Bad Boy

by Olivia Goldsmith

  When the phone rang, Tracie was glad for the distraction. But before she could answer it, Beth scurried across to the phone. As Tracie reached for it, Beth put her hand on the receiver.

  “Can I answer that for you?” Beth asked.

  “No,” Tracie told her. “Not since you didn’t answer all weekend. Anyway, since when do you want to answer my phone? Just since your date with Jonny.”

  “Yeah? So?” Beth sat down. “Did you talk to him? What did he say about me? Does he like me?”

  “If you let me answer it, I might find out.” Tracie finally picked up the receiver. “Hello,” she snapped into the mouthpiece. Beth watched her as if she were performing surgery instead of talking on the phone. “No, I can’t. I have a deadline for this stupid cupcake article. No, the food, not the musician. Well, maybe what I do is as important to me as what you do is to you. No. Maybe tomorrow night.” Tracie placed the receiver in the cradle.

  “That wasn’t Jonny,” Beth said, and Tracie figured she should get the Nobel Prize for that one. Beth’s eyes were open wide. “You just blew off Phil?”

  “Yeah.” Tracie had the strongest impulse to smack Beth, though she didn’t know why. It was just her face. She had never really noticed just how annoying it was. “He’s so self-centered. He wanted to have dinner.”

  “When you see Jonny again, can I come, too?” Beth begged.

  “No!” Tracie told her, then realized she was almost shouting. She calmed down. “Look,” she said slowly, as if she were talking to a child, “Jonny knows your name and number. You know his. As you said, you’re both adults.” Tracie felt exhausted, as if she’d run a marathon or climbed the rock face at REI a dozen times. She wanted to go home, crawl under the blankets, and have Laura serve her anything but meat loaf instead of sitting here, looking at a glowing Beth and writing about cupcakes. “You two work it out from here on in,” Tracie said. “Call him if you want to see him so much.”

  “I already called him three times,” Beth admitted. Again Tracie really felt like slapping her, and she put one hand over the other, just in case. “You know,” Beth continued, “he doesn’t have an answering machine or voice mail at home. Isn’t that weird?” Tracie just shrugged. “He’s not married, right?”

  “Would I set you up with someone who was married?” Tracie asked, and shook her head. What had Laura called Beth? An airhead?

  “Well, do you think he has a steady girlfriend?” Beth the Relentless asked. “Do you think he lives with her?”

  “I know he doesn’t.” If Tracie told Beth the truth about the lack of other options Jon‌—or Jonny‌—had, Beth would probably drop him like a hot potato. “At least he didn’t,” she admitted.

  “I’ll just try him again,” Beth said.

  “Don’t you think it’s a good idea to just give it a rest?” she asked. She realized, with an unpleasant start of surprise, that she didn’t like Beth or Jon very much at all.

  Chapter 26

  Phil and Laura sat at Tracie’s dining table playing cards. They were playing for peanuts: not low stakes, but actual peanuts, because, to Phil’s disgust, Tracie had no chips. Tracie was looking over her notes and photos, but the laughter from the other room kept distracting her. Perhaps it was something else: She still hadn’t really talked to Jon. It was odd: The article sucked, but the makeover seemed to be progressing nicely. Despite not knowing Jon’s take on his date, Tracie was determined not to obsess over it. After all, this turn of events gave her an ending for her article. In fact, it justified the piece. She knew she should be grateful and just get on with writing it.

  But the truth was, she couldn’t get very far with it. Without a deadline, she was having trouble focusing. Right now, she wanted to eat something, or to call Jon, or to put on the TV, or to lie down just for a minute and close her eyes. To be honest, she wanted to join in the card game. It sounded like fun.

  Tracie heard Laura slap her hand down on the table. “Gin!” Laura exclaimed. On her bed, Tracie shook her head in pity for Phil. All their girlhood card playing in Encino had taught her that no one could beat Laura at gin. She’d once stripped their entire Girl Scout troop of money, jewelry, and Barbie dolls.

  Tracie smiled at the memory, then forced herself to look back down at the makeover piece. She sighed and decided she couldn’t concentrate on the article until she talked with Jon and found out what was really going on with Beth.

