by Lang Leav
Teddy shot Jess a gleeful look. “You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?”
Jess blushed. “It’s not like that.”
“Darling, your hand was just in the cookie jar. We all saw it.” He looked around for confirmation, and we all nodded.
“And what a fine cookie it is,” Tom drawled.
I put my hands on my hips. “Jessica Lui. Why have you failed to tell me your professor is a young sexy god of a man? We will be discussing this in great detail later.”
She smirked. “There is nothing to discuss, so you can all get your minds out of the gutter.”
“Hey, Wolf!” Sash suddenly appeared, Penelope at his side.
“Hey!” I felt a burst of happiness at seeing him, but then I thought back to what Teddy said, and it was like a punch in the stomach.
Teddy raised an eyebrow at Penelope. “So how far did you make it?”
“Fifteen minutes,” she replied.
“Not bad.”
She grimaced. “We were hanging on by the skin of our teeth. Arjun Ahuja said it was a masterpiece, so I was excited as hell to see it, but it was excruciating. You know me—I was a slut for Eraserhead. The Cars That Ate Paris is about as close to commercial cinema as I get. This was on a whole other tier of weird. The movie opened with a man sawing off his own head. Then his severed head started eating the rest of his body. Then it cuts to an old maid in a rocking chair, and she was laughing hysterically. Next the camera took us inside her mouth, where all these people were in the middle of an orgy—dressed in BDSM gear, by the way. We’re talking full-body vinyl, gimp masks, whips, the works, screwing each other senseless. Meanwhile, a high-pitched whistle was wailing at us the whole time. That’s when we decided to bail out.”
“Fifteen minutes is decent—we’re proud of you, darling.” Teddy smiled at Penelope.
She glanced around the room. “What is this event we’re sponsoring?”
“Reimagined movie posters by art students.”
“What are you girls doing here?” she addressed us for the first time.
“That’s mine,” said Jess, pointing to her poster.
Penelope stood back to examine Jess’s work. “I don’t get it.”
“Finding Nemo,” Sash smiled.
“Oh, I’ve never seen it.”
“You’ve never seen Finding Nemo?” Jess looked stunned.
Penelope shook her head and pressed her mouth into a thin line. Her attention snapped back to the boys. “You guys hungry? Let’s go to Mechanical Mango.”
Mechanical Mango was an Indian restaurant with a modern twist. It was one of the most popular eateries in Paddington, so we had to wait twenty minutes by the curb before we were shown to our seats.
Inside, we were greeted with an explosion of color. Crimson wood chairs leaned against walls of mustard-seed yellow; draped fabrics hung in splashes of gold and cardamom.
“I’m starving!” Penelope declared, as she skimmed the menu. “Should I just order for everyone?”
“Yes, Mom,” said Teddy, in a mock American accent.
“Sash, you want the deconstructed vindaloo, right?” She looked directly at me when she said it.
“Sure,” he said, poring over the wine list.
She hailed a nearby waiter. “We’re ready to order.” She rattled off a list of items on the menu, then snapped it shut.
Jess shot me a worried look. We weren’t sure whether Penelope had ordered for us.
“Also, can we have two herb naans and a mango lassi each?” I piped in, crossing my fingers the bill would be fairly split. Neither Jess nor I could afford to pay for Penelope’s extravagant order.
“And a bottle of the Riesling—my treat,” Sash added.
Penelope raised her eyebrows. “What are we celebrating?”
“Jess’s art show.”
“And Verity’s publishing deal,” added Jess.
“Oh,” said Penelope, eyes darting to me. She tried to cover up a wince with a smile. “Congratulations. Which publisher?”
“Carry Way Press,” said Jess, proudly.
Penelope snorted. “I see.”
The expression on Jess’s face darkened suddenly, like a freak storm. “What the hell is your problem?”
Penelope looked taken aback. “Well, Carry Way is hardly publishing Pulitzer Prize material, are they?”
“So what? Are you saying we should toss out every book that hasn’t won an award? Because that’s most of the books in this world.”
“No, I don’t think we should toss them out. I think we should burn them.”
“Who the heck made you the authority on what people should be reading?”
I tugged discreetly at Jess’s sleeve, but it was like she was possessed.
“Well, for someone who watches cartoons, I wouldn’t hold out much hope for your choice of reading material.”
“Oh, you think you’re an intellectual, and that means you’ll only support books that are pushed by the establishment, which, by the way, gets it wrong half the time. History proves that. To be honest, I don’t think you actually know what you like, Penelope—you have to be told. Don’t you think it’s ironic that you favor one limited genre to the exclusion of everything else? You keep swimming in your own little pool, even though there’s an entire ocean out there.”
“Are we back to Finding Nemo again? Is that the only reference you ever draw from?” Penelope snapped.
“How would you know? You said you’ve never seen it.”
“Whoa!” said Teddy, both palms up. “Girls, come on, this is Mechanical Mango—a place of peace.”
“That’s right,” said Sash. “Why don’t we all just agree to disagree?”
