Notes From the Backseat

by Jody Gehrman

  “What are you up to now, little vixen?” His voice was hoarse and his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Private show for the best man,” I said. “Bride’s orders.” Then I lit the candles Joni had given me, ran to the closet and put on her best wig, one she wore as Bella; it was straight, dark red, and it fell all the way to the middle of my back. I felt very naughty in it, like someone you shouldn’t trust with your boyfriend for five minutes.

  “Wow,” Coop mumbled when I came out. “Who’re you now?”

  “Who do you want me to be?”

  He shook his head. “I just want you naked.”

  “All in good time, Mr. Cooper.”

  He wore a bleary, endearing look of fascination as I took off my gloves very slowly, biting each finger and tugging with my teeth. When the gloves were off, I started on the jacket. By the time I worked my way down to the last button and the scalloped peplum fell open, he was propped up against the pillows, enjoying the show. I peeled it off and turned my back on him. It took every ounce of control to let it fall on the floor. It was the right effect—the essential baring of shoulder blades in candlelight, all that red hair—and I couldn’t ruin it by reaching for a hanger or even folding it neatly, but still it was torture. A girl like me just doesn’t drop her rayon faille on the floor. If that’s not evidence of love, I don’t know what is.

  Now I was down to the strapless sheath. First I unbuckled the rhinestone belt and let it drop to the rug. Then, very slowly, I unzipped the dress and it, too, tumbled to a limp circle at my feet. Coop sucked in his breath as I stepped out of it, my kitten heels still on. I was wearing a strapless, black satin corset, circa 1957. The coiled boning and underwire bustier weren’t exactly built for comfort, but the aesthetics were unbeatable. Long, slim garters attached to sheer black silk stockings, also vintage. But the leopard-print panties were my pièce de résistance.

  “You know I’m a sucker for anything leopard,” he said, his voice ragged.

  “Which is convenient,” I said, “since it’s my signature look.”

  I walked toward him slowly, my hips swaying. Unhooking one stocking from the garter, I raised my leg onto the bed and unrolled. God, to think that women today opt for cotton briefs and sports bras—it’s astounding, what they miss out on. Even I was mesmerized by the effect of that sheer, shimmery silk in the candlelight, revealing one inch of creamy white thigh at a time.

  As I was working on the second stocking, Coop crept forward and ran his tongue over the subtle indentation of my inner thigh. A wave of dizziness hit me, but I steadied myself against the bedpost and pressed him gently back against the mattress with my foot. The show wasn’t over yet. I was barely halfway through the lingerie act. I wanted him good and hungry.

  The corset itself had at least thirty hook-and-eye closures, mercifully placed down the front. I took my time with them, until Coop’s face was veering beyond pleasure into pain. I undid the last two and let it drop quietly. Then, locking eyes with him, I slid my panties over my hips and thighs until it was just a wisp of leopard-print fabric on the floor, the final dot on the exclamation mark of discarded clothing strewn across the rug. Lastly, I stepped out of my signature kitten heels.

  We got rid of Coop’s suit with considerably less fanfare.

  When we were finally naked together on the bed, I felt myself melting into him, edges dissolving. Outside, the night wind tossed through the pines, whispering softly. A bullfrog’s plaintive song found its way through the open window. Coop’s mouth was hot enough to scorch. When he was inside me at last, I had to bury my face in a pillow to keep from screaming.

  Enough! My God, you’re a cannibal, devouring my exploits whole. If this thing gets lost in the mail, I’m going to kill you.

  Yours truly,

  Gwen

  (a.k.a. The Little Sex Kitten That Could)

  Sunday, September 21

  2:30 a.m.

  Right, just one final note. I’m dead tired, but I have to fill you in on the postscript of the evening or I won’t be able to sleep. At risk of sounding like a made-for-TV movie, I have to say, we are all human.

  Even the size-two blondes.

