Charmer

by Loring, Kayley

  I slap the tabletop and then point at him. “Says the guy who hired my sister to be his nanny and then ended up marrying her.”

  He looks down, shakes his head and stifles a laugh. “Fair enough. But I will remind you that it was your idea for her to be my nanny.”

  There’s another pause in our conversation, when a twentysomething woman approaches our table and asks if she can get a selfie with “Shanico.” It’s been a while since I’ve heard that term. We get up to pose with her while she holds her camera up, and then she tells me she loves ‘Sleeper Hit’ and tells Shane it’s so cute that it’s about him. I keep nodding politely, but I can’t wait to get back to talking with Shane.

  When she finally leaves, we sit back down and he says quietly, “Wow, you really have changed. You barely looked at that girl.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject—did I tell you to have sex with my sister when she was your nanny? No. But you did, and it should have been a disaster, but it wasn’t.”

  “Point taken. Let’s not talk about me having sex with your sister anymore.”

  “Let’s never talk about it again.”

  “You got it. But come on—don’t hire the hot mommy waitress photographer documentary filmmaker for this. I know a videographer that you definitely will not want to have sex with—I can call him for you.”

  “I’m hiring the hot mommy waitress photographer documentary filmmaker for this.”

  “I know you are. I support that. I support you.”

  “Do you really?”

  “In general, yes. But I still think this is a terrible idea. You’ve never had a serious relationship before.”

  “I’m serious about all of my relationships.”

  Shane looks at me skeptically.

  “Okay, but it’s not like I’ve been totally frivolous about women. And even if I was—what? Am I supposed to have a couple of starter relationships before I’m allowed to date the woman that I really want? It’s like when employers say, ‘come back when you’ve had more experience’ but no one will give you your first break. Why shouldn’t I get a break? Why can’t it be now? Why can’t it be with her?”

  I finally look up at Shane and I can see that I’m getting through to him.

  “I think I have a chance with Kat. I know it might get complicated and I don’t want to screw it up, but I mean—why don’t I have as good a shot at this as anyone? At least if things don’t work out between me and Kat, I’ll still be helping her with her career. She deserves that.”

  “Sure.” He nods. “Yeah. I hope things work out for you. I do.”

  “Thanks, man… Hey, do you know any good magic stores in LA?”

  He’s looking at me like I’m speaking a foreign language again. I don’t blame him. This entire conversation has been completely foreign and bizarre to me too. “You mean like a store that sells magic tricks?”

  “I mean, if you know of any stores that are magic then tell me about them, but yeah. Magic supplies.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to get something for someone. Isn’t that kind of a dad thing to know? All the stores around town that sell stuff for kids?”

  He pulls out his phone again, nodding. “Absolutely. Let me check my dad database. Here, I’ll send you a link. It’s called ‘Google.’”

  “You’re an asshole.” I hold up my water glass. “But you complete me.”

  He clinks glasses with me. “You’re my ambassador of Kwan.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means I’m ordering the Jerry Maguire DVD for you.”

  * * *

  I’m feeling really good about everything by the time I get home and I’m about to call Kat, when my Grammie’s beautiful cheeky little pixie face shows up on my phone.

  Shit.

  I can’t deny a call from the woman who was basically my primary caregiver, but I do not want to lose this good feeling and I can already tell she’s going to do her granny dance and stomp all over it.

  I don’t think I want to know what Grammie thinks because whatever it is, I’m going to do what she says. Always have, always will.

  I gird my loins and accept the call. “Good afternoon.”

  “Oh hello there! I was just calling to see if your phone is working, Señor Ass Canoe.”

  “It’s douche canoe.”

  “Pardon me, it’s so hard to keep up with what the cool kids are calling you these days.”

  “No one’s cooler than you, Grams.”

  “Anything going on in your life that I should know about? You’re going on tour soon.”

  “Yes. I am. Thank you for remembering.”

  “I’m still waiting for a formal invitation to your Detroit show.”

  “Consider this your formal invitation. Please come to my Detroit show. You will be granted a backstage pass and front row seat—if you behave yourself.”

  “You know perfectly well that I won’t behave myself.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “And you’re excited? Things are good?”

  “Yeah, things are really good. My fans are really embracing the new single and I seem to be widening my audience by a mile.”

  “Uh huh. So that’s it? There’s nothing else you want to tell me. Because I just spoke to Willa and it seems your waitress is a mother.”

  “Can we not call her ‘the waitress’ anymore? She’s a filmmaker and a photographer. And a really awesome one at that. And a mother. With a really cool little boy. I really like her, Grams.”

  “I know, cookie. You always really like someone right before you leave for a tour.”

  Oof. Low blow.

  I guess today’s the day I earn my orange belt in getting my emotional ass kicked by loved ones.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I’m not being cynical here—I want you to find your person more than anyone.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’ve found a lot of women over the years and—"

  “And this one’s different. I know my tendencies, believe me.”

  “Like the one where you always fall for someone right before you leave town?”

