Chapter 17 Marsh
Marsh
“So, do you want to quit yet?” Jay asks as he takes a sip of his Diet Coke.
We’re on a patio at Los Feliz’s not-so-hidden treasure Little Dom’s.
Jay saw Danny DeVito here once three years ago and now refuses to dine anywhere else.
The Eastside vibe is so much different from where I live on the Westside.
People in west LA love getting dressed up and telling you how close they are to the beach.
On this side of town, people embrace the culture and food and drink scene without having to post it on social media.
“No.” I laugh. The sun is starting to set so I switch out my shades for my glasses. “I’m liking it.”
Jay’s across from me in a T-shirt and baseball cap and I’m already warm in my jeans. Even though the summer heat usually lasts until October, I’m thankful September is around the corner.
“How many stories do they have you working on a day?” he asks.
I take a sip of my water. “Four to five.”
Jay lets out a low whistle. “I mean, as long as you’re liking it.”
“It’s news and I report to Nadia.” I give him a look, laying out the two most important things to me. “What’s not to like?”
“Have you hit it off with anyone else?” Jay asks.
“Kat’s been super helpful.” I give credit where it’s due.
“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Jay agrees. “She’s probably one of the most helpful people on admin.”
“Absolutely,” I say. “Ben’s pretty cool too,” I add, bringing up one of the other writers on the news team.
“Man, I kind of miss it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“No.” He lets out a hoarse laugh.
“Anyway, enough about work. How are you? How’s not working?”
“God, it’s fucking fantastic.” Jay leans back and drapes an arm around the empty chair beside him. “But not having structure kind of messed with me at first.”
“Yeah, I bet. What does your day look like?”
“Well, the first week I was getting like two coffees a day. Catching up with all the people I said I would but never got around to in the past ten years,” Jay says.
“And now I’m just relaxing, you know? Watching all the shows I never got to watch…
I’m finally watching Game of Thrones,” he says incredulously.
“I don’t think I could do that.” I grimace at the thought. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
“Marsh, trust me, you’d love it,” he says like a salesman on commission. “Isn’t there anything you’ve ever wanted to do but you can’t?”
I ponder this and am coming up short. The idea of doing nothing kind of freaks me out. “I don’t think so. Maybe read more? And I guess I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“You can do that.”
“I don’t need to quit my job to travel,” I state. “I can just take a vacation.”
Jay smiles. “And when was the last time you did that?”
“I’ve been on vacation,” I say.
“When?”
“I went to Italy…”
“Wasn’t that like six years ago?”
“God,” I groan. Julia and I went to her cousin’s wedding in Florence, and now that I think of it, it does feel like a lifetime ago. “Has it been that long?”
“Take the vacation,” Jay says.
“Maybe next year,” I reply. “I just started.”
“There’s always going to be an excuse. You have PTO. You’ve got to take it.”
Our waiter comes and drops off a margherita pizza, a fried oyster po’ boy, and an arugula salad. I reach for the hot sauce and spread it on top of my slice while Jay tells me about plans for his two-month trip to Portugal. “How’s the family?” Jay asks. “How’s Oliver? How’s his kid?”
“He’s good.” I nod. “And, yeah, Sadie. She’s turning six this weekend.”
“Wow, time is really going by fast, huh?”
“You’re telling me.”
Jay starts shaking red chili pepper flakes onto his pizza. “And how are you feeling about Julia?”
As one of my best friends, Jay knows everything that happened between Julia and me. He might be the only person who knows the full story because I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t a therapist.
“I’m feeling okay,” I answer sincerely. “She’s happy—or seems happy at least. But yeah, the wedding is in a little less than three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” Jay’s eyebrows rise. “Jesus, she moved fast, didn’t she? Are you sure you’re okay?”
When Julia and I broke up, she moved out almost immediately. I’m pretty sure we ended things on a Tuesday, and she was already living with her sister by Friday. Six months later, I hear from my mom that she’s engaged and we’re all invited to the wedding.
“I’m seriously okay,” I assure Jay. “She’s always wanted to get married, have kids and all of that. She should be with someone who can give her those things.”
“Are you still debating on going to the wedding?” he asks.
I cut our po’ boy in half. “I’ve decided to go.”
“Shit, okay, yeah, makes sense.” Jay takes his share of the sandwich. “The whole family’s going to be there.”
“Yeah, exactly,” I say. “But, uh, I’m bringing someone.”
