Cocky Nerd Page 4

  I am still touching my lips when my eyes meet Callie’s.

  “Holy fuck,” she whispers. “Tell me everything immediately.”

  I can’t.

  4

  John

  ONE WEEK AGO

  I’ve been so focused on my business with China lately, that when Monty asks me what’s up in my personal life, I have to think hard to remember the last time I took someone out on a date. It was two months ago. It was the daughter of one of my MIT profs who was in Palo Alto for job interviews, and I had agreed to take her to dinner. She was attractive and friendly, and I was so bored I faked a migraine at the end of the night. There are a few women who regularly text me to see if I want to “hang out,” and occasionally I do “hang out” with them, as a means of relieving stress, and then I leave as soon as they start asking me if I ever get lonely.

  I don’t get lonely. Ever. But I do miss certain people, including Monty. He has established himself in Chicago, as the tech guy at a major venture capital firm. I keep asking him to come out to Palo Alto to work with me, but he refuses. It’s a shame.

  I choose to tell Monty that there’s no one special at the moment, and that a high-end matchmaking service routinely reaches out to me to see if I’m interested, but I’m not.

  “Why aren’t you interested?” he asks.

  The restaurant he’s chosen is crowded and noisy, and it’s unlike him to pick a place like this in Midtown Manhattan. Close to both of our hotels, I suppose. I pretend I didn’t hear him as I finish my glass of Malbec.

  He leans in further across the table and speaks louder. “Why aren’t you interested in the matchmaking service?”

  We don’t talk about our personal lives very often, as there is so much more to talk about, but ever since Monty started dating a woman in Chicago that he really likes a few months ago, he has gotten more inquisitive.

  “Busy,” I say.

  “That’s exactly why people use the service.”

  “Is it?”

  “You aren’t hung up on that model, are you?”

  “God, no.”

  “She still stalking you?”

  “I wouldn’t call it stalking. I haven’t responded to her texts or calls for months, so she hasn’t done it much lately.”

  “Are you hung up on someone else then?

  He studies my face and I give him as blank an expression as possible. “Like who?”

  He watches me for another beat, before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. Women still ask me to introduce them to you, you know. Katie’s friends. Especially since that Ted Talk.”

  “It was a TedX. I didn’t even know people watched those.”

  “It’s on YouTube. Apparently you looked ‘dreamy’ and seemed ‘really nice and articulate for a nerd’. I don’t tell them that it’s because you’re giving a talk and not talking to or with anyone.”

  “You don’t think I’m nice.”

  “Course I do. It’s just never been a priority for you to convey it.” He gets all googly-eyed for a second. “Katie’s nice.”

  “So you’ve mentioned.” He appears to be waiting for me to say something else, but I don’t.

  “It is customary to say that you look forward to meeting my girlfriend.”

  “I do look forward to it, but the last time I met one of your girlfriends you told me you were done introducing me to your girlfriends.”

  “You told her she was puerile.”

  “And she had no idea what it meant. Which, as I recall, was one of the reasons you gave for breaking up with her right after that. You make it sound as though I’m only rude to your girlfriends. I thought your co-worker was a total asshat too. What was his name? Daryl?”

  “Correct, I did decide that I’d never introduce you to anyone I cared about even the slightest bit ever again.”

  “Which is why I don’t bring it up. Although, to be clear, I would like to meet the woman who makes you this happy.”

  “I am happy,” he says, smiling. “You should give my sister a call,” he says, without signaling a change of subject.

  I choke on my risotto. “Really?”

  He is watching my reaction. I wipe my mouth with a napkin. I think my teeth are chattering.

  “Yeah, I mean, I know you’re busy. But I worry about her out there on her own.”

  “I thought she had a roommate.”

  “She does, but I mean, she…You know, she’s so free-spirited, Oly is, and I just…”

  Something about his expression makes me sick to my stomach all of a sudden. “Did something happen?”

  “No, no. Not really. My Mom just mentioned that she was doing some modeling gig with a photographer, you know, and he was…unprofessional. She got out of there okay, but I guess it spooked her.”

  My hands are balled up into fists on my lap. My ears feel hot. I have no idea who this photographer is, but if he were in front of me right now, he would be the first person I’ve ever kicked the shit out of, and I would feel so good about it.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, carefully. “What can I do?”

  He polishes off his bourbon, and looks at me for a long time, before saying: “Just let her know that you’re there for her, I guess. As a friend of the family, you know. So it doesn’t feel like such a big city.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry I haven’t done that yet—I didn’t think you’d…”

  “I never told you to stay away from her.”

  “Right, no, I guess…” I feel my cheeks getting warm, and I can’t stop from laughing nervously. “You’re just such an overprotective dick about her with most guys, I figured I should keep my distance.”

  “Why would that be?” He leans forward again, hunched over as he squints up at me. He has watched too many mafia movies. “You feel guilty or something?”

  “Course not, I have nothing to feel guilty about. Just saying you’re an overprotective dick about her and I’d rather not deal with it.”

