Lackadaisical

Chapter Three: She's Been Through It

Previously:

When she was finally coming to terms with putting her rebellion behind her and reconciling with her parents once again, he just wouldn't leave her in peace. Did he really hate her that much that he couldn't respect that she wanted nothing to do with him? Did he really just want to constantly remind her of what an idiot she had been and what a disturbance his presence in her life had caused her?

Feeling around for the cordless telephone she snagged from the living room, Emma dialed a few key numbers from memory and pressed the phone to her ear, breathing heavily and nostrils flaring, grief replaced by anger.

"Jay Hogart, I'm going to kill you."

"Manuela, they loaded your cart with the mail," Bartholomew announced in an important voice, waiting for her to leave the room. Manny figured he had some authoritative complex since he'd been with Fender Buzz Inc. for so long and received no legitimate promotion. He always liked to act the boss around the new employees, imagining that some sort of seniority had developed due to his long stay with the firm.

"Thanks, and you can call me Manny," she answered, taking her post behind the cart with a glum expression. Bartholomew raised eyebrow at her studiously, then put down his Xerox paper and turned to her completely.

"Are you a man?" he inquired in a condescending voice. Manny blanched.

"What? No! I—"

"Are you Manuela?" he continued, eyes piercing her professionally.

"Well, yes, but I—"

"All right, then. Manuela, they loaded your cart with the mail," he repeated pointedly, eyebrows at hairline level. Manny moved to open her mouth but nothing of intelligence came out as she fought the immense shock and speechlessness that hit her like a wave.

"I… I'm just going to… go," she finally managed, shaking her head as if to mentally erase the memory of the last minute's conversation. "Goodbye, Bartholomew."

- - - -

She stood up, pacing to keep from blowing up at the unanswered phone signals. Finally, anxiety reaching the breaking point, she heard salvation on the other end.

"Hello."

"How dare you come to my house, you moron?" Emma immediately launched, eyes shooting fireballs at her blameless walls.

There was a pause. "Gran?"

"Shut up, Jay, or I'm going to personally go over there and beat your smug face in," Emma warned, voice wavering with rage.

He chuckled, "I thought you were anti-violence, Evander Holyfield."

"You still have the audacity to joke with me? You're lucky my dad didn't skin you for looking for me," she informed him hotly. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I talked to Alex," was all he said, and Emma's eyes rolled toward the ceiling as she leaned back against the railing. "By the way, I wouldn't want to take you in a fight."

Smirking despite herself, Emma managed, "So I take it you saw her end of the injuries?"

He only chuckled in answer.

"I suggest you leave me alone if you don't want a carbon copy of what Alex has to show for herself," she said quietly, moving to click off her phone.

"Emma," he said, almost pleadingly, "I just wanted to talk to you."

Emma snorted. "To talk? Jay, all we've ever done is invoke the movement of fluids from each other's bodies, okay? We don't talk. What could you possibly have to say to me?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Emma shook her head, knowing he'd backed himself into a corner. "What if… what if I wanted to tell that you weren't… just a fuck… for me?"

Blanching, Emma's eyes darted around her room. "And why would you want to tell me something like that?"

"Would you believe me?" and Emma desperately wanted to, an unexplainable urge willing her to say yes.

"Of course not," she replied blandly. "Jay, don't call me and don't come to my house. You're only thinking of your dick as you do this so if you'd like to keep it, I suggest you stay away from me."

It became very silent as she pushed the off button on her telephone.

- - - -

"Um… Mr. Weathers? I… I'm sorry, I just—you weren't in your office and this says it's urgent, so I…" Manny stumbled over her words as multiple sets of eyes watched her ruin a perfectly good recording session. The one and only Mr. Landon Weathers rolled his eyes as he threw off his headphones and stopped recording, obviously not mouthing very pleasant words behind the soundproof glass.

"Who the hell is she?" he asked, irritated, as soon as he stepped out from behind the control board. "Who let her in? Miriam!"

"Wait—I'm sorry, um, but I deliver the mail and this envelope said it was urgent and you weren't in your office, Mr. Weathers," Manny repeated, wishing she'd just dissolve into a puddle right then. The band watched her stumble out of the situation with an angry Landon piercing her with his gaze.

Snatching the envelope from her, he tore off the top with his teeth and spit it out in the direction of the nearest garbage can.

"Take five, guys," he said, emptying the contents into his hand and disappearing from the studio, leaving Manny to breathe heavily and stare at the contemplative guys staring back.

