Date night
He was a genius. No doubt about it.
'You are a genius,' Schmidt said to the mirror. For a moment, he contemplated an extended 'Are you talking to me?' riff, but he would have to leave in ten minutes. He had the whole evening planned out. Now that he had finally talked Cece into going out with him - withholding sex was such a brilliant idea - it was going to be great.
They were going to have dinner at Geoffrey's. Schmidt had rented the entire Malibu restaurant for two hours, so that Cece wouldn't have to worry about being seen on a date with him. It had cost a pretty penny, but she was worth it. Also, he had decided that he didn't care that she was embarrassed to be together in public. He was secure enough about himself, mostly, to deal with that. After all, not everyone had his special brand of sexiness. It was impossible to resist and a force of nature, like gravity.
A special screening of The Big Sleep would be held close to Geoffrey's, which was the second reason he had chosen the restaurant. The first reason being that it was a restaurant that Cece adored. Jess had told him that. She had also told him that The Big Sleep was one of Cece's favourite movies. Apparently, she was into film noir.
So, dinner from 7 to 9. Movie immediately afterwards, also for about two hours. It was the perfect evening; tailor made to suit Cece. After a last satisfied look in the mirror, Schmidt left his room and almost bumped into Jess.
'Why are you all dressed up? I thought you were going to help me,' she sputtered. Her hair was up in a high ponytail and she was wearing a plastic apron covered with cupcakes. Standard Jess getup. Schmidt looked at her, uncomprehending, and checked his watch. He still had some time, but he would like to not cut it too close.
'You said you would help make new party hats? Because you threw away my old ones,' she pointed out. Now he noticed the glue, glitter, coloured paper and various scissors laid out on the table behind her.
'There were rats in them,' he said, defensively.
'Mice,' she protested, 'Cute, little mouse families.'
'Rats, Jess. Breeding and spreading disease. Can't you just buy new hats?'
Sadly, she stared at him. She shook her head slowly. He couldn't handle the intense pity she was radiating and he was kind of in a hurry, so he quickly inquired what was wrong with store bought party hats.
'They're soulless.'
'Of course they are. I did promise to help you, but does it have to be tonight?'
She nodded fervently, launching into a story about one of her pupils who had specifically requested Jess' famous party hats for her birthday, which was tomorrow, and the girl needed a break because her parents were in the midst of a divorce and Jess had sworn that she would bring the hats and she couldn't let the kid down and she would never be able to finish them on her own and she didn't know where Nick was, so he couldn't help her and Winston was with Shelby, so he couldn't help her either and Cece was out on a date, so...
'Fine. I'll help you. I just have to text... my date.'
In the privacy of his room, Schmidt quickly texted Cece, explaining the situation and saying that he was going to pick her up later.
Hats. Not cats. We're going to decorate hats. For a child from a broken home. Because that's how I roll.
Once she understood, she didn't mind. He would have preferred it if she had minded, even if it was just a little. With his ego a bit deflated after Cece's casual reaction, he returned to the living room. Jess offered him another apron – yellow polka dot – and he draped his jacket over a chair and joined her at the table.
This was no big deal. They would still have plenty of time to eat at their leisure. After all, how hard could decorating a few hats be?
(***)
An hour later.
It turned out that it was harder than it looked. It didn't help that Schmidt kept having glitters get stuck to his hands and had to wash his hands every three minutes. In addition, despite his fast start, he had still only managed to finish four hats. They looked weird. Even weirder next to Jess' little works of art.
He had texted Cece several more times, apologising and complaining about the stupid hats. Her continued lack of outrage over his lateness was beginning to worry him. Had he really blackmailed her into doing something she had absolutely zero interest in?
Jess kept pestering him about his mystery date too. It irked him that he couldn't talk to her about it. She was a treasure trove of knowledge about Cece and he couldn't ask her anything. Instead, he was forced to wait for the little nuggets of information she offered herself.
