Tremble

by Alison Foster

  She waits for me outside Triple 8, a Chinese bar & grill. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and a sweet smile, but as soon as we sit down, she’s on to me.

  “Jesus, what happened in Santa Barbara? You look like you worked a double shift at a Tijuana brothel.”

  “That’s a charming way of putting it,” I say, rubbing my temples.

  “Headache or head spinning?”

  “Pounding headache.”

  “Pounding? Huh, interesting word choice,” she teases. “Did your rambunctious fiancé go thump in the night?”

  “No, I’m a good girl, remember?”

  She looks disgusted. “I try to forget. You need to get laid as much as you need caffeine right now.”

  The waiter appears magically as if on cue. He’s handsome but his lips are pursed together like all types of mirth are his enemy.

  “Two caffe lattes,” Jules tells him. “And tell Paco to cook me up a crabmeat omelet. Oh, and a slice of cake. Chocolate. She’s going to need it.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. We don’t have a crabmeat omelet on the menu,” he says politely.

  Jules stares up into his piercing brown eyes. “I’m an off the menu kind of girl. Tell Paco. He’ll know exactly who it’s for.”

  The waiter stares at her, curiously, before nodding and disappearing.

  “He’s young, but he’s kind of sizzle hot,” Jules says as she watches him walk away. “Half Chinese, half white if I know my Eurasian mix chart.”

  “Maybe it’s time you do more than rate every man you see,” I say, trying not to rate Lukas in my head. He’s a perfect ten on a bad day. In and out of his shorts. Damn, I need to relax.

  Jules lands her eyes on mine like a slap. “There isn’t a man on Earth that deserves this little treasure. And don’t change the subject. What manner of mistakes were made at your cousin’s wedding? Were they messy?”

  So my condition is that obvious. “Not yet. Not really. All I know is I might be a little bit doomed. Lukas has infected my brain. I can’t have a chain of thoughts he doesn’t find his way into. At times I feel like I’m sinking or sliding down a wet slope. Just falling, losing control.”

  Jules lifts her eyebrows, concerned. “You need to bite a pencil, Nora. Or maybe something bigger. Calm down and start from the beginning.”

  I exhale. “For starters, his fucking eyes are so fucking attentive and beautiful.”

  “Oh, boy,” she says. “You got it bad.”

  “Yeah,” I say, “but I don’t want it or need it. I have plans.”

  “What a bad break, Nora,” Jules says. “A hot guy that you’re into wants to ride you all night like the pony express. How will you ever survive?”

  “That’s not fair. You know how distracting men can be to a woman’s plans. You especially. You avoid dating so you can build your career.”

  Jules looks confused. “That’s not true.”

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “I guess we don’t have time to fix your delusions right now, but stick a pin in that. We’re coming back to that as soon as I can stop this fucking hamster wheel from spinning in my head.”

  “I would totally date the right guy,” she says defiantly.

  “Oh, yeah, I know, as soon as he exists.”

  “You’re dumb,” she says.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I say. “I can’t do my job anymore.”

  “Nora. This is easy. Call Lukas. You’re about to be married. Let him bring all his bigness over to your house and ravage you. You’re just one mega orgasm away from a cure. If you are looking for my permission to do something stupid, then you have it. But don’t think you’re not going to tell me all about it, because you are.”

  “So you admit it’s stupid,” I say.

  “It would be far stupider to let your brain turn to mush for one year and get fired and walk into traffic mindlessly and get run over by a truck which is all going to happen if you don’t let him do what both of you need.”

  “Jules, I saw him in his underwear. He totally set it up so I would.”

  “Big boys do that,” Jules says matter-of-factly.

  “He was,” I say.

  “What?” she says, growing excited.

  “So thick,” I confess under my breath.

  “My goodness,” Jules says, putting her hand on her heart.

