30. Sometimes You Just Need a Woman
30
SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED A WOMAN
ARCHER
I didn’t want to rattle around that huge suite without O’Connor, but Ian and Nicky wanted to stay until the hotel kicked us out on Sunday morning, and Mal and his violist were still getting along well enough to want one more night, so I climbed into that huge bed alone.
Well, not alone. A large Great Dane made herself comfortable on O’Connor’s pillow.
Ian and Mal drove their dates to the airport on Sunday morning in the BFT and came back to pick me and Charlotte up. We spent the first hour of our drive doing a postmortem on the gig the night before, and the discussion was as easy as ever. We could talk about music twenty-four hours a day.
But once we were done with that topic, the silence got awkward. Nicky and Ian were a sure thing. Mal and the viola-player were barely speaking to each other by the time she left. The only uncertain coupling to discuss was mine. And I would have talked to Mal and Ian about O’Connor. In truth, I really kind of wanted to talk about her with someone. But guys just don’t have the vocabulary.
We were miles into Indiana before Ian took a stab at it.
“So,” he said from the passenger seat. “O’Connor, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“How was that?”
I shrugged uneasily. “Good.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
Mal, in the back seat, leaned forward. “She’s nicer than I thought,” he said. “Funnier.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “She’s pretty funny, I guess.”
“Uh-huh.” He leaned back again. Subject covered, subject closed. It was a little frustrating.
We were almost to Ohio when Ian smacked his head. “Shit. I should have thought of this. Nicky will have landed by now. We’ll call her.”
All three of us heaved a sigh of relief. Yes. Sometimes you just need a woman.
We put her on the speakerphone. “What’s the issue?” she asked.
She was Ian’s girl. He took the lead. “Well, Archer said it was good with O’Connor.”
“Yeah? It looked good. She and I had a nice chat. So, is that a problem?”
Ian gestured, apparently trying to sum up our male uselessness. “Well, what’s he mean? ‘It was good’? That’s not saying much, you know?”
Nicky was silent before asking, “Is Archer with you?”
“He’s driving.”
“Hi, Nicky,” I said.
“Hi, Archer. Ian, why can’t you ask him yourself?”
“Well, I did.”
Nicky sounded exasperated. “What did he say? ”
“He said it was good.”
“It was good,” I added helpfully.
“Oh, for god’s sake.” It sounded like Nicky was scrubbing her face. “Archer, I gather you and O’Connor had sex, right?”
Thank god for Nicky. She’d get it all out in the open. “Yeah.”
“More than once?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Did you kiss her with your teeth?”
I grinned. “She set me straight. No complaints.”
“And are you sure she enjoyed it? Not just that you did?”
I frowned, insulted. “I know my business.”
“Hmm.” Nicky wasn’t persuaded. “Well, O’Connor doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would fake it, so let’s assume you’re okay there.”
“I am okay there!” I could see Mal in the rearview. He was grinning. Asshole.
“Okay. Sure. Let’s get to the more important point.” Ian and I exchanged surprised glances. The sex wasn’t the important part? Mal scoffed loud enough for me to hear, but Nicky overlooked that. “Did you talk to her?” she asked.
I wrinkled my nose in thought. “Well, I mean, yeah.”
“Yeah? About what?”
I shrugged. This felt like an ambush. “I don’t know. Just . . . you know?” Ian and Mal both nodded.
Nicky sighed. “Do you know anything about her family?”
“O’Connor’s family? Um, yeah. I guess.”
“What do you know?” I didn’t answer quickly enough, so she asked again. “Tell me about her mother.”
“Her mother? No, she has a stepmother.”
“That’s really good, Archer!” Nicky had the same tone we used when Charlotte dropped something on demand. I was insulted—and proud. “What do you know about the stepmother? ”
There was something. Yeah, I had it. “Her stepmother likes this face cream, and O’Connor did a post about the company being unfair to its workers, and now stores won’t carry the cream, and the stepmother got mad and hasn’t talked to O’Connor since.”
