by Lisa Ferrari
“I can loan you some money.”
“No. I don’t want you to do that.”
“Why not? I can afford it.”
I hate discussing money while we’re naked. But it seems we’re doing it. “That’s not the point. We need to be on equal ground. You taking over all my bills puts you on higher ground. I don’t like that. Besides, how are we getting to San Diego? We don’t have a car.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“But I have to work.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. I took care of it.”
“What do you mean, you took care of it?”
“I called your boss and got your shift covered.”
“You called Nancy?” Um, hello! Boundaries!
I don’t know what to say.
All I can think of is, “But she hates people trading shifts. She had a fit the last time I got the day off to go to Sears Point for the Kids and Cars day.”
“She was perfectly sweet on the phone with me.”
“But how can you just call my boss and ask for a day off for me? That’s so weird. It’s so unprofessional.”
“She and I chatted quite a bit at the Turtle. She seemed cool.”
“How did you get her to go along with it?”
“I told her I was taking you out of town for a romantic weekend because you’ve been working really hard and needed a break.”
“And she bought that?”
“Absolutely.”
“How did you get her number?” I have a mental image of Kellan snooping through my phone.
“Off the website. I googled the name of the place and called her up.”
“Wow.” I’m not sure how I feel about all of this.
But the notion of spending another weekend with Kellan, naked, certainly beats the notion of carrying trays and wearing that stupid tuxedo shirt and dodging Chris and his endless stream of advances.
I decide to be happy. Kellan is right, so screw it. It’s just a job. One shift doesn’t matter. And as long as Nancy is cool with it, I should stop questioning it and should shut up and enjoy it.
With that settled, I return to enjoying the view of the lights outside our window. And the feel of Kellan warm and soft and naked and perfect beside me.
We talk about Thanksgiving and Sheila’s offer.
Kellan says he understands if we need to go to my family’s for dinner but Sheila’s would probably be more fun. She and Gary have a place on the beach with a pool and a view you can’t believe. They have three kids and two dogs who love the ocean.
It does sound fun. It would certainly be a novel way to spend Thanksgiving. Much more interesting than sitting at the little round table with my parents and Beth, with hardly anyone talking, and my mom going on and on about how she’s making ten grand a month selling old vintage postcards on ebay, and plying me with pumpkin pie and Cool Whip.
I’m torn.
New, fun experience with new, fun people while incurring the wrath of parental judgmentalism?
Or familiar, not-fun experience with familiar, judgmental family who will no doubt talk all kinds of crap about bodybuilding with Kellan sitting right there at the table?
God help me.
IN THE MORNING, Kellan makes coffee and we head downstairs for our fasted cardio.
After we shower and bathe, we visit the restaurant for eggs and fresh fruit and more coffee. We gather our things and check out.
Outside, where people are coming and going, I see a gorgeous little red convertible sitting there with the top down. I point it out to Kellan.
“Wow. Look at that little car. That is beautiful. And sexy. What is it?”
“Pontiac Solstice.”
It’s so cool that Kellan recognizes it immediately. He certainly likes his cars.
“Too bad they don’t make them anymore,” he says.
“Why not?”
“During the financial crisis of 2008, General Motors had to downsize so they shut down the whole Pontiac line and closed the plant where these were made. I always wanted one but didn’t have the money at the time.”
“You should get one now.”
“I already have three convertibles.”
“Maybe I should get one,” I laugh, joking. I do love it. I could totally see myself driving it.
“You could. Sell your Toyota, put the money toward one of these.”
“How much do they cost?”
“This one was ten-thousand-five-hundred.”
“How do you know that? And what do you mean ‘was’?”
“Because I already bought it. For you. It’s yours.” Kellan holds up a set of keys.
“What?”
“It’s yours. I don’t like those sounds your Toyota is making. Sounds like a spun cam bearing. That’s bad. I’ve been looking all over the place for one of these for you. Nick down at Huntington Lambo found this and got it up here for you. Here.” He hands me the keys.
“Are you kidding? I can’t take a car from you.”
“Sure you can. You take the keys, say ‘Thanks, Kellan, you’re the best boyfriend ever!’ and then we get in and you drive us to San Diego. When we get home, we sell your Toyota and you give me the money and we call it even. I’m sure you could get at least six or seven grand for it.”
“What about the other three grand?”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ve given me more than three grand worth of pleasure.”
“So I’m a car-trading whore?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Look, if it bothers you that much, you can pay me back over time or work it off at the expos or whatever. Please don’t let it be a big deal.”
“But it is a big deal. This whole thing is a big deal.” I wave my arms, trying to encompass the whole of Los Angeles, the whole of Kellan, the entirety of my heart. “This is my life.”
“I know. And you deserve to have a good life that you enjoy. So here. Start with this.”
He holds out the keys, dangling them before me.
Tentatively, very nearly ready to shit my lacy little red Walmart thong, I accept them. “You’re crazy for giving this to me, you know.”
“I know. I almost bought this car for myself.”
“But you have the Vette. And your Mercedes. And the Huracan. And now the Mister Beaumont.”