Jay’s face breaks out into a smile. One so obnoxious I want to throw a fried oyster at him and tell him to shut up before he even says anything.
“Have you been dating?” He beams.
“You know I’ve been dating.”
“Not successfully,” he responds, laughing. “Is it that one girl?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
“That girl who was also going through a breakup?” Jay tries to remember. “You said she cried after you slept together.”
“Now, why would I take her?” I ask him seriously.
“I don’t fucking know,” he says. “You felt sorry for her?”
“God, no,” I say. “I hope she’s doing okay.”
“Wait, tell me everything. Who’s this new woman?” He shifts. “I fucking knew it too! You seem different.”
“I do not seem different.”
“Yeah, you do.”
I couldn’t be completely honest with my own brother for many reasons—one being that if Lucy is going to be going to Sadie’s birthday and the wedding, everything needs to be foolproof.
I can’t have people knowing we’re putting on a charade.
It needs to feel as real as possible when I’m with my family.
Meanwhile, Jay’s aware of the ins and outs of everything that happened with Julia. I have nothing to lose by telling him.
“Her name is Lucy,” I say. I’m already starting to feel warmer, and I have no idea why. “She’s amazing. She actually writes the sex column at The Rue.”
“Get out.” Jay looks up. “Is that how you met her? At work?”
I try the arugula salad, enjoying the distinct, peppery flavor. “I met her at your going-away party if you can believe it.”
“You piece of shit!” Jay says. “You ditched me to pick someone up?!”
“I didn’t know she worked at The Rue when I met her!”
“Well, you’re welcome.” Jay leans back in his chair.
“Yeah…thanks,” I laugh.
“But that was only a couple of weeks ago? She’s going to the wedding?”
There isn’t really a great way to sugarcoat this. Especially not to Jay.
“Yeah,” is all I say.
Jay frowns, setting his fork down. “What?”
“What?” I ask.
“Did she pressure you into taking her?”
I guess technically she kind of did. Lucy kind of pressures me into a lot of things, but it’s what I like about her. She doesn’t give a shit about how it might make her look. She speaks her mind and brings that out in me too.
“No, it’s not like that,” I say.
“Then what?” he asks. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
Jay and I have known each other since we were twenty years old, and it makes complete sense that he can see right through me.
“It’s a little complicated.” I rub the back of my neck.
“In what way? Because she works at The Rue?”
“No,” I struggle to get out. “We’re, uh, we’re not really dating.”
“You’re just sleeping with her?”
I cough and then take a sip of my water. “No, no.”
“Then what? You’re not official?”
“No.” I wince. “We’re official.”
“Bro, what the fuck is going on?” Jay says impatiently, clearly annoyed by my cryptic answers.
I take a breath and mentally prepare myself for saying what I’m about to out loud. I go through all the possible outcomes of letting this information go, wondering if there are now too many loose ends. I wonder if Lucy has told anyone on her side…She must have, right?
“Okay, so she’s pretending to date me,” I finally say. “And I’m pretending to date her…We’re pretending to date each other.”
Jay blinks. “Like she’s an escort?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Okay,” Jay says, confused. “Then what do you mean you’re pretending to date each other?”
I roll my head back and move my glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose. “She needs a boyfriend for the column she’s writing,” I explain, “and I need to bring someone to Julia’s wedding, so…”
Understanding floods Jay’s features. “So you’re pretending to date each other.”
“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?”
“No.” He shrugs a shoulder. “No. It’s just…a little weird?”
“I thought the same thing when she proposed it but—”
“She proposed it?” Jay asks.
“Yeah,” I say, and he frowns. “What?”
“Why did she propose it?” he asks skeptically.
“I told you, she needs a boyfriend for her article.”
“Dude, she’s using you.”
Jay clearly doesn’t understand what’s happening here. He doesn’t know Lucy and doesn’t know she wouldn’t use me.
“No, she’s not.” I give a pointed look. “It’s an equal partnership. I even asked her to be an expert for one of the stories I’m working on. She’s talented, and she’s brilliant too.”
“What story?” Jay ignores the last bit.
“This feature on sex work because of the Alf Olson scandal,” I reply, giving him the topline. “But she’s a sex expert and her perspective is valuable. We’re helping each other.”
“Marsh…” Jay says slowly. “Look, I’m always going to look out for you, and as your friend and someone who used to work at The Journal, I’m telling you this is a bad idea.”