  The waiter shows up with our caffe lattes and I bite my tongue until he goes. I tell her everything in a rush. I tell her about my wet dream in the car on the way to Santa Barbara; I tell her about the proposal on the beach; I tell her about the incredible kiss; and I tell her about the night after the wedding when we were both in heat and almost did the deed. I even tell her about the odd moment after swimming when we had the strange staring contest.

  “Honey, I want to say that this all sounds so juicy and good, but I know that’s the last thing you want to hear,” Jules says. “But if I am being honest, what’s more important than your strange interludes with Lukas is how your family took your sudden engagement.”

  “Well,” I say with a laugh, “at the end of all this I had to listen to Lukas explaining the details of his imaginary profession as a market research analyst to my Aunt Sonya over brunch—and let me tell you, he did his homework. Aunt Sonya had him bent over laughing as she spun the story of how I tripped and fell into the fish pond on graduation day.”

  “That was classic,” Jules says with a chuckle. “Your skirt rose up in the water and everybody had a nice see-through view of your wet panties. Good thing I suggested we get Brazilians the day before.”

  I give her a stern look. “Why is it that every time I embarrass myself you call it a classic?”

  Jules looks confused. “Is that a real question?”

  Slurping my latte to wake me up, I shake my head. “Bad friend.”

  “Oh, hush, I’m your best friend. I just don’t want you to take every little thing that happens so seriously. You need to trust yourself.”

  She’s missing the point. “Jules, just explain to me why he was so sweet and caring after the wedding and then the next morning at the beach he was so over the top. He looked almost possessed. He locked on my eyes. I’ve never had anyone stare at me so intensely. It was more than him being horny.”

  “Maybe he’s falling for you,” she says.

  “Can you be serious?”

  She taps her fingers on the table as she glances at me. “Nora, you’re spirited and have a cute butt. And you rarely smile for men when they’re trying to be charming. That fascinates them.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, they’re easily fascinated when there’s a cute butt involved.”

  “This is LA. It’s a parade of all that everywhere you go,” I cut her off. “He’s not falling for me. He’s horny. That’s all it takes. That’s all it is, but maybe there’s something else he wants besides the obvious. I don’t know. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Oh, no. This is not one of your conspiracy theories again? You’re a sucker for that stuff. Take your cryptic glasses off. He told you he likes you.”

  “Any man would say that to get into a girl’s panties.”

  “And is he in shortage of girl’s panties?” she says, exasperated.

  “Now he is,” I say. “He’s signed a contract.”

  “Just ask him, Nora. Ask him why he looks at you the way he does. Ask him why he’s constantly flirting with you. Be straightforward. Don’t back down until you get the answers you need. You do remember how to get answers from a guy?”

  I don’t have time to respond.

  “One crabmeat omelet and a slice of chocolate cake,” the waiter says, glancing down at me.

  Jules grabs his wrist. I’m astounded. Being physically aggressive is not her style at all. “Could you help us?” she asks.

  Our strapping young waiter seems lost for a second. He clears his throat as Jules slowly releases his arm. “What can I do for you?” he says.

  “What do you think of my friend?” Jules say
s, pointing at me. “Do you think she’s a hottie?”

  What the fuck, Jules? I’m mortified.

  He hesitates, considering the situation. Poor guy. When he finally arrives at an answer, he unleashes a toothy smile. I want to slide down my chair and hide under the table.

  “Absolutely. A complete hottie,” he says, winking at me.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” Jules says triumphantly.

  He grins again. “Anything else, ladies?”

  “No. We’re all good in the hood,” Jules says.

  Yet another waiter mesmerized by my friend Julia.

  “See?” she says as soon as the waiter has gone.

  “That was awkward,” I say under my breath. “I see nothing. A waiter looking for a tip is roughly the same as a man looking to get laid. Both unreliable witnesses.”

  “My God, Nora! Did you even see the way he looked at you?”

  “Yes, like a man.”

  “Exactly. He’d do you in a heartbeat.”

  “Which proves my point,” I insist. “I don’t need an ego boost here. Men are men. I get it.”

