Jenny Lopez Has a Bad Week

by Lindsey Kelk; Lindsey Kelk

  ‘Yeah, you do,’ I agreed. ‘Let me know where.’

  The doorbell rang as the clock struck seven. Well, at least I could assume he would always pay his rent on time.

  ‘Let’s get this over with,’ I told the mirror as I buzzed him up.

  ‘Jenny!’ He looked delighted when I opened the apartment door. Then gave me a once-over, adjusted his expression to curious and entered the apartment. Handing me flowers on the way in.

  Flowers?

  ‘Hey Sigge,’ I stretched and set the posies on the kitchen counter. A man who brought flowers when he hadn’t done anything wrong? I could get used to this. ‘Sorry the place is kind of a mess, I had a crazy day.’

  ‘Oh, me too,’ he agreed, turning to give me his full megawatt smile. He was so tall and it was so bright, I felt as if I was looking directly into the sun. ‘I had a shoot this afternoon. I was doing crunches all morning.’

  ‘Really?’ Yeah, gay male model roommate might work out just fine.

  ‘Really,’ Sigge nodded, making his blond hair fall into his pale blue eyes.

  ‘Yeah, I’d have to see something like that before I believed it.’ A little bit of mischievous banter was just what this apartment needed. Banter and abs.

  ‘See?’

  Wherever Sigge was from, they weren’t big on joking around. Right there in the kitchen, he pulled up his shirt and displayed the most perfectly defined stomach I had ever seen. It was everything I could do to keep my hands to myself. I had no idea what Sigge’s shoot was for, but I would be buying whatever it was in bulk.

  ‘Um, impressive?’ I gave myself a mental shakedown, tried to suppress my ladyboner and pushed past him. ‘So, you want the tour?’

  ‘This is the American custom, I am told,’ he assented with a graceful nod. ‘The tour of the home?’

  ‘Well, yeah.’ It was an exclusively American custom to give someone a tour of the apartment they were thinking about renting? Europeans were weird. ‘So this is obviously the kitchen.’

  ‘Where you cook?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah right,’ I shook my head. I shouldn’t get his hopes up. ‘And the kitchen leads into the living room.’ Kitchen was really overdoing it: the fridge, sink, tiny stove and microwave that lined the walls as you entered the apartment led into a room dominated by my beloved sofa and the wonderful, wonderful TV.

  ‘The bathroom is just here; it’s tiny but I’m sure you’ll fit,’ I pointed down the hallway, cutting him off when he tried to speak. ‘Questions at the end of the tour. And this is the bedroom.’

  No point showing him my room. And it would be too depressing to have such a fine specimen of man inside those four walls when the closest we’d ever get to going to bed together was a potential pillow fight.

  ‘The bedroom?’

  ‘You don’t want to see the bedroom?’ I couldn’t help but smile at the look on his little face. He seemed so confused. His English was great so it wasn’t as though he didn’t understand. What was the problem? ‘Did you want to ask me anything before we did this?’

  ‘No,’ he returned my smile. ‘Show me the bedroom.’

  ‘It’s got a great view.’ I scooted round the bed to open the windows and turned to point out the sights. ‘You can see the Chrysler Building if you look this—’

  Before I could finish my sentence, Sigge launched himself on me. All six foot whatever of giant man meat was pressed up against me, my back cold against the window. Once I’d got over the shock of the tongue in my mouth and regained my balance, I pushed him away hard, kicking him in the balls for good measure. Man, those abs really were hard.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I squealed, knocking him onto the bed. ‘Dude, no!’

  ‘But you brought me into the bedroom?’ He looked genuinely upset. And like I’d landed a pretty good kick to the nuts.

  ‘You came to see the bedroom,’ I pointed out. ‘And you’re gay.’

  ‘I’m not gay,’ Sigge protested from the bed, still cradling his crotch. ‘And I did not come to see the bedroom, I came to see you. I thought you wanted me to … do that.’

  ‘Attack me? It wasn’t at the top of my to-do list,’ I yelled. And then I realized what had happened. ‘You didn’t come to see the bedroom?’

  This really was not ideal. I pressed my fingers against my lips.

  ‘I can’t say I wasn’t hoping I would see it at some point,’ he replied, standing up awkwardly. ‘But I was thinking perhaps drinks or dinner first.’

