Free Scandal in Seattle by Nicole Williams Page A

victory shot of cheap tequila in the airport bar, and boarded the ten o’clock to San Francisco. My first class seat felt especially deserved after who I’d put up with on that Errand, and the plane hadn’t left the tarmac before I was asleep.
    Henry had worked his way back into my dreams again, and even in my dream state, I knew that was a bad thing.
    It was a few weeks after our “official” meeting, and we’d become known as the lab partners to beat. Before I’d partnered up with him, I wouldn’t have believed he had any weaknesses when it came to programming, but Henry’s weaknesses were my strengths and his strengths were my weaknesses. We were the IT dream team.
    But that didn’t stop everyone from saying behind our backs—and a few to my face—that the only reason we were at the top of the class was because Henry was pulling all the weight. Of course, there were also the rumors that came along with just about any kind of male and female partnership. Depending on the day, I was either screwing Henry as payment for being my partner, or I was a lesbian who’d slept my way through California. I hated automatically being viewed as a man-screwer on my way to the top, or a female one. Holy epiphany, I sure couldn’t be a straight, hardworking woman who planned to be successful in my career.
    And look at me now. Screwing men as a career. Irony, if you’re listening, eat shit and die.
    Enough with the ironies; back to the dream. I was working as a computer lab assistant in a work study program since I hadn’t come from a family who’d paid for my entire college education before I was out of diapers. Just like any other day, I was taking my fair share of harassment from the future country club flies. Some days it was nothing more than a vulgar sketch dropped in my lap, and some days it wasn’t so tame. Like that day.
    Baron VonStraub—yes, there were actually pricks who named their kids that—was one of the worst offenders. He’d search me out to make my life even more miserable than it was. My guess was that his karma from a former life had given him a misshaped, minuscule dick. Plus he had to go through life with the name Baron. Mostly, he was just a Grade A dickhole.
    His comments that day had included something along the lines of informing me if I was still undecided about the kind of “equipment” I liked, he’d be happy to give me the full run-down of his equipment. He said he’d meet me in the women’s bathroom in five because he’d heard I’d spent as much time on my knees in there as I had in class.
    Several times that year, I’d come close to punching Baron in the throat. That time, I came the closest. The longer he laughed, even elbowing a couple of his buddies who were laughing just as hard, the more my fists balled at my sides.
    Baron VonStraub was about two seconds from being knocked out when in came Henry. The instant he saw me, he grinned and headed my way. Henry and Baron were good friends, but I swore he never noticed Baron two feet to the side when he approached. He didn’t even notice when Baron lifted his hand and said something genius to the effect of What’s up? or My man .
    Henry didn’t stop until he was one step in front of me. I remember I’d tried to act busy, or like I wasn’t flustered having him so close and grinning at me that way, but I hadn’t been very convincing. Without so much as a hello, he told me he’d like to ask me out and asked me if I’d like him to ask me out. Looking back, what he’d said wasn’t nearly as confusing as it had seemed.
    After a few moments of proverbial open-mouth shock, Baron said something to Henry about being desperate for a low-rent piece of ass. With his expression perfectly flat, Henry had replied with something about how teasing girls he liked became socially unacceptable after sixth grade. He’d capped it with Grow up and get lost until you do. Baron promptly did. The get lost part, at least.
    Returning his attention to