But there was no stopping Jess. “I can’t stand this elitist crap. It’s ignorant, but more than that, it’s dangerous. People like her would have us back in the Dark Ages, when literacy was barely accessible. Words are necessary, and I hate the idea that any faction of the human race feels it is more entitled to language than others when words are a birthright. Yet, there are those who pretend that literature isn’t wholly subjective, and they prop up writers who perpetuate that myth. It’s like the emperor’s new clothes—they all pat each other on the back even if they don’t understand their own shit half the time.”
Penelope stood up and threw down her napkin. She placed her hands firmly on the table and glowered at Jess. “You think you have me all worked out, don’t you? Well, you don’t know a damn thing. You and your friend”—she spat out the word—“you might fool the boys, but I see you both for what you are—stupid, shallow girls. One of you got lucky because some vacuous celebrity shared your post on Instagram. You live in a world of bubblegum music, pop art, selfies, makeup tutorials, reality TV, celebrity, instant gratification, instant fucking poetry. You read books about menial topics like boy-meets-girl—the same thing over and over that adds nothing to the collective progress of the human race. It contributes nothing to the greater discussion, and you dare to tell me I am holding the world back? Well, screw you. I don’t want to waste another second of my time listening to your bullshit. Enjoy your little party and have a nice life.” She pushed her chair back loudly and stormed out of the restaurant.
“That was intense!” Teddy grabbed a napkin and fanned himself.
“Show’s over, guys,” Tom called to the people throwing glances at our table.
Sash gave us an apologetic look. “Sorry, girls.”
Jess shrugged. “You don’t need to apologize for her.” “Aren’t you going to go after her, Sash?” Teddy asked.
Sash looked from him to me and back again, as if he was conflicted. Then he straightened up and shook his head. “No, not this time. I think I’ll just leave her to cool off.”
Teddy and Tom exchanged a glance. I could tell they were surprised by Sash’s reaction, and I
wondered whether this happened a lot: if Penelope ran off, Sash would run right after her. I had to admit, I was glad he didn’t this time.
“I wonder why she’s so strung up. You didn’t tell her about Verity’s Instagram, did you, dude?” Teddy asked.
“Nope, we all agreed to avoid the topic, remember? It’s a sensitive issue since she’s still upset about her manuscript getting rejected.”
“How did she find out?”
Sash shrugged. “Maybe she caught the news on Twitter?”
“Or maybe the crazy bitch has been stalking Verity,” Jess suggested.
“Hey, no need for that. She might be a crazy bitch, but she’s our bitch,” said Tom.
Our food came in a cloud of scent and color. The mood lightened as we filled up our plates.
“So, Jess,” Teddy glanced at Tom, “we have a proposition for you.”
She looked surprised. “For me?”
“You know, things are going really well with our Deep Sea Diver beer. We’re going to extend our product to include ciders, too. The problem is that we’re not happy with the current designer working on our labels. We’d like to hire you instead—if you’re keen.”
Jess looked taken aback. “You want to hire me?”
They both nodded enthusiastically. “We loved your Finding Nemo poster, and there was a link to your portfolio in the program. We checked it out and really liked what we saw. What do you say?”
“Yes, I’d love to do it!”
“Oh my God, Jess—your first paying job!” I exclaimed.
“I get paid?”
“Of course. We’ll send you a brief, and you can quote it up for us. Penelope is footing the bill, so you can pretty much charge us whatever you want as long as you don’t go too crazy.” Tom winked.
Jess’s face fell. “Oh. I forgot about Penelope. Do you think it’s a good idea for us to work in the same office after what just happened?”
“No need to worry. When you get to know Pen, you’ll realize her bark is worse than her bite. Besides, you only have to come in every now and then. I’m sure we’ll be able to stage-manage you both,” said Tom, with a chuckle.
“Where are you based?” Jess asked.
“You will be pleased to know Deep Sea Diver HQ is just a few blocks from Wolf Books. It’s the pink brick building with the white shutters.”
“Oh, I know the one,” I said. “It’s just by the park.”
Jess clapped her hands. “This is so exciting!”
Teddy tipped his glass in Jess’s direction. “Welcome to the family!”
In what seemed like an orchestrated move, Jess said she’d hitch a ride home with Teddy and Tom, which left me with Sash. I lived just down the road, so he offered to walk me. He was quiet most of the way, like there was something on his mind. I bumped my shoulder into his. He looked at me and smiled. Then he returned the bump.
“What’s this, Sash? Dodgem cars?”
“You tell me, Wolf—you’re the one who started it.”
We stopped under the lamplight at the entrance of the store.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked.
“Sure.”
We went up to the roof and sat on the corrugated tin, looking down at Oxford Street. Laughter, conversation, and live music intermingled with drunken shouts came from a pub down the road. It was a cool, still night, and a handful of stars were scattered sparsely over the city sky. My heart was drumming softly in my chest, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the glass of Riesling I’d had at dinner or my mounting feelings for Sash.
“Have there been any new developments?” he asked, nodding at the bakery across the street.
“I think Paul is warming up to Margo. The other day he took a basket of pastries into her store.”
“That sounds promising!”
