by Lauren Rowe
“One way? Two ways?”
“All ways. Fuck off.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Fuck you. I’m good.”
“But are you great? Do you aspire to excellence every single time?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Do I aspire...? Just to be clear, we are talking about fucking, right? Or is this conversation about something completely different and I’ve been totally confused the whole time?”
“Ah, grasshopper. Fucking is never just fucking.”
I roll my eyes.
“You said she’s a unicorn. I’m just saying you gotta bring your ‘A’ game every time with a unicorn. There are no free passes. You gotta study up—continuously improve your skills—keep ratcheting it up for her. You can never, ever just ‘wet your dick.’”
I cringe. “Jonas.”
He shrugs.
There’s a beat.
“Study up?” I finally ask.
“A man catches himself a unicorn, then he best study up so he can feed her the right kind of unicorn-food.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Jonas rolls his eyes, pulls out his phone, and taps something out on it.
I lean over, trying to get a glimpse of his screen. “What are you doing?”
“I’m ordering some books for you. They’ll be at your house when you get home. Read ’em before you see Kat again. You’re welcome.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“No, fuck her—with supreme devotion and expertly calibrated skill.” The light from his phone illuminates the huge grin on his face. “I know you think you’re the wise and powerful Faraday twin—and you are about most things—but about this one thing, I’m nothing short of godly. Just trust me.”
“Whatever, bro,” I mumble. Of course, I’m beyond excited to read whatever books Jonas just sent to my house, but I’d never tell him that. “Hey, bro, can I ask you something?”
“It’s called a G-spot,” Jonas says. “And it’s the key to the kingdom.”
“Fuck you,” I say. “I know about the G-spot, fucktard. I’m not a moron.”
“Of course, you do. Sorry to insult you. What’s your question?”
“What I’m about to say has nothing to do with me doubting your connection with Sarah, okay? So don’t flip out on me. Just remain calm.”
“I would never, ever flip out on you, Josh. I’m nothing if not an endless reservoir of calm contemplation.”
We both laugh.
“I’m just wondering...” I say. “Everything’s just been so fast for you two—”
“A lot’s happened in a short amount of time—we’ve already lived through a lifetime’s worth of shit together.”
“Oh, totally. I get that. I’m just wondering, you know...” I clear my throat. “How do you know?”
“How do I know what? How to make her come? Read the books I sent you, dumbshit.” He laughs, but I don’t. He tilts his head, obviously realizing I’m asking him something in earnest. “How do I know I love her?” he asks.
“No, not exactly. What I’m asking is different than that—bigger than that.” I bite my lip, thinking. “How do you know Sarah’s The One? How do you know she’s the last woman you ever wanna be with—the last woman you ever wanna sleep with for the rest of your whole fucking life? How do you know you can promise Sarah forever and one hundred percent mean it?”
Jonas shrugs. “I just know. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life.”
“But how are you so sure? What exactly do you feel about Sarah that makes you so sure you don’t just love her—because I totally get that—but that you also wanna spend the rest of your life with this one girl and not keep searching for some other girl who might be a teeny-tiny bit more perfect?”
Jonas sips his beer slowly, apparently pondering the question. “When you find what you’re looking for, you know,” he finally says. “We’re the greatest love story ever told—our love is the wonder of the wise, the joy of the good, the amazement of the gods.”
There’s an exceptionally long pause during which I have to keep myself from rolling my eyes. “Oh, well,” I say evenly. “That explains everything. Thanks.” I take a long swig of my beer and look out at the river. “That reminds me, I like your new ink. In English, I notice. That’s something new for you.”
Jonas looks down at the tattoo newly inscribed on the outside of his left forearm and his platinum bracelet glints in the moonlight. “Thanks. Yeah, I wanted the whole world to be able to read my words and understand their meaning. It’s my declaration of love for Sarah. I’m shouting about my love for her from the top of the highest mountain.”
I chuckle to myself. Oh man, Kat’s list of “prohibited” tattoos is the gift that just keeps on giving. “So you got a girlfriend tattoo, huh?” I say, trying to stifle my laughter. “So, so awesome, bro.”
