Hit'n Those Notes Ch. 09

Author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Thursday, March 29th, 3:04 AM

"You must live here," I commented, trying to maintain my composure because those 'ta-kill-ya' shots were now making me feel a little fuzzy.

"It feels like that sometimes, but I split my day most times. A lot of it depends on what we've got going on around here, like your competition, which requires a bit more time onsite, so I didn't skip out today. The GM is pretty good about letting us take banked time and get free of this place," he thought about his statement and added, "It's a really good property to work at, so I'm not complaining or anything."

I was trying really hard to stay focused, and between complaining, splits, competition, and banks, I wasn't sure what I wanted to comment on. Towels came to mind, him holding one after getting out of the shower - probably not something I should say. I punted...

"I'm going to my room..."

"Oh, I'm about to get something to eat before the kitchen closes," he said, nodding back over his shoulder.

I took that to mean the kitchen for the club. Did he tell me the main kitchens in this place never shut down? Wasn't that something he said on his 'Dime' tour?

I began giggling, "I've got a dime."

Blake looked totally confused. "A dime? What are you talking about, Brea?"

The tour is silly... Your 'Dime' tour Did you forget already? I didn't just say that, right? Wait... Are you inviting me to get something to eat?

"You, okay? You have a couple drinks tonight," he asked.

Be cool... Just say you did and move along.

"Maybe...," I said all cutesy, so the answer was clear.

Where the fuck did that come from? I was trying to hold it together, and obviously my brain was slipping gears. Am I toying with him? No... No, no, no... Towel!

"Ah... So, you did," he said, smiling, Well, good for you. I'm sure it's been a stressful day, and you needed to take the edge off. I owe you a drink," he said, looking closely at me. "Maybe later today?"

"No, I'm not drinking tomorrow..." I had to think about that, and it probably showed on my face: "Today, I'm not drinking today."

Oh shit, it's already today, but the nighttime makes you think of today, right? Yesterday? I should really get out of here and go to bed before I say something really stupid. I'm not even making sense, even to myself. Cents? Sense... I have a 'Dime' for a peek behind the towel? I giggled out loud again.

"Come on, let's get you to your room," he said with a hint of playful concern.

"Okay...," I replied with more cheer than intended. I reached out and touched his arm after saying that. Why did I do that? He was looking at me funny. Was it me touching his arm? Say something! "This way..."

"Ah, no, that's the way back to the theater. Do you need to get something first?" he asked.

"Oh, I meant... That-a-way!" I pointed in the opposite direction from where I had originally thought I needed to go. So much for NOT looking stupid! I was pretty sure I was failing that test big time. Why do I feel so bubbly right now? Tests!

"How old are you, Blake?" Shit! Did I really just ask him that?

"I'll be the big three-O next month. Why?"

Whoa... I thought you were way older than twenty-nine; why was that? Do you look old? Sorta... Maybe your job and your overly mature air make you seem older? Everyone was calling you 'Mr. Schultz' like you were old... Augh... Say something!

"I'm going to be twenty-four in July. On the seven's... Seventh..." Oh, crap! I needed to keep my mouth shut! I began walking in the direction he'd corrected me, and it quickly became obvious that this was the way to the lobby and elevators. Was he going to escort me all the way to my room? Do I allow that? This, allow this? That? Whoa, the floor is moving...

Thursday, March 29th, 3:09 AM

At the elevators, I hit the 'Up' arrow and turned to Blake, saying, "Well, this is my ride."

"I think I'm going to make sure you make it to your room... Come on," he chided, his hand on my back to guide me into the now-open elevator.

I hoped my blouse wasn't sweaty from dancing; that would be gross. When we were in the elevator, he turned to the panel and pressed '6'. How did you...

"How did you know I'm on the sixth floor," I asked, trying not to sound too accusatory, though I'm sure my face said WTF.

He took a moment to formulate his reply, "All the contestants are on the sixth floor, Brea. I have no idea what room you are in, but if you don't know, I can find out easy enough," he said, pulling his phone from his suit pocket.

He didn't sound annoyed, but he did sound serious. Old... Was he an old man naked behind his towel? Did he think I was thinking he was a stalker again?

"I don't think you are a stalker or anything like that, Blake."

"Well, that's good, because I'm not, Brea."

"And that is a good thing... I do know my room, so you cannot phone someone," I said as the doors to the elevator closed and we were now alone. Why was I looking around? We were alone on this ride up.