  Had Jon become so unavailable? Was he avoiding her? Stranger things had happened. Maybe Jon really liked Beth. Tracie knew that would be delicate to talk about, because she truly didn’t think that Beth was nearly good enough for him, certainly not smart enough. But since Jon hadn’t had anyone for so long, he might confuse sex with love. Tracie decided she’d have to try gently to guide him out of that idea, but she’d have to be sure that he didn’t hurt or insult Beth in any way when he did it.

  But who knew? Maybe it would work and she should just keep her nose out of it. After all, there were a lot of friendships that broke up when people fell in love and got married. She thought it had happened with the Beatles, but she wasn’t sure which ones. Maybe when Paul married Linda.

  Marriage! The idea of Jon marrying Beth was so ridiculous that Tracie didn’t know whether to laugh or to shudder. God, what am I doing, sitting here wasting my time over the idea? she thought. She told herself again that the incident was probably just a momentary attraction and would burn itself out in a few weeks.

  Tracie looked at her Post-it notes stuck on the door frame, the window, and flapping off of pages of printout notes. She sighed at the thought of gathering them up and putting them away. Nah. She’d leave them where they were.

  Meanwhile, she could hear Laura rattling the peanuts as she pulled them to her side of the table while Phil was shuffling the cards. “Have you lost weight?” she heard Phil ask Laura. Surprisingly, the two of them seemed to be getting along lately, but that was sweet of Phil anyhow. Tracie smiled‌—he could be thoughtful if he tried.

  “Maybe a little,” Laura told him, obviously concentrating on her game. There was a very brief silence. Tracie sniggered. If Phil was trying to distract her from her game, his attempt would be useless. Laura was the only girl Tracie knew who didn’t care about her weight. “Gin,” Laura said.

  “Shit!” Phil exclaimed. “You can’t have gin. We only drew one card.”

  “Gin,” Laura repeated, implacable.

  “Misdeal!” Phil cried.

  Ha! Tracie snickered. She knew that route was futile.

  “You dealt,” Laura told him.

  Tracie could hear Phil complaining and gathering up the cards. The two of them argued for a while as Tracie tried to tune them out, knowing the irrevocable outcome. How long until Jon arrives? she wondered. What will he say? What’s going on with him? She stretched out on her bed and might have dozed off for a few minutes. Then she heard her name drift into the bedroom. “So you know, I’m trying to follow some of your advice, but I don’t think Tracie is noticing.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she is,” Laura said in the distracted voice she used when she was counting cards.

  Tracie immediately wondered what the advice was, why Laura hadn’t mentioned it to her, and whether Phil had asked for it or if Laura had volunteered it. Phil was speaking again. She moved to the end of the bed.

  “I think you’re right. I think I used to . . . take her for granted or something,” he was saying, “but you know, now I think she might be doing the same to me.” Laura murmured something Tracie couldn’t hear. Then Phil must have gotten up from the table, because she heard the refrigerator door opening. She snuck to the bedroom door and peeked out. Phil had pulled open the vegetable drawer and was removing a head of iceberg lettuce. How had that gotten in there? Tracie hadn’t been grocery shopping, and Laura despised iceberg lettuce.

  Phil proceeded to cut the greens in half, then into quarters, and put the pieces on three plates. He took them to the table. “You wanna eat?” he asked Laura. Phil put
out three place mats and three folded paper napkins. Then he lighted a candle, but once he’d done that, he obviously didn’t know where to put it. He looked around for a candlestick, then, not seeing one, he stuffed the lit taper into the top of an empty beer bottle, Chianti-style. What in the world was he up to?

  “You know, women want different things at different times of their life,” Laura was now telling him as she put away the cards, gathered up her peanut winnings, and turned to Phil. “I was going out with that nitwit in Sacramento because he was exciting. But when you get old‌—I mean, I’ll be thirty in just two years‌—you want something more stable. Someone with a job. Someone who can give back.”

  Phil nodded as if he’d take this as gospel. Tracie felt her jaw hang open. She could hardly believe it, or what he did next, which was lifting an already-opened can of Chef Boyardee ravioli and dumping the contents into a waiting pot. She couldn’t believe it. He was trying to make dinner!