  “Yes, I always fall for someone right before I leave town because I want to feel attached to a woman that I can come home to. Yes, I wrote a song about one of them.”

  “It was a good song.”

  “Thank you. But this isn’t that. This isn’t anything like anything I’ve felt before. Kat’s not like anyone I’ve liked before. Yes, I’m falling fast. Yes, I’m falling harder than usual. But I haven’t even slept with her yet.”

  I hold up the phone so her high-pitched laugh doesn’t damage my eardrum. “Oh my goodness! I had no idea! Who do I call in LA to arrange a parade in your honor?!

  “I’m not saying I deserve a medal for that, Lady Turdburger. I’m saying that I already feel more for her than I’ve felt for any other woman. I have a lot of respect for her as an artist now too…which is why I’m thinking about hiring her to be the official photographer and videographer for the tour. I’ve already talked about this with Shane, and he’s with me on this, so don’t try to talk me out of it.”

  “She would travel with you, you mean?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  I hear her suck in her breath and then she is uncharacteristically silent for so long that I actually get nervous. Surely, the only reason my grandmother would stop verbally assaulting me is because she’s had a stroke. Or the call got dropped. “Grams?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Could you think a little faster? I have to make a call and then get ready for yet another interview.”

  “Yes. I think you should do it.”

  “You do? You think I should hire Kat for the tour?”

  “Yes. I do. Because if you muck this up no one will ever forgive you. You won’t be able to forgive yourself. The stakes are high. You need that.”

  “Jesus, Grams.”

  “Tellin’ it like it is. You don’t thin
k you can handle it? You think you’ll muck it up?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Because I’d like to think you can handle it. I’d like to think that you won’t be alone and miserable when I shuffle off this mortal coil.”

  “I won’t ever be alone and I’ll always be miserable because you’ll haunt me forever.”

  “You’d better believe it. I’m sorry I’m giving you a hard time, cookie.”

  “Are you?”

  “No. Because I know you can handle that.”

  “You and Shane and Willa must have a lot of faith in my ability to take a verbal ass beating because you’ve all been giving it to me ever since I found out the waitress is a mom.”

  “Kat.”

  “Yes. Kat.”

  “I look forward to meeting her when you’re in town. Your mom and dad will be at the show too, you know.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “We’re all very proud of you. Your parents too.”

  “Are you trying to make me cry right now? That is a dick move.”

  “Well, you know. I’m a dick. Have a good day. Don’t muck it up.”

  “Muck you, Grams.”

  “Muck you too, cookie.”

  Shit.

  Now all I can think about is how easy it would be to muck things up with Kat.

  11

  Kat

  I wake up from my late morning nap and check my phone with the kind of eagerness I haven’t felt since college. Nico hasn’t called or texted since he checked to make sure I got home safely last night. The last thing he wrote was Talk to you tomorrow X. It’s after lunch, and I have errands to run. I want to be able to go about my day without constantly checking my phone like a junkie, so I decide to text him first.

  ME: Hi. It’s me again. The woman who attacked you in a parking lot with her mouth. And hands. And legs.

  NICO: You’ll have to be more specific.

  ME: Wow. You had a busy night.

  NICO: Best night I’ve had in months.

  ME: Me too.

  NICO: Best mouth and hands and legs I’ve been attacked by, ever.

  I’m about to text him back, when he calls. I take a deep breath and clear my throat before answering, so I don’t sound too whiny or excited. “Hey. I actually wanted to ask you when your album drops? Wait. Pretend I didn’t say that. When does your album come out?”

  He laughs.

  His laughs, at least with me, are these quick little surprised outbursts of happiness. It makes me wonder what he sounds like when he comes. To be honest, almost everything makes me wonder that lately.

  “Two weeks. I’ve got a launch party at Hotel Café and then the tour starts a week later.”

  Three weeks.

  I hate that he’s going to be leaving so soon.

  I can already feel it happening.

  I’m turning into the girl at the end of the line and the end of the road.

  “Wanna be my date to the launch party?”

  Laying back down on my bed, I reply, “Maybe.”

  “Wow. Progress.”

  “What’s it called? The album.”

  “Charmer.”

  “Appropriate.”

  “So, I wanted to tell you that when I went back to the bar to close out my tab, Ivy told me about your website. I’ve been going through it since last night.

  I bolt upright. “Oh.”

  “Did you not want me to?”

  I get up and start pacing around my room. “No, I do. I think. I don’t know why I feel weird about that—never mind. Over it! Yes. Look at my work online. Cool.”

  “I love it. All of it. I think you’re so talented.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “I especially like your candid shots. You capture really beautiful, authentic moments. I like your eye.”

  “Thank you. I like using a fast shutter speed.”

  “It’s a very cool effect. Tell me about this mom project you’re working on.”

  “Oh, it’s an ongoing passion project. I’ve been working on it for years. When I meet women who are right for it, or my friends tell me about someone they know, I set up an interview.”

