S01.E06 - Backside Bandit

Behind the closed door of her bedroom, Jenna sat in her makeup chair, looking annoyed at the incessant straightness of her hovering roommate.

"Jenna, if you don't hold still, your eyeliner is going to look like a seismograph," Trisha warned, holding Jenna's chin while waving a mascara wand like a conductor's baton.

"I am not a trucker, you mess." Jenna groused, her neck craning to stay close to what was now Trisha's brush. "If it were up to you, I'd show up dressed like I was ready to chop down a tree."

Trisha gasped, clutching her chest as if wounded. "Excuse you. This is sporty chic. I may not be a lesbian, but I know everything there is to know about being a sporty girl." Trisha thought about the accusation for a second and then added, "And if you ever actually want to do the lumberjack thing, I got you covered for that, too."

"I'm a lesbian, Trish. I own my own flannel." groused Jenna as she swatted at Trisha's hands, forcing the younger woman to retreat.

Trisha decided to postpone the rolling of her eyes. Instead, she sought to seal her bona fides with a grand reveal. She walked to Jenna's bedroom door and peeled back the black plastic trash bag from its hanger as if she was unveiling a holy artifact unearthed at an archeological dig to a room full of reporters. Her arms framed the miracle that was her prized possession: the Lucky Lennon football jersey.

"Behold." said Trisha, holding up the most disgusting football jersey Jenna had ever seen.

"What the hell is that?"

"48 was Lennon. He was a fullback back when they had fullbacks."

"Is that a beer stain?"

"Yes! Good eye! It's from the playoffs. My dad spilled his beer all over me when we took it to overtime."

"Ew!"

"I was nine. Technically, that was my first beer." said Trisha, trying to remain happy in her nostalgia while fighting off the incredulity of the fact that Jenna appreciated neither the history nor the gesture. "And these are tears from January '18." She, forlorn, hugged the jersey. "We don't talk about that."

"It's a first date! I'm not wearing your dirty laundry, whackjob."

Trisha was flooded with emotions. She bounced between the betrayal of a dear friend who would not accept one of her most prized possessions in the spirit in which it was intended, the nostalgia that can only come from old tailgate hotdog mustard, and the pride of knowing more about Jenna's date Samantha than Jenna clearly did.

"If you wear this, every sports chick in the bar will be all over you." said Trisha, shaking her jersey in the air.

"It's a first date. I have to look cute."

"We're going to make it cute. That's why we started an hour earlier. We have to build a sporty lesbian. It's a process. No woman can just tailgate."

Suddenly, the bedroom door roared open with such force that the doorknob punched a small dent into the drywall. Candy stood in the doorway proudly, like a superheroine arriving to prevent a crime. She had a half-eaten yogurt tube dangling from her mouth like a cigarette.

"I've had enough of this insanity!"

"Were you listening at the door?" demanded Trisha, genuinely offended that Candy didn't trust her to handle the transformation.

"Back away from the lesbian."

Trisha pointed indignantly at the newest dent in Jenna's bedroom wall. "Look what she did to our security deposit!"

"Worth it." said Jenna, her eyes narrowed by sass.

Candy pushed past Trisha and walked protectively to her friend's side. "I'm here, sweetie."

"Where have you been?!?" demanded Jenna.

"Really? That's how you want to start your night?"

Jenna considered all of her options, then collapsed further into her chair. "Sorry."

Trisha was incensed at the idea that somehow there was a secret lesbian way to enjoy football of which she was not aware. Out of spite, she donned the luckiest football jersey that there ever was to silently declare it off-limits to Jenna.

"You're both ridiculous! I totally had this." yelled Trisha as she stormed out of the room.

Candy and Jenna stared at the now empty doorway for a second out of faux respect. Then it was time for the real work to begin.

"Ready?"

"Do it."

"And what's her name?"

"Samantha."

"And have I fucked her?"

"God I hope not."

"And where are you two going?"

"Pete's & Luke's."

Candy just waved her hands, completely unfamiliar with the location.

"It's a sports bar."

Candy just waved her hands, completely unfamiliar with the concept.

"We're supposedly watching football."

Candy's face was completely vacant—devoid of all knowledge. It was as if Jenna had just been speaking Swahili. It became immediately apparent to Candy that the two of them had just made a terrible mistake.

"Trisha!" said Candy while rushing out of the bedroom. "Trisha, we're sorry! Trisha, come back!"

=====

Using superior knowledge of the area and personal fitness that most women would be jealous of, Jenna managed to rush through the front door of their apartment before her date Samantha could catch up. She made a beeline straight for Trisha, who was curled up on the sofa reading a copy of "Lesbianism for Dummies".

"I need that jersey!"

"Finally, you've come to your senses." said Trisha as she quickly removed the magical memorabilia and then handed it over. "Okay. If she asks, that is an actual bullet hole. You can still smell the powder."