Thursday, March 29th, 3:10 AM

I stepped out and knew I needed to go to my left; Blake followed because he said he didn't know what room I was in. So, he had to follow me, right, He's following me. Grrr! I'm losing it! Get your keycard out!

I unzipped my wristlet clutch and retrieved my keycard as we walked the long hallway to my room. I didn't look to see if Blake was watching me or not, but it felt like it. When we got to my room, I stuck the card in, pulled it out quickly, and the light showed green. I pushed the handle down and pushed the door open a couple inches.

OK Blakey... This is where you say you want to kiss me; it's just that thing that happens to me in Vegas hotels. Mom said you like like liked me. Oh, blue eyes... I looked at his face closely, and he had the kindest blue eyes. Is that even a thing? Kind eyes? Was he more attractive now that he wasn't thirty-five or forty years old? Do I say something? I think I would kiss you. Can you hear my thoughts? What a loopy...

"Are you going to be alright...," he asked.

"Yes... Thank you for seeing the home away from my home safely here," I said, leaning back into the door and pushing it open half way. Am I inviting him in? Will he think that? I'm tempted to tell you what my mom thinks about you, Blakey. Are you going to...

"Ok, well, get some sleep. A big day is coming up. You've got a real shot at winning this thing, Brea," he said, interrupting the one-sided conversation I was having with myself silently. He smiled and turned to walk away.

Where... What? Ah... You're going to walk away like that and then come back. I see how this is going to go, a going. Is this a guy thing? Is there a chapter on seduction that says, 'Be nice; don't push it; she will want you even more?'

I watched him walk away. Nice ass, but take the towel off! You're going to look back and see me... Look back... He stopped at the elevator, and I ducked inside before seeing if he looked back. He'll be back in a minutes, moment...

I shut the door softly, over-animating my movements, and lean against it. I could feel the dulling on my brain the tequila shots were inflicting. On my brain? I flicked the light switch on. I'm so tired... Get undressed. No, when he comes back, I don't want to be naked. Or do I? No... I walked to the bed and sat on it, facing the door, waiting. Should be any second now. Any second Blake...

Am I impatient? He should have been back by now, right? Wait, it's a long hallway. Do I go look? No! I'm just going to lay down until you get here. I plopped back onto the bed. Oh, fuck, that feels good. Like I'm floating... Do I even want to get up when he knocks? I should have just left the door ajar with that lock thingy. Just going to close my...

Thursday, March 29th, 9:03 a.m.

I rolled away from the noise, pulling a pillow over my head. My mouth was dry, my vision was a bit fuzzy, and my head hurt. The pounding noise stopped. Thank God! I should have put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the handle. Better yet, tie a sock to the handle to freak mom out.

Shit! My mom! I threw the pillow and covers off and hopped out of bed, making it to the door and opening it just as my phone began ringing behind me.

"Oh... Did you not sleep well, honey," Mom asked, hanging up and putting her phone away.

Mine stopped ringing behind me. Augh... I wanted to tell her not to yell, but I squinted and shook my head, 'No'. The truth is, I slept pretty hard for the first couple hours until I got cold and wrapped myself in the comforter on the bed. Then a couple minutes passed, and I needed to pee. So, I got up, fought the gaffe off, did my business, and took off my clothes.

The tape removal was NOT enjoyable while half asleep and maybe slightly inebriated. I did a quick water splash on my face and a vigorous towel rub to get most of my makeup smeared really well all over my face and deep into my pores. Then I returned to bed... My skin would be paying the price for that today. What the hell time is it anyway?

"You want me to order breakfast in Brea?"

The door clicked behind me, and it took a good ten or fifteen seconds before I could engage my body to move.

"Brea?"

I heard you, mom...

"Sure, I need to get in the shower..."

Without waiting for a reply or question about what I might want to eat, I entered the bathroom, closed the door, and got a good look at DEATH staring back at me from the mirror. Oh, fuck me...

Thursday, March 29th, 9:57 a.m.

I took no less than a thirty-minute shower and would have sat in the tub with the water pouring over me longer had my mom not peeked in to say breakfast was here. I did all the personal care shit almost immediately upon entering the shower, and the sitting in the tub part was a good ten minutes of mind-numbing nothing... I didn't feel sick, but my head hurt pretty good. I was dehydrated pretty bad I could tell.