“Shit,” Ian said. “That’s pretty harsh.”
“No doubt.” Mal agreed. “Seems a little unfair to O’Connor.”
“It explains a little bit about O’Connor’s tough persona though, doesn’t it?” Nicky was suddenly so wise. As soon as she said it, I realized how right she was. A person could either cave under that kind of pressure or learn fast how to stand up for herself. Get to thinking she didn’t need a family. Or friends. Or anyone. “What about her father?” Nicky asked.
“Her father?” I had pop-quiz anxiety.
Nicky led me. “You know something about her father,” she said. “What’s he do for a living?”
“Chemical engineer!” I shouted like I was on a quiz show.
Nicky laughed at me. “And where’s her mother?”
I knew that one too. “Dead. Hit by a drunk driver.”
“Fuck,” Mal said. Ian nodded.
“How old was O’Connor?”
“Um, I think she said she was two?”
“Yeah.” Nicky’s half groan summed up our collective unease. “Prickly on the outside, bruised and battered on the inside. That’s our girl O’Connor.”
Shit , I thought. She was right. “What else do I know?” I asked her.
She chuckled. “Tell me the best conversation you had with her.”
The best conversation. I went slack-jawed as I thought about it. “Hair conditioner,” I said thoughtlessly.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, we talked about conditioners and shampoos. And bronzers, and moisturizers, and things like that. Her kit is as big as mine.”
Silence greeted my statement, which confused me. Was that such a strange thing to bond over?
“You talked cosmetics with O’Connor,” Nicky clarified. I nodded, forgetting that she couldn’t see me. “It’s actually pretty brilliant,” she said. “She’s as invested in finding great products as you are. I never would have thought this was where you’d connect, but hell. Whatever works.”
Ian was in profile, but his cheek was up. Was my guy trying to hide his grin? “Fuck you,” I said to him companionably. “She’s really smart about free radicals.” In the back seat, Mal barked a laugh, and I glared at him in the rearview. “Oh, you don’t care now, but wait twenty years.”
Nicky interrupted. “Now tell me about your worst conversation.”
I inhaled in a long sniff. “She got really weird a few times. Like she was mad at me, but she said she wasn’t.”
“She was,” Nicky said, without even knowing the story. “What happened?”
I was focused on the highway ahead, but the conversation in the diner played back on my brain screen. “She said she was, like, a relationship girl, and I was a one-night-stand kind of guy.”
“How about a half-an-hour kind of guy?” Mal said happily.
“Twenty minutes in the can,” Ian contributed.
I rolled my eyes at them both. “Shut up, you two,” Nicky said easily. “This is important, Archer. She told you she was a relationship girl? In so many words?”
“Yeah, but we agreed we were going to have a three-day thing, you know?”
“You’re sure she agreed to that?”
“Yeah. We even joked about it.”
“Huh.” Nicky was thinking, and we waited like pilgrims at an oracle. “Okay. Let’s say you’re a bruised and battered person who doesn’t trust her family. And along comes golden Archer Armstrong, and you and he agree to a brief tryst. And this ‘relationship girl’ tries to have a quick fling, but as advertised, she’s relationship-based. Yeah, Archer. She was definitely mad.”
“It’s not fair,” I complained. “We agreed it was a three-day thing. What was I supposed to do? How come she’s mad at me?”
“Oh, she’s not mad at you, Archer. She’s mad at herself.”
Even Mal was rendered silent by this confusion.
“Shit,” Ian commented. “It must be so damned hard to be a woman.”
“How’d you leave it with her, Archer?” Nicky asked.
“I, um—we kind of didn’t. I don’t know. Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“We seemed to be working on some kind of goodbye scene,” I offered, “and then Mal wanted the bathroom and she just disappeared. She’s back in LA now.”
“Your goodbye scene,” Nicky said. “Sweet and romantic?”
“Actually, kind of angry and a little violent.”
