Prelude: Book One in The Interlude Duet

by Auden Dar

  I sigh, smile, and remember our first date.

  A few days after we first met, Andrew picked me up at my grandparents’ home. It was obvious it was his first date as well. Sweat had formed around his hairline. His palms were damp, and even through his glasses, you could see his eyes twitched with nervousness. Nana took me aside. “Is he all right, Lina? Should we take him to the doctor’s office?” She and I had never witnessed anyone like Andrew before. Andrew hadn’t made any plans for our first date; just showing up at my home was enough planning for him. He took me to McDonald’s. Oh, how I miss those times. Unlike the Andrew I know today, the Andrew I went on a first date with enjoyed a Big Mac, large french fries along with a chocolate shake.

  I can’t believe he’s the same guy who drank chocolate shakes daily for years. I continue to stare at the photo of Andrew holding a vegan shake. He had just finished telling me one of his corny jokes.

  This is the man I love.

  Okay, I’ll have a nice dinner with Julian, do some shopping tomorrow, enjoy Marcel’s birthday celebration then return to LA on Sunday. You can do this. But dammit, he has me so freakin’ excited. If I were a dog, I would have been humping his leg a few minutes ago.

  I need to do something. Anything.

  First, I need to call Andrew. As usual, his cell goes directly to voicemail. Rather than try him at his office, I leave him a message letting him know I’ve made it safely to San Francisco.

  Second, a text to Roger:

  ME: Hey! I’m in SF.

  ROGER: Are you okay?

  ME: It was weird at first. Now, it’s as if we’ve never been apart. Remember the guy in the café?

  ROGER: Of course! Still thinking of him!

  ME: That was or rather that is … Julian.

  Roger doesn’t respond immediately, but when he does, I almost fall out of my bed with laughter.

  ROGER: I’m on the first flight. I’m willing to do a threesome with you two.

  ME: Ewww.

  ROGER: Were you freaked out?

  ME: What do you think?

  ROGER: Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Darling Films is on the other line. I want to hear all about him! Let me know if you need anything. Love you.

  ME: Love you too!

  Freaked out? Surprised? And strangely attracted to a man who I had once considered a brother. This is not right.

  I’ll take a nap. That should help.

  I’m lying down with my head propped on two pillows when my phone begins to play Jennifer Lopez’s “Ain’t Your Mama.” Oh Patti. Patti Weiss is my best girlfriend. She and I met several years ago when we were both assistants for the same music executive at a small record company. For a year, we endured hell together as our chauvinistic boss belittled, sexually harassed, and then fired us at the same time.

  I pick up the phone and before I can utter “Hello,” on the other end of the line is the thickest Long Island accent I love hearing. “Oh, my Gawd, I am getting married.”

  Propping myself up on the bed, I shake my head. “What?”

  “I’m soooo fucking in love. I’ve been holed up at the Delano with the most amazing man ever!”

  “Patti, are you high right now?”

  “No, I’m really in love, and I’m fucking engaged!”

  “What? How? You don’t even have a boyfriend. Last week, you were telling me how much you love playing the field.” She was literally playing the field, having slept with at least three of the players from her beloved baseball team. Two were during a threesome.

  “I know, I know. What can I say? I love them Mets. I’m supposed to eat Kosher but I love pork. Life’s way too fucking short. I want to live my life happily. And now, I’m absolutely ecstatic. I’ve met my match in Louie Goldberg.”

  Louie Goldberg?

  No, I can’t be hearing right. My best girlfriend is one of the horniest women I have ever met. Standing at least five-foot-ten, her long, curly dark brown hair (that she spends a fortune getting straightened at a Japanese salon), huge brown eyes, double D breasts that she proudly tells everyone are real, and a foul mouth to go with it, Patti is in a league of her own. A bit thick all around, she’d rather eat her steak and mashed potatoes with gravy all day long than to have to go on a diet. Patti is also quite enamored with Jennifer Lopez and somehow has convinced herself that she is a Jewish version of JLo. Suffice it to say, although beautiful, Patti does not look anything like Ms. Lopez.

  Even though my best girlfriend has slept with several members of her favorite baseball team, she would not just date anyone, let alone get engaged in a matter of days. She thinks sleeping with the same person for three months is too long of a commitment. I remain quiet as she proceeds. “I met Louie at JFK. We were waiting in line at the security checkpoint, and while my bag was being searched, one of the security guards took JR out.”

  “JR?” I ask.