  I was lying there in the dark, listening to Coop’s snores and the crickets and the wind in the trees. Every now and then, I could hear Joni erupt in giggles down the hall and sometimes Phil would pipe in with an animal noise, like maybe they were playing an X-rated version of “Old McDonald Had a Farm.” They don’t leave for Costa Rica until Tuesday, so they’re enjoying their wedding night in their own four-poster bed. It made me happy to hear their laughter. I felt, for the first time all weekend—maybe the first time in my life—that human beings might have a shot at lasting love. The odds are far from perfect, but they’re better than nothing.

  Champagne and postcoital bliss had rendered my body all rubbery, as if my bones had turned gelatinous inside me. I was exhausted and deeply relaxed, but still the river of sleep didn’t carry me off to dreamland. I had a sour taste in my mouth and I was incredibly thirsty. I lay there and fantasized about a cold glass of water and a good, frothy encounter with my toothbrush. Also, I had to pee. Tired or no, I realized I’d never sleep until I got up and took care of business.

  I peed first, brushed my teeth, then tiptoed down the staircase and made my way past several bodies crashed out on the couch and curled in sleeping bags on the rugs. In the kitchen, someone had left the pantry bulb on, so there was just enough light to see by. I selected a thick, hand-blown, lapis-rimmed glass from the cupboards and filled it from the tap. I gulped down half of it and was just refilling when I heard a little sniffle behind me.

  There was Dannika, wearing too-big flannel pajamas and floppy wool socks. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed in red. She looked miserable.

  “You’re awake.” My voice was hoarse.

  “Yeah.” She leaned against the counter. “I just can’t seem to sleep.”

  “Maybe Joni’s got something you can take,” I suggested.

  She shrugged. An awkward pause fell over us. I was trying to decide if it would be weird to just take my water and head back upstairs. I was hardly in the mood for more Dannika-style combat after all that delicious sex. Sure, we’d had our touching little moment out in the meadow, but I wondered now if anything had really changed. For Coop’s sake, I was determined not to put him in the middle anymore, but I also wasn’t optimistic about the chances of friendship between me and this temperamental diva. Maybe we could just politely deny one another’s existence for the rest of our lives.

  “Well, good night,” I said, heading toward the stairs. Awkward or no, I was tired and didn’t have the energy to initiate more peace talks.

  “Wait.”

  I turned, and was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  She leaned against the counter. “Can we talk?”

  “Um, okay.” We’d made some progress today—I was pretty sure of that—and I didn’t want to be the one to take a step back. I glanced at the sleeping forms in the living room. “You want to go out on the deck?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, hold on a sec.” She ran to the front closet and came back with two enormous down parkas and a pair of fuzzy slippers. “Here,” she said, handing one of the parkas and the slippers to me. “It’s cold out.”

  I’m not saying it was time for matching friendship rings, but I have to admit I was caught off guard. It was the first affable gesture between us that wasn’t riddled with ulterior motives, and I felt the weight of hating her slip from my shoulders just slightly. Maybe she wasn’t Satan, after all.

  We wrapped ourselves in the parkas and I put the slippers on. They must have been Joni’s because they fit perfectly. Stepping out onto the deck, the night smelled of fog and overripe apples. We leaned against the railing side by side. A dog barked in the distance.

  “I know we haven’t exactly hit it off this weekend,” she began. “But I—well, I just wanted you to know…” She stopped.

  �
�What?”

  She laughed. “I’ve never done this before. It feels really weird.” She inhaled deeply, exhaled, then said, “I’m sorry. That’s all.”

  I just stood there, mulling this over. “Okay…”

  She turned to me and said in a rush, “I was totally out of line. I thought you two were wrong for each other and that made it okay to interfere. Sometimes you have to hurt people for their own good. And okay, yes, I love him.” She glanced at the window upstairs where he was sleeping. “I’ve always loved Coop. But the truth is, there was no Malibu. There’s never been anything between us except the most amazing friendship—which he’d have every right to give up on now that he’s seen what a bitch I can be.” She raised her shoulders half an inch in a tiny, little-girl shrug. “Except he doesn’t. That’s the thing about Coop. He never gives up on me.”