"Shush! It turns out I hate football with a passion," explained Jenna in a hurried whisper. "But I want to fuck this chick's face, so if she asks, I have always loved football for my whole life, but I left you my jersey because your period hit."

"This is blasphemy!" snarled Trisha bitterly, incensed at the idea that her jersey—one of the most sacred of sports items—was being abused to score some nookie. By the time Trisha had climbed to her feet, Jenna was absolutely swimming in the shirt, which was two sizes too large.

"Make yourself scarce."

"Swear you won't do it in my lucky jersey!"

"Done." hushed Jenna, waving her hands in the air as Samantha, alone and confused, made her way up the exterior stairs from the parking lot. Trisha rolled her eyes, then stomped off to her bedroom. The bedroom door closed just in time for Samantha to wonder through the front one.

"In here!" said Jenna with a smile, as if everything was normal.

"There's your jersey."

"I told you I had one."

"You wondered off. You know I've never been here before, right?" said Samantha, who herself was dressed in the cutest of all sporty jersey outfits. She slid her purse onto the appropriate table and looked around the room. She paused for quite a while to admire the giant poster of two chicks making out as she smoothed out her denim skirt.

"Abandoning dates in the parking lot is a little test I like to perform to see if a woman is qualified to hang out with me." said Jenna, thinking quickly. "If you can't manage to find the open door on your own, then there's no chance at a future for us."

"I like it. Trial by abandonment." said Samantha, genuinely impressed. "If you need me to perform a feat of strength, I could pick up that couch."

"Would you like something to drink? We had a lot of beer at your little sports bar, so we've gotta keep you hydrated for overtime."

"Easy tiger." said Samantha, her arms on her hips with her elbows flared backward to showcase the twins. "But I am intrigued. Show me this hydration of which you speak." The pair walked into the kitchen to survey the fluid options in the refrigerator.

The front door opened. Candy entered in a stealthy and cautious manner so as not to interrupt any sporting events in progress. Seeing no one, yet observing a new and beautiful purse, she dropped her clutch on the clutch table, and then crept over to Jenna's closed bedroom door. Candy pressed her ear up against the wood to listen for an update on the date. That's when Trisha chose to rip open her own door, causing Candy to scream in panic. Both women pressed themselves against the nearest flat surface.

"What are you doing?" demanded Trisha.

"Having a heart attack."

Trisha grabbed Candy and yanked her into the bedroom, quickly closing the door just in time. Two confused heads popped out of the kitchen door, the second of which was framed by a hand-held rolling pin.

"Did you hear that?" asked Jenna.

"Yeah. I've got the rolling pin just in case."

"We have a rolling pin?"

"Not big on baking, I see."

"We use that to kill burglars."

"Convenient. That's why I picked it up."

"Were you getting ready to protect me?"

"Sort of. Someone gave me three pounds of chocolate earlier today. It's still in my purse over there."

"Yeah, but I'm number two on that list, right?"

"Totally."

"That is so hot."

The two retreated back into the kitchen to discuss the matter further.

=====

Trisha was lying on the floor of her own bedroom looking up at the ceiling while Candy stood at the door straining her ears with everything she had. There was no new information that told her whether she should be using her phone to rush-order one small box of flavored lingerie or three large tubs of iced cream.

"So, how long does lesbian sex take?" asked Trisha, reaching under her bed to retrieve an emory board that clearly belonged to her predecessor. "Is it more or less than vag'?"

The criticality of the moment left Candy in no mood for Trisha's laziness. "You should know the answer to that. We wrote all this down for you when you moved in."

"Oh, yeah. Right. I—left it in my locker."

"Go get them."

"Fine, I lied. There was an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

Trisha considered lying, but she just didn't have the energy left inside to make it convincing. "Fine, I lied again. I set them on fire on purpose."

=====

"So, are your roommates home?" inquired Samantha as the two of them sat on the sofa enjoying very expensive tea in bottles.

"One of them is, but she has headphones, and enough crumbs in her bed that she'll be fine for a few days."

Samantha smiled as a way of diffusing bad news. "See, first date. I'd hate to play to an audience."

"If you're willing to cover her rent, I could kill her with that wood thing you found in our kitchen."

"Less than five hours and already I'm rubbing off on you."

Jenna leapt for the segue. "It is so funny you brought up things rubbing up against one another over and over and over..."

Just then there was a scream from Trisha's bedroom. The two women on the couch spun around with different types of concern.

"Go get the burglar killer." said Jenna.

Trisha came plowing through her bedroom door, adjusting the bra under her shirt and looking disheveled.

"What the hell is going on in there?" demanded Jenna.

"She tried to kiss me again."

Candy appeared in the doorway looking like a stern and disappointed teacher. "You have no dedication to the craft. You're a shamble of a lesbian."