  “You so don’t get it,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “Lukas has merely discovered the sexy, beautiful side of you which you have sadly never even found yourself.”

  “Just eat your crabmeat, Doctor Freud,” I say, sipping my coffee.

  She does and munches on it unladylike and then proceeds to talk while she chews. “I prefer Carl Jung,” Jules says, swallowing. “Listen, sugar pie, I’ve seen the way Lukas looks at you. He’s smitten. He likes the way you shut him down. You’re new to him. A challenge. But that doesn’t automatically make it cheap. Maybe there’s magic in the moonlight.”

  *

  We walk together to our cars. My blood freezes when I notice a black Yamaha motorcycle with two yellow stripes across the fuel tank parked a few parking spaces away.

  I tell myself there must be many such motorcycles in LA when I catch a glimpse of Lukas in the distance. He’s not alone. He’s with a young, beautiful blonde wearing tight leather pants and jacket. His passenger, no doubt.

  As they near, I duck down behind the car.

  “What’s happening?” Jules says, crouching a little.

  “Lukas. He’s here.”

  “Where?” she says as I pull her closer to the ground.

  “Right here,” I say, whispering. “Get down.”

  “Okay, but why exactly are we hiding?”

  “He’s with someone,” I say. “A girl in tight pants.”

  Jules rises a little to take a peek. “Yeah, I see them,” she says. “They’re talking in front of a motorcycle. Those are tight pants.”

  “That must be the kind of girl he likes,” I say, defeated. I hate the flood of petty thoughts in my head. I understand we’re not actually together, but this man proposed to me two days ago and now he’s taking another woman on a bike ride. My blood boils and I can’t stop it.

  “Are they all cozy?” I ask Jules. “Does it look like she’s a client?”

  “Their backs are to us,” Jules says. “See for yourself.”

  I fight through a sinking inertia to get my eyes high enough to see Lukas standing with his hands in his pockets. He’s talking to his companion. She nods a couple of times and begins to talk herself. She spins an animated tale to my nodding fiancé. He seems enthralled in all that Miss Leather Sexy Pants has to say. I can’t see her whole face but I can tell she’s gorgeous.

  They laugh and a hidden knife cuts through my stomach. Lukas raises his hand to rub her cheek gently. I feel faint. I shouldn’t watch this but now I’m paralyzed. I don’t want Lukas to know I’m here. I don’t want to know anything about this woman. I don’t want to have eyes to see this.

  Lukas gets on the motorcycle. The woman gets on snugly behind him. They put their helmets on. Her arms wrap tightly around his waist.

  They buzz away down the street like a bad dream.

  Jules gets up first. “That was awkward.”

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” I say, opening my purse desperately to find my keys.

  Jules grabs the keys right out of my hand. “Nora, look at me. You’re in denial, okay? It’s far worse than I feared.” She takes both of my hands. “You’re incredibly jealous. We need to do something about all this.”

  “There’s nothing to do, Jules. Drop it.”

  Jules rests her hands on her hips in a menacing way. “Stop deflecting, Nora McRae.” For a petite girl she can be formidable.

  “Did I tell you that he calls me Mac?” I say to immediately deflect.

  “He does? Well, Mac, you need to simplify and live a little. Go deal with your sexual frustration. Whether it’s with Lukas or a vibrator or whatever, I’m cool with it. Get yours, understand? Stop keeping in a million thoughts and desires. It’s not healthy. You’ll implode.”

  “I’m trying to get mine, that’s the point of all this shit,” I say. “Thanks to my incredibly manipulative father and his bullshit marriage clause.”

  “We’re not perfect,” Jules says, almost reflectively. “Everyone has to compromise sooner or later. My whole existence is surfing through one bullshit clause or contract after another. Eventually, you get through, but you have to take it one day at a time.”

  “Really?” I say. “All your advice distills down to one day at a time?”

