Geek Charming Read Online Free Page B

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    “So what’s she like? Other than popular.”
    I reached for the Coke I had hidden behind the computer. “Let’s see . . . she’s spoiled. And self-centered. And thinks the world revolves around her. And walks down the hall like she owns the school. And won’t talk to anyone who’s not in the ninety-ninth percentile of popularity.”
    “In other words, she’s prom-queen material,” Raymond said.
    I nodded. “Remember the Heathers in Heathers ?”
    “Of course,” Raymond scoffed. “That was Michael Lehmann’s masterpiece. Even though he did get to work with the babedacious Uma Thurman in The Truth About Cats and Dogs a few years later.”
    “Well, think of all three Heathers times a hundred,” I said.
    He stroked his chin again. “Hmm . . . sounds like you have your work cut out for you. Is she pretty?”
    I shrugged. “Yeah, if you like blondes with blue eyes.” Which I didn’t. I liked brunettes with violet eyes. Specifically brunettes with violet eyes named Amy Loubalu who were seniors at Castle Heights. As far as I was concerned, Amy was the most beautiful—not to mention the nicest—girl at Castle Heights. Back before my parents’ divorce, when we still lived in Brentwood, I used to see her at Jamba Juice with the kids she babysat on the weekends. She always went out of her way to say hi to me and ask for a list of movies she should rent from Netflix, but most times I just clammed up and could barely speak, afraid that I’d get Tourette’s syndrome and just say “You’re so beautiful” over and over again.
    “So when do you start?” Raymond asked as he straightened his own tie.
    “I’m hoping Monday. I’m going to call Dylan when I get home and try and set up a prepro meeting for sometime this weekend.”
    He nodded. “Excellent, Agent Rosen.” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Just remember one thing.”
    I leaned my head back as far as I could without breaking my neck so I could get away from the garlic fumes left over from the baba ghanoush pita sandwich Raymond had had for lunch. “This is your movie. You’re the director. This is not a collaboration—it’s your singular vision. So don’t give in to her. No matter how used she is to getting her way or how pretty she is. Understand?”
    I nodded. “I understand.”
    “You’re a filmmaker,” he continued, getting more and more riled up. “A truthteller . You can’t worry about hurting people’s feelings. You’re on this planet to serve your muse. Look at me, for example—do you think I enjoy having to deal with idiots who don’t realize that if they keep powering off their computers without logging off first, sooner or later there’s going to be a problem?”
    I shook my head and took a step back.
    “No!” he exclaimed. “I don’t enjoy it—I loathe it! But I do it because it’s mindless and therefore allows me to conserve my creative energy so I can continue to work on Send in the Killer Clowns , which is destined to become a cult classic if anyone’s smart enough to recognize its brilliance.” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “But you , Agent Rosen, have the opportunity of a lifetime—a chance to show all your fellow geeks and the geeks-in-training of the next generation that they’re not missing out on anything by not being in the cool crowd. That, in fact, maybe their lack of cool is saving them from selling their souls and going over to the dark side!” He leaned in closer. “Don’t let them down, Agent Rosen. Leave something behind that you and generations of misunderstood geniuses to come will be proud of.” He let go of me. “Understood?”
    I nodded.
    Talk about a tall order.
     
    When I got home, Mom was at yet another one of her Learning Annex classes (her postdivorce hobby), so I grabbed a bag of Chips Ahoy I had stashed away on top of my closet and went into the family room. Postdivorce we moved to a house in Beachwood Canyon, which is in Hollywood. It’s small, but it’s