  I looked at her. The tiny diamond in her nose sparkled in the moonlight. Her blond hair glowed, unearthly and luminous as usual. I had to ask the question that was forcing its way from my brain to my mouth. “Are you in love with him?”

  She sighed. “No, probably not. I mean, I don’t want to marry him or anything. All I know is he’s the only person who ever stood by me, no matter how bitchy or moody I get. That’s something, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That is something.”

  A gentle breeze sloshed through the pines, rustled through the last leaves on the apple trees, their silhouettes gnarled and twisted.

  “I should have been nicer to you,” she said.

  “I guess we were both kind of threatened, huh?”

  She said, “Women never like me.”

  “You’re gorgeous,” I told her, “and talented, successful. That’s hard for us mortals to handle.”

  “I put people off with all my insecurities.”

  I scoffed. “How could you be insecure?”

  “How? Easy. I’m ugly and fat and people hate me.”

  My voice pitched upward in disbelief. “You’re ugly? You’ve got to be insane.”

  “Yeah, that, too. My shrink thinks I should take Zoloft but meds freak me out.”

  I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “Dannika, if you’re fishing for compliments….”

  She furrowed her brow. “Gwen, why do you think I get plastic surgery and do drugs and have an incessant need to be the center of attention? Because I feel good about myself?”

  She had a point. “But you’re beautiful.”

  We locked eyes for a moment. “No,” she said, “you’re beautiful.”

  This was too much. “Come on. I’m five foot one and I’ve been carting around fifteen extra pounds since puberty.”

  “Please!”

  “And,” I said, “I’m the one who’s insecure. I was terrified to go on this trip because I didn’t want Coop to know what a jealous fiend I am. I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than three months because I’m so skittish I always freak out and bolt at the slightest sign of trouble. Ask anyone.”

  She squinted at me, suspicious. “Really?”

  “Would I lie about this?”

  “But you seem so confident…”

  “Ha!” I was on a roll, now. “When you showed up on my doorstep Thursday morning I thought I’d shrivel up and blow away, you looked so gorgeous and skinny and…blond!”

  She looked down. “I’m not skinny. I gained seven pounds when Coop told me he was in love with you.”

  I nearly choked. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. I still have five to lose. I’m going on a weeklong juice fast starting tomorrow.”

  “When did he tell you that?”

  She looked puzzled. “What?”

  “That he was in love with me?” I whispered.

  She rolled her eyes. “The day after he met you at the Laundromat. I binged on Hostess cupcakes that night. The point is, you win, I lose, and I’m going to have to get over it. I’m not happy, I don’t expect us to be friends, but I’m going to do my best to be cool from now on.” She put a hand on mine. “And just for the record, I’m rethinking my position. You two might be good together, after all.” Her grip tightened. “But if you ever hurt him in any way, I’ll hunt you down and slit your throat.”

  I took a small step back. “Understood.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

  So now here I am, propped up in bed beside my snoring man. He told her he loved me the day after we met. Amazing. Do we ever know what’s really going on just under the surface of our own lives? Are we all so caught up in our wretched phobias that we ignore obvious truths until they kick us in the teeth?

  She’s still trying to lose five pounds? Jesus, she must have been a size zero.

  I wonder if I should try yoga?

  Monday, September 22

  12:10 p.m.

  Dear Marla,

  Oh my God, you’re going die when you read this.

  It’s too crazy!

  Just let me catch my breath, here. I have to tell it right, without giving anything away before I’ve worked up to it.

  WE’RE ENGAGED!

  Oh God, I suck. I have to cross that out later. And this, obviously. But maybe I shouldn’t. You might have a heart attack when you get to the end if I’d don’t prepare you along the way.

  Right, as always, let’s start at the beginning. We decided to stay Sunday night. We all had dinner in Mendocino, cute café, beautiful evening, blah, blah, blah.

  I’m sorry, I just can’t pace myself, here. I have to get to the good part right away. Besides, I’m almost out of pages in the fourth journal and I refuse to start another one.