  I put my hands on my head and winced. ‘You thought this was a date?’

  He nodded.

  ‘But you said you were looking for somewhere to live.’ I pulled my ponytail tight. ‘I thought you were gay. My friend thought you were gay.’

  ‘I am looking for somewhere to live but not with you!’ He threw his arms up in the air and looked to the ceiling for an answer. ‘Everyone thinks that I am gay! I am not gay!’

  ‘You’re not gay?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘And you thought this was a date?’

  ‘I did. This is why I asked for your number. This is why I arrive with flowers at seven on a Friday night. I’m Swedish, I’m not stupid.’

  ‘Shit.’

  Turns out it wasn’t just Sadie’s ex who underestimated models. Actually, I wasn’t sure if confusing someone’s sexual advances with the desire to rent a room counted as underestimating them.

  ‘I am very sorry.’ Sigge brushed himself down and vanished out of the bedroom. ‘I’m going to go.’

  I sat on the windowsill and tried to think about what a state I looked. And what a fuck-up I’d made. And what amazing abs he had. I heard him shut the front door loudly. I was only sad I hadn’t had my head in it when it slammed. One step forward, two steps back …

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘And then he slammed the door and vanished.’ I relayed the story of Sigge the Heterosexual Stud to Angie and Erin the next morning over a lot of bacon and a very strong mimosa at Manatus. ‘Seriously, what’s wrong with me?’

  ‘If it helps, it’s totally only your man powers that are off.’ Erin nibbled on a piece of toast. ‘I still don’t know what happened with Sadie but I was more than happy to pick up the three thousand-dollar hotel repair bill. She even asked for your details. There was a scary rumour going around that she liked you.’

  ‘Say more things like that,’ I demanded. ‘Tell me how great I am.’

  ‘You know I think you’re great.’ Erin was good at doing as she was told outside a work situation. ‘And I know you said you needed to think about it, but I really do think you should come work for me. How does Operations Director sound? It’s a fancy title for kicking everyone else’s ass when I’m not around. And it could maybe be three days a week to start? So you can still fit in the styling gigs?’

  ‘Given that I still don’t have a roommate, I can’t really say no, can I?’

  ‘You can’t,’ she grinned. ‘Welcome to the team.’

  ‘Man alive, what have I done?’ I raised my mimosa in a toast.

  ‘Yeah, dude. Seems like a mistake,’ Angela said as she clinked my glass.

  ‘You two have totally taken on each other’s catchphrases, you know,’ Erin joined the toast. ‘Assimilation is complete.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why I couldn’t tell that Sigge was straight,’ I suggested. ‘I’ve picked up your shitty gaydar.’

  ‘I want to defend myself but I can’t.’ Angie held up her hands. ‘My track record is altogether too public on that one. And I haven’t helped myself here. But still, can’t you call him or something?’

  ‘After the guy showed up for a first date with flowers and I immediately led him into the bedroom then accused him of attacking me?’ I shook my head. ‘I feel like that’s what we call “mixed messages”.’

  ‘I can’t believe he brought flowers,’ Erin sighed. ‘A hot guy brings you flowers and you fuck it up. Oh, Lopez.’

  ‘That just made me more sure he was gay!’ I wailed, face
on the table. ‘What kind of straight guy brings flowers on a first date! He hasn’t had a chance to do anything wrong.’

  ‘Pre-emptive posies,’ Angie said through a mouthful of bacon. ‘I feel responsible.’

  ‘You always feel responsible,’ I reminded her. ‘And you always should. All of my man problems are your fault.’

  ‘All of them?’ she gave me a questioning look.

  ‘Ninety-five per cent,’ I relented. ‘I’m blaming the other five per cent on booze.’

  Because it wasn’t physically possible for me to get through a meal without my phone ringing, I was almost down to my last mouthful of home fries when it buzzed to life in my purse. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I couldn’t help myself, I had to answer.

  ‘Just a sec,’ I said, hitting answer and excusing myself from the table.

  ‘So rude,’ Erin said loudly while Angie laughed. I sometimes needed to remind myself why I was friends with those two.