After he had completed his fifth hat, Jess took pity on him and told him she would finish the rest alone. Lying through her teeth, she told him that he had been a great help. It was nice to realise that someone at least cared enough to lie. While he washed his hands again, a drama quietly unfolded behind his back. Jess reached for the scissors, but instead knocked over the glue which spilled onto his jacket.
With a quick movement, she snatched away the glue, but the damage was already done. When he turned around, he found a teary Jess clutching his jacket.
'Oh my God, Schmidt. I'm so sorry. Let me try to clean it,' she burbled. This naturally made it only worse and by the time she finally gave up the entire collar was one sticky mess. She apologised profusely and swore to pay for dry cleaning or another suit if that didn't work. It wasn't likely that she would be able to afford that, so Schmidt simply took the jacket away from her.
'Calm down. Don't worry about it,' he said. After changing into another suit, he texted Cece about what had happened, which she found incredibly amusing.
Yes, hilarious. I'm leaving now. Prepare for glory.
Schmidt skirted around the table, not wanting to accidentally come into contact with glue. In fact, he was so busy avoiding mishaps that he didn't hear what Jess was saying.
'What?'
'You smell like glue. Also, you've got glitter in your hair.'
Incredulously, he sniffed his hands. She was right. No soap was going to mask that smell: he would have to take a shower. Exasperated, he texted Cece again. She reacted annoyingly unperturbed.
He scrubbed himself thoroughly and used much more shower gel than usual to get rid of the chemical scent. This was still no big deal. They'd just have to limit themselves to three courses and eat fast. That was fine. The evening wasn't messed up yet. From here on out, he wasn't going to let anything else stand in the way of this date.
His second suit now also reeked of glue. Freaky, horrible smelling glue. Schmidt didn't need Jess to point that out to him. Quickly, he changed again. To his horror, Cece texted him back with the suggestion that they cancel their date. His fingers raced over the buttons.
NO. We're doing this. You. Me. Awesome date. I'm leaving right now.
This time he made it to the door before destiny intervened. As he reached for the door knob, his phone rang. It was Winston. Schmidt tried to politely tell him that he didn't have time, but Winston sounded rather desperate. He practically pleaded for Schmidt to give him advice.
Schmidt hesitated. He hadn't forgotten his resolution, but he also couldn't deny that he liked the idea of Winston needing his advice. Winston, who always made fun of his poor understanding of women. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Plus, how long could it really take?
(***)
Half an hour later.
'...and then you have her. Believe me, you'll have her. The trick is to make her think that you think that she thinks that... No. Listen, Winston. We want pity. Pity is good. So, what are you going to do?' Schmidt asked. He was pretty proud of his advice. It was intelligent and based on years of experience.
'The exact opposite of whatever the hell you just suggested. Thanks.'
Schmidt frowned at his phone with a sour face. He was beginning to feel that Winston was the Newman to his Seinfeld. When he checked his watch, he was dismayed to discover how much time had passed.
I'm really leaving right now. Right this minute. I'm at the door. I'm opening the door. Nick is coming in. He looks drunk. He's holding a cactus. Damn it. I'm still leaving.
Schmidt greeted him. Nick stared at him as if he had no idea who Schmidt was. Warily, Jess greeted Nick too. He half-saluted her with the battered cactus Julia had given him and went straight to his room without saying a word. Leaving the door ajar, they heard him rifling through his CDs. That was never a good sign. Heartbreak always made Nick go old school.
'I thought he threw away the cactus,' Jess whispered.
'He's having a relapse,' Schmidt stated. Right on cue, in Nick's room Alanis Morissette began singing that there was something that they should know. It was not a happy message. Distressed, Jess looked at Schmidt. He in turn tried his hardest to avoid getting trapped in her big blue begging eyes.
'Well,' he mumbled, 'gotta go.'
'Yes, you have your date. You must be so late already,' Jess agreed. Schmidt hesitated with one foot out the door. He looked back at Jess, who was glancing in the direction Nick's room. She was clearly unsure of how to handle the situation, while Schmidt was well-versed in Nick's post-relationship behaviour. He knew exactly what to say and what to do.