“Why is it a bad idea?” I ask, now slightly annoyed.
“Think about it,” he says, adjusting in his seat. “She meets you at a work party, finds out that you’re the new senior writer for the parent company she works for. She makes up this scenario about needing to write a story to get close to you…so you can get her a job.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s not like that. At all.”
Jay puts up both hands in the air like he’s surrendering. “I’m just telling you how it looks from my perspective.”
“Also, she’s not making up anything,” I add. “She has to write these stories. I’ve read them.”
“Can I see?” Jay asks.
This is the last thing I want to be doing right now. Reluctantly, I pull out my phone and bring up Lucy’s column. I pass my phone to Jay, and he spends the next five minutes or so reading her articles. He gives me my phone back, but there’s still confusion written all over his face.
“What kind of person, especially one that writes about sex, needs to pretend to date someone?” Jay asks. “Why doesn’t she go out and actually date someone.”
“Maybe the same kind of person that needs to pretend to have a date for his ex’s wedding?”
“That’s different—”
“Is it?” I counter, feeling defensive. “I could’ve gone out and actually dated someone but, hey, it’s actually not that easy to just pick someone up off the street.”
“Look,” Jay says, easing up, “I’m not trying to poke holes in this. I’m just a little confused.”
“Well, don’t be. I’m an adult and I know what I’m doing,” I tell him.
“Lucy’s really something, and she gets me and she’s beautiful, and I’m having fun, and she’s super valuable when it comes to a journalistic perspective.
And she’s really beautiful. Like where am I going to meet someone like that? ”
“You said beautiful twice,” Jay says.
I stop, not realizing. “Well, she is beautiful.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight…you’re pretending to date each other,” he says slowly like he’s still wrapping his head around what that means.
“She needs you because she’s writing about her relationship, sure.
You need her to go with you to Julia’s wedding, okay. So, what does fake dating even entail?”
It sounds absolutely ludicrous when he lays it out like that.
“We just hang out,” I say, knowing that doesn’t help make anything clearer. “We grab brunch or dinner, or go house hunting—”
“What?!” Jay laughs.
“Okay, we did that once,” I clarify. “But it’s just really us hanging out. She’s coming to Sadie’s birthday next weekend too.”
“Are you sleeping together?”
“No,” I say almost too quickly and then remember what happened at the club…
and then at my house, and then in her car.
I think of how Lucy’s hair smells like strawberries, how her skin feels like silk, and how she was on top of me the other night, rolling her hips onto mine.
I remember the feeling of her breast under my palm and the way her head fell back when I squeezed it. “No. Nothing like that,” I say.
“Okay…” Jay leans back in his chair, processing this information. “Because that would make more sense if you two were sleeping together.”
“Are you worried because we technically work together?”
“Well,” Jay thinks out loud, “I know they don’t want employees dating each other…I don’t know what they would say about people fake dating each other.”
I give him an unimpressed look. “I think it’s fine.”
“Do you like spending time with her?” Jay asks.
“I really do,” I answer.
“I assume she enjoys your company too,” Jay responds, and I shrug because I would hope that Lucy enjoyed my company enough to want to spend as much time with me. “Okay, hypothetically: Let’s say you two didn’t work together…would you want to really date her?”
The question stumps me. Really dating Lucy never came to mind.
Not even for one second. I wouldn’t not want to date her, but I just don’t know if I’m ready to be in a relationship right now.
Or maybe ever. When you’re in a relationship for almost ten years that doesn’t work out, you start to wonder if any relationship will work out.
I think about this for a second longer.
The idea of really dating Lucy brings a slight jump in my stomach and a pulsing in my veins.
Being with Lucy would mean more of what we’re doing, and I’m really enjoying what we’re doing.
I wouldn’t have to hold myself back when I’m with her.
I could take her in my arms, kiss her whenever I want, or tell her to her face how beautiful I think she is. As many times as I want.
“I…” I start, not knowing the end to my answer. “It just wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?” Jay frowns.
I remember the most important part of all of this: Lucy doesn’t want a relationship.
She doesn’t believe in them. I think of the text message she got from some guy when she was at my house.
How at the club right before she saw me, she was talking to another guy at the bar.
I think of just how many men Lucy could be spending her time with—men who are confident, men who don’t push her away when she’s dancing with them, and men who don’t have complicated dynamics with their ex-girlfriends.
“Lucy doesn’t want a guy like me,” I say. “Simple as that.”