  “Where have you been? JR is my handy yet large purple vibrator. It’s just like the one I showed you online but larger. Way larger. Anyway, this tiny little man, with short dark hair began to laugh. And I was like, ‘what the fuck is wrong with you? Never seen a vibrator before?’ I was tired and annoyed. It’s been days since I’ve had sex. Anyway, little man surprised me when he said, ‘You’re too hot to use a vibrator.’ Aww, I had to look down. He’s all of five-foot-four, if that, and as I continued to curse, I walked away from him. Believe it or not, he had a fucking smirk the entire time. So while sipping my free champagne, the man who annoyed me at the security line earlier sits next to me. I almost choke and think to myself, shit, I have to sit next to him for three fucking hours. I pretended not to remember him, and after an hour on the plane, he tapped my leg with his finger and finally said something. Are you prepared for this?”

  “Yes! What did he say?”

  “That little man had so much chutzpah. He told me, ‘Gorgeous, I really meant it when I said that you’re too hot to need a vibrator.’ As I continued to sip the champagne, I began to feel warm. Actually, hot. You know I’m not into little men. But he was something else. Oh, my Gawd, he’s just too cute. Think a smaller version of Adam Sandler.”

  “Okay, Adam Sandler in Billy Madison or Adam Sandler in The Cobbler?” I ask, hoping it’s the cuter Adam Sandler.

  “Fucking Billy Madison of course. Now let me get back to my story.”

  “Thank God. Adam’s adorable in that film. Okay, I’m sorry, continue.”

  “So little man then, I tell you without any qualms, told me that he would love to bury his face in my pussy before we land in Miami. A man after my own heart!”

  I laugh so hard that I almost fall off the bed. “No way! Don’t tell me … you didn’t, did you?”

  Patti admits, “Fuck, yeah! Come on, how the hell was I going to turn that down? Before I know it, we’re both in the bathroom, and let me just say; he made good on his promise. That Louie was a fucking tiger with a capital T! Well, he totally loved my pussy. He fucked me so good with that tongue of his. He got all up in there.”

  Too much info, Patti.

  She shrieks with laughter, and I can hear someone in the background.

  “Yeah, I finally joined the mile high club. Louie was coming here for a little vacay as well. We had such a great time on the plane that we decided to go to my hotel together. Let me tell you, he may be short but that man is packed. I mean he walks around with a bottle of Evian in his pants all day long. God, he fucked me so good. We haven’t been out of our room in four glorious fuck-filled days! He’s even fucked my−”

  I interrupt her immediately. “No! Don’t! Please. Don’t. Go. There. That’s too much, Patti.”

  “Oh, my Gawd, you really need a good fuck, Lina.”

  “Tell me about it. Well, now I know why you haven’t been answering your phone. I don’t know what to say except you sound really happy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound this good before.”

  “I am. I am beyond ecstatic. Sometimes, I wonder if this is all a dream. “

  “I hear som
e guy in the background … uh, is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

  Patti doesn’t answer my question; instead, I hear a man moaning in the background.

  It takes everything in me not to laugh. “Patti, I can hear him, so he’s not a dream. I’ll let you go.”

  “No, no, I’m good. Louie needs to learn to have a little patience,” she discloses as if she’s teaching her fiancé a lesson.

  “Uh, okay,” I answer awkwardly. “So how did he propose? I want to know it all. Don’t leave out any details.”

  “Oh, my, Gawd! He was so fuckin’ romantic. We were in the shower, and he just popped the question before going down on me. And after I came, he surprised me with a ring.”

  Patti’s account of the romantic proposal makes me laugh so hard that I snort. The man sounds like he’s perfect for her.

  I’m still laughing when she says, “Since you are my best girlfriend, you must be my maid of honor. No ifs, ands, or buts. Capische? And no way am I going to have your so-called fiancé in my wedding party. Capische?”

  Patti and Andrew have never liked each other, so I am not surprised that she doesn’t want him in the wedding party. And although Patti and I are both from New York, we couldn’t be more different. Born and bred in Long Island’s Plainview neighborhood, Patti is from an enormous Jewish family. I am touched that of all the people she could have asked, including one of her five sisters, she has asked me to be her maid of honor. For the past few years, I have really hated going to weddings. It was just another reminder that I wasn’t married although I’ve been engaged longer than the couples getting married. But since this is Patti’s wedding, I am beyond ecstatic.

  “Lina, I’m sorry, but Louie just took his pants off, and he’s hard as a fucking rock.” She cracks up. “Oh, Roger texted me earlier and mentioned you’re in Frisco and you’ll be home next week. I’ll be back as well unless one of my clients fuck up. Oh, and don’t tell Roger, okay? I want to be the one to tell him he’s going to be a bridesmaid.”

