by L.H. Cosway
The cougar and a middle-aged man come after her, matching black silk robes on, shouting and waving their fists. If their anger didn’t have me so on edge, I’d probably laugh at what they’re wearing. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but when Jay rolls down his window, I catch the tail end of a tirade that ends with, “Little bitch!”
Jessie hops straight into the back seat, yelling, “Put your foot on it, Jay — we need to get the fuck out of Dodge.”
The couple are in front of Jay’s car now, and there isn’t enough space for him to get around them.
“What did you do, steal their wallets or something?” Jay asks, chuckling and reversing, trying to figure out a way past the fuming husband and wife.
“You were taking too long, and they kept trying to convince me to take part in a threesome. I let my temper get the better of me and smashed a tray of crystal glasses. Now they want me to pay for the damage. Pair of fucking nutjobs.”
“I hate to break it to you, but it sounds like you were the nut in this situation, Jess.”
“Hey, I’m allowed to be angry. It’s not my fault I’m offended by the idea of sucking a cock,” she jokes.
Sticking his head out the window, Jay calls to the couple, “Listen, you’re going to want to move out of the way before I run you both the fuck over.”
“That crystal was an anniversary gift!” the man shouts. “She owes us six hundred euros.”
“For a couple of glasses?” Jay asks. “Are you high?”
“They were Waterford crystal!” the wife wails.
“Well, since they were a gift, you haven’t really lost any money, now, have you?”
“They had sentimental value!”
“Call it payback for sexual harassment!” Jessie shouts from the back seat.
The wife marches toward the car now, and Jay reverses further. “You knew exactly what this was about, Jessie,” she says, gesticulating wildly. “So don’t go acting all innocent.”
“I didn’t know you had a fucking husband. No, you decided to spring that on me once you’d lured me into your lair.”
“You should be flattered that we invited you into our home, you little tramp.”
“I’d rather be a tramp than a dried-up old hag!”
At this the woman dives for the car, but Jay reverses just enough so she doesn’t collide with his bumper. He ends up on the lawn, and manages to swing around and head straight for the exit, leaving tire marks all through their flower beds. I turn in my seat to see the two chasing after the car. I hope they didn’t get the chance to memorise his licence plate.
Soon we’re well clear of the house and back on the road. I let out a long sigh and turn to Jessie, asking with concern, “Are you okay?”
“Oh, no way, Matilda,” says Jay, putting his hand on my thigh. “Don’t go giving her any sympathy. She got herself into this situation, so she only has herself to blame.”
“She didn’t know the woman had a husband,” I say, my voice quiet.
“Yeah, I didn’t know,” says Jessie pointedly. “And thank you for your concern, honey, but I’m fine.”
“You shouldn’t have caused a scene,” Jay mutters, eyeing Jessie sharply through his overhead mirror.
“But it’s what I do best,” Jessie replies, and sticks out her tongue.
I turn to look out the window, but Jay doesn’t move his hand from my thigh. His fingers are pretty close to a certain place, and I have a hard time breathing for a second. He gives a little squeeze, and God, it makes me want things I don’t want to want.
There’s a couple minutes of silence. Jay breaks it when he starts to mimic Jessie. “‘It’s not my fault I’m offended by the idea of sucking a cock.’”
Jessie snickers. “Shut up.”
Jay sighs. “We both knew that one was going to be trouble.”
“Trouble is fun, so long as there’s no husband involved.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got to stop letting your temper get the better of you. One of these days it’ll get you into the wrong kind of trouble, Jess, the un-fun kind.”
“Okay, Dad. I won’t point out that you’re hardly a poster boy for self-control.”
“Yeah, you won’t, but you just did. Anyway, I’m not your dad, and thank fuck for that. You were a little hell-raiser.”
Jessie laughs and slumps back in her seat, folding her arms. “So, how did your night go?”
“It was going great until we had to leave to come rescue your ass.”
“Yes,” I put in, turning to wink at Jessie, “there was a very attractive redhead coming onto Jay. You totally cockblocked him.”
He squeezes my thigh again, his voice low when he says, “She didn’t cockblock anyone. I never planned on going there.”
I don’t know what to say now, so I say nothing. Jessie’s soft chuckling drifts from the back. A couple of minutes later, we arrive at her apartment and she hops out, tipping her imaginary hat to us.
“Thanks for the ride, you two,” she says, and then skips her way to the entrance.
“How do you know Jessie?” I ask as Jay pulls away from the curb.
“Known her since I was a kid. Before my parents died and I went to America to live with my uncle, we were best buds at school. When I moved back here, I looked her up. Turned out she was doing pretty badly. Her entire family had disowned her when they found out she was gay, so she turned to drugs. I got her into a clinic, helped her find a job. The rest, I guess, is history.”
“Wow. That was really nice of you.”
Jay shrugs. “It is what it is.”
The remainder of the drive home is quiet. In the house, Jay follows me upstairs. When I get to my bedroom door, I turn back to say good night, only to find he’s standing right behind me, a look in his eyes that makes me feel hot all over. There’s something dark in his gaze that I can’t translate. The air between us is thick, and as the seconds tick by, I grow nervous. I need to get away and I’m not even sure why, so when I find my voice to speak, I tell him good night before quickly hurrying inside my room.
