Page 60 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“Hubba, hubba,” he says playfully. “If I were even remotely attracted to you, I would bone you tonight.”

“Right?” I turn around for him to get the full effect of the dress, and he whistles. “If I wasn’t celibate, I’d bone me tonight, too. You’re not too shabby yourself.”

Tommy has decided to wear a white shirt with a matching powder blue jacket and tie, but in true Tommy style, he’s thrown it together with a pair of cargo shorts and sneakers.

“I only survive a dry spell by making regular deposits at the spank bank,” he says as we get into his car. “I don’t know how you’ve been surviving with nothing. Surely, it doesn’t count if you’re...by yourself.”

“Thomas, I take this celibacy thing very seriously. I am saving myself for that special someone who is currently roaming the Earth in desperate search of me. I want to make sure that when he gets me, he gets all of me, not just some worn-down version after I’ve gotten myself off in the shower.”

“Mmm...that does sound very unromantic. I just hope it’s worth it. What if you’ve been depriving yourself all this time and then when you finally get dicked down, it’s just like...meh?”

This is a genuine fear of mine. “I’m waiting for an emotional connection, so I’m sure that will make it special and intimate and?”

“Emotions don’t make up for a small dick.”

“You’re right. I think on the third or fourth date, I’ll broach the subject and just ask him what he’s packing so I can see if it’s worth pursuing. The more immediate problem would be getting to the third date. I have been on, like, a million first dates, had lots of first kisses, but only a few guys make it to date two and then...nothing. No third date. Is it me or them, Tom?”

“It’s you, IzzyB. You’ve become too picky. You need to be more like me. For instance, I have every intention of hooking up with Joycelyn from marketing tonight. A bucktooth and a neurotic disorder are not enough to scare me off. I wanna put theDin her OCD.”

I laugh. Despite her bucktooth, Joycelyn is beautiful, but she’spedantic. “Wow, Tom. Lower my standards? That’s great relationship advice.”

We continue chatting until we reach the hotel. Tommy hands his car keys to the valet, then holds out his arm so I can loop mine through it. I am awestruck from the second we enter the venue to the right of the lobby. It looks like a winter wonderland with silver tinsel and snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. Silent Night from Mariah Carey’s Christmas album floats through the speakers and the low blue and white lighting creates an ambiance that adds to the festive vibes in the air.

My heels click on the shiny, black porcelain tiles as we walk to our table. “This is beautiful,” I say in amazement.

Tommy waves Joycelyn over to sit at our table with me, Syd, Damon, and his wife, Marilyn. The conversation barely begins before it derails with Marilyn chastising Tommy and I for giving Damon the idea to withhold the meat stick. Tommy does not hold back when he gives her a piece of his mind, and after a playfully heated debate, she compromises and agrees to at least serve turkey at lunch. Champagne starts flowing before we even get to six o’clock, and Damon is a little tipsy when he gets up on stage. The dinner is for all staff of Copal Media, but Damon agreed to hand out awards this evening as the representative for KRXM specifically.

From last year’s Christmas party, I know that these are not genuine awards. Lily from accounting wins theTone it Downaward because of the fight she lost with the printer, which ended up with her and half her department being covered in high-velocity ink splatter. Joel, our ever-faithful engineer, wins theBlackoutaward because he accidentally tripped the power in the control room and the evening show lost signal for three whole minutes. Syd wins theI’m too poor to even pay attentionaward for obvious reasons. And Miranda, one of the transmission executives, wins theLong Fingersaward forappropriatingother peoples’ lunches from the staff refrigerator. The bitch still owes me a pastrami sandwich.

“And this last award,” Damon says with a wide smile, “is actually a joint award, which makes sense given that they’re very co-dependent. It is with great pleasure that I give Thomas Mc Clarkson and Isabella Diaz theSailoraward.”

My eyebrows crease with confusion as I look over at Tommy. “TheSailoraward?”

Even though Damon can’t hear me from the stage, he answers the question. “Isabella wins theSailoraward because she cusses like a sailor, and Tommy wins theSailoraward because...well, he...”

“Wants to bang a sailor,” Tommy yells from beside me, and the crowd starts laughing.

“Yes,” Damon agrees. “But mainly because as Captain, these two sailors have helped me steer this ship toward higher ratings, more advertising revenue and subscriptions, and greater listenership. You two have been instrumental to the success of not just the breakfast show, but the station as a whole...and we thank you.”

The crowd claps and whistles as Tommy and I stand up and make our way to the stage to collect our awards, which are two sailor dolls.

I take the mic from Damon’s hand. “I know that no one else has given an acceptance speech, but I am such a narcissist I’m going to give one.” I wait for the random laughter to die down. “Many of you don’t know this, but I used to be a cleaner at this very hotel. Tommy and I had a rocky path of discovery. I mean, he used to sell his dangly man-bits for a dollar a pop, and obviously, he didn’t make much. No one wants to buy that.”

“True story,” Tommy says, and low laughter moves through the room.

“But then Damon and Eric...Eric where are you?” I place my hand over my eyes to block out the harsh light and see into the crowd.

Eric raises his hand from a table close to the front. “I’m here.”

“Eric and Damon, thank you so much for taking a chance on us. We are so humbled and so grateful that the two of you saw something in us and believed in us?”

“This is all very touching,” Damon interrupts, “but you’ve been talking for so long my alcohol has worn off.”

“Damon, why do you always have to be that guy?” Tommy snaps.

He ushers us off the stage and hugs Tommy once we’re not in the spotlight anymore. “Great speech,” he says, then pulls me in for a hug too.

Elenore, the HR lady and designated photographer for the night, snaps a pic of that moment. “Say cheese.” She waits for Damon to put his arms around both of us, and we smile as she snaps another one. “Great! Thank you.”

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