Page 34 of You Spin Me

“I can’t even imagine you really depressed.”

“Oh, it happens. They’re both ballet movies, and I… wallow. And lament the state of my—”Shit.I forgot I was talking to a man. Very few people get why I hate the shape of my body, but menreallydon’t get it.

“Your…?”

Oh, what the hell, can’t stuff the toothpaste back in the tube; may as well spit it out. “My boobs.”

He chokes out a laugh. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“This girl’s knockers are too damn big.”

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“From your point of view, maybe, but ballerinas can’t have boobs.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The grin in his voice? He’s probably staring at a pinup calendar right this minute. Despite how they disgust me, despite the fact that they’re at the very bottom of my list of erogenous zones, no guy has ever been able to resist my sweater stretchers. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right. I cannot lie about something this important. I like big boobs. But really, I like all kinds of boobs.”

“Now you have to tell me yours.”

“My boobs are sadly—”

“Pretty small?”

“Yeah, it’s tragic. I’m forced to enjoy other people’s boobs.”

“Imeantyour favorite dance movie, you horndog. It’sFame, right?”

“Yeah, right. I want everyone to know my name.” His tone makes it clear that it’s the last thing he wants.

“Well, don’t you?”Doesn’t everybody?is what I almost add.

“Just enough people to sell the advertising.”

And then he jumps back on the air before I can dig further on that one.

CAL

A few minutes into my shift the following night, Talia sticks her head inside the studio door. “Hey Cal, I got a fresh one.”

One of her responsibilities is to vet and train listener line volunteers. After a girl fainted at the sight of me, Talia created a whole routine to introduce them to me.

“Hang on, this song’s about to end. Let me cue up a long one.” I’ve already got “The Flame” by Cheap Trick ready to go from the Heavy section of the play box. One nice thing about this shift, I only have to play from the Heavy and Medium the first two hours. Then, it’s one per hour from the whole box. I pullFailure, the self-released album by a band called the Posies. A jock I know out of Seattle told me about it and it’s been getting good responses. I’ll play something from it as soon as theinterview, as Talia likes to call it, is over with. I’ve never been sure who’s interviewing who.

Once the song’s playing, Talia enters the booth followed by a slouchy guy with a purple-tipped mohawk. Talia usually gives them the third degree before bringing them in here, so I take off my hoodie entirely. I’m wearing a sleeveless shirt underneath it, so the scars on the left side of my face, neck and left arm are revealed in all their glory.

Looking the guy dead in the eye, I give my spiel. “I was in a fire when I was four.” Mohawk nods slowly, probably stoned. I turn my head to the right, then hold out my arms, left covered in scars, right covered in tats. His eyes widen slightly. “Everything works. I don’t need your help. Or your pity. All I need is for you to answer the phone. You get three questions now, and that’s it.”

He nods slowly. “Do we get free tickets?”

I swallow my surprise. They almost always ask if it still hurts. I almost always say sometimes. “That depends on how many we get. Your shift manager will tell you. Anything else?”

“Yeah.” He points at my right forearm. “Who did your tattoos? They’re rad.”

It’s my turn to nod slowly. “Guy in Worcester.”

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