And when I lay my head on my pillow, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t broken the moment.
***
Saturday passes in a lazy fashion. I spend most of my time reading my Kindle out in the garden. We’re going through a sunny-weather patch. My book choice on this occasion veers toward the emotionally intense romantic kind, but I’m not going to analyse why that is. I suppose the way Jay was looking at me last night has me in need of a bit of lady porn.
Speaking of Jay, he’s currently camped out at the table by the glass sliding doors, a tonne of books and his laptop open in front of him as he researches God only knows what. Every once in a while I’ll let my eyes wander in his direction, and I’ll find him looking back at me pensively. Then he’ll smile and return his attention to his research. Other times he won’t be looking, and I’ll be unable to tear my eyes off him. He’s wearing a tight grey T-shirt that showcases his muscular arms perfectly, the toned lines of his shoulders.
As the day draws to a close, I start to get all nerved up for the seminar tomorrow. I have no idea what’s in store for me. I just hope Jay keeps his promise and behaves himself.
Morning comes, and I dress in a simple blue summer dress with some black heels. I’m not in the mood to put in my contacts, so I slip on my glasses instead. Arriving downstairs, I find that Jay has yet again made me breakfast, oat pancakes smothered with honey.
“You are paying rent, you know. You don’t have to make breakfast every morning to keep Dad sweet,” I say with a soft laugh.
“How do you know he’s the one I’m trying to keep sweet?” Jay replies with a flirty grin, waggling his eyebrows and taking a seat opposite me.
I stuff a forkful of pancake into my mouth so I don’t have to respond.
“How about we make a deal?” says Jay. “I’ll do breakfast every morning if you do dinner every evening. That way it’s even.”
I grin as I c
hew. “Okay, you’re on.”
About an hour later, we arrive at the Hilton for the seminar. The receptionist in the lobby directs us to a function room where there’s a big banner hanging over the entrance. It reads: Kick-start Your Love Life with Simon Silver.
We’re each given a goodie bag and then ushered inside. Two women standing in front of us keep peeking over their shoulders at Jay, giggling to one another.
“Your gay act better be convincing,” I whisper to him. “Otherwise, I think you might have a swarm on your hands by the end of the day.”
“What are you going on about, Watson?” Jay asks, walking over to a water cooler to get a drink. I follow him.
“I’m going on about the fact that every woman in here has her eyes on you, and although that might sound appealing right now, it won’t be when we have a stampede on our hands,” I joke, though I’m also kind of serious. Today he’s wearing a midnight-blue shirt tucked into a pair of denim jeans, his svelte waist accentuated by a brown leather belt. The sight is more than a little appealing.
“Now, that would be interesting,” says Jay. He pauses for a second, hand on hip, then finishes with a camp, “Girlfriend.”
I put my hand over my eyes. “Oh, God. Please let me know when you’ve stopped doing that, whatever it is you’re doing.”
His deep chuckle moves closer to me and then his warm hand is on mine, pulling it away from my face. “Okay, I won’t do it again. I’ll just be one of those non-flaming gays.”
“I think that might be for the best.”
He continues laughing as he guides me to a seat about three rows from the front.
“Perhaps we should sit a little farther back,” I suggest. “I don’t want to be singled out to talk.”
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” says Jay, pulling me down to sit.
A woman sitting alone two seats away keeps sneaking glances at us. It’s plainly obvious that Jay is about as homosexual as Gerard Butler in the movie 300. On second thought, no, I need to think of a better comparison. 300 was so excessively straight it was actually unconsciously super-gay.
A few minutes pass by, and the conference room begins to fill up. Soon there are hardly any seats left. It’s reassuring to me that I’m not the only woman out there who’s hopeless with men. I can even spot a few girls my age in attendance.
A blonde sits down on the other side of Jay, smiling demurely and giving him a quiet but interested, “Hello.”
I want to stab her with the complimentary pen provided in the goodie bag. Okay, I should probably calm down. Just because we’re housemates doesn’t mean I have any ownership over Jay. He’s a free agent. Free as a bird, really.
Now, there’s a depressing thought.
Rummaging through the aforementioned goodie bag, I pull out a pamphlet containing ten top tips for finding a date. I’m starting to skim through it when some hip modern music comes through the speakers and a well-dressed woman in her twenties walks onto the stage. She does a quick intro for the event and then says, “So, without further ado, I give you Simon Silver.”
Jay snorts next to me. “That can’t be his real name. He sounds like a pirate from a kids’ TV show.”
I suppress a laugh, because it’s sort of true.
“Yeah, well, not all of us were blessed with ultra-cool names like Jay Fields,” I tease, and his body goes slightly rigid. Did I say something wrong?
Focusing my attention back on the stage, I deduct that Simon’s probably in his mid-thirties, though it’s hard to tell because his hair has blond highlights and he’s sporting a seriously hard-core fake tan, the kind gotten through years and years of sun beds. He’s even wearing a diamond earring in one ear.