“I know. But I’ve always loved this car. I think it’s one of the best looking, sexiest, most robust yet elegant, bad-ass sports cars ever built. It’s perfect for you. If GM has any brains, they’ll bring it back with a Chevy badge on it. But anyway, hop in and let’s rock and roll.”
I open the door and slide behind the wheel. Wow. It has a sexy red-and-black leather interior. I adore it immediately. I especially like the little red arrowhead Pontiac symbol on the steering wheel. It’s shiny and sparkly like a gem.
“It’s got a full tank of gas, courtesy of our friends at Huntington Beach Lamborghini. It’s not as powerful as the Huracan or the Stingray or the Mister Beaumont, but it still has two-hundred-and-sixty horsepower and is rear-wheel-drive, and it’s small and doesn’t weigh very much, so it’ll be fun to drive. And it’s an automatic so you don’t have to mess with shifting all the time, especially in traffic, which I hate.”
“When did you buy this?”
“About a week ago.”
“It’s been sitting down here for a week?”
“I was going to have a truck bring it to my place but then Aaron and Rami called and wanted us to come down for the reading so I had it brought here this morning. Do you like the red?”
“I love the red.”
“Because there was a yellow one in San Jose but it was two grand more and it had sixty-eight thousand miles. This one only has thirty-three thousand, which is crazy for a car like this. It’s practically brand new. Or there’s a silver one in Anaheim, but it wasn’t the turbocharged GXP trim like this one. A silver two-door is very British, very James Bond. But a red con
vertible is very American.”
“I love it. The red is perfect. Thank you.”
I throw my arms around his neck, squeeze him tight, and pretty much shove my tongue in his mouth. If we weren’t out in front of a famous hotel, I’d pull his pants down to show my appreciation. Which I suppose does make me a bit of a whore in some respects. But I’ve never been in love before, at least not like this. And no one has ever bought a car for me. Not ever. So showing this amazing man my appreciation with my body, heart, mind, and soul feels like the right thing to do. I look into his eyes and say, “Thank you. I love it. I absolutely love it. And I absolutely love you.”
A teeny tiny part of me wonders what he’ll say to that, but the rest of me doesn’t care. This is a perfect moment. A moment I know I’ll remember forever. One I’ll forever cherish. No matter what happens in the future. Whether I get the movie role. Whether Kellan and I stay together, get married, have a family… That’s all in the future. This is a perfect moment and I’m sitting here in the warm sun on a gorgeous November morning, looking into the eyes of the man I love.
Kellan looks back at me and says, “I absolutely love you, too.”
And the moment is even better.
WE DRIVE TO San Diego.
The Solstice is amazing.
It’s fast. It’s nimble.
When we get on the 405 southbound, I put my foot down in order to get up to speed, like I do in my Toyota. By the time we’ve merged into the center lane, I look down and realize we’re doing 105 miles per hour.
Holy traffic school.
I hit the brakes and bring us down to 70.
Kellan is smiling ear to ear.
We use Waze on Kellan’s phone to guide us to the hotel. San Diego is gorgeous. We drive over the big blue bridge. The view is breathtaking.
We pull into the hotel parking lot. The Hotel Del Coronado is equally beautiful. It’s like going back in time. No one builds stuff like this anymore.
I park the car and we hop out. My new car! Eek! I can hardly believe it.
“Denise is going to be so envious. Not that that’s the point. And she just bought that brand new BMW X-6. But she still will be.”
“Hand me your phone and stand in front of it.”
I hand him my phone and pose in front of the shiny red car. He snaps a pic.
“Go like this,” he says. He sticks out his chest and pulls his shoulders back and crosses one leg in front of the other. He could teach a class in posing for models. “Like you’re doing bench press. Pack your shoulders. Twist your shoulders toward me, hips straight ahead, front foot up on your toe…”
I try my best to do as he suggests.
“Flex your arms and suck in your stomach.”
I do it.
“Now flex the quad on your front leg.”
I do that, too.
“And smile! You have a new car!”
This makes me smile a genuine smile.
Kellan takes another pic. He comes and shows them to me. I’m still wearing my Iron Born tee shirt. The first picture is okay. I look like a girl with big boobs standing in front of a little red car.
But the second picture looks like a magazine cover.
“Wow! I look like…”
“Like a cover model. See how it’s all an illusion? I mean, you have to bust your ass and eat well and be disciplined and have a good physique, of course. But a lot of it is angles and lighting and knowing how to position your body. And getting lucky. Whenever I do a photoshoot, they usually take about a thousand pictures of me. About half of them are terrible, two-fifty are okay, a hundred are decent, and fifty are really good. We choose the dozen or so that are the best, and they get published or put online or whatever. You want to send this to Denise?”
“Are you kidding? I want to send it to everyone I went to high school with and every ex-boyfriend and every guy I’ve ever wanted but couldn’t get.”
I look up at Kellan and he’s grinning at me. “But I won’t. Let’s send this one to Denise and when we get home, we’ll take some of me naked in the garage, just for you.”
“Okay!” His eyes are alight. He likes this idea.
I quickly send the pic to Denise.
