Chapter Fourteen
“ Speak, or forever hold your peace.”
Jeremy ’ s warm chuckle greets me on the other end of my earpiece.
“ Oh, it ’ s you. Argh.”
“ Gee, thanks.”
I laugh. “ No, that wasn ’ t for you.”
“ Oh. Are you busy?”
“ Sorta. Kinda. Why, you calling for a quickie? Oof.” I fall on my butt with a puff.
“ Ah …it sounds like I ’ m already interrupting—”
“ Sorry, Bluetooth. I forget you hear everything.”
“ You answer the phone while…”
“ Ouch. Was that necessary?” I hold up a hand, stopping Alex, and laugh, my sides hurting with the force. “ No, Jer, I don ’ t answer the phone during sex. I ’ m sparring with my trainer.”
“ Oh. You sound like you ’ re getting your ass handed to you.” He chuckles.
“ I ’ m hanging up now.”
“ Wait, lunch?”
“ After that comment?” I pause, torturing him for just a few seconds longer. “ Fine. You ’ re buying. Give me…an hour and a half?”
“ That was already the plan. I ’ ll see you then.”
The call ends, and I jump to my feet as a second call rings through.
“ Can ’ t a girl get a workout in without being interrupted every five minutes?”
“ What?”
“ Laura, hey.”
“ What are you on about?”
“ Nothin ’ .” I mouth, I ’ m sorry, to Alex and begin collecting my things. “ What ’ s up? ”
“ Your new schedule is in.”
“ Hit me.”
J: Movie?
V: Fifth Element?
J: That ’ s the first movie that came to mind?
V: No, my first thought was Debbie Does Dallas.
J: I bet. So?
V: So?
J: Do you wanna see a movie this weekend?
V: Look at you, forming actual sentences with words and shit.
J: Ha ha.
V: No.
J: No?
V: Nein.
J: Ah, come on. Unless you don ’ t want to be alone with me in a dark theater.
V: You ’ re going to make me sit next to you for two whole hours? I ’ m going to be chomping at the bit.
V: To leave.
J: Yeah, you might be right. Do you even have the attention span to sit through a whole movie?
V: Please. Two hours with you not talking? Sign me up.
J: For that comment, I ’ m going to whisper in your ear the entire time.
V: Are you sure you ’ ll be able to handle us sitting side by side, with only an armrest in between?
J: Why? Do you not think you ’ ll be able to control yourself?
V: What do you think I ’ m going to do? Wear a barely there skirt that hitches up as I sit? My hands wandering, finding their way to your thigh? My casual caress running higher and higher up…
“ Vivienne? ”
I look up from my cell at the sound of Maxwell ’ s voice. I almost forgot he was in the car with me. “ We ’ re here.”
“ Oh, right. Ready?”
“ Are you? You seem…distracted.”
“ Nope. Not at all.” I smile, gathering my clutch and sending a last text before stepping out of the car.
J: Is that a yes?
V: No.
J: Is that a no?
V: No.
Oh, crap. “ I can ’ t talk—”
“Woman, I know your schedule,” Laura hollers down the end of my cell.
“Mm hmm, yeah, that ’ s great, but I have this thing—”
“ What thing? It ’ s Sunday night. You never have a thing I don ’ t know about.”
“ Sure I do.” I round the corner on Tremont and see Jeremy standing out in front of Loews, dressed to impress in a dark leather jacket, tight-fitted black T-shirt, and slacks.
“Whatever. Is this why I don ’ t see you anymore?”
“ What do you mean? We talk all the time.”
“ I haven ’ t seen you in over a month. Since coffee and our shopping spree and the mysterious texting.”
I come up to Jeremy, but before I can shush him, he opens his big mouth. “ Hey, you.”
“ Who was that?”
“ Oh, look, my coffee is here. Got to go. I ’ ll call you later.”
Jeremy laughs as I abruptly end the call. “ What was that about?”
“ Laura. ”
“ Ah.” Jeremy offers his arm, and I smile, putting my arm in his before heading into the complex. “ If I didn ’ t know any better, I ’ d say you ’ re hiding me.”
“ Good thing you don ’ t know any better. What are we seeing?”