Waving nervously and wearing a tiny smile, she was silently hoping she wouldn't get fired for her interruption when Craig suddenly broke the quiet moment with an awkward laugh.

"Well… that was… good, guys. I think it's going really… good," he tried, the smile on his face fading as he noticed the incredulous look Marco was giving him.

"Good's good," Marco agreed, raising an eyebrow before looking down to tune his guitar.

"But, Spin, uh, you might want to slow it down a bit on the bridge," Craig put in helpfully, eyes watching disappointedly as the drummer seemed to miss the constructive part of his criticism and threw down his drum sticks in a show of big noise and clatter.

"My pace is fine on the bridge. And what do you know about pace or anything, Manning? You've been too busy being somewhere else to sit in on the recording," Spinner rolled his eyes, standing up. "But look, your girlfriend came by to pick you up for your lovely date this evening, so why don't you go on before you spend too much time with the band?"

Manny's mouth dropped open in a similar fashion to Craig's at the drummer's blatant insinuation and sudden outburst, as Marco's eyes darted between the trio confusedly.

"Déjà vu-ing it, Spin? Because Craig didn't do anything," Marco finally defended, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Now, why don't we all just calm down and regroup before Landon gets back. And let Manny get back to her job."

"Yeah—I didn't do anything," Craig retorted incredulously as Marco inspired him with the right words. "Manny just works here—I don't even—I have a girlfriend."

Spinner laughed joylessly and gave Craig a look of lost respect. "Oh, and that's stopped you before?"

But Craig wasn't about to let this accusation slide without retaliation. "Yeah, that's right. I made a mistake. Now let's think; who else has done that in this room? Is it the hypocrite that's bitching me out at this very moment? Yes. I think it is."

"Oh yeah?" Spinner challenged, stepping closer to the angry brunette. "Well at least I didn't get the girl pregnant—"

"Hey," Manny stepped in, causing all three males to turn and look at her in surprise, as though they forgot she was still present in the room.

"Okay, guys, I think we can get this in one more shot—" Landon Weathers speculated as he walked back into the studio, looking up only to be interrupted by the swiftly exiting Spinner.

"I'm taking five," he spat bitterly before the door slammed behind him, leaving the remaining occupants of the room to stare at the producer innocently. Landon's eyes roamed over the teenagers suspiciously before they finally settled on the sole female.

"Did she cause that?" he pointed to the door. The remaining boys looked at the ground, thinking of what to say, and Manny looked as though she was about to defend herself but Landon's voice cut her off. "Who are you? You come in here, you ruin the recording session that would've been it for the day, and now you chase away the drummer?"

Manny looked ready to run, but very not ready to answer. Landon snapped his fingers.

"Name."

"M-Manuela Santos," she answered nervously, "sir. I—I deliver the… mail."

Landon nodded understandingly, leaning closer to her face. "Well, Manuela Santos that delivers the mail… I want you out of this studio and delivering the mail out there, got it? Because as far as you're concerned, there is no one here to deliver to in here, okay? Your messenger little self will never come in here to give me the mail because I only receive mail out there—in my office. Not here." His words were exaggerated and condescending and Marco looked to the side, irritated at seeing the essence of his producer. "Are we clear?"

Swallowing her pride, Manny took a hold of her mail cart and moved toward the door. "Very, Mr. Weathers."

"Now," Landon's voice got softer and softer as she moved further away, "who's going to get our drummer back here? Marco?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good man."

- - - -

"Honey, you didn't tell me anything about this," Christine Nelson's eyebrows furrowed as she held up the plain white envelope with the address printed at the top left-hand corner. "Which class was it? I thought you were doing great."

Emma looked confused at where her mother was going with this before taking hold of the envelope and grinning in recognition.

"I'm not going to summer school because I failed anything, Mom," she declared informatively. "I'm just T.A.ing for some extra credits."

Spike's eyebrows settled cautiously and she attempted to peek inside the contents from her place behind the counter. "Really? In which class will you be a teacher's assistant?"

Emma removed the contents, shrugging. "Um, I don't know. I asked for something math or English related but I said I didn't have a problem with most subjects." Reading the acceptance letter, her finger traced the its straight, lined sentences until she found the words she was looking for and smiled. "Algebra Two."

Spike grinned, nearing her daughter to give her a half hug. "That's great, sweetie. I just hope this doesn't interfere babysitting your brother. You know my shift starts at two-thirty and Snake's been planning to visit his mother for weeks now and he's leaving tomorrow."

"Don't worry," the blonde youth answered, "I've got summer school 'til noon. Then I'm all yours."