I hadn’t really done too much research into the event, so this is actually the first time I’m seeing the man in the flesh. I can’t say I’m impressed. In fact, I’m feeling that squirming sensation in my gut that tells me this could turn out to be a massive cringe-fest.
Nine
Simon Silver stops right in the middle of the stage, wearing a headset microphone. “Okay, let’s get straight to business,” he says in his Australian accent. “I want each of you to take a piece of paper and write down your top five essential attributes of an ideal partner.”
Women all around me start to rummage for their note pads and pens. After a moment of hesitation, I do the same. I have to try my hardest not to wince, because Jay’s sitting back in his chair, casually watching me. As I start to scribble down five traits, Jay angles his head to see what I’m writing. I cover the page with my hand so he can’t look.
“Shouldn’t you be writing, too?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Don’t need to.” He smirks and taps his forehead. “I’ve got it all in here.”
I concentrate on my page again. So far I’ve got: funny, smart, protective, and motivated. Deciding to hell with it, I finish off the list with handsome.
“Have you all got your five traits?” Simon asks from the stage, and there are murmurings of “yes” from the audience. “Great,” he continues before setting his sights on an Asian woman in the front row. “Hello there, what’s your name?”
The woman stands up and puts her hand on her hip before answering, “Meesha.” She seems confident and sassy. If he’d singled me out like that, I’d probably have forgotten how to speak.
“All right, Meesha. Would you like to read your list out for everyone?”
Meesha picks up her piece of paper and, without any hesitation whatsoever, starts to read, “Wealthy, good-looking, strong, sexy, and a big dick.”
Simon chuckles, his bleached teeth glowing against his brown skin. “I take it you mean you want him to have a big dick rather than be a big dick.”
Meesha laughs uproariously. “Yes, yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Funny, sounds like she was describing the latter to me,” Jay whispers conspiratorially.
Sounds like she was describing you, I think. Although I have no clue if the “big dick” part is accurate.
Slumping back in my seat, I mutter to myself, “Remind me why I paid eighty euros for this?” I must have said it louder than I thought, because Simon Silver’s gaze lands on me.
“Hello! The brunette over there in the third row wearing blue, would you like to go next?”
Oh, God, no. It’s happening. I’m the singled-out singleton. Voice don’t fail me now.
“Not particularly,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, could you speak up?”
I sit up straighter. “I’d rather not.”
“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here,” says Simon. “A lot of what we’re going to work on today will be about confidence building. And what better way than to do a bit of public speaking, eh?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I rub anxiously at my neck, so roughly I’ve probably left a big red mark.
Just as Simon’s about to make further efforts to convince me, Jay comes to my rescue. “My friend’s a little shy. How about I go instead?”
All of a sudden Simon becomes aware that there’s a man in the audience. Shock, horror. And he doesn’t seem too pleased about it.
“But of course. Go ahead,” he says, a wary glint in his eye as he gestures for Jay to stand up.
Jay stands, his eyes on mine the entire time. I send him a silent look of thanks. “Okay, my ideal girl will be classy, funny, beautiful, sensitive, and she’ll have a great fucking rack.”
Furious giggling breaks out all around us, and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly embarrassed. Apart from “sensitive,” I’m not sure if I’m any of those things.
Simon chuckles. “You do realise this is a seminar to teach women how to find men, right?”
Jay shrugs. “I must have missed the memo.”
“All right, well, a lot of what I teach will be useful for dating women, too. So you’re welcome to stay.”
“Gee whiz, thanks,” says Jay with no small amount of sarcasm b
efore sitting back down in his seat. Simon gives him a hard look but then plasters a big smile on his face seconds later.
“Okay, the next part of this exercise requires you to take those five attributes, and I want you to focus mainly on the personal qualities rather than appearance, and turn them on yourself. I want you to question whether or not you possess the qualities you want your partner to have. If you don’t, then do you have a right to demand them of others? Furthermore, what can you do to cultivate those qualities in yourself?”
I look down at my list: funny, smart, protective, motivated, and handsome.
Jay nudges me with his shoulder. “How are you doing so far?”
“Well, I am the handsomest lady I know, so that’s a start.”
“And I’ve got a fucking awesome rack, but remember, we have to leave out anything related to appearance.”
“Right,” I reply, half laughing as I bite my lip nervously.
“So…?”
“I’m not very good with self-analysis.”
“Let me see.”
I hand him the list, and he looks it over. “Funny? Check. Smart? Check. Protective? Check. You’re always looking out for your dad. Motivated? Check again. I don’t know anyone who’d work a forty-hour week and then come home every evening to work more on making dresses.”
“Jay! I hate to admit it, but you’ve just made me quite like myself.”
He frowns. “Why wouldn’t you like yourself?”
“I don’t know. Self-loathing is kind of a human disease, isn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t be here right now if I went around thinking I was flipping fantastic all the time. If I did that, I’d have no trouble picking up men.”
Jay’s about to say something when Simon starts to speak again. “Well, how did you all do?”