Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
LAZ
“BEHIND THE WHEEL”
Did Marina just ask me to teach her the art of seduction?
Because that’s exactly what it sounded like.
“Of course,” I tell her, hoping I sound casual, like this is something she asks me to do every day.
But it’s not. And considering what I know about Marina now, that she’s a virgin, this brings our relationship – our friendship – to a whole new playing field.
I did mention the other day that being physical was completely on the table.
That is until it came off the table and entirely into her court.
Now she wants me to teach her how to seduce men and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“When you say art of seduction,” I tell her as we pull onto the traffic of Sunset Blvd., “what do you mean exactly?”
She shrugs, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, her eyes focused on the passing lights outside.
I feel like when we left her house, went over the hill, and came down here to the city, she’s gone through a gamut of emotions, from vulnerable to defensive to pissed off and now… I don’t know what she is.
But I don’t want to take advantage of her right now when she’s like this. Over the years I’ve learned to recognize certain mental states of hers and sometimes they require extra consideration.
“I want to find the right guy, Laz. I want to stop screwing up. I know now what to stop talking about. What I don’t know is what to do instead.” She glances at me with big, heartbreaking eyes. “I want the guys to like me. To want me. I need help.”
Fuck me. I feel absolutely rotten now. She doesn’t have to change a thing. She shouldn’t have to. And yet that’s exactly what I’ve told her to do.
“I’m almost thirty,” she goes on. “I’m a virgin.
I don’t want to be one anymore. I want to find a guy.
I want to fall in love. I want a future with someone, maybe marriage and babies, maybe right now all I need is to have someone’s arms around me as I fall asleep.
I want love. I feel it’s absence in my life, every day. ”
You’re breaking my heart, sweet girl.
Her words are gutting me right now. Here in my car, Marina is opening up her soul to me in ways she hasn’t before and I’m…floored by it.
I want her to have all that. I want her to know that…fuck. I love her. I care for her. As a friend, though, and I know that’s not what she’s talking about.
I clear my throat. “Darling, you deserve all of that and more. And you will have that. I promise you, you will find love. You will find that man who will wrap his arms around you as you drift off to sleep. You will find everything you need.” I pause. “You’ll find your flower.”
She lets out a soft laugh, though sadness still lingers in her eyes. “God, it does sound stupid when you say it out loud.”
“I’ll try and think of something more poetic,” I tell her. “Wouldn’t be much of a poet if I couldn’t.”
“How has that been coming along?” she asks and I can tell she wants to change the subject. “I mean, I know better by now than to ask you how the writing is going but…”
I give her a wry smile. “Damn right you know better.”
“That bad, huh?”
I exhale through my nose, my grip on the wheel tightening slightly. “A writer’s block like nothing else. I’m just not inspired. I have zero urge to write. I’ve got nothing.”
“Well you can’t rush a thing like that. Nor can you force it. Especially poetry. If you’re not feeling it…how can it work?”
“It doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can just give up. Some days you just have to go out there and hunt down your muse. If she doesn’t show up, then you have to make her. It’s as simple as that.”
“So have you been hunting her down? I thought breaking up with Simone would have been great fodder for that.”
“Again,” I say pointedly, giving her a steady look, “I didn’t break up with Simone in order to get material out of it. You can stop with your Taylor Swift comparisons.”
“Yeah I know, you broke up with her because you weren’t in love with her. Same old song and dance. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Wait a minute, aren’t we supposed to be on a date here? Our first date?”
She makes a grumbling noise before blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “The date has been modified.”
“To the art of seduction, right?” She doesn’t say anything. “Well then before I start giving you lessons on how to seduce a man, which, by the way, I don’t think are needed, I think discussions about exes are off the table. Nothing kills a date more than someone talking about their ex.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t have an ex.”
“That’s not true. You said there was that Cody guy in college.”
“You remember?” She looks surprised.
I laugh. “Yeah I remember. Cody is the guy you tried to have sex with and kind of did but it hurt too much so you didn’t. You don’t forget a thing like that.”
She puts her face in her hands and shakes her head. She looks like a Californian version of Cousin It. “I can’t believe I told you that.”
“Friends tell each other things,” I say, wishing she wasn’t covering up her face so I could see her reaction. “Don’t they?”