  ‘Hello?’ I turned my face up to the late summer sunshine on Bleecker Street and took a couple of steps away from the restaurant. ‘Jenny speaking.’

  ‘It’s Sadie,’ a voice announced. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  Hi Sadie, how’s it going? We only met yesterday but don’t let that bother you. Who has time for pleasantries anyway?

  ‘You’re looking for a roommate,’ she went on, regardless of my silence. Maybe my silence wasn’t laden with enough pissiness. ‘And I’m looking for an NY apartment.’

  ‘You want to buy my apartment?’ I felt how Sigge had looked the night before. ‘I don’t own it. It’s a sublet.’

  ‘No,’ she actually tutted at me. ‘I want to be your roommate.’

  I let the stunned silence settle for a moment.

  ‘You want to what now?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ she replied, her voice matter of fact. ‘My apartment is in Miami and I’m never there. And I’ve been thinking about going to school, maybe part-time. NYU is a great school for understanding creative schedules. James Franco goes there.’

  ‘Do you know James Franco?’ I asked with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Yeah? Kinda?’

  I tried to calm myself.

  ‘And besides,’ she softened slightly. ‘You’re like, the only person I ever met who actually tried to help me instead of just telling me what to do.’

  Surely she wasn’t serious?

  ‘Look, Sadie, my apartment isn’t fancy,’ I tried to explain as politely as possible. ‘It’s in Murray Hill, it’s tiny, the bathroom doesn’t have a bath. I’m pretty sure you’re used to something a little more luxe.’

  ‘I’m used to hotel rooms, sleeping on planes and walking in a straight line for three minutes with intense jet lag. Why do you think models always look so pissed off on the runway?’

  I frowned. This was a tough one. Not her question, the overall proposal. I assumed they looked pissed off because they had the same relationship with ice cream as Sadie had demonstrated the day before.

  ‘And I told you. I’m lonely.’

  I hated when people pulled out the emo guilt card. Because I fell for it every time.

  ‘OK, let’s do it,’ I agreed, immediately regretting it. ‘But if you don’t like it when you get there, you can totally back out.’

  ‘No worries,’ she actually sounded relieved. ‘I’ve got a really good feeling about this. My psychic thinks it’s a great idea.’

  Ahh, shit.

  ‘I’ll text you my email address and you can send me all the details,’ she said. ‘I’ll be over tomorrow, roomie!’

  I was an idiot. The only thing worse for a girl’s self-esteem than living with a gay male model would be living with a straight female model. Especially when you’d just turned away the hottest guy who ever lived by calling him gay and then accusing him of sexual assault. I didn’t think kicking him in the balls could have helped me that much either.

  ‘Anything exciting?’ Angie asked when I sat back at the table.

  ‘I have a new roommate,’ I nodded.

  ‘Ooh, who?’ They both looked excited. Oh, the joys of cohabitation. It was sad that they had to live their single lives vicariously through my misadventures.

  ‘Sadie,’ I replied, making intense eye contact with the saltshaker. ‘Nixon.’

  It was amazing that the pair of them didn’t choke to death, they were laughing that hard. Assholes.

  I was the first to admit that taking on a random roommate was a risk, but it was a risk that had worked out well for me before. And, like Sadie said, she travelled a lot. I figured we’d hardly ever be home at the same time. And she had no problem with the rent or security deposit I’d asked for. Bonus. And hadn’t she said she knew James Franco?

  Out of sheer contrariness, I decided to walk back to the apartment. I didn’t have anywhere to be, well, until I started work on Monday, and it was a beautiful day. A little cooler, a little breezier and a lot perfect. An hour’s stroll through NYC was just what I needed. I headed north, through the West Village, up to Union Square and then made my way east. That’s where it got a little dull and I was forced to turn to my phone. I couldn’t remember what I’d done before I had an iPhone. I guess I used to think more about things. It was possible that the day I became an acolyte of Steve Jobs was the same day I lost my ability to read people in any way, shape or form. Nothing made sense if it didn’t have an Apple logo on it.

  I flicked through my emails, my texts, swiped past menus of games. And there, at the bottom of my app menu, I spotted something I didn’t remember. Oh man, it was the OK Cupid app. And it was flashing! I had messages! From men! My excitement subsided pretty quickly when I realized most of the messages started with ‘hey hot stuff, cute pic’ and included many emoticons. But still, I was officially still desirable to things with penises. This was a result. But where was the message from my dream man? Oh. Oh! It was there, I had a message!