  He seems satisfied with that explanation, so I feel comfortable breathing again. He hails the waitress and asks for more wine and bourbon. He moves on from the subject of his sister to that of his own business deals. I can have this conversation in my sleep, so I let my mind go to Olivia.

  She has been living within driving distance of my house for over a year now. Not that I would have had much time to visit her, but now that I’ve got the green light from Monty, I need to make the best of this opportunity and think carefully about how to approach this.

  I can’t honestly say that I’ve thought about her every day over the past couple of years since I saw her dance in Pittsburgh, or since I saw her dance with the Bay Area Ballet last fall, but she’s like an all-time favorite song that passes through my consciousness on a regular basis, even when I don’t purposefully stop to listen. I smile and savor the thought of her. Whenever I hear a piece of music that stirs me, I wonder how it would affect her, how her body would move to it. Of course, she makes regular appearances in my fantasies—that goes without saying. But I’ve felt good, just knowing that she’s out there, and that one day we’ll be together again.

  I guess I just didn’t expect one day to come so soon.

  I’m right in the middle of launching a foundation and I’m at a critical juncture with my food tech play. The timing isn’t ideal. But I’ll make it ideal.

  Suddenly I feel a little nervous about seeing her in person. This young woman who was just a toddler when we first met, who more than once put rubber snakes in my sleeping bag when I slept over at their house in an attempt to scare the piss out of me. But I will apply my no-fail entrepreneurial spirit to winning her over. Every success story in Silicon Valley begins with a nerd who never believed for a second that the thing he was creating wasn’t possible.

  I know that the fact that we’ve known each other since childhood is both a blessing and a curse. She feels comfortable with me, and that’s good. I understand things about her that other men don’t, and that’s good. But one of t
he things I understand is that she will always think of me as Johnny B. Nerdballs, and that’s not great.

  It’s a hurdle, not a brick wall.

  I’m ready to make a run at it and take the leap.

  5

  Olivia

  I’ve never been adept at lying. When my mother asked me point blank if I was sexually active when I was sixteen, I told her that I was, and that since she’d asked, I’d like to go on birth control pills, because all the ballerinas I knew said to use at least two forms of birth control at all times. I did and do want to have a family one day, but for a ballet dancer, getting pregnant at the wrong time is usually career-ending. My mother agreed, as long as I didn’t tell my father about my sex life. I wouldn’t have been able to lie to him if he’d asked—fortunately we’re from the Midwest, so it will probably never come up.

  So, when Callie asked what was up with John Brandt, what I told her was mostly true: that I’ve known Johnny my whole life because he’s my brother’s best friend, that we hadn’t seen each other in a few years and he just showed up at my restaurant and asked me out. Which is essentially all there is to it. Maybe he was right—by the time we get to Cleveland it might feel real. Or by then he may have driven me so batshit crazy that I won’t know the difference between fantasy and reality.

  When pressed further, I told her about all the time he’d spent at my house when I was a kid, because his parents are workaholics who were almost never home. He slept over on weekends more often than not. We celebrated his birthday when Nathan had his parties because John’s parents were always too busy to throw their son a party of his own, though John never complained about them. Once, he got the flu and when my Mom found out he was home alone, she went to pick him up and brought him to our place and made him soup.

  By that point, Callie’s hands were covering her heart. I didn’t want her to get attached to the idea of him, so I got into the other stuff. When he and my brother turned thirteen, they spent most of the time in the basement, but we only had one TV in the house, so there were a lot of arguments and subsequent retaliatory high jinks related to what to watch. I told her about the time he tried to explain the mathematics of classical music to me, and I explained how much I hated his inability to experience music viscerally by pouring a can of root beer on his head. I was grounded for a week but it was worth it, shutting him up.

  “Gosh, O, the way you talk about him it sounds like you barely even liked him.”

  “No, I did. I liked him. I do. I mean, he was an acquired taste, and I acquired it. Eventually. He was always very neat and tidy when he shared our bathroom. And he helped me with my math homework most of the time without my even asking.” He didn’t help me so much as he’d see me struggling with it and just do my homework for me while barking out basic mathematical rules that he could not believe I didn’t comprehend.

  “He’s just a nerd, you know. But he’s changed.”

  “Uh, yeah. He’s an acquired taste who’s acquired hundreds of millions of dollars.”

  “Are you Googling him? Don’t Google him!”

  “Why not? He’s highly Googleable. No way—he founded Brainy Biz? My cousin used that to get funding for this app he developed. I knew I recognized his name. He’s a big deal! Why aren’t you more excited?”

  “I am, I’m just, it’s still so new. He’s so different from the guys I usually date.”

  “Yeah, he’s not a cocky shithead.”

  “He’s cocky in his own way.”

  “What, you think he’s not good enough for you just because he’s not an artist? Give me a break.”

  I got a text from John, reminding me to get to a passport photo place before they closed, so I didn’t see Callie for the rest of the day.

  This morning, she’s back to Googling him while I stretch on the floor and eat toast.

  “It’s not like you’re the first beauty to date a nerd, you know.”