“Soon to be a wife tattoo,” Jonas says proudly, his excitement palpable. “Why are you laughing, motherfucker? What’s so funny?”
“I’m not laughing at you, I swear to God. Kat’s got this stupid list of tattoos that she says are uncool or whatever. And girlfriend tattoos are on the list.”
Jonas shrugs. “Like I’ve ever given two shits about being cool?” He swigs his beer, still looking out at the river. “And, anyway, it won’t be a girlfriend tattoo for much longer.” He’s obviously bursting with excitement about that last statement.
“Hey, don’t feel bad about having a tattoo on Kat’s list—dragons and YOLO are on the list, too—both supremely uncool, it turns out,” I say.
Jonas chuckles. “Well, I could have told you that.”
“No, but get this: Kat came up with her list before she saw any of my tattoos.”
Jonas bursts out laughing. “Really? Oh my God. That’s pretty funny.”
“Yeah, Reed and I raked her over the coals pretty good the other night at dinner, along with this hip-hop guy signed to Reed’s label. Cool dude. You’d like him. He’s a deep thinker, just like you. Anyway, this rapper-dude had an ex-girlfriend tattoo and a dragon.” I laugh at the memory. “Kat looked like she was gonna hurl the whole dinner. So fucking funny. I think we made her pay for her sins pretty well.”
“Wow, you should see your face when you’re talking about Kat,” Jonas says. “You really like her, huh?”
I can’t hide my huge smile. “Yeah, bro, I like her a lot.” The image of Kat in her skimpy white tank top and G-string, her eyes drunk with arousal, and her hair tousled pops into my head. “So back to my question, bro,” I say. “Do you think you could, maybe, explain things in a way that’s not”—I grab his forearm roughly and read his brand new tattoo—“our ‘love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the gods’? I know it’s hard for you, Jonas, but can you just try to talk like a normal person, just once?”
Jonas swigs his beer, apparently thinking. “Okay, how about this: Sarah’s holding my hand and leading me outside a dark cave toward the light that is the divine original form of myself.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, gee, thanks. That’s so much better.”
Jonas laughs. “I was just fucking with you—although that’s all true, just to be clear.” He laughs to himself for a good long minute. “Okay. The bottom line is that I’d rather be with Sarah than anywhere else in the world. I’d go to fucking IKEA with her if it meant being with her.”
My skin suddenly erupts with goose bumps. “Wish you were here,” Kat’s napkin said—and what thought popped into my head when I saw it? “So do I.”
Jonas exhales loudly. “It’s just so easy with Sarah. I’m completely myself with her, you know? I never have to worry I’m saying the wrong thing. I’ve shown her everything—good, bad, ugly, silly, crazy, creepy—and she accepts it all. And she’s kind. And nonjudgmental.” He sighs happily. “And so smart.”
“So you told her everything?” I ask.
“Everything. Absolutely nothing left out. And, hey, that’s reas
on enough right there to marry the girl. I only wanna do that shit once, man. Baring your entire soul to another person is fucking exhausting.”
All of a sudden, I’m thinking about how Kat led me into her bed after reading my application and then fell asleep in my arms.
“I dunno, Josh—I just know,” Jonas continues. “It’s really not all that complicated. For once in my life, it’s not about what I think—it’s about what I feel. I’ll never want anyone besides Sarah, ever, ’til the end of time, and I’m sure of it. It’s literally impossible for me to want someone else. Sarah’s the divine original form of woman-ness. She’s the ideal form of beauty—the pinnacle of perfection that all other women aspire to—the goddess and the muse—so what the fuck else could I possibly want?”
“Shit, I was totally with you until that last bit. ‘The goddess and muse,’ Jonas? Come on, man. What does that shit even mean?”
He shrugs. “If you don’t understand it, then I can’t explain it to you.”
“Jonas,” I say, “I’m serious, man. Please, just break it down for me. If you had to pick one thing that makes you know for sure Sarah’s The One, what would it be? Not ‘goddess and muse’ shit, but, like, something tangible? Something concrete?”