“They were probably just leftovers from that day, but, you know, it’s a start.”
“He could have just thrown them out or fed them to the pigeons.”
“Exactly! But I do have one other theory.”
“I’m intrigued. Please share.”
“What if he did it purely to make Sandra jealous?”
“Isn’t Sandra pining after her mystery man? Why would she be jealous?”
“Because even though she doesn’t want Paul, she doesn’t want anyone else to have him either. Kind of like Pen—” I stopped when I realized what I had said.
“What?” Sash looked bemused.
I held my head in my hands and groaned. “Forget I just said that.”
He nudged me with his elbow. “Aw, Wolf. You’ve got me curious now. What’s this about Pen?”
I slowly raised my eyes to meet his. “Well, I know you’ve said the two of you are just friends, but I’m not sure she got the memo and”—I felt myself redden— “I think that’s why she’s been so cold toward me. You’ve been spending so much time here that she might have the wrong idea.” I stopped, realizing how close I’d come to revealing how I felt.
Sash sighed. “Look, me and Pen . . . we were stuck in this loop, you know? We’d get together, then break up, then start all over again. I don’t think it was healthy for either of us. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and you can’t ignore that kind of history. She’ll always be a huge part of my life, but for now it’s definitely over.”
“How can you really know for sure? I mean, it seems like she’d be anyone’s dream girl.”
“There are a lot of great things about Pen, and on paper we make sense. But as a couple, it just doesn’t work. To be honest, there’s someone else I like now.”
I swallowed hard. “Someone even more beautiful than Penelope?” My head was ready to explode trying to picture such an unearthly creature.
He smiled. “She’s literally the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known—inside and out. She’s talented, sweet, and kind. She’s got a weird sense of humor; she’s so random I never know what she’s going to say next. I really like that about her.”
A lump grew in my throat as he described this mystery girl. I couldn’t believe how let down I felt, even though I hadn’t liked him for very long. All this time, I thought Penelope was the one I should be worried about when it was someone else. I cleared my throat and tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Um . . .” He gave me an odd look. “You seriously don’t know?”
“Am I supposed to?”
“Well, I thought it was pretty obvious.”
“Do I know her?”
“I’d say you know her really well.”
Then the realization hit me.
“Jess,” I said, with a deep breath. “Of course you like her! She’s single, by the way, but I think there’s something going on with her hot professor. That doesn’t make her any less awesome or available.” I put on a brave face, but my mind was actively rearranging itself, putting Sash into the platonic friend basket. I could definitely be happy for them if Jess liked him, too.
Now he was looking at me with an expression of mild incredulity. “Wolf, it’s not Jess.”
“No? Then who is it?”
“OK, I didn’t think this would be necessary but—” All of sudden he looked shy. “It’s you, Wolf—I like you.”
“Me?” My brain reshuffled again, back to where it began, and my heart leapt with unexpected joy. “Really?”
“Oh, come on, Wolf, it can’t come as that big a shock to you.”
“It’s a shock. Believe me—it is a huge shock.”
“But I’ve been over practically every day— you know, fixing things.”
“For free books!” I blurted.
“That was a thinly veiled excuse to see you. Not that I don’t like fixing things for Pop. He’s awesome and knows a lot about stuff.”
“He does, doesn’t
he? He’s like a fountain of knowledge. I keep telling him he should go on a quiz show.” I was talking fast now, because Sash was looking at me like he wasn’t even listening, like we had gone to a place where words were fast becoming pointless. “I think it’s because he’s so well read. He reads nonfiction in addition to fiction. Anyway, he thinks he’s too old for game shows, but I think age is just a number, don’t you? The other day, we were watching The Chase, and he got all the answers right.” I rambled on as a grin spread across his face.
“Wolf, can you stop talking for a second?”
“But”—
“I can’t kiss you otherwise.”
My mouth dropped open.
Then his lips were on mine, and it was like all my screws were coming lose. I felt a plunging sensation in my chest as we moved into each other. A soft, involuntary moan escaped from my lips, and he kissed me harder. His breath was heavy when we broke apart, his lips wet, eyes half closed.
“That was kind of . . . hot.”
“It was definite—” I started, but he was kissing me again. I swear I felt that kiss in places I didn’t even know existed.
“Wow,” he said when we broke apart. We grinned at each other like idiots.
“What the hell is happening?” I blurted.
“I don’t know, but I’m really into it.”
It was my turn to kiss him, and it was pure bliss and absolute torture at the same time. I was in a daze, as if my brain had suddenly packed up and gone on vacation. I could barely string words together in a sentence.
“OK . . . wait. Let me just . . . let’s take five,” I gasped between kisses.
“Good idea. Let’s get our bearings because, honestly, I don’t even know what planet we’re on right now.”
“OK, OK—let’s discuss this like responsible young adults.”
“So we left Mechanical Mango, then you invited me up. I was hoping you would.”
“Then we came out onto the roof, and you dropped a bombshell.”
“And you started rambling about Pop.”
“After which, your tongue somehow ended up in my mouth.”
He laughed. “Then we fell through the fabric of space and time and ended up here.”