  So, where was I? Oh yes, dinner. When we were finished eating, Phil and Coop spouted some bullshit about running down the street for groceries. It was a little suspicious, but Joni and Dannika seemed fine with it and I was too happy to make a fuss. Exit, boys. Joni, Dannika and I sat sipping our decaf coffee. Ohm wandered in. He ordered a coffee too, we gossiped, I convinced him to move to L.A. I know, this is totally the CliffsNotes, but come on, I don’t have all day.

  No, seriously, a brief summary of the conversation with Ohm.

  “So, were you serious when you said I should move to L.A.?”

  I reached across the table and grabbed his hand, spilling his coffee a little on accident. “Sorry. Yes, yes, yes! Are you thinking about it?”

  Joni rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re poaching him,” she whined.

  “Come on! He would love it there and you know it,” I said.

  Ohm looked at Joni. “There’d be a significantly enlarged dating pool.”

  “Exactly,” I said, “and career opportunities galore. I know everyone in theatre down there. I even know some people in film.”

  He looked excited. “Really? You could hook me up?”

  “Absolutely. If you don’t get cast right away, you could work for me part-time. I even know a very nice Prada model with excellent bone structure who’s looking for a roommate.”

  His eyes widened. “Male or female?”

  “Very male. Jock. Can you believe that? I swear to God his name is Jock.”

  Joni slumped lower in her seat. “Tragic.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Dannika said.

  We all just looked at her. Was this possible? Was she seriously endorsing something I wanted? The tension between us was somewhat diffused, but I was still on code-yellow alert. Now that we both knew what the other was capable of, all I wanted to do was get through the rest of the trip without going any deeper than “please pass the salt.”

  “You do?” I asked uneasily.

  “I do—really—why are you all looking at me like that?”

  Joni ignored her question and went back to whining. “It’s not right,” she told me. “You’ve unleashed my latent interest in fashion and now you’re going to whisk away my only fashionable friend.”

  Ohm was still studying Dannika. “Why do you think I should move?”

  She smiled
sweetly. She really was a pretty girl. Somehow, though, sitting there in the evening light, with her hair scraped back into a ponytail and a Giants cap on her head, she just didn’t look as threatening as she did that fateful Thursday morning on my doorstep. I decided my insecurities lent her an otherworldly radiance she doesn’t normally possess.

  “Because, like you said, you’ll meet more guys—lots of guys.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “And you’ll become a movie star, which is obviously your calling.”

  Ohm nodded solemnly and sipped his coffee. “This girl’s a prophet.”

  “And you’ll have Gwen here to take care of you.” Our eyes met. She looked both wistful and sincere when she added, “I think she’d be a great friend.”

  “Oh, superb!” Joni practically screeched. “What am I, chopped liver?”

  So that’s how we decided Ohm belongs in L.A. I’m supposed to call Jock as soon as we get home. If things go smoothly, he might move down as soon as October. Marla, you are so going to dig this guy. He’s like us, only better.

  But shit, see? I’m nearly to the last page and I still haven’t gotten to the really good part. Okay, so I already spilled the beans about the engagement, but as everyone knows, it’s not about what you do, it’s how you do it. And Coop came through in spades on that score.

  We’d been lingering for a good half hour over our coffee, and the boys still hadn’t returned. When I noticed it was almost eight, I said, “Where the hell are they?”

  I could’ve sworn the three of them exchanged cagey glances, but I told myself I was just being paranoid. I was determined not to go off half-cocked anymore. Gone was the old Gwen of unfounded suspicions; the new Gwen paradigm was innocent until proven guilty. Not the most original mantra, I realize, but us levelheaded, fair, trusting girls don’t need flashy bumper-sticker sayings to live by. We revel in the scientific method, avoid logical fallacies and insist on justice in all sectors. Just because Dannika, Joni and Ohm looked like sixth graders who’d just been caught smoking in the john, that didn’t mean they actually were.