I got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my head and one around my body under my arms. I tried wiping the mirror - too much steam. Switch gears, I grabbed my bottle of ibuprofen and threw three in my mouth, sucking water from my hand at the faucet. Work quickly, PLEASE!

I opened the door to the bathroom and was slapped in the face with the smell of eggs, toast, possibly pancakes or something sweet and cake-smelling, and of course coffee. I then smelled bacon, and my stomach made a queasy rumble. For a second, I considered bolting back into the bathroom. Toast. Plain, bland toast.

"You look like you've regained a bit of color."

"Yeah, the red you see is from the hot water trying to melt away bad decisions, mom."

I took a tentative bite of toast on the accompanying plate next to the covered one. Once it went down and didn't seem to want to come back out, I chomped on a bigger bite. Water! I needed water, and lots of it. I headed to the mini-refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, uncapped it, and chugged almost half of it. OMG, that tastes so good! For water, that is...

"If Bill finds out you were..."

"I know mom," I interrupted her complaining. "I know...," I softened my tone.

"Well, you shouldn't have been out so late or been drinking."

"Yes, that was a bad decision I won't be making again anytime soon," I replied, assuring her I got it.

"You want to try some eggs?" she asked.

I picked up the metal top from the plate sitting on the desk and saw the eggs, hash browns, a couple strips of bacon, and a couple mini pancakes. It all smelled really good, so I rolled some eggs and bacon into a pancake and took a tentative bite. There was no revolt from my stomach, so I went about eating my pancake burrito of eggs and bacon.

"What are your plans for the day?"

I looked towards the bedside table and the alarm clock said 10:03.

"I'm supposed to be at the pool for another mingle event at 11:30... I'm not looking forward to that," I said, trying not to sound like I was complaining again or much.

"Well, you better get going then. I'll get out of your hair and see you at the pool. You know it's raining out?"

"It is?"

I walked to the window and pulled the curtains back. The skies were gray, and it looked wet out. I was pretty sure there was an indoor pool, so maybe they'll move this event there? I relayed that to her. She said she'd find it and see me there. We hugged, and she left me to finish the last couple bites of my pancake burrito. I looked at the last bite - how come someone hasn't made this a breakfast staple? Augh! Focus...

Thursday, March 29th, 11:36 a.m.

I had struggled to get my hair just right and my makeup done so that I didn't look pale or like I didn't have a clue how to apply makeup. Two strikes already on this day, though the ibuprofen had done wonders on my head. Likely, the water and food had kicked in to round out the pain medication efforts and to ease the pounding I had in my head. Thank you, God, for the assist! Much appreciated, buddy. Added bonus: no sore throat. Ditto that, thank you...

The next big struggle of the day came when I needed to decide which of the two swimsuits, I had bought for this trip was going to work for this 'Contestants Pool Party' gathering. A one-piece with a cute sheer swimmer's wrap or a bikini top with cute surf shorts to hide my body from the waist down a little better. The one-piece made my tiny breasts look juvenile. How the hell did I think this suit was a good choice when I bought it? Augh...

It took less time to get out of that one than it did to put it on. In the end, I hated how both of these suits looked on me and finally settled on the bikini only because the top had a tiny bit of padding built into the underwire structure. Bonus: it had a little thicker material, giving the padding the slightest bit of enhancement. Of course, the shorts meant it would be easier to hide something I needed to keep tucked out of sight. Love being incomplete... NOT!

Dysphoria much today? Oh, fuck yeah, and it was approaching overload levels! The anxiety was crippling me already, even before I left my room. Now here at the pool, with a name tag proudly proclaiming 'Breanna Calloway' with the word 'Finalist' below it, a crowd of maybe sixty people at a really cool retractable roof indoor swimming pool, there wasn't enough air around me to breathe. Focus!

Augh! And to make matters worse, many of the women were either naturally gifted in the breast department or had paid to be enhanced. I was that prepubescent-looking girl with no breasts, boney wide shoulders, and barely any hips to speak of. The only place I didn't scream 'dude in a bikini top and shorts' was in the ass department - thank you HRT for that bonus! If I kept this up I was going to have a tough time holding it together for the couple hours this event lasted.

What the fuck was I doing here anyway?!

"Oh, I love your bikini, Victoria Secret," a woman asked.

Startled out of my loathing self-doubt session, I tried to answer politely, "Volcum, I got it at a skate shop in San Diego."

