve seen you in the hall all these months. I tried to get you out of mind but I just couldn’t!”

  “Hey, Gavin!” Sam Chapman yelled as we entered the house.

  “Hey, dude, this is my girlfriend, Trixie. Isn’t she ravishing?”

  “Yeah, man, she rocks!”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” I said, like a queen.

  “The pleasure is mine!” He bent over and kissed my hand.

  Our attention was drawn to a timid girl sitting alone on the edge of the sofa watching Saturday Night Live.

  “I can’t believe that!” Gavin said. “Her best friend is probab
ly looking around for the doofus that invited her because she’s too shy to ask herself. Guys should never treat girls that way.”

  “I’ve found him!” Jazzy screamed, grabbing me by the arm.

  “Gavin?”

  “Gavin? Eddie! Why aren’t you mingling?”

  “I was watching Jelly Bean.”

  “This is a party, Trix. We don’t have to watch TV tonight!” Jazzy dragged me toward the kitchen.

  “What if Eddie doesn’t remember inviting me? What if he’s with another girl?”

  “Don’t be so paranoid or I’ll send you to my therapist!”

  Several grungers were hanging out by the sink. Eddie was standing in front of the open refrigerator as if it was a sacred altar.

  Jazlyn coughed loudly until he turned around. But he didn’t smile and rush over to me and introduce me to his friends. He just gazed at us with an expression that said, “Why aren’t you girls in the living room watching Saturday Night Live?”

  I died inside. “We must have the wrong party!” I blurted out. “I was supposed to meet this totally cool guy. But I guess he’s out delivering pizzas.”

  Eddie’s friends laughed. Jazzy’s jaw dropped to the floor. Eddie grinned from ear to ear.

  “Hey, wait, baby!” he called, following me. He grabbed my shoulder and I instantly melted. “You want a beer?”

  He took me by the hand and led me back through the kitchen, past Jazzy, who was cozily talking to one of his friends, and out onto the porch.

  “Bud or Miller?” he asked, reaching into the cooler.

  “No thanks, I’m in recovery,” I joked.

  But Eddie didn’t get it. “That’s cool, you just don’t seem like a twelve-stepper.”

  “I took the Cliffs Notes version. There are only three steps and no meetings. Just a phone call.”

  Eddie’s curiosity was as limited as his sense of humor, and he merely gave me a blank look. He opened a bottle for himself and took a long swig. Then he pulled me close. I was shocked by his sudden affection. His body was amazingly strong for someone with no visible muscles. He seemed very confident as he gazed deep into my eyes and kissed me slowly on the mouth.

  It was like kissing a pizza. With extra sauce and spicy peppers and even forbidden cheese. I could feel the cold bottle against my back as he put his arms around my waist. We stood against the brick wall, kissing and touching, getting to know the geometry of each other’s bodies as we never could in class.

  “I always thought you were hot,” he said, stopping for another swig of beer.

  “I always liked the back of your head.”

  He laughed. Eddie Abels laughed at my joke! Excitement ran through my bones.

  “I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?” I asked, puzzled.

  “You know, for the major tip,” he said. “It was very daring. It’s always the quiet ones.”

  “So that’s why I’m here?”

  “No, that’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to be working, but I asked for the night off.”

  He squeezed me back against the wall and kissed me slowly. It was like one of my fantasies. This couldn’t really be happening to me.

  “I’ll pay you back…in slow installments,” he said as he untucked my shirt and caressed the small of my back. His bony fingers moved up my naked skin, one vertebra at a time, until they reached my bra strap.

  Just then Jazzy came out. “Trixie! We have to go!”

  This was the first party I’d ever enjoyed, and we had to leave early.

  “My mom paged me. Her car broke down, and I need to pick her up,” Jazzy explained, as Eddie continued to kiss me. “Unless Eddie can take you home.”

  “I’m crashing here tonight,” Eddie said, breaking away. “But there’s plenty of room for two on the floor, baby.”

  “I didn’t bring my sleeping bag,” I said.

  “Pizza Town is closed for the night!” Jazzy insisted, grabbing my hand and leading me safely away.

  “I thought you didn’t have morals,” I told her.

  “I don’t, but you do!”

  Jazzy and I screamed as we ran across the lawn to her car. “I think his friend Ricky likes me!” she confessed. “And you and Eddie were having a total makeout festival! We have boyfriends!”

  I glowed in the car, wondering what a thirty-dollar tip would bring.

  A date with Eddie soon became a Friday night delivery ride around the city in his pizza truck. Sandwiched under large hot pizzas and cold two-liter bottles of Pepsi, I sucked in my gut for several hours and took home tiny bruises from the bottles thumping against my legs. But I was too happy to complain.