“ I forget what it ’ s called—the one with Will Smith.”
“ Good choice.”
“ Nice skirt. Or is that a belt?”
My cheeks pinch as I try not to grin.
L: I met a boy. A man, not a boy. Oh boy, is he so not a boy.
V: What? I ’ m walking out my door with a bottle of wine.
L: And B+J?
V: Phish food?
L: Yesssss! Wait, no. We ’ re going costume shopping.
V: Whhhhhy?
L: Halloween, duh. It ’ s next month. Meet me at the usual place.
I laugh out loud. Of course Laura wants to go costume shopping at our favorite sex shop.
Laura has not shut up about her new, sexy man. I don ’ t even think she ’ s taken a breath since we met in front of Hanky Spanky almost an hour ago. It ’ s put me in this weird funk, and I can ’ t work out why.
“…so, we need to be there at eight,” Laura drawls on.
“ Uh huh. Eight.” I nod, flicking through the racks of costumes, my mind elsewhere.
Then I see something out of the corner of my eye that has my face splitting open. I rush over to the other side of the store, pulling out my cell at the same time and snapping a picture, grinning from ear to ear.
“ What are you doing?”
I bring up Jeremy ’ s name and hit send before Laura makes her way over to me. “ Huh? Sorry, what were you saying? Eight o ’ clock?”
Laura sighs, exasperated. “ The Halloween party. Downtown. Ringing any bells?”
“ Oh, right. Where are we meeting?”
“ Have you been listening to a thing I ’ ve said for the last thirty minutes, or are the twelve-inch phalluses that distracting?”
“ Sorry, long day. Did you just say phallus?” I shake my head. “ No, just no. Tell me the plan again. Is the boyfriend coming?”
Laura rolls her eyes and walks back over to the cosplay outfits, but before I can hear a word she says, my cell vibrates, and I zone her out. Again.
J: Is that what I think it is?
V: And what are you thinking it is?
J: A chastity belt?
V: Bingo.
J: I didn ’ t know they actually made them. Where are you?
V: In a sex shop shopping for Halloween outfits. I spotted this and thought of you. Not that you need one. How you ’ ve gone this long I ’ ll never understand. Mrs. Palmer must be really good to you.
J: A sex shop? What happened to a good old-fashioned costume store?
V: With all those snot-nosed crotch goblins? Pass. Besides, this is multi-purpose. Maybe I should get you a Fleshlight instead. I wonder if they make them to measure…
I need to cough to hide my amusement. The next message is a picture of a half-empty beer glass on a shiny, wet-looking black table.
J: I just snorted beer all over the place and nearly choked to death. Well played.
V: I ’ m surprised you know what one is, Jer. Where are you?
J: I ’ m not oblivious, Viv. I ’ m at this new club called Kicks. It ’ s boring and lame, totally my scene.
V: Oh, joy.
J: Indeed. It ’ s full of fun and debauchery. It has you written all over it :P
V: That does have me written all over it. Or it will ;)
J: It ’ s pretty great. Come have a drink?
“ Hey, what about this one?” Laura hollers, finally getting my attention.
My brows pinch as I take in the leopard-print bodysuit. “ Law, you went as a cat last year.”
“ Oh, right.”
V: Me, you, alcohol, and debauchery, in one place?
J: Tempted?
V: Very, though I doubt the real thing would be half as fun as it is in my head. So, I ’ ll pass.
J: You ’ re with Laura, aren ’ t you?
V: Ha ha. You ’ re right, I ’ d never pass on that :P
J: Good luck with that. Send me a pic of your costume. I ’ ll add it to my spank bank ;)
I couldn ’ t hide the laugh that burst forth at that text, even if I had had time to. Instead, I grab the closest thing to me and hold it up for Laura ’ s inspection. It just so happens to be a midget blow-up doll. I burst out laughing all over again, snapping a quick pic and sending it to Jeremy.
V: I hope that didn ’ t break the bank.
J: Dear god, woman. I ’ ve had a bit to drink, but not nearly enough for that. I ’ m going to have to drink more to cleanse the images now playing in my head.