  Of course, his attempt was laughable, but he was trying. It was so cute, like Peter Pan trying to stick back his shadow with soap. He was about to turn up the flame, when Tracie left her room. She couldn’t stand it any longer. Laura was still sitting at the coffee table, eating her winnings. Phil now had his back to her and was stirring the ravioli with a fork. Just then, the intercom rang. Jon had arrived at last. Tracie ran to press the intercom to buzz Jon in.

  “Are we expecting someone?” Phil asked.

  “Jon’s just dropping by for a minute,” Tracie told him.

  “From what I hear, Beth says nothing Jon does takes a minute,” Laura said, wagging her eyebrows.

  “When did you talk to Beth?” Tracie asked Laura. It seemed as if Little Miss Busybody was talking to everyone behind her back.

  “Most of this afternoon,” Laura admitted, sweeping peanut shells into a wastebasket. “She kept waiting for Jon to call her back, which he hadn’t, and she had to talk to someone about him in the meantime.” Laura shrugged. “I was an obsession recipient.”

  Tracie shook her head. “Don’t mention her,” she warned Laura.

  “Hey, I don’t have dinner for four here,” Phil announced as Tracie crossed the room to open the door.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Laura told both of them. “I don’t have to join you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Tracie told her. “This’ll just take a couple of minutes. We’re going for a walk; then just the three of us will have dinner.”

  Tracie opened the door, and as usual, they hugged. She was interested to see what Phil’s reaction to the new Jon would be. So when Jon entered the living room, Tracie was behind him. Looking over Jon’s shoulder, Tracie watched as Phil eyed him from the top of his black-and-blue spiked-up hair down to the soles of his new boots. The expression on Phil’s face was one of surprise, quickly followed by dismay, and then replaced by false nonchalance. Watching the changes was like watching the three seasons bloom and fade in time-lapse photography, like they always did on the Disney Channel.

  But when Tracie turned again to Laura, her friend’s reaction‌—though a little more subtle‌—was more interesting and more of a tribute. Laura gazed unblinking at Jon and, for just a moment, her eyes had that longing, the expression that men got when they admired sports cars too fast or too expensive for them.

  “Hi, Jon,” Laura said in the voice that she used only when she was trying to be cute.

  “I don’t believe it,” Phil blurted as Tracie and Jon walked into the room. Suddenly, she realized there was no way they could talk about what had happened in front of Phil and Laura.

  Phil stood up, put down the empty Chef Boyardee can, and walked halfway around Jon. “You didn’t buy this stuff,” Phil said. “Tracie bought this stuff.” He turned to Tracie. “Where’d you get that jacket?” he asked. “It’s just like the one I used to have. I want a jacket like that.”

  “We got it at‌—” Jon started to say, but Tracie interrupted him.

  “Never reveal your sources,” she told him, touching his shoulder. “We’re going for a walk,” she told Phil and Laura, then grabbed her coat.

  “What did you do to your hair?” Phil asked Jon as Tracie began to push him from behind. She had her hand in the spot between his shoulder blades, and before he could talk to Phil, she’d pushed him out the door.

  “Be back in a half an hour,” she called over her shoulder.

  They walked down the stairs and out to the street before she let herself say another word. “You know, I just don’t get you,” she said once they were on the wet sidewalk.

  “What?” he asked, but she could tell he was uncomfortable. He matched his stride to hers.

  “I work with you day and night for weeks. I set you up with a date. I even coach you while you’re on it. Then you don’t even call me to tell me how it went. And I have to find out from my girlfriend that you slept with her!”

  Jon looked down at the pavement and winced. “Was that information you required?” he asked. “I mean, I guess it was the point. Anyway, now you know. So, in a way, I guess I can say the experiment is over. It worked.”

  “That’s not the point!” Tracie exclaimed. “I mean, why did you sleep with Beth?”

  “Isn’t that what you expected me to do?” Jon asked. “Wasn’t that the whole point? Date ’em, do ’em, and drop ’em. I certainly didn’t make that up.”

