12 #Homework

June 25, 2017

Sunday

 lookin43bears: Had a friend runaway from Jersey.  Said it was a social disease.

 

Jon leaned back into his sofa cushions and unwillingly snorted at the comment on his Instagram picture of a Parkway sign.  He had no idea how bears related to David Bryan, but the user covertly tossing out Bon Jovi song titles had to be him. 

 

Discreet my ass.

 

It was only Jon’s second Instagram post on the incognito account – the first being the picture of a Springsteen album cover – and he already hated it.  Photography was one of his favorite hobbies but taking pictures of random crap and putting them online with some inane commentary wasn’t photography. 

 

His mediocre efforts were not meeting the standards of his daughter or his social media coach.

 

mynameissteph93:  booooor-ing…
ireadskullbumps: Nice pic, but no hashtag?  #njturnpike #jersey #newjersey #jerseyturnpike

 

Hashtags.  His newest pet peeve. 

 

In his day, that little tic-tac-toe board had an entirely different purpose.  Formally known as the octothorpe, that symbol was long known for measuring numbers involving weight, making it more commonly known as a pound sign.  The usage expanded into more general numbers, and that’s why it was on the damn phone in the first place. 

 

What kind of publicity stunt had it taken to turn it into a social media staple?  He didn’t even want to know.  Number sign or pound was what Jon would forever call the latest bane of his existence.  Hash was diner food. 

 

gypsysoulle: Is that your exit?  I’d love to come visit sometime…

 

He assumed that the person was one of Teddi’s assistants.  She’d told him there were a handful of them who would be assuming some of the notable social media roles that celebrities dealt with – overzealous flirts, enthusiastic supporters, and trolls to name a few. 

 

It was too soon to tell, but from the sexy cartoon character she had for a profile picture, he guessed the gypsy was going be the flirty one.  He had pegged the one with the Godfather pic of his fifteen followers a potential troll, or maybe just a cool guy. 

 

vinniefarrell_8: That’s my exit.  I claimed it long before #navesink and #redbank were hip.  

 

No sign of enthusiastic among his fifteen followers yet, unless sassie and cherry counted.

 

1sassielassie: Neat!  I visited a couple of times with friends.  Quaint place with lots of great restaurants!  Were you visiting or do you live there?
cherrysnark: Oooh!  Road trip!  

 

Did these people really expect answers?  Jon rolled his eyes and decided they were out of luck.  He couldn’t fathom having a conversation on a billboard, and he definitely couldn’t fathom it with thousands of fans.  No point in developing communication habits that he had no intention of keeping, so he passed the comment without reply.

 

What he did need to do, was make another post.  His “homework” specified a minimum of one post a day.  He should have six as of today, and there were only four – the turnpike sign, Springsteen’s album, an old picture from Asbury Park, and a cab.  Part of him hoped that his sluggishness would earn a reprimand before the weekly check-in call that was still a couple days away. 

 

No luck so far. 

 

Teddi had been steadfast in limiting their communication to Instagram posts.  She’d decided that, in addition to not sharing the same breathing space, they would only hold live conversations once a week.    

 

He respected her supposed ethics, but Jon wondered how much was truly ethics as opposed to female ego.  She was likely smarting because he hadn’t pounced on her unspoken offer of a roll in the hay, and Jon mentioning it probably hadn’t been wise. 

 

In his defense, he’d thought making light would coax her into letting go of the embarrassment.  Maybe even laugh a little at herself. 

 

There was no laughter, but he still considered it a win.  One, because she toned down the uppity vocabulary.  Two, he hadn’t admitted them being in separate rooms was a good idea. 

 

It definitely was.

 

He was distracted enough by her smiling eyes and imagined smell on the phone.  Being confined to the same space and smelling it firsthand would be seriously detrimental to that separation of business and pleasure thing.

 

You’re good at multitasking.

 

But at what cost?  Would she be able to compartmentalize business from pleasure?  When the pleasure was over, would she be professional enough to maintain the business side? 

 

She doesn’t think so.  That’s why you’re not allowed near her. 

 

As though his thoughts had conjured her, the phone in Jon’s hand chimed with an incoming text.

 

[11:02AM]TEDDI:  You’re behind on your homework. 

 

A cockeyed grin angled his mouth.  She was in school marm mode on a Sunday morning.  Or was it prude mode?  Was she a prude?  His inquiring mind wanted to know, but Jon stayed away from that slippery slope for now.  He’d save it for their next FaceTime.

 

[11:03AM]JON: Give me a break, Teach.  I’ve been busy.

 

[11:04AM]TEDDI: It takes less than a minute to take a photo and post it.

 

[11:05AM]JON: Yeah, but it takes 10 to find something worth taking a picture of, and another 15 to think about mf hashtags.

 

[11:05AM]TEDDI:  Proof that you’ve yet to follow 50 people and actually look at their posts.  Otherwise, you would realize IG is full of the mundane.  Salad, socks, flowers, coffee… It doesn’t matter.  Take a picture of what’s in front of you RIGHT NOW and post it.

 

“Right now” his bare feet were in front of him, seeing as he was lounging on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt.  Ankles were crossed atop the coffee table and Jon wiggled his toes with consideration.  There was something slightly pervy about pictures of naked feet, especially if the shot angle made it impossible to tell whether the foot owner was wearing clothes.