V: You ’ re welcome. I ’ ll take payment in drunken shenanigans. Pictures are worth a thousand words :P
J: I ’ ll get right on that.
Two hours later, I have my slutty outfit, and I ’ m still waiting for my dirty pictures.
“ Hey, bitchface,” I answer the call, only to be greeted with a blubbering mess. “ Lala? ”
“ He… he dumped me,” she wails.
“ What? No. I ’ m on my way!”
“ Two bottles.”
“ And Phish?”
“ Noooo, harder.”
“ Choc-chip cookie dough and Chunky Monkey?”
“ Mmm hmm.”
“ Just hold on. I ’ ll be there in twenty.”
“ Okaaaay. I wuv you, whore.”
“ Men are asssshooolesss!” Laura slurs drunkenly, and I fight not to giggle as she sloshes her glass of wine everywhere.
She ’ s a mess. It took two hours and three and a half bottles of wine for the tears to dry up. I don ’ t know how she got so messed up over a boy she ’ s barely known for a few months. It ’ s not like her at all. Well, not since freshman year at least.
“ You knew this, though. It ’ s why we don ’ t get attached, remember?”
“ Yeah, but this one was different.”
“ Oh, Lala, that ’ s what they all say. It ’ s also what you used to say in college. But I thought you grew out of that. ‘ All men want is a warm place to stick their dick.’”
“ You don ’ t believe that.”
“ Don ’ t I? But more importantly, I thought you did.”
She waves me off and gets up, struggling to stand, tangling herself in her slouchy cardi, and heads for her kitchen, no doubt in search of more wine. My pocket buzzes, and for a split second, I feel guilty, unsure exactly why.
J: Hey.
V: Yo.
J: How ’ s the Halloween party?
V: Oh, we didn ’ t go. Laura got dumped. So we ’ re at her place drinking her dry and talking about how shitty men are and all they want is to use us for sex.
J: Oh man, what a douche, and right before the party, too.
V: Yup.
J: Hey, not all men are assholes. I ’ m not using you for sex.
V: I know, you ’ re full of empty promises. You ’ re also a weirdo and an exception.
J: Gee, thanks?
“ We drank all the wine.” Laura wails, then thrusts a spoon in my face. “ So, Ben and Jerry ’ s time!”
“ Where are the tubs?”
“ Oh.” She giggles and staggers off into the kitchen again. Hmm … food might be a good idea at this point.
J: So, does this mean I ’ m right?
V: Probably not, but what in particular are you referring to?
J: Sex. It complicates and ruins things.
I almost snort.
V: The only sex that ruins is the good kind ;)
V: In the context you ’ re referring to, that wasn ’ t sex, that was feelings. They ruin everything.
J: Sounds like you ’ re talking from experience. Why so jaded?
V: Jaded? No. Clever? Yes. I saw it in others enough to know it wasn ’ t for me. Messy and complicated aren ’ t my thing, so I passed go and collected my two hundred dollars.
J: I guess that means I ’ m getting sent straight to jail.
V: I ’ ll send you a nail file, and maybe, if you ’ re a good boy, I ’ ll visit.
J: Gee, thanks.
V: Ooooh, conjugal visits :D
J: Ha. Only if we were married.
V: Semantics.
J: Let me see if I ’ ve got this right. If I get myself sent to prison, you ’ d marry me, just so you can have sex with me? Yeah, totally makes sense. I ’ ll remember that. Go tend to Laura. I ’ ll catch you on the flip side.
I really didn ’ t think that through .
“ You ’ re never going to guess where I ’ m going and who ’ s going to be there.”
“ Hello to you too, Jer.”
“ Hey.”
“ Did you start the beginning of that sentence in your head before calling me?”
“ Possibly.”
“ Okay, I ’ ll bite. Hmm, you ’ re going to hell because you finally had sex again and God smited you. But you got one last call before you ’ re locked down below, and you rang to tell me all about it?”
Jeremy ’ s laugh rings out in a boom over the phone, making me grin all over.
“ You ’ re echoey. I ’ m right, aren ’ t I? Wait, should I be mad it wasn ’ t with me? That hurts, Jer. I thought we were friends.”
