“I’ve got to go,” he said, without preamble.
She blinked, and like every other insecure movie female, she tugged the sheet up, as if this would somehow preserve her dignity. “Okay,” she said, not wanting to say “right now?” and complete the stereotype.
He nodded, and grabbed a dog leash off of a low table. Then he started out the door.
“Kit!” she yelped, unable to stop herself.
He stopped, turned, leash in hand. “Mmm?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Am I…will I see you later?” Dammit. She still dipped into stereotype—and a weak one, at that.
He shrugged. “I guess. I think Taylor said something about later.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to clarify. He didn’t.
She stood up, not caring if he saw her naked. “Wait a second. I’ll go grab my clothes and I’ll be out of here in a minute.”
He frowned. Finally, a little stronger emotion. “You don’t have to.”
“Actually, yes I do,” she said. “Unless you’re giving me a reason to stay here?”
He was now staring at her, bewildered. “Well…what did you have in mind?” He glanced at his wall, and smirked. “Dexter’s Laboratory is on at four.”
She huffed impatiently, pulling on clothes haphazardly, not caring that her hair probably stuck out in all sorts of improbable angles. “Gee. Let me hold my breath.”
He stood in front of her, nudged her chin up. “What do you think is going on here, Sarah?”
It would have been better, Sarah thought, if he weren’t smiling. No. If he weren’t smirking.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked. “I mean, that’s what all this was about, wasn’t it?”
Like a slap. Like a fucking slap.
She wasn’t doing this again. She contuinued to put her clothes back on with an almost zenlike calm. Then she put on her shoes, growled at his dog and looked at him.
“I did enjoy myself,” she said, her voice low. “Thanks. I’ll call you if I need to enjoy myself again.”
He sighed, and stepped in front of her. “Sarah, I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Do you love me?” she said, point-blank.
If there were ever a question to make a man blanch, it was that one. He blinked at her. “Ah…I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said slowly.
“Then I guess I already made one.” With that, she walked past him.
“I accept you, Sarah,” he called down the hallway at her. “Isn’t that good enough for now?”
“I don’t want good enough for now,” she called back, yanking the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. “And I don’t want you!”
Chapter 17
Unhappy Girl (Dance Remix)
“Cigarette?” Taylor said, offering Martika one as she got into the car.
She waved it away with a shake of her head, then looked out the window, rolling it down and letting the fresh air hit her in the face.
She wasn’t sure how he was going to take it. He’d been her best friend since—well, since forever. He knew her better than anybody, and she knew him better than anybody, and she had no fucking clue how he was going to react to this news.
“You okay, princess?” Taylor said. “You’re going to love Arthur. He’s so yum, it’s ridiculous. And he’ll love you.”
“You sure?” Martika said weakly, her conversation with her mother still fresh in her mind. She hadn’t decided if she was going to move back yet—that was completely up in the air, and she wasn’t going to ambush Taylor with those sordid details. Not yet, anyway.
“Of course he’ll love you,” Taylor said, scoffing. “He’d better love you. If he doesn’t, he’s hitting the road.”
She turned to him, genuinely surprised. “Really? You mean that?”
He turned to her, smiling indulgently. “Sweetie, you know I do. I mean, an incredible fuck is an incredible fuck—but when you come right down to it, who do you want to grow old with? Your best friend, or some fuck?”
She beamed. “This is why I love you.”
“Ha.” He rolled his eyes, then winked at her. “I thought it was because…”
“I’m keeping the baby.”
He stopped. “I’m sorry?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m keeping the baby. I decided to keep the baby.”
There was a pause, and she felt like sinking into the seats, covering her face. Not that she thought it was a bad decision, or the wrong decision. Frankly, there wasn’t any other decision for her.
“I see.” He seemed at a loss for words—a really un-Taylor-like state of affairs.
She waited for a minute longer, then said, “You think it’s a really stupid idea, don’t you?”
He didn’t respond. He just kept driving.
She felt herself get angry—knew it was a defense mechanism, but hey, if she didn’t need defense on this subject, she’d hate to see what she did need the goddamn mechanism for. “I think I’ll be a stellar mother.”
“Is that why you’re doing this?”
Martika looked at him, wanting to see if he were getting pissy and self-righteous again. But he wasn’t. His face was as impassive as that man’s expression-filled face could get. She growled.
“I’ve got a ton of good reasons for doing this.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sure it seems like a stupid idea, to you I mean, but it…I mean…I’ve got a ton of good reasons for this. A ton.”
“Name one, Tika,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, sharply, then paused.
Because I’ve always wanted to be a mother. No, too whiny.
Because I couldn’t stand the idea of losing it. Because I’ve finally got a chance to love somebody without worrying about what they think of me. Because I’ve finally found someone who might actually love me. Because the rest of my life didn’t make sense until this happened.
She took a deep breath.
“Because it’s not about me,” she said, softly. “This time, it’s all about her.”
He took that quietly, then to her surprise, he pulled the car over, turning off the engine.