  ‘You can’t be Oprah,’ I started reading out loud, despite the funny looks I was getting on the street. ‘I never wanted to fu— oh no,’ I looked up, red faced. The gist of the messages was that he hadn’t had the same biological reaction to a photo of Oprah that he’d had to mine. Which was kind of a compliment in a way. Only not. AJJ78 was not the one.

  Angie and I had made vague plans to meet up again later in the evening but I had all afternoon to amuse myself. I knew I should really use that time to clean Sadie’s room but perversity was taking over. She said she didn’t need luxury, why start off by lying? She could take it as she found it. Although it wasn’t totally unreasonable to expect me to clean the toilet. Which meant I needed toilet cleaner.

  Somehow the afternoon had gotten way hotter on the last leg of my walk, and so it was, red, sweaty and laden with Lysol, that I found my guest on the bottom step of my apartment. I dropped the Lysol. He picked it up. Shame he didn’t pick up my jaw at the same time.

  It was Jeff.

  ‘Hey.’ He held the bottle out to me as though I might bite. Cry yes, bite no.

  ‘Hi.’ I took the bottle back and cradled it to my chest. Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. He was on my doorstep. He was at my apartment. ‘What’s up?’

  I waited for him to drop to his knees and tell me what Angela had said about his being engaged was wrong and that he was actually here to take me away forever and ever and ever amen, but instead he just kind of shuffled on the spot and messed about with his belt buckle.

  ‘Seen Angela recently?’ he asked.

  ‘Earlier today actually,’ I replied. My mouth was completely dry. Why was this so hard? ‘Brunch.’

  ‘Oh, I saw her coming in just now. I, uh, she didn’t say.’ He was nodding to himself, not quite looking at me.

  There wasn’t any time to worry about how shitty I looked so I concentrated on trying to avoid bursting into tears. Preventative measures. ‘Should she have?’

  ‘I guess not.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I, uh, I have news.’

  ‘You’re joining the French Forei
gn Legion?’ Hysteria was very fast becoming an option for me. ‘Or you’re gay. One or the other.’

  ‘Yeah, no,’ Jeff bit his lip and squinted down at me. ‘I’m engaged.’

  ‘You know,’ I shoved the Lysol into my purse, even though it didn’t fit, and simultaneously ransacked it for my keys. Where the hell were they? ‘There are these amazing inventions called phones. This sounds like phone news. Why don’t you go home and give me a call and leave my answering service a real nice message?’

  ‘Jenny, please.’ He reached out for my arm but skin-on-skin contact was too much. I pulled back. It burned.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ Jeff pleaded. ‘Jenny, I need one moment, please—’

  ‘Uh, is this a bad time?’ Another voice interrupted the thoughts of violence streaming through my head. I wasn’t certain as to whether I would be visiting that violence on Jeff or just on myself. Jeff wasn’t a short man, but Sigge towered over him. He was taller, blonder and he was there. It was too weird.

  ‘Sigge.’ I stopped searching for my keys and stared up at the Norse god in front of me. Had I fallen in front of a bus on the way home? ‘Hi.’

  ‘Your boyfriend?’ Jeff asked.

  ‘None of your business,’ I replied.

  Why was it, when twenty-three hours out of the day all I wanted was to fall to my knees and beg Jeff to come back to me, now that he was here, on my doorstep, in front of me, I just wanted to punch him?

  ‘Should I come back another time?’ Sigge looked even more unsure than he had the day before. And that was impressive.

  It took me a couple of seconds to pull myself together. So far today I’d got a new job and a new roommate. Did I really want my old boyfriend? Well, yeah, I did.

  I looked from Jeff to Sigge, from Sigge to Jeff.

  Maybe I needed to take some of my own advice for a change.

  ‘Jeff, seriously, call me. I can’t talk right now.’ I turned my back until I heard him sigh and give up. My heart broke a little but I forced a smile for Sigge. ‘Hi, what’s up?’

  ‘I can come back another time,’ he said in a halting voice. The implication being that he really wouldn’t be coming back. ‘I just came by to apologize.’