“I can’t pick only one thing. It’d be impossible.”
I continue to look at him earnestly.
“But, okay, I’ll try my best to dumb it down for you, Josh-Faraday style.”
“Thank you. Not everyone’s a fucking genius about relationships like the wise and powerful Jonas Faraday.”
Jonas smiles and his eyes sparkle in the moonlight. “Sarah Cruz, the goddess and the muse”—he flashes me a snarky look—“makes me laugh like no other woman ever has—like no other person ever has, even you. She laughs at almost all of my jokes, even the really lame ones—and she’s being totally sincere when she does.” He smiles and his white teeth gleam in the moonlight. “Looking at that woman gives me a boner the size of the Space Needle, even when she’s just sitting there reading one of her law books and scrunching up her nose.” I can see his face suddenly light up, even in the dim light. “And on top of all that, sex with her is akin to a religious experience.” He lets out a happy sigh. “If a guy needs more than all that to be eternally happy with one woman, then he’s either crazier than me or just a greedy-ass motherfucker.”
As if on cue, the door behind us opens and Sarah appears.
“Hey, boys,” Sarah says.
“Hi, baby.”
“Hi, Sarah Cruz,” I say.
“Hola, Josh Faraday.”
She sits on Jonas’ lap and throws her arms around his neck. “I had to come find you.” She kisses his cheek. “I started to feel lonely.”
“Oh no. You were feeling lonely, baby?”
“Mmm hmm.” She kisses his lips.
Jonas puts down his beer and stands, holding Sarah in his arms like he’s about to cross a threshold with his bride. “Well, I know exactly what to do to cure my baby’s loneliness. See you in the morning, Josh. Nice chatting with you.”
With that, Jonas is gone, taking the woman of his dreams with him.
I return my gaze to the slow-moving lights on the dark river in the distance, a certain loneliness I’m well acquainted with descending upon me. Almost immediately, my thoughts turn to Kat. To the awesome photos she sent me from Las Vegas. To the way she fell asleep in my arms after reading my application. To the way she laughs like a dude—and fucks like one, too. To the long list of porno-fantasies she shared with me last night after we got back from our night out with Henn and Hannah. To the way she stomped down that hallway, soaking wet in her G-string, after Reed’s party. To the way she kicked ass in each and every one of those banks. To the way she called me “babe” in front of Henn after he woke us up.
I take a long swig of my beer and stare at the dark river, Jonas’ words echoing in my head: If a guy needs more than all that to be eternally happy with one woman, then he’s either crazier than me or just a greedy-ass motherfucker.
Fifty-Eight
Kat
I look out the window of the taxi at the driving rain pelting the car window. My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I look at the screen.
“Hey, PG,” Josh’s text says. “I’m about to board a flight from JFK to LAX. Just wanted to say hi real quick.”
I smile at my phone. I can’t believe how attentive Josh has been these past few days during his trip to New York. What a stark difference from his prior trip to New York right before Las Vegas, when he sent me crap messages all week long like, “Hey, Party Girl!” and “What’s up?” Looks like Josh is ready to move past The Game Where We Pretend We Don’t Give a Shit. And that’s a damned good thing, because I stopped playing that game a long time ago.
“Hey there, Playboy,” I type. “I was just thinking about you. I just landed at SEA from... Dang it. What’s the airport code for Las Vegas? LVS?”
“LAS,” Josh writes.
“Well, aren’t you the airport-code guru.”
“Yeah, I know them all,” he writes. “My life is one giant airport code.”
“LOL. (That’s not an airport code, btw—that’s just me laughing.)”
“Thanks for the clarification,” he writes. “For a second, I thought you were flying in from Derby Field in Lovelock, Nevada.”
“Wow, you really DO know your airport codes. Why have you been to Lovelock, Nevada?”
“I haven’t. I only know LOL because I once read an article about funny airport codes. Other sidesplitting entries include SUX in Sioux City and OMG in Namibia.”
“LOL.”
“Derby Field!” he writes.
“Hey, it’s an airport-code version of ‘Who’s on First?’” I write.
“Totally. OMG.”