“Oh, Archer.” Why did Nicky sound disappointed in me ? So unfair!
“ I wasn’t violent! She was the one who shoved me against the wall and banged my shoulder into a paper towel dispenser!”
“Jeesh,” Ian offered. Mal and I nodded at this intelligent assessment.
“So she was angry again?”
“I’ll say.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re sure you didn’t do anything to earn that anger?”
“Well, shit, Nicky. How the hell would I know?”
She thought about it. “She say anything?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the kind of thing you repeat, you know? ”
Mal’s eyebrows went up, and Ian sat straighter. It was like throwing meat to Charlotte.
“You’re in the circle of trust here, Archer,” Nicky said dryly. “Spill it.”
Well, shit. “She wanted me to fuck her in the bathroom like I do groupies.”
“Oof.” That was Mal in the back seat.
“Dang.” That was Ian.
“Well,” Nicky said. “We do know you like locker rooms, Arch.” I could hear the scorn in her voice, and I winced. I’d tried it on Nicky herself in a stupider time.
“So now we’re debating how I handle other women?” I seized on a little outrage with relief, but Nicky cut me off at the knees.
“Honestly, Archer. This isn’t about you.”
All three of us guys shut up. What the hell?
“How is this not about Archer?” Mal was the first one to break the silence. “Isn’t this all about Archer?”
Ian and I spoke along with Mal, unconsciously forming a Greek chorus. “Isn’t everything about Archer?” we said.
It made me laugh. I slapped a five with Ian and reached back for a fist bump over my shoulder with Mal.
“This happens to be about O’Connor,” Nicky said, her voice firm through the speakers. “She wasn’t angry at you. She was angry with herself.”
That drained the smile right out of me. “What?”
“Her being mad at herself made her back Archer into a towel dispenser?” Mal was as confused as I was.
“She was trying to get you out of her head, Archer.” Nicky had an insulting amount of “duh” in her voice. Like it was something I should have seen and didn’t.
“She wanted to get Archer out of her head by getting Archer into her body? This does not make sense.” Mal was voicing my own confusion .
“Why didn’t she just say something?” I asked, shaking my head. “Man, this is my season for learning shit.”
Neither Mal nor Ian followed that up, but of course Nicky did. “What’s that mean? What else have you learned lately, Arch?”
“Besides not kissing with your teeth, right?” Mal, not the victim of this interrogation, still had a grin left in him.
“Aw, she has this thing about protecting your partner. That’s the part with the teeth too. You’re supposed to protect your partner from banging her lip into your teeth.”
“Makes sense,” Ian mumbled. Traitor.
“Protection.” Mal nodded. “That’s good.”
“Of course it’s good,” Nicky said. “Why was that so hard to learn, Archer?”
I squirmed. “She’s got this deal about being kind and sexy. She thinks you can be both. And protection is tied up in that somewhere.”
“That seems contradictory to you?” Nicky asked. She was relentless.
“Well, it did. I mean—” At a loss for words, I descended into pantomime, grabbing for an invisible woman with the nonsteering hand and grunting.
“I hear that,” Mal said. “Strong. You know?”
We exchanged nods in the mirror. Ian was silent.
“So, passion,” Nicky asked, “has no room for kindness in your world, Archer?”
“Well, you know.” I grunted again, unable to express my frustration with the discussion.
“Archer,” she said, “you and I were heading for a fling a few months ago, weren’t we?” I looked nervously at Ian, but he was studying the highway ahead of us. “Know why it didn’t happen?”
“Oh, come on. Do we have to do this again? Because I kissed with my teeth. ”
She corrected me. “Because Ian is so kind .” I glanced at my boy again, still studying the road but now also looking smug. “He’s kind and sexy. Like, oh my god.” Ian’s sly smile overcame his control. “ Kind and sexy are not contradictory.”
“Well, I know that now . And now I know that a woman can beat me up because she’s mad at herself.”