 

A devious smirk bent his lips. 

 

It took Jon three seconds to snap the shot and fire it off to the good doctor.  He’d let her reaction dictate whether it was pervy or not.

 

[11:08AM]JON: You think I should post this?

 

Teddi’s mouth went dry and her eyes wouldn’t let go of the screen.  She devoured every pixel of naked toes and hairy shins that gave no indication what he wore – if he wore anything.   It was asinine that a picture of bare feet could set her heart to racing in such an enjoyable way.  Perhaps because men’s feet were somewhat taboo, hidden away in shoes and socks, that it made seeing them disrobed seem sexy.  This particular man’s feet…

 

[11:10AM]TEDDI:  Are you aware there are entire Facebook groups devoted to your feet?  That account would be linked to you within hours.

 

[11:10AM]JON:  My fucking feet??  God, I hope that’s a joke.

 

[11:11 AM]TEDDI:  I assure you, it is not.  That dragon around your ankle is akin to the Loch Ness Monster.  People go a little crazy when it makes an appearance.

 

She neglected to mention her own membership in at least one of those groups.  He’d be astounded at how many people out there were clustered around his various body parts.  Groups devoted to his eyes, hair and smile existed, but there was an equal amount devoted to his backside, “package” and nipples.

 

Scandalous, really, to objectify him in such a way. 

 

Now that she had a business relationship with him, it made Teddi a bit squeamish. 

 

[11:13AM]JON:  Jesus.  Facebook is officially off the table.  Don’t even suggest it.

 

She hadn’t planned to.  Twitter and Instagram had further reach nowadays than Facebook, without offering a breeding ground for “special” interest groups.  She enjoyed partaking of such things, but it didn’t suit his mission.  The band’s page could handle Facebook.

 

[11:14AM]TEDDI:  Noted.  Now post your picture so that I may get back to what I was doing.

 

[11:15AM]JON: What were you doing?

 

Guilty eyes tracked the powdered sugar and baking sheets on her kitchen island.  Dare she tell him that the oven was preheating for her latest batch of vanillekipferl dough, which chilled in the refrigerator?

 

The first attempt hadn’t turned out all that well, but she had higher hopes for the second now that she had the Bihari recipe.  Her out of the blue request for it caused some surprise, but Kizzy accepted Teddi’s claim of nostalgia as good enough reason to supply a photo of their grandmother’s yellowed recipe card.

 

It wasn’t entirely untrue.  Teddi had been stricken with nostalgia since Jon mentioned the powdered cookies.  That just wasn’t the sole reason for her trials in baking this weekend.  The special delivery of fresh vanilla pod was ordered in hopes of crafting a cookie Jon would enjoy eating. 

 

An unbidden shiver raced under the back of her white tank top.  He’d called her Cookie the other day.

 

Stop indulging in food fetishes and answer your CLIENT’S question.

 

[11:17AM]TEDDI: You’re stalling.  Just post something.  And don’t forget the hashtags.

 

She was fairly certain he purposely left off the hashtags.  Those who paid attention could see that he was meticulous when taking on a new task.  He hired experts to show him the way and trusted in their guidance until he’d mastered the lessons.  Vocal coaches, photography professionals and community outreach authorities had all tutored him with notable results. 

 

Teddi had been hired to help him achieve comparable results on this project.  There was no doubt Jon remembered what she told him.  He just didn’t like social media.  He may need it, but he didn’t like it and therefore chose to approach the subject with passive-aggressiveness.   

 

It was also possible that he simply enjoyed hassling Teddi.  With the communication restrictions she’d imposed, it was hard to be sure.  Written messages didn’t offer the insight she’d get from a mischievous gleam or playful smirk. 

 

That’s a good thing.  It allows you to keep perspective. 

 

[11:30AM]JON:  Done.  I also need to reschedule our call tomorrow.  Can we move it later in the day?  7pm?

 

She had an appointment with Pierce tomorrow evening, but that wasn’t until eight.  It may also be more enjoyable after a call with Jon.  Especially if he called her Cookie again.

 

[11:31AM]TEDDI: That will be fine.  Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

 

[11:32AM]JON: Thanks. You too, Cookie.

 

Damnation.  Not now.  Tomorrow.

 

Even as she cursed his timing, Teddi savored the quiver of excitement in her tummy.  She may have wished for it, but with every utterance of that nickname, it became harder to maintain a business-only mindset with this client. 

 

“Check his homework and go back to baking,” she muttered to herself while swiping her way to the Instagram app. 

 

A quick search brought up the jerseykid6232 username she’d fashioned with the numbers in his birthdate, and Teddi tapped on the last post.  A scan of the content had her groaning at his completion of the assignment. 

 

The photo was a sliver of his MacBook screen and a quarter of the keyboard – presumably what he’d had right in front of him.  That part wasn’t the issue.  Nor was the inscription that read: “Thought I left homework back in high school, but I guess you never stop learning.” 

 

The hashtags, however, were… exasperating.

 

#happynow? #hashtaghound #homeworkstillsucks #vanillakipper #rathereatcookie

 

No, Teddi was not happy.  Because now she was going to drive herself crazy imagining that he’d purposely left the ‘s’ off “cookies”.