“Namibia!” I write.
“LOL.”
“Derby Field!” I write.
“Gah!” he writes. “Make it stop.”
I laugh out loud and the taxi driver’s eyes in the rear view mirror glance back at me.
“Can you talk?” Josh writes. “I’ve got a few minutes before boarding.”
“Yes, sir. Call me now.”
When his call comes in, I pick up immediately, smiling broadly.
“Hi, Playboy,” I coo.
“Hi, Party Girl with a Hyphen,” he says. “How are you, beautiful?”
Wow, he sounds incredibly chipper. “I’m great. I’m sitting in a taxi on my way home. How are you?”
“Well, I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and feeling fine as wine, thank you for asking. The world is my oyster.”
“Wow. You sound extremely perky today.”
“I am. Jonas and I told my uncle we’re leaving Faraday & Sons the other night, and yesterday we mapped out the transition with the board of directors. I’m so excited, I’m bouncing off the walls.”
“Congratulations. Does this mean you can finally tell me about what you and Jonas are planning?”
“Yeah, but I’d rather tell you in person in between kissing every inch of your naked body. It’s too awesome to explain in a brief phone call.” He makes a celebratory grunt. “I’m so pumped.”
Holy shitballs. He’s acting like that “kissing-every-inch-of-your-naked-body” comment was a total throwaway, but it took my breath away. “I’m so excited for you, Josh,” I breathe.
“Thanks. Can’t wait to tell you about it when I see you, which by the way, is the reason I wanted to talk to you. When are you gonna come see me?”
“As soon as possible,” I say, though the words catch in my throat. Josh and I were together in Las Vegas for only a week, after all, though it certainly felt a whole lot longer than that, and, now that I’m back in Seattle and returning to my real life, I feel unsure of where things stand between us. “So, hey, thank you so much for flying Hannah and me first class, by the way—we geeked out the whole time. It was awesome, but totally unnecessary.”
“Kat, please, you can’t fly coach.” He makes a
sound like he’s shuddering.
I laugh, but I’m not entirely sure he’s kidding.
“It was my first time, actually,” I say. “Wow, the seats are so cushy and the flight attendants are so damned nice.”
“That was your first time out of steerage? Oh, the humanity.”
“Yeah. Hannah’s too. She kept asking for extra peanuts just to see if they’d bring ’em.”
“Well, get used to the idea of unlimited peanuts, babe—I see lots and lots of peanuts in your future.”
My heart stops. What does that mean? Is he saying that, since I’m about to become a mill-i-on-aire, I’ll be able to book first-class tickets any time I please on my own—or is he implying he’ll regularly be flying me first class... to visit him?
“Oh, hey, guess what?” Josh says. “Henn has some ‘work’ in Seattle next week. What a coincidence, huh?”
“Yeah, Hannah told me. They’ve already got dinner plans. We’re invited to join, if we can.”
“Next week? Nope. If I get my way, you’ll be here in L.A. next week, acting like my paid whore.” He snickers.
Holy hell. Josh is positively on fire right now. This is as relaxed and easygoing as he’s ever been with me.
“Speaking of which,” Josh continues, “I’ve been thinking about how to pull off all your mini-pornos, and I think I’m gonna hit ’em out of the park.”
I giggle. On our last night in Vegas, after coming back from our night-on-the-town with Henn and Hannah, and after having some freaking awesome sex, Josh and I lay in bed together and I told him chapter and verse about each and every one of the mini-pornos that regularly play inside my head. The man was so enthusiastic he even pulled out his laptop and started taking notes.
“Some of that shit’s gonna be like putting on a fucking Broadway show,” Josh continues, chuckling, “but I’m up for the challenge.”
I cup my hand over my mouth to keep my voice from traveling to my driver.
“You don’t have to enact every fantasy I told you about—” I begin, but Josh cuts me off.
“Oh, I’m doin’ em all, PG—and I’m doing ’em right. Fuck yeah, I am. I’ve got a few things I gotta pound out at work for the next week or so,” Josh continues, “but then I’m all yours, baby. So what’s your calendar look like for a visit some time next week?”