He grunts, not making eye contact. “The boroughs.”
If I guess the wrong one, I have a feeling that might qualify me for a mob hit in his eyes. “I can’t tell where you’re from. Help a girl out?”
“I grew up under the el train in Queens,” he says, eyes flickering at me. “My family made good and we moved out this way.” Maybe he’s decided I’m odd enough to warrant some attention. Maybe he expects all women to be overcome with a desire to run their fingers through those manly chest curls. Ick. The thought makes me shudder a bit.
“And what do you do? Are you a mafia hit man or something?”
He smiles like he can’t believe I’m for real. No worries, dude. I’m not.
“Maybe I am,” he says. He leans forward to check me out. “You into bad boys?”
I look down, trying to act coy and demure. Even in real life, I don’t play with players. I bat my eyelashes and shake my head at him. “Bad boys burn in hell.” I can’t figure out what made him change his mind, but now I’m getting a serious creeper vibe from him.
He looks away with a cocky grin. “But they have fun on the way down, if you know what I’m sayin’.” He looks back and starts working me over with those shiny black eyes. As he looks at me, that old saying, ‘undressing me with his eyes’ pops into my head. I feel like that, but instead of undressing me slowly, he’s ripping things off and throwing them around so they get tossed out the window or caught on the ceiling fan. I swallow my disgust and continue to smile sweetly at him as he continues. “So you Amish girls, how naughty are you?”
“If you’re implying what I think you are, Johnny, shame on you.” I purse my lips. “We take our virginity with us to the grave.”
He snorts. “No, you don’t.”
“Of course we do. Why would I lie about something like that?”
“Where do Amish babies come from, then?” he demands, grabbing his drink and gulping. His poor liver. I try to hide my growing dislike for him.
“We breed more than cattle in those barns, Johnny.”
A look of total incredulity crosses his face. “That’s jacked up.”
“We like to keep our fertility technology to ourselves,” I say with a sense of superiority.
A look of anger crosses his face. “You’ve been messing with me the whole time.”
“Yeah, I have. I couldn’t help it.” I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m never this ballsy, but it feels kind of incredible. Maybe the emotional pendulum is swinging the other way for me now. Later the fallout will be ugly, but right now I’m working it. “I saw you sitting here in your overpriced, starched jeans and silk shirt, wearing more product in your hair than an 80’s soap opera diva, with your jewelry and your swagitude, working on your third drink of the night. Who wants to get sloshed in a coffee shop anyway? I didn’t even know you could get boozed here. I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on you that you weren’t going to be my type, and I have absolutely no desire to be yours, so why not have a little fun?”
He thinks for a minute. Suddenly he cracks a wide smile and starts to laugh. I’m dumbfounded.
“You.” He sits back, chair creaking under his weight, and looks at me appreciatively. He points at me and shakes his head. “You’re funny. I like you.” He wags a finger at me as he polishes off drink number three, shaking his head again as he chugs. He drops the glass, wipes his mouth with a thick hand, and snaps for number four. “You had me going there for a minute, Amish girl. Is your name really Lauren or did you make that up, too?”
“That’s my real name.”
“You a stand up comedienne or something?”
“No. I’m unemployed.”
He sits forward and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He flips it open, and I can see the high quality black leather is jammed full with big bills. He pulls out a card. “I like you,” he repeats as he hands it to me. It’s his business card, black and glossy on heavy card stock. “You have a hard time finding work, you come see me. My family owns the horse track and some stables. We like cute young things like you to serve in the boxes during the races. High end clients who pay well use those boxes. When they win big, they tip big.”
Now I’m mad. “I have a master’s degree in psychology and you think I’m dying to schlepp drinks for wankers like you and your buddies?” I instantly regret my slip of the tongue. Rent is due in a couple of weeks and I’ve been spending my valuable job hunting time leaving a permanent butt imprint on the couch. He doesn’t seem bothered by what I just said, though.
He laughs at me instead.
The bell rings as drink number four arrives, and he takes it from the tray as he stands to go. He tosses a couple of twenties on the table to thank the server for her trouble and shrugs. “It’s honest work for honest pay. Shrinks don’t make much money, you know what I’m sayin’? I’m serious—this is a standing offer. Give me a call if you need some quick cash. You need rent money, I’ll work you. You want to go shopping for some decent clothes, I’ll work you.” He leans forward to kiss me on both cheeks. “Thanks for the laugh, sugar.”
I look down at my clothes. I’m not sure if being insulted should win out over being thankful for a gig that’ll pay rent until I get a real job. I bury my face in my hands, shaking my head. Commence headache now.
Ex Factor
I watch mafia boy stride purposefully away. He meets another friend in a corner. Their heads tip close so Johnny can tell him something, and they both turn to look at me. Pretty sure I just won freak show of the night award. I smile and do a little tap dance for their benefit, finishing with raised arms and jazz hands. They laugh as I turn away.
The front door jingles as an entering couple jerks it open. They come to a surprised halt when they see the room jam packed with minglers holding color coded cards in their hands like I do. Since I’m closest to the door, plotting my escape by jumping through the front window, the woman turns to me and says, “Excuse me, but do you know what’s going on here? Why is it so crowded?”