When he looked at her he smiled. “This sort of news needs proper hugs,” he said, and to her shock, he clambered over the stick shift and hugged her thoroughly.
“You’re going to be her godfather, you know,” she said, against his shoulder.
“I’d like to see you try to nominate somebody else.”
Two days later, Sarah sat at a couch at the Barnes and Noble in the West Side Pavilion, sunk in the green-and-white upholstery, wishing she could disappear from the earth. Martika had been AWOL, probably sleeping at Taylor’s or prepping her next live-in lover—she felt sure that Martika’s foray into platonic same-sex boarding was a short-lived experiment at best. She’d called Temps Fugit, but couldn’t bring herself to work this week…too many memories, especially when they tried to place her back at Jeremy’s office. And she hadn’t talked with Kit…
No. She wasn’t even going to think about that little bit of stupidity. She sipped disconsolately at her Starbucks Mocha.
Back to the beginning. No roommate, no way to pay the bills, no job worth mentioning, very few friends, no fucking direction whatsoever.
How pathetic could one girl get in L.A., right? She glanced at the books she’d picked up. She didn’t want any of them, ought to be watching her money anyway. She stared out the windows and at the other customers instead.
No bloody good. She thought she’d had the answer—thought that she’d finally figured out what she was going to do. Sure, it wasn’t a brilliant plan, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Now, the future was hitting her smack in the face.
What are you going to do?
She wished she hadn’t had that fight with Tika. She wished she hadn’t been fired. She wished…
“Sarah?”
She looked up.
She really wished this wasn’t Benjamin speaking to her.
Benjamin looked his usua
l self. His clothes had not improved tremendously, she noticed with catty satisfaction as she straightened her pink Fred Segal T-shirt. “Benjamin. I didn’t see you.”
“I noticed. You looked…” He paused and took a deep breath. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”
Oh, don’t you dare fucking go there. She smiled, a perfect, Martika inspired disdain-and-disinterest special. “I’m fine. I’ve just been so busy lately.”
“How’s it going with the roommate?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“And the job? Still with that Peerson guy?”
“Oh, I’m still surveying my options.” It came out breezy. Perfectly casual.
“Still checking out your options on the relationship front, or are you still with that sharp guy from the club?”
“Jeremy’s just one of many.” She shrugged, trying to make it believable. “I don’t like to be tied down.”
He sat down on the couch next to her. His voice lowered. “Then why do you look like your life has turned to shit?”
Her heart rate shot up. “What do you mean?”
“You never were any good at lying to me, Sarah. It was one of the things I appreciated about you. So don’t lie now.” He sounded reproving. “I’m worried…”
“Worried about what, Benjamin? Worried that I might be having a good time without being in your august presence? Worried that I might be boning some guy?”
“Worried that you’re obviously self-destructing.”
As he wasn’t far from the truth, she bit her lip. When she felt she was more in control of herself, she shrugged. “As you can see…I’m fine.”
“I can see that you’re upset.” He was using that salesman voice. She was too tired to put up any defenses. “I’ve missed you, Sarah.”
“Oh, eat me.”
He blinked, then laughed. “God, I like what L.A.’s done for you. You used to be such a retiring, spineless little thing, but now…now you can stand up to me.” He smiled a little more suggestively. “I really like that, Sarah.”
“I don’t care.” She tried to turn her back on him, but he gently nudged at her arm.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is, I really do miss you. We were a great team.”
She looked at him. Puppies didn’t have eyes that sadly coaxing.
“Remember…when I was in business school, and you were still at Sac State, when you’d type up my papers? Huh?”
She nodded. She hadn’t minded—it was painful to see how slow he typed, she told herself.
“Or the way you used to stay at my house, and you’d cook for me because you knew I had a final? You’d make sure I had food stocked, you helped me with laundry…”
“Are you just trying to rub it in about what a schmuck I was, Benjamin?”
“You weren’t! You were helping me out. And now, I’d like to help you out.”
“Oh, really.” She grimaced at him. “Well, you suck at typing, and unless you’ve been taking some cordon bleu class I’m not aware of, I’ll pass on your cooking, too.”
“Sarah, I want you back.”
She stood up. “Okay. We’re done here.” Ignoring startled looks and frowns of people trying to concentrate on their reading, she stalked out of the store to the patio level outside, where café tables were placed. Before she could get to the escalator, he stopped her.
“Please hear me out.”
“Why? Jessica not listening to you enough?”
“I broke up with Jessica,” he said with a voice that wasn’t the wheedling salesman but the irritated boyfriend. Strangely, she trusted this voice more. “She was so intense, she just… It’s hard to say. Basically, she wasn’t you.” He sighed. “She’d just sit there with these big cow eyes and stare at me. You’ve got more fire than that, Sarah. You always had a plan. I need that now, more than ever.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to take a new job. Back North,” he said in a fervent tone. “Neither of us were cut out to live in L.A., Sarah. This place is a toilet.”
She shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t rather be back in a community. What about all those things we talked about? Kids, a nice place to live? Can you honestly tell me you can see doing all that here?”