  Heavy metal rocked through the speakers those nights. From inside his truck I watched Eddie confidently walk up the long paths to his customers’ houses. “They’re always happy to see me,” he would say. “It’s like delivering flowers, only they get to eat them.” But Eddie always moaned about how he wanted to be doing something else. He had bigger dreams than this. “I want to own Pizza Town!”

  Sarge and Dad liked Eddie because “He has a job!” I was allowed out with him once a week, and he was required to drive me safely home immediately after his shift. Each Friday before taking me home, however, he would park at the lakeshore. Free of delivery boxes, we had room to snuggle. Then around twelve thirty he pulled into my driveway and gave me a long kiss good night. I fell asleep peacefully tucked in my bed. A reminder of the evening etched in my flesh and hair, the scent of edible Eddie—pizza sauce and melted cheese.

  “I have to make a quick stop; it’ll only be a minute,” Eddie said one night at the end of an exhausting evening of deliveries. “You can even carry the box.”

  Eddie had never asked me to carry the box before, which may not sound like a big deal, but for Eddie it was like asking a girl to wear his class ring. But more important than the honor was the chance to finally get out of the truck.

  Eddie pulled into Chaplin’s, the neighborhood comedy club.

  I had always wanted to enter Chaplin’s, but audience members had to be at least eighteen. But here I was, with a ticket in the shape of a pizza.

  My eyes lit up when I saw the bright black-and-white fluorescent sign in the shape of a bowler hat and cane. I had always wondered what Chaplin’s looked like inside.

  Eddie took out a large pizza from the back. He then threw a brown leather jacket over his Pizza Town shirt. “I hate going in here dressed like a pizza jerk,” he explained. “The comics heckle me to death.”

  “What about me? Can I heckle you?” I asked coyly.

  “It would be a dream come true, baby!”

  The front door opened into a world I had only dreamed of. What stood before me was an entranceway filled with fame—black-and-white glossy framed head shots of famous comedians, adorned with signatures and funny comments. I was walking down the same black-tiled road that they had once taken. At the end of the corridor, beyond the ticket window and a small bar, stood a mysterious closed door from which spilled out the one sound I loved above all others—laughter.

  “Eddie, I could smell you coming,” the turtlenecked bartender said.

  “Pepperoni smells better than vodka, Jack.”

  “Yeah, but vodka gets better tips.”

  “But with pizza you remember who you’re waking up with.”

  “By the looks of it, you’re doing okay, kid,” Jack said, scrutinizing me. Normally I would have been upset at the lewd comment, but my eyes and ears were absorbing this new world. My gaze was glued to the closed theater door that held that new world inside, with laughter escaping. What lay beyond it?

  “Jack, this is Trixie.”

  “Hey, Trixie,” Jack said.

  “Uh…hey, John, nice to meet you,” I blurted out, still in my trance.

  “Ben inside?” Eddie asked.

  “Sure. Ask him to save me a slice.”

  “I’ll try. C’mon,” Eddie said to me. “And don’t tilt the pizza.”

  But I was overwhel
med and handed over the box. “I have to go to the bathroom!” I wanted to compose myself. I felt as if I was about to perform.

  I checked myself in the dingy bathroom mirror. “Makeup’s okay; Piña Colada Passion lipstick needs a refresher…and the hair! Needs a major brush!”

  My tiny purse was full of everything I could possibly need—quarters, a tampon, a purple marker, a grape Charms Blow Pop, three Starlite mints, a set of house keys, notes from Jazzy, a miniversion of my comedy notebook. But most importantly, one purple purse-sized Goody brush. I combed out my hair and fluffed it up with the hand dryer, wondering how many famous people had used this sink. Rosie? Roseanne? RuPaul?

  I squeezed the hairbrush and saw the crowd smiling back in the mirror. “Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” I said out loud. “It’s great to be back here at Chaplin’s. News flash—I have a boyfriend now. He delivers pizza. But sometimes he gets confused when he drops me off after a date. He charges me a dollar-fifty for delivery!”

  Suddenly an older woman was standing behind me, staring at me like she just stepped into a nuthouse. She quickly ran into a stall. Embarrassed, I threw the brush into my purse and flew out of the bathroom.

  Eddie was not in the hallway.

  I grabbed the long golden knobs of the theater doors and slowly pulled them open.

  Suddenly my black-and-white world turned into Technicolor. I felt like a child at Disney World, a quarterback at the Super Bowl, an astronaut who landed on the moon.

  All right, it was a dump. A tiny room with unvarnished floors, rickety wooden tables without tablecloths, and a cramped stage without curtains. In my eyes it was Oz.

  A wiry man wearing a red bow tie and blue jeans stood onstage not forty feet away, holding a beer bottle in his hand, leaning against the microphone stand. I didn’t even hear his jokes, I was so overwhelmed to be so close to a real comedian.

  “Hey, baby! Over here,” a voice whispered out of the darkness.