“And how did you leave it with her? Are you two dating now?”
“No,” I said strongly. “We were very clear. Like I said, this was a three-day hookup. Then we were done.”
“You go back to groupies, and she goes back to Los Angeles?”
“Yeah. That was the plan.”
Nicky was thinking, and we let her do it. “You’re very charming, Archer.” She didn’t say it like it was a compliment. “I’m guessing that’s part of what she was mad about. She didn’t want to stop at three days, and that was always your deal.”
“Am I supposed to do something about that?”
“Well, aside from any potential happiness you might find in your romantic life, let’s consider the press Aftermath is getting because Archer is the focus of Opinionated O’Connor ’s dating school. The attempt to reform a bad kisser. She’s getting you guys a lot of attention.”
“That’s true,” Mal said.
“So, I think you probably need to reach out to her.”
“And say what?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I’m going to think about it. Boy, this is a tough one.”
If the woman thought it was tough, we were in the deep doo-doo.
Before we ended the call, Ian told Nicky that he loved her, just as easy as saying goodbye. And she said it back to him.
What would that be like? To say that so casually? Out loud? In public? Was it good or bad? What a confusing day .
We set up our tent in the Ohio campground. Mal took the truck to the nearest town to buy dog food, and Ian and Charlotte went for a run. I was lying on my mattress, thinking that the tent felt empty as hell and wondering what O’Connor was up to.
I was supposed to wait until Nicky told me what to say to O’Connor, but I suddenly didn’t have the patience. I grabbed my phone.
O’Connor are you mad at me?
She probably wasn’t even near her—ah. The three bubbles.
I’m not mad at you, Archer
I felt a certain relief at her reply, but if Nicky was right, then that answer wasn’t enough. Even though I could see that O’Connor was writing a second response, I sent hers mine before I saw what else she had to say.
Are you mad at yourself?
Her three bubbles stopped. That was maddening. Was she just sitting there, staring at her phone?
Damn it. I must have insulted her. I should have waited for Nicky. Now what? Text again? Could I get myself out of the mess, or would I just make it worse?
When my phone rang, it startled me like a heart attack. “Jesus, O’Connor,” I said when the call connected. “You just scared the crap out of me.”
She laughed, the sound like music. “Sorry. I just wanted to say that your question was unexpectedly perceptive.”
I grinned. “Then I’d better admit now that I’ve been talking to Nicky about you. I hope that’s okay. ”
“You people,” she sighed, “with your family and friends. God. Having someone to talk to—I don’t even know. No, it’s okay. So it was Nicky who decided I was mad at myself?”
“Yeah. She thinks you’re having trouble with the relationship-girl, one-night-stand–guy thing.”
“She’s very clever. I was going to call you once I worked up the nerve to apologize. I really took my crazy out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”
Fuck. Nicky was totally right. Thank god I had an interpreter. “O’Connor, it’s your crazy that makes you so crunchy and delicious. You are the nuts in my brownie.”
She laughed, which made me absurdly proud. “You like a good nutjob, huh?” We both laughed at that, and then she went on, “So, you might as well tell me. How were the groupies in Chicago?”
“Lined up out the door,” I boasted.
“You must have loved that.”
“How could they resist me in that duster?”
“Happy to have added to your impressive magnetism, Archer. Your folks are still ready for my visit on Sunday?”
“They are, and you should be prepared. We’re having an early Thanksgiving on Monday because Aftermath will be on the road for the real holiday. So, that means two grandparents, eleven aunts and uncles, my mom and dad, and I think we’re at sixteen siblings and cousins and husbands and wives. And . . . let’s see . . . four little kids. Shit, maybe we’re up to five now.”
She was stunned into silence, and then: “Your mother is having Thanksgiving dinner for, what, thirty-five people?”
“And Mal and his mom, and Ian’s family, so that’s another seven, including Nicky.”
“Forty-two people.”
“And you. Forty-three.”