Sighing, he closed the door and texted Cece.
Give me ten minutes to talk Nick down. Then... expect greatness.
'Nick? Can I come in?' he carefully asked. All he received in reply was a moan, but he interpreted it as a yes. Nick was lying face down on the bed. In a disturbing, compulsive movement, he was poking at the plant that was lying next to him.
'Can you please stop poking at the cactus while I talk to you?'
'It's a metaphor!'
(***)
Another half an hour later.
Nick was properly talked down. Schmidt had even managed to persuade him that the best cure for his ennui was to make party hats with Jess. 'Spreading the joy,' he had called it. As he triumphantly helped Nick of the bed, however, Schmidt snagged his sleeve on the fucking cactus. A ripping sound confirmed his worst fears: another jacket ruined.
'Oh, come on,' he muttered. That was his last new one. None of his other jackets were good enough for a date with Cece. It was too late anyway. The two hours in the restaurant were up and even if he left right now they would still miss at least thirty minutes of the movie. That was if they still got into the screening. Disheartened, he took his phone.
I feel that the universe is trying to tell me something. You were right. We should cancel our date. Sorry.
While Nick and Jess sprinkled glitter and cut fancy figures out of green, red and purple paper, Schmidt sat on the couch and felt blue. After five minutes Cece still hadn't texted back, so clearly she had wanted him to cancel their date. She was probably so relieved that she didn't have to go out with him that she didn't dare respond for fear that he would change his mind. That made him even more depressed.
Even Winston's appearance and his admission that 'apparently the opposite of stupid is also stupid' failed to cheer him up. Then someone knocked on the door. Since the others were covered in glitters and glue, Schmidt answered. It was Cece; holding two greasy bags with burgers.
'Anyone hungry?'
Jess was happy, but surprised to see her and the guys were happy that someone had thought to bring food, because they were hungry.
'I thought you were supposed to be out on a date?' Jess asked.
'Yeah, he cancelled,' Cece admitted.
'Jerk,' Jess stated. The others nodded in agreement, unable to do anything else with their mouths stuffed. Suddenly, Schmidt felt that he should fill the douche bag jar with money. Maybe she did want to go out with him? Maybe she had been pulling some reverse psychology thing? Winston was right; Schmidt didn't understand women at all.
'I don't know; I like him,' Cece mused. 'Definitely a jerk then,' Winston muttered under his breath; not loud enough for her to hear. It didn't matter what Winston thought. Not to Schmidt. He was too busy fighting back a huge smile after Cece had winked at him.
'What is going on here?' she asked, approaching the table. Jess explained about the party hats and Cece offered to help too after they had eaten. For the next twenty minutes, all that was heard were rude chomping sounds. Most of them came from Nick, because he was still drunk and had a little trouble keeping his mouth closed while chewing.
After eating, everyone took a turn ridiculing Schmidt's party hats. Winston was the most gleeful when he saw them. Schmidt took it all in good humour. He met Cece at the sink, during her first attempt to get rid of the glue. They washed their hands together.
'Sorry about your bad luck,' she whispered.
'This is nice too,' he whispered back. She looked at him, seeming to weigh the truth of what he had said in her mind. A couple of seconds later, she narrowed her eyes.
'Yes, it is,' she mumbled. Her disbelief that simply spending time with him without having sex was nice was obvious. It was flattering and insulting at the same time. Cece herself seemed a little thrown by her epiphany. She continued in a louder voice.
'Tonight was supposed to be the night of the date we've been hearing so much about, right? So, what did you plan?'
Intrigued, Winston looked up. He had some glitter stuck to his chin, but Schmidt wasn't about to tell him. That would serve him right for making fun of his handiwork.
'You've been bragging about how it was going to be the best date ever for weeks. What sort of stuff did you prepare?' Winston asked. Jess tilted her head. Even Nick seemed curious, though he was also interested in the sparkling light reflecting off the glitters. Schmidt smiled and shook his head.
'Nothing special. Just dinner and a movie.'
The end.