Our eyes meet, and recognition registers. “Holy stinkin’... Erica, what are you doing here?”
“Lauren!”
We hug, acting much more like friends than we ever did when we were in grad school. We had a few classes together and did study groups occasionally. It’s not like we were besties or anything, but the coffee shop is loud and noisy, and I feel overwhelmed when I stop to think about what I’m doing. Seeing a familiar face feels like salvation.
She nudges the man next to her, and he turns. “Jeremy, look who it is!” Shock registers on his face, probably the same moment utter confusion crosses mine. Erica just walked into my worst nightmare with the guy I dumped a few weeks ago and haven’t seen since.
I plaster a bright smile on my face and reach out to hug him, too. “Jeremy, it’s great to see you. How have you been?”
He’s looking a little awkward, and I can see in my head how the whole thing panned out. I told him I needed space before finals and she swooped in. She’s wanted him since I met her. Most of the girls in my program did. We had five women for every guy, and a few of those guys were only into each other. Jeremy is good looking, the token straight guy with little to no emotional baggage, so he was a hot property from day one.
He probably only wanted me because I had zero interest in him. Some guys are all about the hunt, and Jeremy was no exception. He chased me for about a year before I let him catch me, when I was finally ready to feel something other than hurt. Erica always had it pretty bad for him and I’m sure as soon as she knew we were over, she moved in for the kill.
I want to show him I am totally okay with this development without having that first, awkward, post-breakup convo. I look in his eyes, where I still see the pain I caused him when I told him thanks for the great time but I’m ready to move on. With a little bit of a jolt, I realize I broke his heart. That’s never what I intended, but I should’ve listened to him. He told me from the start he was ready for something serious. How come I nev
er listened? I’m starting to get mad at myself for being so selfish, for hurting him, for leading him on.
I move a step back so I can check them out together. She takes his hand in hers and lifts her chin just a touch, with a hint of defiance, marking her territory like a dog whizzing on a fire hydrant. I smile, and I have to try hard not to laugh. Honey, I’m not fighting you for my bounce back guy.
“You two look great together. Seriously, how long has this been going on?”
Jeremy looks down, that adorable crooked smile gracing his stubbled chin. He looks particularly hot in some loose jeans and a tee shirt that clings to his chest and biceps. His curls are getting a little long on top, sort of perfect for a girl to run her fingers through. He always was a sexy beast. He rubs his chin and looks away, and then back at her. I’ve made him uncomfortable.
“Uh, not too long after...” His voice trails off.
“After you two broke things off,” Erica says, apparently deciding to get the worst over with, “he called me for sympathy and we started talking things out. I tried to help him move on, embrace the good in his life, and move forward. It started with a coffee and Danish here, so we decided this would be our Friday night thing. After dinner, we come back where it all began.” She grins.
I can’t help but smile. She’s so whipped. She stands tall and proud, lightly caressing his forearm while we talk. His body language is totally off. He looks around the room, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. I can see he’s a little embarrassed by her romantic proclamation, and in a few months he’ll have to confess that she was the rebound girl. He’ll have the same conversation with her that I had to have with him.
“This is great,” I say sincerely. “Congratulations.”
“Erica, I’m going to hit up the barista and get our order to go. It’s nuts in here.” He walks away, shouldering sideways to get through the crowd. People start to settle down at different tables, getting ready for round three. The room starts to clear out a little and I have more standing room. Breathing becomes a little easier when I can reclaim a little personal space.
“So what’s going on?” Erica notices people pairing off, two by two like animals to the ark.
“It’s like a speed dating kind of thing,” I say as casually as I can.
She raises her eyebrows. They’re painted a rich brown and plucked to perfection, a stark contrast to her fair skin and wavy blonde hair. “Really? Since you told Jeremy you weren’t looking for a relationship I’m kind of surprised to see you doing something like this. You really tore him up, you know.”
Yeah. I picked that up just now, thanks.
“I probably should have been more honest with him from the start,” I tell her, knowing everything I say will be rehashed between the two of them and discussed in great detail with her friends tomorrow over lunch. That’s how she rolls. “I knew he wanted something more, something lasting, and I never did. He’s a great guy, and we had fun. It wasn’t fair for me to use him like that. He deserves someone like you, someone who really wants to be with him long term.”
She looks surprised, but I hope she picks up that I mean every word. “So you’re really okay with this? You’re not throwing on a happy face for his benefit?”
“Erica, he was never more than a rebound guy to me. He couldn’t have been a better or nicer one, but that’s all it ever was on my end.” I look down. The honesty feels cathartic, a sweet release, so I keep going. “I never told him about...” I think, trying to find the right words. “I never told him everything. He was an escape. I went through hell and back a few times before I started grad school, hoping for a fresh start. He was what I needed to move on from all the pain of my past. When I was with him, I wasn’t much more than a student and Jeremy’s girlfriend. I just needed to forget, try to live again, and he helped me. I’ll always be thankful for that, even though he has no idea he helped.”