  “I don’t think I ever put it that way,” Tracie said.

  “Well, it may not have been how you put it, but as I recall, we were working at ending my celibacy.”

  Tracie narrowed her eyes. “But not with my friend,” she told him. “And don’t feel so good about it. Beth is so desperate.”

  “And you don’t think I was desperate after a yearlong dry spell?” He was whining like a Borscht Belt comic.

  Tracie shook her head. She felt like slapping him. “Do you know how thoughtless this was?” she asked. “Not just doing it but doing it with Beth? We talk about our personal lives, and now I’m going to have to hear more than I would ever want to know about your sex life.”

  “Excuse me?” Jon said. “You two talk about your sex lives? I’m not making you talk about it. And anyway, if you didn’t want me to sleep with her, why did you set me up with her? You made the date for me.”

  He was being utterly exasperating. “I didn’t mean for you to sleep with her,” Tracie explained. “It was just a practice date.”

  “You mean I was supposed to strike out?” Jon asked. “You were setting me up for failure? Another no-hitter for the guy who was batting zero?”

  “You’re not a batter and Beth isn’t a ball,” Tracie snapped. “She’s been terribly hurt by Marcus, and I didn’t mean‌—”

  “Marcus, your boss?” Jon asked. “She was going out with Marcus?” He rolled his eyes and leaned against a mailbox until he realized how wet it was.

  “I’m the one who has to hear about Marcus a hundred times a day. I know how disgusting he is.”

  “Beth was going out with your boss and you set me up with her? That’s the kind of taste she has and yet you thought she’d be right for me?”

  “I thought she’d be wrong for you,” Tracie said. “Remember? You were supposed to be bad.”

  “Then you did mean for me to date her, do her, and drop her,” Jon cried, triumphant.

  “Don’t tell me what I meant!” Tracie snapped.

  They walked along the sidewalk in silence for almost an entire block. Then Jon stopped, took her by the shoulders, and turned her to him. For a moment, Tracie thought that he might be about to kiss her. “Tracie, you’re my best friend. Why are we fighting? You told me what to do, and then who to do it with. And I did it. So why are you mad? If you don’t want me to see Beth, I won’t see her again. Just please don’t be angry at me.”

  Tracie looked at him. Despite all the changes she had wrought, he was still Jon. His eyes were warm and pleading. She loved Jon. “I guess I was just hurt,” she admitted. “I expected you’d call me right away.”

/>   “I was embarrassed,” he said. “Plus, it was very late.” He stopped. “I . . . I don’t think guys talk about sex the same way women do.”

  “Okay.” She sighed deeply. “The whole thing was ridiculous,” she said. “I don’t even know what I was aggravated about. It’s just that Beth talked about nothing but you all day, and it drove me absolutely bonkers.”

  “She did?” he asked.

  Just how sexually confident is he? she wondered. And how justified is his confidence? Looking at him now in his new clothes, at his new hair and his unshaven jaw, she realized for the first time that he might be very, very good indeed. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her blush. It was weird to think about him in a sexual way‌—a little like thinking of your brother in that way. When he took her arm, she actually jumped.

  “You’re not still mad?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not mad,” she said. Once again, she thought this would be a good time to tell him about her idea for the article. Maybe if she told him, she wouldn’t have so much trouble writing it.

  When she got back to the apartment, all she wanted was a beer and a hug, but when she opened the door and looked in the refrigerator, then back at Phil’s pouty face, she realized she probably wasn’t going to get either one.

  “Did you get any beers?” she asked him.

  “No. If it’s not here, I won’t drink it,” Phil said. “I’m trying to cut back.”

  Typical. He always thought of himself. “Speaking of cut, I have to get a haircut. You want a cut, Laura?”

  “Yeah. But what I really need are streaks.”

  “Stefan is great with streaks. Jon goes to him.”

  “You know, that guy ought to be paying you tuition,” Phil told her.

  “And you oughta be paying me rent!” Tracie said, slamming the refrigerator door. Phil, oblivious, stirred the ravioli, picked up a bottle of Kraft French dressing, crossed to the table, and poured it on the lettuce halves with a flourish. “Dinner is served.”