She didn’t answer.
“And what about your plans, Sarah?” His voice was pitched lower now, as he eased her over toward a café table, away from pedestrian traffic. “Is this honestly how you saw your life turning out? No relationship, no job…now trouble with your housing? Is this what you’d rather stay here for?”
She bit her lip. Then she said, in as calm a voice as she could manage, “So what are you offering me here, Benjamin? Huh? A chance to live near you, somewhere in the sticks in Northern Cal? A chance to wait while you get your life in order, without a job, without…”
“No. This is about me making your life easier. You helped me, remember?” His smile was as wide as the sun. “You wouldn’t have to get a job. You wouldn’t have to do anything. You’d live with me.” He took a deep breath. “Marry me, Sarah.”
“What?”
“Marry me.” He held her hands. She was too stunned to pull them away. “I know this isn’t the most romantic thing in the world, but I’m packed up, I’m leaving soon. I was really upset when Jessica and I…well, not that she was gone, but that I’d made such a bad mistake. I was going to Northern Cal to start over. I wanted to call you. Then when I saw you…it’s like a sign, corny as that is.”
“You want me to marry you?” she repeated. “As in, soon?”
“As soon as possible. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
It was so sudden. Of course, it wasn’t that sudden—they’d been engaged for years, before their little…
Wait a minute. Am I seriously considering this?
“Why should I, Benjamin?” She pulled her hands away, crossing her arms, surveying him like a judge. “Give me one good reason.”
He paused, weighing his answer carefully. Then he gave her a calculated, challenging grin.
“Sarah, I love you and want to take care of you. You can start over. What have you got to lose?”
She thought about it.
No roommate, no job, no focus, no hope, and now…a guy who finally says he loves me and wants to help me.
“It’s not a good one,” she said finally, letting him pull her into his arms, her mind was still churning. “But it’s a reason.”
When the phone rang, Judith jumped six inches, her heart beating like a war drum. She answered it sharply. “Hello?”
“Judith, it’s Sarah.”
“Sarah.” Of all the times to call. Judith opened the oven, poked at the roast viciously. “What is it?”
“You sound busy,” Sarah said. “Am I calling at a bad time?”
I’m about to disclose the details of a cyberaffair to my husband. Yes, Judith supposed this was inconvenient.
“I’m making dinner,” Judith said instead. “What…are you all right?”
“I’m…well, I guess I’m fine,” Sarah said. Her voice sounded weird. “I just wanted to, er, invite you to something.”
She wasn’t in the mood for being social. “I…this isn’t a great time…listen, can I call you next week? Maybe we can do lunch, talk some things over.” Judith felt sure she’d need to by then. If I can just survive this dinner!
“Oh. Well, actually, this sort of couldn’t wait.”
Judith glanced up at the ceiling, as if God could somehow grant her more patience. “Oh?”
“You see, I’m getting married Friday, in Las Vegas. I was wondering if you’d be my maid of honor.”
“You’re getting married?” To Judith, the words were completely alien. “To who?”
“To Benjamin, actually.”
Judith gaped. “What? Why?”
Sarah paused on the other end of the line. “Because he loves me. Because he…I don’t know. He makes sense.”
“Well, he asked me about a week ago, and we decided, since we’d been engaged for five years, it was hardly like we were rushing things…I just wanted it out of the way.”
“Out of the way?” Judith felt a deep, leaden feeling in her chest. “How romantic.”
“This isn’t about romance, Judith,” Sarah said. “This just…I don’t know. It’s what I wanted. He loves me, and he cares about me, and he’ll take care of me.”
“And that’s what you want?” Judith couldn’t keep the tone of revulsion out of her voice, and realized she didn’t want to. She wanted to shake Sarah. If she’d been standing there, she would have. “You want to settle for a guy who’ll take care of you?”
“I said he loves me,” Sarah said, her voice getting sharper. “I thought you’d be pleased. You’re the one who said I should give him a second chance, after all.”
“That was before…” Judith took a deep breath. “That was just before. Now, I know you’re making a mistake.”
Sarah sighed. “I take it you’re not going to be my maid of honor, then. Would you even consider coming to the ceremony? It’d be nice for somebody I know to be there.”
Sarah sounded lonely—and this whole thing sounded awful. “Sarah, you really need to think this over, very carefully. This isn’t right. You need more out of your life than just security and a to-do list. You need passion. Trust me on this one!”
“Judith, I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing,” Sarah said, cutting through her impassioned argument. “It’s going to be at the Excalibur, at five o’clock, on Friday. We’re flying out tomorrow night. If you want to be there, that’s fine. If you don’t, that’s fine. I’ll call you when I get back.”
“Sarah,” Judith made one last-ditch attempt, “don’t do this!”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Sarah said simply, then hung up the phone.
Judith blinked. When it rains, she thought, it pours. She wasn’t ready to deal with Sarah’s problems when she had more than enough of her own.
L.A. Woman Page 25