His laugh titters. “ I think your version of friendship differs from mine, Viv.”
“ Indubitably. Am I close?”
“ You ’ re definitely warm on the unthinkable factor.”
“ You ’ re on your way to my place to profess your undying love?” I snigger at that.
“ That ’ s not even a good guess. Colder.”
I laugh, but — “W ait. Colder? Don ’ t you mean—”
“ Okay, so you give up, awesome—”
“ Hold up. I never said that.” I ’ m just stuck on the colder part. Is that more likely, or less?
“ As you may know, it ’ s Thanksgiving in three weeks.”
“ And? Damn it, now I want a pumpkin-spiced latte.”
“ With extra syrup.”
“ I was just about to say that. Okay, so you ’ re losing me. Where are you going, and who ’ s going to be there?”
“ Lydia ’ s. ”
“ You said you do that every other week. That ’ s hardly newsworthy.”
“ Yes, but—”
“ Oh my god.”
“ And the light bulb goes on.”
“ He isn ’ t? ”
“ He is.”
“ Your father is going?”
“ Yup .”
“ Wait, and she invited him to Thanksgiving too?”
“ Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”
“ Well, holy fuck.”
“ Indeed. ”
“ Are you okay with this?”
There ’ s silence for a beat before he responds.
“ I guess. I mean, it ’ s her house, her choice, so…”
“ Yeah. This is big.”
“ Yeah. It ’ s only been a few months since they ’ ve been back in contact. It feels kinda quick, but if it ’ s what she wants... Why do I feel like you had something to do with this?”
“ Me? How could I? And you know I don ’ t do drama, and this has soap opera written all over it.” I laugh, but it sounds forced.
“ Does it ever.”
“ I ’ m going to need updates.”
“ If I live through it, you ’ ll have them.”
“ You ’ re not really calling me during—”
“ Shh, Jer. Tell me what ’ s happening on Earth Abides ? ” I whisper over the phone.
“ Why are you all muffled and whispering?”
“ No reason. Jeremy, tell me what ’ s going on.”
“ I ’ m too busy concentrating on trying to hear you. I ’ m missing the damn show. Are you in a bathroom?”
“ Ha, no…”
“ Vivienne. ”
“ Fine, I ’ m working and can ’ t watch the damn episode, so I ’ m hiding in a freaking bathroom.”
“ Wait, you ’ re on the job?”
“ Yes. Oh, no. Not like that. I ’ ve been in LA since Wednesday. It ’ s gala after photo op after VIP party. No sexing involved. I ’ ve never been so exhausted and bored in my life.”
“ Oh. So why are you hiding in a bathroom?”
“ My client is going through a very public divorce, and I ’ m the decoy or something. I ’ m not really clear on the particulars. Just here to look good and, sadly, be photographed every ten minutes. I need some alone time, and I need to know what ’ s happening before I get sprung and have to go.”
“ Gee, getting paid to party with the rich and famous. How taxing.” He jibes.
“ Yeah, yeah. It ’ s all fun and games until someone ends up with their face on TMZ .”
“ Hold up!” I hear the TV go quiet and then the unmistakable sound of keys pressing in the background. “ That ’ s you? If you hadn ’ t pointed it out, I never would have recognized you.”
“ I know. That ’ s kinda the point. It ’ s amazing the difference a short black wig and killer tan can make.”
“ When do you get back?”
“ I fly in on Thursday.”
“ I feel like I haven ’ t seen you in ages. Want to get together, hang out, eat some food? Maybe…my place? I ’ ll order dirty Chinese and get you hooked on GoT .”
“ You ’ re sex deprived and you watch Game of Thrones ? You are a masochist.”
“ I ’ m starting to think I am. So, what do you say?”
“ I can ’ t.” I wrinkle up my face. “ Antony is in town next week.”
“ Oh.”
“ As tempting as that sounds—”
“ But you ’ re out of action for a week?”
“ Yup. Friday we could do a late lunch. I ’ ll be back by then. Meet you at work?”
“ Yeah. You should get back before someone notices you ’ re hiding in a bathroom. I ’ ll text you updates. Okay?”
“ You ’ re the best.”