“Mother of god. Can I set up cameras? Will everyone sign a release? This is like Americana but on steroids. Is everyone beautiful like you?”
“Well, some of the husbands are kind of homely.”
“You’re a sitcom. Or a documentary. I’m going to be like Dian Fossey with the gorillas.”
“How flattering. Mom wanted you to have the guest room, but Gran and Pop-Pop won’t want to drive home after the meal, so Mom wants to know if you’re okay on the sofa.”
“I told you, I’ll have a hotel.”
“I know. It bugs her.”
“Give her my apologies. I’m just as happy not to add to the strain of hosting an event for all of central Long Island.”
“I’ll tell her, but it’s liable to be a black mark against you right off the bat. What are you working on today, O’Connor?”
Her voice was smiley. “I’m setting up a series of princess teas with a total stranger and her remarkable daughter.”
“Oh, sure. Like you do. You’ve got a good job, O’Connor.”
“You don’t want to know what a princess tea is?”
“All my sisters and all but one cousin are female. I know what a princess tea is.”
“You have unplumbed depths, Archer Armstrong.”
“And getting deeper as I learn shit. What dating-school lesson are you and I up to for this week?”
I could hear her clicking keys. “Planning the date.”
“Are you in your basement lair?”
“I am. How did you know?”
“Heard you on your computer. Are you making recordings?”
“Just finished the podcast segment on your foot scrub.”
“Yeah? How’d you like it?”
“Ten out of ten. My feet are soothed and smooth, and the peppermint was a brief hit of ecstasy, I must say. Who knew feet could absorb menthol?”
“I know, right? ”
“I’m going to send you some of that mousse. You’re in D.C. on Thursday, right?”
“Yeah. At the Atlantic on Thursday, and Phil got us an invitation to drop into the 9:30 Club on Friday night.”
“You guys are getting so hot. Hey, I saw a bootleg of ‘Freedom’ from last night.”
“Shit, that was fast.”
“I was thinking I’d boost it. Would that be good or bad?”
“Um, yeah. That would be great. I mean, we don’t want to encourage bootlegs, do we? But you know . . .”
“Right. No such thing as bad press. Okay, I’ll do a share. And I’ll send the mousse to the Atlantic and ask them to hold it for you, so watch for it.”
“You’re awesome, O’Connor.”
“That’s true,” she said, and I smiled at her awkward arrogance.
“Hey, I’m really glad you’re not mad at me.”
“I’m really glad I don’t have to sleep on your mother’s couch.”
“You know, you could sleep at my place. I mean, my place with Mal. But not to sleep with—I mean, you could share my bed.” I tried and failed to make the offer casually but found I was nervous about her reply.
“Nice try, Romeo,” she said. “You don’t want me anyway. By then, I’ll be actively confirming my lack of pregnancy.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll be having my period. And you might not care, but I do.”
“Ew, gross. Women stuff.”
“You gotta take the bad with the good, little man. Or at least you do if you’re not lining up willing groupies.”
“Well, I’ll make sure we’ve got heating pads and plenty of ice cream on hand while you’re visiting.”
“Man, you did grow up with women.”
“I’ll pick you up at the airport on Sunday. ”
“I’ll get a car.”
“Nah, Char and I will get you.”
“I would like to see her.”
“Naturally. And you want to see me too.”
“What of it?” She was defensive but smiling too. “You want to see me.”
“I wouldn’t mind. It’s quiet in this tent without you.”
At that moment, all three of my tentmates returned in a rush, two of them actively sweaty and the third bearing something disgusting called pork rinds. “I guess I gotta go,” I said.
“Kick ass in D.C.”
“We always do. Bye, O’Connor.”
Mal and Ian shouted their goodbyes once they heard who I was talking to, and Charlotte shook the fabric walls with her excited barks. I disconnected.
Mal flopped onto his mattress. “So?” he said. “You talked to her? Without waiting for Nicky? You’re a brave and foolhardy man. Spill. Give us the 4-1-1.”