Page 9 of The Top of Admiration
Goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare
When I agreed to housesit to look after Nettie so Damon could whisk Cordy away for a dirty two-night vacation, I didn’t realize she was so needy. I loved Nettie. She was a typical Labrador, full of energy and hungry for anything remotely edible, but she sure was clingy. Her smell was permanently imprinted on me given she was attached to my side.
Taking her on her second walk of the day in the hope she’d chill out, I bumped into Miranda as she was leaving the house.
“Ah, I forgot you were on Nettie-sitting duties this week!” I loved her smile. It was sweet and genuine, and it made her eyes crinkle up at the sides. She’d have defined laughter lines by the time she was 40, but I loved that.
“Yeah! Where are you off to?” It was a Wednesday night, and I knew Douche Cam was out of town.
“I’m off to the gallery. I’m in my first ever show tomorrow night and I want to help set up. I’ll be flat out tomorrow, so I wanted to put the finishing touches on things tonight.”
“Hey, congrats! That’s a big deal, Miranda. What time is it?”
“It opens at 7 pm. I’m so nervous! I know I need to put myself out there to be a proper artist, but I’m terrified I’ll hear someone talking smack about my work.”
“If they do, take names. I’ll visit them and remind them nicely that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And that they should cutyou some slack in honor of your collarbones.” Smooth Cam, real smooth.
She looked a bit confused but continued to walk to her car.
“Will do! Thanks Cam.” With that, she was gone.
I was usually more in control when I flirted with women, but Miranda threw me off my game. I remembered the first time we’d met when Damon and I had helped Cordy’s dickhead ex move furniture. She was beautiful, and I was determined to introduce myself and ended up just blurting out my name in the middle of someone’s conversation. The second time we interacted was not any better.
I moved into the kitchen to chat with Cordy’s beautiful sister. We were all here to increase pressure on fuckwit Harrison to move out, and I was all for that. But honestly, my main motive was spending more time with Miranda, even if she already had a Cameron.
“Hey Miranda, good to see Plan Vengeance is moving along.”
She smiled deviously at me and winked. “Oh, it’s moving along well. It’s a matter of time until that small-handed asshole moves out.”
“You’re so symmetrical,” I blurted out. “I mean, your face is well organized. Like, all in the right places. And the size is good.” Fucking hell. This was terrible. Lucky her boyfriend was in the other room.
“Um, thanks, I guess. So, I’m like an organized da Vinci piece?”
“Yeah, but you’ve got way better hair than the Vitruvian Man. And cheekbones. And there’s no penis.”
She smiled politely like you would at the local gas station crackhead and continued to sprinkle cheese on the nachos.Forced out of the situation by my own awkwardness, I shuffled out of the room.
The third time was somewhat better, and I like to think I improved my performance. The best part of that conversation was getting my first real glimpse of how her mind worked, not that even a team of scientists could achieve that in a decades-long study, but still.
I sat across from Miranda at Damon’s Halloween party. Bad Cam was attending Jess’s family function, so she was wonderfully alone. From the time I said I was an app developer, she seemed fascinated. She’d started the conversation with “I’ve had the best idea ever,” which was a dangerous statement coming from Miranda.
“So,” she began, leaning forward conspiratorially, “what if you built an app that rates your revenge ideas? Like, you type in what someone did—say, your sister eats the last of your ice cream—and it tells you if you should ignore it, prank her, or, you know, lightly ruin her week.”
I blinked. “Lightly ruin …?”
“It’s called Revenge-o-Meter,” she said proudly, doodling the name on a napkin. “It could have sliders for pettiness and moral risk. Maybe a ‘Would Gandhi Approve?’ filter.”
I tried to look serious. “And … people would want this?”
“Of course. Everyone loves justice. Especially the petty kind. You could even add a share function so friends can vote on your revenge level. But there should be a warning before you share to prompt you whether those people can be trusted.” Her face was deadly serious.
I opened my mouth, shut it, and finally said, “Miranda, that’s … something.”
Really, I was thinking that it’s insane, morally questionable, and probably the best app pitch I’ve ever heard. Before I could redirect her toward anything sane, she added brightly, “Or the Dog Translator. That’s my backup.”
“Dog … translator?”