She looks like she doesn’t know what to say, so I keep going while the wheels in her brain start cranking. “I’m here tonight for one reason only: my roommate dragged me here, and then promptly met a great guy and ditched me. I decided to stay the rest of the night and follow through as part of moving forward without using anyone else as a crutch. When I see her later, I’m probably going to beat her senseless, but since she met someone she really likes, she’ll die happy.”
She nods, clamping her lips together and working them as if she’s spreading out lipstick. Jeremy returns with two covered paper mugs in a cup holder, and a bag with the top rolled down and folded. “That was fast,” she says, taking the bag from him.
He nods. “Tons of people here, but no one’s buying coffee. What’s going on?”
“Harlow dragged me to their 5 in 5 blind date thing and then bailed on me.” I shrug. I’m starting to wonder about my resolve to stay and finish. I feel like a martyr, as if I’m only here to have something to hold against Harlow later. I’ve scored seriously odd companions for the night and I don’t know if I can handle it if things get any weirder. I don’t do people and crowds well, and the emotional turmoil I find myself in since running into Jeremy threatens to knock me over and drag me down.
“There are three in here,” Erica says. Not sure what she means, I glance over and see her with the paper bag wide open, examining its contents. She reaches in and pulls out a small pastry wrapped in waxy tissue, tugging at the paper to see what went wrong. “Did you order extra? Did they make a mistake? Jeremy, you should take this one back.”
I shake my head and look at him, and I can’t help it as a crooked smile breaks free. Typical Jeremy. His eyes meet mine as he reaches over to take it from her. “I thought Lauren might like one. Far as I know, you’re still looking for work, right?”
I nod and take the pastry from him. I don’t need to see what it is. He knows my favorite—white chocolate scones with raspberry glaze. This shop is the only place in the city that makes them, and he used to bring them over for my marathon study sessions. He would knock on the door when he knew I had a major project due or test coming up, hand me the bag, grin, kiss me on the forehead, and leave without saying a word. The more I think about it, the more I have to wonder why I let him get away.
Then an image flashes in my mind, the vision of a beautiful face that will always haunt me. A face I thought I’d see forever, the one I wanted to wake up next to every morning for the rest of my life. The one that made me believe in soul mates.
Until it ended.
That’s why I had to walk away. Jeremy is perfect in every possible way, from his steely blue eyes and boyish charm to his loving, thoughtful gestures and passionate kisses. But he’s not perfect for me.
I think my eyes might be getting misty, so I hold up the scone with a smile. I stand on tip toe to kiss him on the cheek and whisper, “Thank you, Jeremy. For everything. I never deserved you, so I really hope you find happiness with Erica. Give her a chance.”
My lips brush his ear lobe. I want to offer one final kiss goodbye but I know I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Erica. I hear him sigh, as if he knows what I’m thinking and wants it, too. He puts an arm around me just briefly, but I back away. I can’t look him in the eye again.
“You two crazy kids have fun tonight,” I say, my voice too loud and full of false bravado. I throw on my game show hostess smile again. It feels forced, but at this point it’s all I can manage. I watch them walk out, hand in hand, listening to the door jingle as they go.
Don Juan Gone Horribly Wrong
I plop down at my next assigned table, set down the scone, and stare at the card in my hand. Its edges are folding up, warping thanks to my sweaty palms and tendency to nervously crinkle it up in clenched fists when I’m trying to dodge another panic attack. How much more bizarre and stress inducing can this night possibly get? Yes, I needed to get off the couch and do something with myself, but it seems like my efforts should be met with something a little kinder than the universe’s sick attempt at a practical joke.
I stop mid-
thought. Whenever I ask the universe how much worse it can get, the universe brings it. I jinx myself every single time. It’s like some cosmic force out there cracks its knuckles at me and says, “Challenge accepted!” I focus on the card again and close my eyes, waiting.
The table shakes and tips in my direction, and I hear the rustling of someone sitting down across from me. I look up, and then sit back to take in Guy #3. I really hope he’s rocking the hipster look in the extreme on purpose, because this guy’s buttoned up-to-there plaid shirt and gray sweater vest make the eyeball guy look pretty hot in comparison. This guy is wearing black horn-rimmed glasses without any lenses in them, and his untrimmed beard is sparse and thin. It’s entirely possible we go to the same stylist because he has my hairdo minus the blonde.
“Oh, wait a minute!” His voice is rather high pitched with a nasal pinch to it. He stands and takes off a canvas messenger bag, tossing it over the back of his black wooden chair. As he does I can see he’s pegged and rolled up his jeans, and he has on deck shoes sans socks. He’s skinny, so all his clothes practically fall off of him.
He sits back down and leans forward. “Hi, I’m Lennon.”
“Aw, you’re named after my favorite Beatle. I’m Lauren.”
“I am. So glad you got the reference! Some people have zero taste in music, you know?” He has a slight lisp, but it’s not on my nerves. Yet. “It’s so great to meet you. I’ve been watching you all night so I’m, like, stoked to meet you.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or take out a restraining order.”
He throws his head back and laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. I cock an eyebrow and lean back. Restraining order looks like it might be an actual possibility.
“O.M.G., that is seriously the funniest thing I’ve heard all night! You’re amazing!”
Arms Wide Open: a Novella Page 3