"You're from San Diego? I live in Escondido; we should totally hang out sometime."

She was so bubbly and normal-sounding that I wasn't sure how to respond without sounding bitchy. I don't do 'hanging out' with people I don't know. Grrr! I told her where I performed, and she could hit me up there on Thursday night for the jazz clubs' amateur showcases. She seemed interested and eventually went off to talk with someone else from the show.

I spotted Wyatt and headed his way. I hoped this wasn't going to be awkward.

Thursday, March 29th, 11:42 a.m.

"Hey Brea... You look nice," Wyatt said, looking me up and down in a non-pervy way.

I hugged him and said, "Thank you, Wyatt..."

"Not a problem... You sleep well?" he asked, smiling.

"Sort of, but not enough... You?"

"We closed the place down. I just got up, put on some shorts and flip-flops, and ran some gel through my hair. I need a freak'n shower like no one's business... Do I stink?" he asked in a whisper.

"No, you smell fine... I like your cologne," I said, smiling and very much relieved that he was being so cool about last night.

He was shirtless, and he had a muscular chest. The scars from his breast removal were faded and barely noticeable. He was a man who took good care of his body; that was evident. If I got a chance later, I was going to ask him about his dysphoria or seemingly lack of it - maybe get a clue to help me with mine.

"Sweet... I'm starving, so I'm going to get something to eat over there. You want anything?"

"Nah, probably hit the bar up," I said, getting a questioning look. Until I explained I needed water. We laughed, and he went to get some food while I headed to the bar.

When I approached the bar, I heard someone behind me say, "Don't even serve this woman. She's cut off!"

I saw the surprised look on the bartender's face, and turned to see the smiling face of none other than Mr. Schultz.

"Mr. Schultz... Good morning," I said, trying to control the jitters my body was sending through me due to the lack of hydration, nerves, anxiety, and any other condition my dysphoria gorilla could gather into a pile.

"Miss Calloway... I almost came back to your room last night to see if you wanted a wake-up call from the front desk. I see you made it no worse for wear."

"My mom was my wake-up...," I said. In the state I was in last night, it's good he didn't come back to my room. This meeting would be way more awkward - not that I wasn't feeling a bit awkward remembering what a dork I was last night. Check that this morning.

"Ah," he said, interrupting me while looking through me, "Mrs. Calloway, good morning..."

I turned to see Mom behind me. We hugged briefly, and she said, "Blake, please, Denise..."

"I knew that, but I'm just a little old-fashioned," he explained. "Denise, good morning."

"Much better... I wanted to thank you for making sure Brea got to her room last night."

I'd told her that, but nothing more. Now I was hoping this little reunion between them didn't add to the embarrassment factor I was already feeling around him.

He smiled and said, "My pleasure. We need her ready to go tonight. It's going to be a great show."

While they continued to chit-chat, I mouthed 'Water' to the bartender, who looked at Blake questioningly. He nodded when Blake gave him a 'You're kidding me?' look and proceeded to load a red Solo cup with my favorite type of ice (little compressed pellets of crushed ice) and fill it with bottled water.

My dentist said I needed to stop chewing ice or I was going to screw up my teeth. I didn't listen. This ice was tiny, and when you chewed it, it exploded into tiny little pieces with very little effort. I downed the water quickly, coaxed a mouthful of ice from the cup, and put the cup back on the bar for a refill, which was done quickly.

"Have you ladies been over to the expo?"

"I just got here," I stated.

Mom said she saw the signs outside of the pool and by the elevators. I added that I also saw the signs; I'm not sure why, but I didn't want to appear like I wasn't aware of my surroundings.

"The vendors would have been much happier to have set up outside by the pool, but with the rain and possible thunder showers, we had to improvise. You should definitely check it out."

How did this guy look so refreshed and functioning normally when there's no way he was in bed before 5 or 6 this morning? Are you a machine?

"We certainly will; you want to head that way, Brea," mom asked.

"Sure... I don't see the PSB cameras around; tell me that's by design," I asked Blake.

"They thought it would be too tough to get good footage in a crowd and then get signed releases from those that may get caught in their production. You might see them, but if they film it, it'll be a one-on-one thing," he thought about it a little more. "That's what Karen told me when I got here. I'm just here to make sure the bar, food, music, and pool part of this gathering doesn't get out of control," he finished with a smile.