  “I’m a contract lawyer who hasn’t been laid in an amount of time that neither of us must ever utter aloud. Should you really be seeking relationship advice from me? You’d have more luck with a fortune cookie.”

  She immediately hands me a fortune cookie that she put in her purse at the restaurant.

  “You have props?”

  “I have everything in this bag,” she says. Jules kisses my cheek and gets into her car. Her window rolls down. “Don’t lose your job over this, Nora.”

  I watch her drive away. When I get to my car, I slowly put on my belt. In my right hand I hold a partially broken fortune cookie still in its wrapper.

  I exhale all my frustration and carefully begin to open the plastic and then crack the cookie. The little white paper inside reads, Don’t panic!

  Funny.

  Chapter 11

  Nora

  Lukas stands tall inside the doorframe of his Studio City apartment. It’s ten in the morning and from the looks of it, he’s been up for some time. He’s sweating through a sleeveless workout shirt.

  “You said I could call on you in an emergency,” I blurt out. I’m totally making shit up and I don’t know why.

  “I said that?” he says, unable to remember what never happened.

  “Something along those lines,” I say, barely.

  “Oh,” he says. “Okay.”

  The fact is I have his address from the legal documents we signed and all he said was to call whenever. I stretch my neck to peek inside his apartment, but he slides to block the view.

  It hits me that he’s hiding something. “You’re not alone?” I say.

  “I was,” he says with some delay as if recovering from a short episode of amnesia. “Come on in. It’s a bit of a mess.”

  He’s not kidding either. It’s way beyond a mess. Socks and shirts and underwear are on and around everything. Books and pizza boxes are stacked haphazardly in too many places to count. I make a mental note that Lukas Dupree must be a reader and not just assigned books.

  “I just got back from a run,” he says. “I was trying to find something.”

  “How do you find anything in here?”

  “I don’t mind chaos,” he says as he clears debris off a chair.

  “That’s clever,” I say, immediately regretting my smug tone.

  “So what’s the emergency?” he says, closing the door with a kick.

  The what? Ah, yes, those were my words. There’s no way around it. The more I stall, the more awkward this will become. I showed up at his doorstep because I thought I’d lose my nerve on the phone. That and a gnawing curiosity about where he lives.
/>   “Jules told me it’s silly to push you away,” I say.

  “Really?” he says. “In what sense does she mean?”

  I panic. “I don’t know. That’s what she said. Thought you might know what she meant. You two seem to think alike.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Jules is a smart cookie,” he says, “but I don’t feel pushed away.”

  “You’re being polite,” I say. “I know I can be a little cold.”

  He nods. “Nora, just be yourself. Don’t worry about me. I think you know I am the ultimate realist. I’m good.”

  “Is that like a mantra?” I ask. “You’re good? You’re always good? Nothing ever throws you off?”

  He stares at me intensely. “What are you saying? Is everything okay? Do you feel all right?”

  “I feel all right now that I’m near you.” I can’t believe I just said those words. My breathing becomes heavy.

  A torturous heartbeat passes before I find myself in his arms. He kisses me wildly. I can’t breathe. His tongue rolls inside my mouth, twisting and tasting my tongue and lips in a dizzy flurry.

  I’m sure I’m panting a little. He slides my thin, short sleeve cardigan down my arms until it falls to the floor. All I have on underneath is a black cotton tank top. His hands slide from my shoulders along my ribs, then outline my breasts before they fully cup them, squeezing them a little too hard.

  His tongue never leaves my mouth. My arms coil around his neck, pulling him close as I taste every molecule on his lips and tongue.

  Lukas swipes away clothes and books from the couch, pulling me down with him. I land on his lap, grinding my butt against a healthy erection. He kisses my neck madly. My original objective seeps into my thoughts. As good as this feels, I need some answers from him.

  I put both hands on his chest, pushing him back.

  “Wait, Lukas, wait,” I say breathlessly. “I have a confession.”

  “I’m not a priest,” he says, pulling my arms down.

  I manage to push him away again before his lips reach my lips.