Emma smiled but quickly dropped it as a thought occurred to her.

"Hey, Mom, I have to go to school for a little while," she said, grabbing her coat and already heading toward the door.

"Honey, what is it?"

"It's nothing," the blonde answered unconvincingly before looking back toward her mother and smiling like she meant it. "Promise. Be back soon."

Sprinting to Degrassi Community School, Emma couldn't think of anything else but being imprisoned with her worst fear at the moment. She'd wanted nothing to do with it and that plan could very well fall apart with just one sheet of paper.

Running into the Algebra Two classroom, she greeted the teacher and introduced herself as the teacher's assistant before promptly requesting to see the role sheet. She ran her finger down the list and it finally skimmed the very name she'd been dreading.

"Oh, shit," she rolled her eyes.

- - - -

"Manny!" the jogging figure called out after her as she pushed the mail cart angrily, eyes pointed fixed ahead of her. "Manny."

"Don't you know enough to stop while you're ahead?" she asked Craig wearily as he imposed himself upon her route and stood dead in front of her cart.

"I just want to tell you that—"

"Well, I don't want to talk," Manny retorted, eyes meeting his for the first time. "Wouldn't want you to mistake this for a date and then go tell Spinner."

Craig's eyes widened in astonishment. "I didn't tell him anything. It's Spin, Manny, you know how he gets. He's always had this competitive thing with me—especially about you. I—I don't what it is, but…"

"How'd he find out?" Manny's eyes pinned him down and Craig suddenly felt tired of being blamed for all the secrets and all the dramatic Degrassi horseshit.

"I don't know, I don't know, okay?" he replied lazily, leaning against the wall. "He probably saw us run into each other and took it the wrong way. I don't know."

Manny nodded bitterly. "And immediately thought I was fucking you, right? 'Cause I'll always be that easy. Just wait for Craig to be alone in a room and bam—I'll be there panting. You two are so sick fighting over me because it's always been to prove who could get more ass. Who's more of a man that he can screw Manny on the side. That's all it's ever been."

She pushed her cart past Craig with a repulsed expression while he stared in her direction.

"You're delusional," he finally concluded calmly. Manny spun around, eyes burning holes into his leather-clad person.

"Right," she folded her arms over her chest. "Because it wasn't like that all. You guys are just angels and I'm the slut that poisoned your lives."

"Manny," Craig approached her, "stop listening to rumors about yourself, okay? Then these conversations would get a lot easier. Maybe it was all like that once but we all paid for that shit, so that's over. Right now, the asshole is Spinner because he's got his Monday morning stick up his ass so he decided to run his mouth about shit that never happened. I wasn't hitting on you; I wasn't insinuating it and I wasn't saying I could fuck you in a second. I have a girlfriend. Her name is Ashley, and despite what we were before, we're not a 'we' now. I'm Craig. You're Manny. You work here; I record songs here." He stuck out his hand toward her symbolically. "Nice to meet you."

Manny's arms remained crossed over her chest as she stared down at his outstretched hand. She looked bitter but wounded and he looked avenged, that smug and content look on his face very present. Finally having said and defended himself amidst one of the daily verbal beatings he got from a girl, Craig spun on his heel and headed back toward the studio.

Sighing as Craig turned the corner, Manny reached for her cell phone and dialed a phone number.

"Darcy? Frappucino after work today. Extra large."

- - - -

Bracing herself for what she knew was coming as the students filed into the stuffy, humid classroom, Emma straightened the role sheet and tried to avoid the one name that seemed to staring at her in its printed form. Meeting the eyes of her classmates and acquaintances, she smiled at the ones she knew. As soon as they took their seats, she noted that for an extra surprise, there would be more than one person in the Algebra Two summer session associated with that of one she dreaded.

Catching her off-guard, as the math teacher had already begun his introductions and lightly-veiled detention threats, he came in fluffing up his hair under his hat which he promptly put on. He didn't even notice her as he said some smart-assed thing to his new instructor and took an obscure seat nowhere near his friends, but not particularly near anyone to seem suspicious.

His eyes immediately strayed to the window and the sun that shone temptingly outside before he turned his head toward the front of the class, a feeling of someone staring at him invading his senses.

"And please meet your teacher's assistant this summer who will be taking attendance, grading, and—put that down, Mr. Crevice, I'm very serious—grading, and generally assisting. Emma Nelson."

Emma stood up and looked a surprised Jay Hogart straight in the eye, taking a deep breath. So summer was turning out to be a raging bitch.