  “Not counting John Hughes movies?”

  “Hello—Miranda Kerr married that guy who co-founded Snapchat.”

  “Who’s Miranda Kerr?”

  “The Victoria’s Secret model. She has a line of organic beauty products? She’s one of the richest supermodels in the world. She was married to Orlando Bloom?”

  “Who?”

  “Oh my God. Who’s the nerd?”

  “I’m not a nerd. I’m just too busy to read People magazine.”

  “I don’t read People magazine, this is stuff that people know just from being alive and having an internet connection.”

  She types in something onto her laptop and stares at the screen. “Uhhhh…”

  “What?”

  “Your new boyfriend has dated a supermodel. Did you not know this?”

  “No.” I haven’t Googled him yet. “We don’t talk about our past relationships.”

  “That’s probably smart.”

  “Why? Who is she? Let me see.”

  She turns the laptop around so I can’t see it. “I don’t think you want to. It looks like they dated for a few months a year ago…”

  Must have been another fake relationship.

  “I don’t care just let me see!” I go over to where she’s sitting on the couch, pull the laptop away from her and experience all kinds of unexpected feelings as I stare gaping at dozens of photos of Johnny with a supernaturally stunning woman. In every picture she’s looking at him like she’s in awe of him—and not like “I can’t believe you’re such a dork” awe, but like “wow you are so amazing” kind of awe. “Montana Reed? What kind of bullshit name is that?”

  “The kind that gets listed in Maxim’s Hot 100.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds sexist.”

  “It is, and you need to face facts: you may be the nerd in this Beauty and the Nerd relationship. Because that man is freaking beautiful.”

  On the outside, yes, I’ll admit. “Yes, he’s very photogenic.”

  “Hold up!”

  “What?”

  “He did a Ted Talk!”

  “You’re kidding. About what?”

  She smiles. “Let’s find out!”

  I’ve been at work for two hours, and I can’t stop thinking about Johnny’s Ted Talk. If I hadn’t known him personally before watching it, I would have instantly fallen in love with him. His topic was “How To Leverage Your Weaknesses.” He spoke about what led him to develop Brainy Biz, and how he and this company has helped thousands of individuals and companies connect and prosper by forcing them to become self-aware of their quirks and branding themselves by calling attention to what makes them different, as opposed to familiar. There is a moment where he refers to “someone I grew up with, who has always been a friendly critic of my own particular shortcomings,” and how he is grateful to this person for helping him to see himself from another perspective, and rather than change who he is, as long as it’s not harming anyone, he has learned to change how he interacts with people. He has this poignant smile on his face when he’s talking about “this person,” and I just fucking know he’s talking about me.

  I’m both touched to find out that I’ve been such a significant person in his life, and also annoyed that it never occurred to him to tell me this directly before.

  He’s somewhat self-effacing in the TedX Talk. He says he realizes that he sounds like a deep learning artificially intelligent robot, but it’s like when someone makes a joke about himself on a first date—it’s charming and you don’t read into it until it’s too late. At the end of the talk, the camera shows the women in the audience applauding him like he’s Deep Learning Robot Elvis.

  “Um, O?”

  I snap out of it and look over to see Tara the hostess’s legs heading towards me, and an enormous flower arrangement where her torso should be. She manages to poke her head around a peony.

  “Hi. This just came for you. I signed for it, but there’s nowhere to put it out front. You’ll have to put it in the break room.”

  “Oh my God that’s huge, her
e let me.” I cradle the large vase in my arms and manage to rest it on one hip so I can get to the back without knocking anyone or anything over. Leave it to Johnny B. to make a grand romantic gesture without considering what I’m supposed to do with a forty-pound vase of flowers at work. Not that I’m ungrateful. The arrangement is stunning and it includes every type of flower that I love and none that I don’t.

  “It’s from Hot Guy, isn’t it?” Tara says, grinning.

  “Um. Probably. Thank you.” Or more likely his assistant sent it for him.

  Franklin doesn’t offer to help me carry this gorgeous monstrosity, he just whispers “Lucky slut” under his breath as he passes me by.

  There’s a bench in the middle of the small break room, but I don’t want anyone to knock it over, so I place it on the floor in a corner, by the trash bin. When I pull out my phone to text Johnny to thank him, I see that he has sent me a text asking if I’ve received the flowers he sent me.

  Me: Just now! So beautiful, thank you! I love them.

  Johnny: I can have my driver pick you up after work to help you get them home. Just realized you’ll have to carry them ten blocks.

  Me: Is your driver in the area?

  Johnny: No he’s in Palo Alto, but he’s free for a couple of hours before he has to pick me up and bring me to you for dinner.

  Me: I can carry it, it’s fine.

  Johnny: I should have another arrangement sent to your home. You can leave that one at the restaurant.

  Me: There really isn’t room here, it’s fine! Thank you.

  Just as I’m about to put my phone away, I get a call from Callie.

  “What’s up, I gotta check on my salmon order.”

  “Um. There’s someone in our apartment.”

  “What oh my God call the police.”