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Chapter Eleven: Ectoplasm-Green


I made a mental note that in the future I should just return to the gym whenever Chris said that he was taking the lead again.

It was almost too easy.

Jenny in the Locker Room was a good time, and I felt good about my lead. Chris had failed to respond to my text about one-upping him, which could only mean that he wasn't on the fast track to scoring that night. Which meant I could relax for the night with Becky.

I threw some gel into my hair and a decent shirt.

At Fresh Oasis, I glanced around and quickly affirmed Becky wasn't there yet. I bought a bottle of water and sat in a chair by the door, waiting for her. I glanced at my watch. When I looked back up, I choked on a mouthful of water I'd just knocked back.

Becky was standing in the doorway wearing a pair of bright yellow short-short-shorts and flip flops. She had on a tight white tank top with tiny red flowers all over it. Her hair hung softly on her shoulder, a red flower pinned in it. She held a purse in her hands. She saw me and she smiled and came over. "Hey," she said, coming to a stop beside the table.

I stood up. "Damn," I said.

Her cheeks turned red, "Shut up." She smirked, "You don't have to exaggerate, just be for real, please."

I shook my head, "I'm not exaggerating. Damn." She had thighs of steel.

Becky looked uncomfortable, like she didn't know how to answer my appreciation or something. She thumbed at the door, "Are you taking me on a date to my own work or are we going somewhere?" she asked.

"Holy shit, is that you Beckers?" Suddenly a guy in a Fresh Oasis apron was at my side appraising Becky, too. "Lookit yooou all dolled up!" Then he looked at me, raised an eyebrow, smirked, "Is this Mr. Yummy?"

"Shut up Ricky."

Ricky turned to me. "You are yummy." He winked. Becky looked mortified and swatted at him. Ricky laughed, "Have a good time, Beckers," he called and ran off.

I looked at Becky. "Mr. Yummy?"

"Ricky's gay," she said. "I told him I had a date tonight and he decided you were Yummy. That was not my word."

I grinned.

"Seriously."

"Uh huh."

Becky rolled her eyes and stepped out of the Fresh Oasis doors and I followed her, laughing. The lights of the city were bright. "So where are we going?" she asked as the door of the smoothie shop closed behind us.

"On the perfect date," I replied with a shrug.

"Does the perfect date include food?" she asked.

"Of course," I answered. "You eat real food, right? You aren't like one of those bird seed-and-lettuce chicks right?"

"Food is the best," Becky answered.

"And you aren't a vegetarian?" I said.

"Food is spelled M-E-A-T. I have a cow shaped hole in my heart."

"Good. Then you'll like dinner."

"What about after dinner?"

"There's some entertainment I think you'll enjoy."

Becky laughed. "Okay." She stopped next to a neon green Honda that was parked around the corner from the Fresh Oasis. "Here's my ride," she said, waving her arm.

"Where in the hell did you find an Ectoplasm-green car?" I demanded, stunned by its beauty.

Becky's face broke into a grin, "You are the first person that I haven't had to explain my color choice to!" she laughed. "Look at the plate."

I rushed to look. SLYYYMR.

"Jesus this is the coolest car ever," I mumbled. There was a bumper sticker of the Ghostbusters Ø symbol next to the plate.

"Right? All it's missing is Bill fuckin' Murray," Becky laughed. She unlocked the doors and we climbed inside. She stuck her key in the ignition. A bunch of pins covered the roof of the car. I looked up at them as she turned the car on. Suddenly music filled the speakers. It was Dirty Dancing by New Kids on the Block.

I froze.

If she knew New Kids...

"Sorry." Her face was bright red. She muted the stereo. "I thought I muted it before I got out."

"S'all good," I said, laughing nervously. "So you're a Blockhead, huh?"

"Hugely," she admitted, rolling her eyes up to emphasize. "For like ever," she added. She paused. "You knew who that was?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"Nate, are you a New Kids fan?"

"No," I replied quickly. Maybe too quickly. Donnie and I had been in hot competition during the entirety of the NKOTBSB tour and now apparently I had to compete with his ass with this chick too. "I mean. I have sisters. You know."

Becky laughed. "Uh huh."

I forced a smile. Then. "Do you like any other boybands? Just curious?"

Becky shrugged, "Eh. I mean, I kinda feel like everyone kinda copied NKOTB. Since they were first, you know? They're the greatest, obviously. Donnie Wahlberg is just... oh God, I don't think there's even an adjective."

I had to bite my tongue.

She grinned. "Do you have a thing for boybands, Nate?" she teased.

I shook my head. "Although people tell me I look like I should be in one," I said.

Becky shook her head, "Oh God no."

"No?"

She made a face, scrunching up her nose, "Nawh. You're not -- let's see, how to say this delicately -- you're not girly," she said.

"Girly?"

Becky nodded. "Yeah. I don't know. I went to see New Kids on the Block last year and they were touring with the Backdoor Boys and they're soooooo lame. Oh my God. It was like torture sitting through their parts of the show."

I think my tongue started bleeding.

"They're not so bad," I choked.

"Yeah they are. They were trying so fucking hard..."

I wanted to make a come back. I wanted to talk about Jonathan's trick hip and Danny's mere existence in the band. I wanted to discuss the finer points of some of Jordan's falsetto moments. I wanted to point out that BSB had sold way more CDs than NKOTB. It was killing me not to defend myself. I about opened my mouth to say something about it, to tell her who I was, when she said, "So how old are your sisters?"

I blinked. The question felt deep into left field because I'd been so focused on the her not liking Backstreet Boys bit that I'd forgotten that I'd said I had sisters. I couldn't think fast enough to come up with an answer that was Nate-tailored, so I just said, "Late twenties, earlie thirties."

Becky laughed. "How old are you, for that matter?"

"Thirty-three," I answered. "You?"

"Twenty-nine twice," she replied.

"What?"

"I'm thirty-one," she answered.

"When's your birthday?"

Becky laughed, "April Fools Day. Turns out my entire life is one gigantic joke to the world." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yours?"

"January," I answered. Then, "Why are you so down on yourself all the time?" I asked.

Becky shrugged, "When you're told something enough times you start to believe it."