She just grumbles again.
The Comedy Store is a legendary place in Hollywood where you can find a famous or at least completely legit performer every single night.
Last night Dave Chapelle was playing, tonight we’ve got tickets to see Norm McDonald.
Both of us are fans of his dry and odd humor, especially the movie Dirty Work and basically any time he shows up in an Adam Sandler movie.
“I haven’t been here in years,” she says as we make our way to our table in the main room, the place already busy, excited murmurs filling the air.
“When did you come before? It wasn’t with me.” I have to admit, it bothers me that she’s actually been here before and with someone else. I wanted her first time to be with me.
The comedy club, I mean.
“It was a date,” she says, breaking into a wide grin. “Went horribly wrong as usual.”
“Why are you smiling then?”
“Well the comedian, he wasn’t famous or anything, but he was funny as hell,” she says.
“Actually I think a comedy club is a great place for a first date. You can have dinner and drinks before the show and during the show you have something to laugh at if your date has turned into a total douchebag. Which mine did. Plus, you can see the type of humor your date has. If they don’t have the same kind of humor as you, you’re pretty much fucked. And he didn’t.”
She’s got a point there. Lucky for us and our fake date or whatever the hell this has morphed into, we’re always laughing at the exact same things.
We sit down at our table, close to the stage, and are soon ordering dinner and drinks. Marina wastes no time in getting down to business.
“Okay, so tell me what to do,” she says after she has a sip of her dirty martini.
“With what?”
“You know what. If this is our first date, what should I be doing to keep you interested.”
I stare at her for a moment, drawing a complete blank.
She’s assuming I wouldn’t be interested in this moment, but of course I am.
How could any man not be? She’s sitting close to me, close enough that I can smell her sweet honey scent, see the faint freckles across her nose.
Her lips look soft and I know they’d be heaven to kiss.
Her hair shines golden under these lights, lit up like an angel.
Her blue eyes are even more vivid tonight, watching me with so much hope and worry that I’m absolutely captivated by her.
“I’m already interested,” I say, my voice coming out low and hoarse. “Any man would be.”
A flicker of something comes across her eyes, something bright and joyous. Then it’s gone. “You’re just saying that because you’re Laz. What if you didn’t know me at all. Remember, the game?”
I swallow and busy myself with a sip of beer. “Right. Well, it’s hard for me to be objectionable here because right now, you’re asking how to keep a guy interested and I’m looking at you, darling, and thinking any man who isn’t captivated by what I’m looking at, isn’t worth your time.”
She stares at me openly, as if she’s struggling to accept the compliment. Normally I don’t lay it on so thick…and normally I don’t think I’m leering at her either. Shit. I hope I’m not leering.
I look away, scanning the room, hoping that I wasn’t being too much right now.
I normally flirt with Marina and she flirts back, but it’s always in this joking way and both of us know it comes from a friendly place, nothing more.
But for some reason, tonight, everything we say to each other seems to carry more weight.
Maybe it’s because we’re already evaluating what each of us are doing.
“Captivated,” she repeats softly. “Are you usually this charming with your dates?”
“I hope so,” I say, looking back at her. “Either that or you’re just easily charmed.” I clear my throat, pushing past the awkwardness that surely must be in my head. “So, back to things…”
“Back to things.” She has another sip of her martini, coughs a little. “This is some strong shit.”
“Which reminds me,” I tell her, “if you need to know how not to act on a date, rule number one would be to not get plastered.”
Her cheeks go tomato red.
“What?” I ask.
“That happened with Doctor David,” she admits warily.
“I was chugging wine, you know, to counteract all the caffeine I had. Then I choked on linguine. David had to give me the Heimlich maneuver in front of the whole restaurant. Then after I spat it all up, I proceeded to give everyone a demonstration of the waggle dance.”
I stare at her, my mind trying to process. “The waggle…what? That’s what happened on your third date?” I ask incredulously.
“Yeah.”
“Is that what always happens on your third date because if so, then we definitely know what the problem is.”
She glares at me, looking pouty. “No that doesn’t always happen. There are often variations.”
I raise my brows. “Marina…”
She shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I told you I’m not good at this.”