Jenna and her companion stood, then walked over to the drama in progress. Trisha's eyes lit up when she saw Samantha's outfit, and she held up a hand to indicate this was an aside.

"Pause. I am obsessed with that tailgate outfit. I need to know everything."

Samantha spun around proudly as she described the three secrets to her success.

"Scrunchy." she said, pointing to her hair.

"Love it."

"Scrunchy." she said, pointing to her impromptu crop top.

"Witchcraft!"

"Scrunchy." she said, pointing a finger up the chimney of her denim skirt.

"Get fucked!"

Jenna was not pleased with Trisha's interruption of her machinations. "Eh, excuse me—"

"It's not what you think." blurted Candy, rushing forward and waving her hands in a panic to prevent Jenna from starting an argument.

"Unpause. It's exactly what you think." clarified Trisha. "She violated the contract we signed."

"What contract?" asked Candy slyly.

Trisha leaned into her room; she returned with several stapled pages in her hand.

"This contract. You signed it right there."

The blonde pointed calmly at the signature line. "Who's 'Camby'?"

Trisha gasped, then yanked the pages back, realizing that she had been duped by the third oldest trick in the book.

"The two of you get back in that room and put on some headphones." demanded Jenna, pointing with her enraged eyes.

"Fine, but I need some supplies first." announced Trisha as she marched toward the kitchen. "That fourth quarter was trash, and I need to choke it down with some pie."

Samantha, desperate to vent to an actual sports fan, rolled into formation and followed right behind Trisha as if being towed by a magnet. "I know, right? Who calls a timeout with five minutes left?"

"If there was actual justice in this world, the unemployed."

"Who goes three wide on third and short?"

"The Devil!"

Candy and Jenna stood in stunned belief as Samantha roared with flirty laughter while clearly being lured into the kitchen by a slutty-yet-somehow-still-sporty Trisha.

"That bitch just stole my date." said Jenna in a low, seething voice.

"Worst baby gay ever." Candy pleaded on behalf of Trisha's naivete. "It's because you and I aren't focused. We've created a monster. We have to build a submissive lesbian. It's a process. No woman can just eat pussy."

Jenna looked over her shoulder, as once again Candy had somehow lost the thread of the plot while allowing her sex addiction to twist the open ends together.

=====

"4th and 18?" tested Samantha.

"4th and 23 back in '15."

"My dad almost threw up on me in our living room."

"I got stabbed with a kabob skewer at that tailgate." explained Trisha, simultaneously pulling both up her shirt and down her waistband to reveal a tiny hole in her hip.

"You were there. At the game?"

"Look. To this day, it still has not fully healed." Trisha waved her open palm above her groin. "It's just a third hole down here that leaks barbecue sauce sometimes."

Samantha took a minute to consider whether or not she should confirm her suspicions, but surely Trisha was cool enough to handle it. Plus, it didn't hurt when Trisha bent over to search for two who-knows-whats inside the 'fridge.

"Listen. Philly fan to Philly fan. Jenna's not really into football, is she? " asked Samantha as Trisha handed her an energy drink.

"Normally I'd lie to you with everything I had to help out one of my closest friends, but I offered her my lucky playoff jersey for your date, and she snooted at it in a betrayal she can't even begin to understand." explained Trisha from a place of anguish. "So right now, she's almost dead to me."

"That..." said Samantha, stepping in really, really, really close to Trisha. "...is a really terrible thing for a roommate to do."

Trisha's eyes were as wide as they had ever been, while the bottle of kombucha that she had stolen stubbornly refused to enter her back pants pocket. The situation had taken a turn toward the disastrous, yet not only could Samantha recognize a backside bandit before the ball was even hiked, but she also had super-secret ultra-cute tailgate outfit knowledge that Trisha desperately needed.

"Uh—" Trisha stalled, the wheels turning.

"So tell me more about your hole." whispered Samantha, making extra sure to exhale in just the right way so that it would hit Trisha in the neck. She smiled as a way of soothing the pain of an old sports injury.

"Uh—"

"Wait. How many women have YOU slept with?" inquired Samantha as she and Trisha pushed all of the air to one side of the kitchen. "Because Jenna's number was almost disturbing. Apparently that girl can really pull some tail."

"Jenna's the best."

"The best? She thought that a 'post' had to do with mailing the players contracts to sign."

"Oh my God. We literally went over that while I was plucking her eyebrows." groused Trisha, shaking her fists in the air while doing all that she could to not explode. "Listen—it is true that my number is significantly lower. But that's because—I'm—not—a lesbian."

Samantha was surprised, then suddenly very aware of how close she was to Trisha the Straight. She stepped back with a "Really?"

"I'm so sorry."

"What about you and that Camby chick?"

Trisha laughed and rolled her eyes. "Candy is totally a super big old mega lesbian with the sex drive of Hugh Hefner. Ever since I've moved in, I sleep with a gun."