Got a great deal
on a new car
in L.A.
Couldn’t resist.
As I hit Send, I tell Kellan, “She’s going to shit.”
WE CHECK IN to the Del Coronado.
The porter carries our bags to the luxury cottage in the exclusive Beach Village area of the hotel grounds. The suite is huge and impressive, with a full kitchen and a living room with a fireplace. Everything is grey and white and cool. The bed is huge.
“Denise paid for this?” I ask Kellan, after he tips the porter a hundred bucks and the porter’s eyes open wide and he skips out of the room. “For a costume contest?”
“No, Denise paid for a standard room with a view of the parking lot. I upgraded us and paid the difference.”
The ocean view is astonishing. A long strip of white-sand beach stretches in both directions.
Kellan comes and stands behind me and puts his arms around me and holds me tight.
He kisses my neck.
All of a sudden my legs are like rubber, my stomach is in my throat, my heart is quickening, and I’m getting moist between my legs.
He murmurs in my ear, “Tonight, I want to make love to you standing right here, looking out at the water.”
“I would love that.”
My phone pings.
It’s Denise.
I KNEW I should’ve gotten
the little red BMW. Fuck.
Kellan and I read the message.
“ ‘Gee, Claire, congratulations,’ ” says Kellan. “ ‘Gee, Claire, I love your new car.’ ‘Gee, Claire, you deserve a new car. Enjoy!’ ”
He’s right. None of that. Denise can be a bit self-centered. But we did goad her into such a reaction by sending the pic.
But part of me says that’s bullshit; she should be happy for me. I was happy for her when she plunked down a hundred grand on her BMW. I didn’t complain. I didn’t whine about how broke I was. I knew she’d been busting her ass for more than ten years to become an attorney and pay her dues in a firm so she could make partner. And she did. The sexy black X6M was a tribute to that.
Well, whatever.
Denise is Denise. Warts and all. Nobody’s perfect. Certainly not I.
KELLAN AND I go for a walk around the hotel.
It’s a Victorian masterpiece built in 1886, with white buildings and red rooves and pointed cupolas.
I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve been transported into another time. I tell Kellan how I remember seeing this hotel in Some Like It Hot with Marilyn Monroe and Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon, but I’ve never been here. Plus, that movie is in black and white so it doesn’t do the hotel justice. They should do a remake in color. Maybe I should pitch that idea to Sheila and see if she’s interested.
I also tell Kellan that I heard this place is haunted.
“Cool, maybe we’ll see a ghost.”
“Maybe one day we should go stay at The Overlook Hotel in Colorado. That’s where Stephen King was staying when he got the inspiration for The Shining. It’s supposed to be haunted, too.”
“Oh, that’s right, you mentioned that while we were watching The Shining a few weeks ago before the Halloween party.”
I’m touched that Kellan remembers this minute detail I spat out at some point during our hours-long movies-and-sex Halloween movie marathon.
“Is that the actual name of the hotel?” Kellan asks. “The Overlook?”
“No, that was the name in the book. It’s actually called The Stanley. It’s about an hour from Denver, I think.”
Kellan continues, “Maybe we should go visit the ten most-haunted hotels in the country. We’ll stay a week in each place. That should give us enough time to see a ghost, right? Do you think you could get naked and have sex in a haunted hotel?”
“It’s kinda creepy, huh?”
On that note, we wander onto the grounds, where there’s a wedding going on in the grassy outer courtyard adjacent to the beach. We both stop to watch.
We then wander inside, to the ballroom, which is breathtaking with purple and pink and blue lights.
“We should totally get married here,” I say, before I realize what is coming out of my mouth and can stop myself. I immediately panic.
“Totally.”
I do a double-take at Kellan. I think my jaw is on the ballroom floor at my feet. “What?”
“Totally. This place is unbelievable. It’s perfect.”
Kellan smiles at me, kisses the back of my hand, and we continue walking.
I bask in my inner glow at the idea of saying “I Do” to Kellan and of him saying “I Do” to me, and of us being together for the rest of our lives.
A girl can dream.
We wander to the hotel gift shop and I discover a book, A Beautiful Stranger, which is all about the hotel haunting. I buy a copy and am excited to read it on the beach or by the pool. Or maybe while doing cardio.
I pick up a pretty blue-and-white striped beach towel with the hotel name and logo on it. But when I go to buy it with the book, the towel is $48. No thanks.
Kellan offers to buy the towel.
“We’re not spending forty-eight dollars on a towel. I got all my towels at Target for seven bucks each. They’re soft and fluffy and I love them.”
We bid the gift shop cashier good bye and head back to our room.
Minutes later, we’re naked.
Chapter 13
AFTER A THOROUGH romp in the humongous bed, followed by a brief cat nap, Kellan tells me to get up and put on my gym clothes, including my Iron Born tee shirt.
“This shirt is about ready to walk around by itself. It’s starting to stink.” My pits are a little ripe. Plus I have Kellan’s dried semen all over me. Not that I mind. I secretly love it.
“Just wear it for tonight. The concierge has full laundry services so it’ll be washed and dried by morning.”