  “Do you have funding or anything?”

  “No. If I got funding, I’d have deadlines and people to answer to. With this one, it’ll be done when it’s done.”

  “Is there anything you’re working on now that does have a deadline?”

  “No big projects. When I get photography gigs my turnaround time is really quick. Occasionally I’ll do wedding videos, but nothing lately. Why?”

  “Are you working tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I come by to talk to you about something? Do you get a break?”

  “I get a fifteen-minute break at midnight.”

  “Okay. I need to get some shit done before an interview, but I’ll see you before midnight.”

  “Okay.”

  “I had a really good time last night, Katherine.”

  “I did too.”

  He hangs up before I get the chance to tell him what I’ve been thinking ever since I got into the Uber when I left him—that I am open to having a fling with him before he leaves for his tour. I’ll make time for him. I’ll fling hard and fast for three weeks, and then I’ll go back to being a mom who’s trying to get her career back on track and he can go back to being…Nico Todd.

  * * *

  The minute I finally stop checking the entrances, Ivy passes by behind me and says, “Here comes Mr. Sparkles.”

  I print out a check and casually look up to find Nico walking in. He’s carrying a reusable shopping bag and when he sees me, his tired face lights up and my heart skips a beat and we’re so fucking adorable I can’t even stand it. I give him a little wave. He waits by the counter while I drop the check off at a table and then I go over to him and we do that thing where we can’t decide if we should hug or kiss because—what are we? We aren’t friends or lovers exactly yet, but my tongue has been thoroughly introduced to the deep recesses of his mouth, and oh God his ear too, I think.

  “Hi,” he says, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Hi. Did you want to sit down and talk in here, or…”

  “You want to go for a walk or something? Do you need to eat?”

  “No, let’s go for a stroll. I’ll go back and get my jacket.”

  He holds up the shopping bag. “This is for you. And Tate.”

  Inside the bag, I find a signed vinyl album of Charmer. The picture of Nico on the cover of the sleeve makes me squeeze my thighs together even tighter. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses and flashing a devilishly handsome toothy grin. Next to his image, he’s written: For Katherine, who brings me coffee and so much more. X Nico

  I’m dying for him to explain what the ‘so much more’ is, but that’s really sweet. “Thank you so much.”

  “It just occurred to me that I didn’t ask if you have a record player.”

  “I do, I just haven’t been buying many records lately.” I slide the record back into the bag and pull out a box. It’s got Japanese characters all over it and sketches of a glass of milk on the side. I look up at him for an explanation. He’s so excited.

  “It’s a Japanese magic trick. For Tate. This roadie I toured with last year got one in Japan—there are English instructions in the box. You roll up a piece of newspaper into a cone and then you pour this glass of milk into it and the milk disappears. It’s so cool.”

  “Tate will literally lose his mind. I’ve never seen one of these before. Where did you find this?”

  He shrugs. “I just ordered it from Amazon.”

  “Really? Well, Tate will be so happy. Thank you for thinking of him, this is so sweet.” I place my hand on his cheek and then turn to go to the back room before my hand starts doing anything else to him.

  “There’s something else in there,” he says.

  I fish around at the bottom of the bag and pull out a bar of Green and Black’s
organic white chocolate. I can’t believe he remembered I like these. I look up at him and he shrugs.

  “To thank you for dealing with my shopping cart when I had to ditch it the other day.”

  “That is so…”

  “Yeah yeah,” he cuts me off. “Go put it in the back room, I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Nico…”

  “Go on,” he grins. “I haven’t got all night.”

  I go to the back room to put this stuff in my locker, but if I’d known he’d come bearing gifts I would have knit him a beanie this afternoon or something. This was very unexpected. No guy has ever given me a gift for Tate before. No guy has ever given me the kind of chocolate I like either. The only other thing he could have brought me that would make me happier is an erect Nico Todd penis, but I guess I’m glad he didn’t present one to me at my place of work.

  When we walk out onto the sidewalk of Franklin Boulevard, Nico casually hooks his pinky finger with mine. When I look down and smile, he interlaces all of our fingers, gazing ahead like this is no big deal. “You’ve got fifteen minutes?” he asks.

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about this in person,” he says, as we stroll toward Beachwood Drive. “I’ve been thinking about this since—well, since late last night. I wanted to know if you’re available—”

  “Yes.”

  “To come on tour with me for two months.”

  “What?”

  “As my photographer and documentarian.”

  “Wait.” I stop in my tracks, letting go of his hand. “What?”

  He turns back to face me, seeming really surprised that I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I want to hire you. To document my tour. Photography and video. Mostly video.” He pulls a folded piece of paper from inside his jacket and holds it out to me. “This is the itinerary. Cross-country and back. Just tell me what you think is a good enough salary to warrant taking time off from your other gigs, and then add more because this would be a twenty-four seven job.”

  I stare down at the itinerary, even though it’s too dark to really read it. “Nico. You want to hire me to go on tour with you for two months?”