"Wow. That's kinda funky."

"I know, right?" said Trisha. "I thought my old life was complicated fending off my dad's loser friends. It's a big, weird, rent-based conspiracy that we're all engaged in. But it's a secret, so please—please don't tell anyone."

"Mums the word." said Samantha, putting an imaginary button on her lips.

"But if you tell me how the third scrunchy works, I'll let you go to first base."

"Deal!"

Jenna and Candy were seated on the sofa in the living room. Candy was lost in her own head, far, far away, while Jenna stared daggers at the kitchen door thinking of all the screaming that she was going to do at Trisha later. But then suddenly "later" was right now. She stood with a huff, dragging Candy to her feet.

"Come on!"

"Wait. Where are we going?"

"The kitchen. I'm getting back my future wife."

The two of them came plowing through the door of the kitchen expecting to see something salacious yet bordering on normal. Instead, Trisha was on her knees in front of Samantha, whose foot was up on a kitchen chair, and whose denim skirt was much higher than before. Several plastic tubes were sticking out in places where plastic tubes definitely should not exist, and there was a funnel on the kitchen island where funnels were definitely not allowed.

"Guys, you would not believe what she's got going on down here." reported Trisha with the excitement of a teen about to get on a roller coaster.

"Yeah. I absolutely refuse to visit the bathroom before the end of the game. That would be like abandoning my post." explained Samantha.

"She doesn't even have to wait in line at halftime. This is genius!"

Jenna turned back to Candy, whose mouth was wide open in aghast horror. "Then again, sometimes it's just not meant to be." The two shrugged then escaped the kitchen before any potential demonstration could begin.

=====

It was several hours later. Samantha had gone home, yet somehow Trisha was the one in the apartment with a new phone number in her phone. The three roommates were seated on the sofa watching television and slowly returning to normal.

"Trisha, I'm sorry." said Jenna.

Candy was beside herself. "Why are you apologizing? She stole your date."

"I should have trusted your sports wisdom. You could have made me super cute and totally ready, but instead I lost out on a night of great sex."

Candy was somehow even more beside herself. "She was wearing—a funnel."

"It's okay." said Trisha. "Even though sports clearly isn't your thing, Samantha and I have agreed to find you a golf chick. They have tiny skirts, pointy tees, fewer rules, and plenty of time for bathroom breaks."

"I knew this night was going to be a win for me."

"Hey, what sport do I get to do?" asked Candy feeling left out.

"Oh, I'll have to look it up later. I'm not sure what it's called, but they play it in the prison yard." said Trisha.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jenna stood and marched over to the front door. She looked through the peephole, then opened to reveal Delilah. The stunning fashionista was looking her best even at such an uncommon hour. Her massive poofy hat barely managed to avoid the unyielding edges of the frame.

"Hello, ladies!" she said, gliding into the room and waving her clutch like a conductor's baton. It was clear Delilah's night was just getting started while the rest were looking forward to finishing a pie.

"Hey, Delilah." said Jenna, her eyes getting wider. "That's a lot of—cleavage."

"I know. These are how I got us the great table at the restaurant."

"No! Delilah, you should have asked for the big hat." said Trisha wryly, her head resting against the back of the sofa in sarcastic sympathy.

Candy rocketed to her feet. "I am obsessed with that outfit. I have to know everything."

"Yeah, how many scrunchies are you using?" asked Trisha.

"Ladies, there's an after-party at Gunter's house." announced Delilah proudly, as if admission to Gunter's home was the equivalent of breaking into the Pentagon.

"Who's Gunter?" asked Trisha.

"You don't know Gunter?" said all three women at once.

Delilah stepped forward, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why don't you know Gunter?"

"Oh, come on." grumbled Trisha. "There's no way every single lesbian knows some guy named Gunter."

Jenna quickly intervened. "We can't go to a party tonight, Delilah. I'm still recovering from a faux pas."

Delilah gasped and clutched at her bosom.

"What happened?"

Candy nodded at Jenna in the "give it to her straight" sort of way. Jenna pretended to brace herself before offering the recap. She gleefully threw her young roommate under the bus with a long accusatory finger.

"Trisha stole my date!"

Delilah was instantly at Jenna's beck and call, a clutch flying onto the table by the window. Jenna's face was smooshed into the deep and seemingly never-ending cleavage.

"That's a bad lesbian!" she adjudicated at Trisha, while her hands framed Jenna's face like a woman trying to look through a foggy window.

Candy nodded at Trisha. "Yeah, go be ashamed in your bedroom."

"Fine, but if anyone washes my jersey, there's gonna be a murder."

Trisha rolled her eyes and stood up. She marched to her bedroom, then closed the door. It was several seconds before Candy's jealousy boiled up. "Can I get one of those hugs or what?"