  “Go, go to your fiancé. Oh, my God, that sounded weird. I’d love to be your maid of honor as long as you don’t make me wear an ugly dress.” I chuckle although a part of me is serious. “I love you, Patti.”

  “I love you, too, my chiquita bonita.”

  Seventeen

  A soft knock on the door interrupts my nap.

  “Lina, it’s Julian. May I please come in?”

  I have drool all over both pillows, and my hair is in tangles, but without hesitation, I tell him it’s okay to come in. I blatantly gawk at him as he walks toward me.

  Now sitting on the edge of the bed, Julian’s hand tugs my left foot. “Sleepyhead, it’s six twenty. Did you forget about our dinner date?”

  Still groggy from an awesome nap, I answer. “Uh, no, I didn’t forget. I fell asleep and … let me change, and I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.”

  Julian rises from the bed. “You look great. You don’t need to change. Let’s just go. I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

  “Do we have reservations?”

  “No, but we’re going somewhere great. Trust me?”

  I nod my head and in a matter of seconds, he leads me out of the room.

  Four and a half Coldplay songs later, we enter the Golden Gate Yacht Club and I feel underdressed. When Julian stops the car, he immediately reaches for his phone and informs someone of our arrival. As I stay seated in the passenger seat, Julian gets out of the car and opens the door for me.

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m famished.” My stomach agrees when it makes a loud gurgling growl.

  “Did your stomach just growl?” He raises an eyebrow, and a slow grin forms on his face.

  “Umm, yeah. I told you I was famished.” I glance sideways, embarrassed by my stomach’s admission.

  “Well, let’s get you fed.” He begins to laugh and that deep laugh really does something to me. It makes me happy.

  A young teenage boy with a head full of wild curly red hair sprints toward Julian handing him two huge white bags. In return, Julian gives him a Ben Franklin.

  “Everything is in there, Mr. Caine. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you, Kyle. And this is Lina.”

  I shake his hand, and in a matter of seconds, he’s off. Even though we’ve just reconnected today, Julian comfortably reaches for my hand after shifting both bags to hold one of his. I can’t help but feel utter contentment with him as we head toward our destination, walking hand in hand.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be nice to eat on the boat tonight.”

  “Boat?”

  “Yes. But if you get seasick, we don’t have to. But I don’t ever recall you getting seasick. Am I mistaken?”

  “No, not at all. Your dinner plan sounds lovely.”

  “You’re lovely,” he says, softly.

  Lovely.

  When was the last time Andrew called me ‘lovely’?

  Unable to contain myself, I form the largest grin ever placed on a face … ever.

  The intimate marina is quiet. When we finally reach the end of the dock, Julian points at a large sailboat named Elisa. My heart swells, and I’m deeply moved by the sentiment. Although her name doesn’t slip from our lips the entire night, her beautiful memory lingers.

  When my stomach growls, Julian teases me. “Were you recently on a hunger strike? You really are hungry. I’ll give you a tour later. Do you want to stay up here or go inside?” I opt to stay out on the deck, enjoying the cool air while Julian prepares our meal in the cabin below.

  “Sir, we can leave in a few minutes,” I hear someone calling out.

  “Yes, Brandon, that would be perfect.” Julian joins me on the deck, placing a gray cashmere shawl around me. With his arms wrapped around my shoulder, it’s not the shawl that warms me. It’s the insanely hot man beside me. We stand quietly, both of us staring ahead and allowing the cool San Francisco air to invigorate us. I tip my head slightly, and without a thought, I place it against Julian’s chest. I feel relax and simply enjoy this moment with someone I have missed for so long.

  We sail along the bay, stopping twenty minutes later.

  “This is wonderful.” I marvel at the spectacular view and know I’ve never seen anything like it before.

  “I always come here alone when I’m in town. It offers me privacy and somewhere I can simply be. But with you here, it’s perfect. I want to share something else with you.”

  “What?” I ask in wonder.

  “This,” he says as he directs my eyes to the sunset. The view of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco in the background was beautiful, but the yellow, orange and red hues of the sunset might have been the most spectacular one I have ever witnessed.

  “I want to show you something else.” Taking my hand, we walk around the sailboat. “There,” he utters, pointing at a solitary house on the cliff.

  “Wow! That’s stunning and so private.” I stare at the small mid-century home, perched proudly on a cliff side.

  “I have been admiring that house for years. When I first started coming here, I would always wonder what it would be like to own that particular house. I love that it’s not massive like most of the homes in this area.”

  “Have you been inside?”

  “Yes, a few times actually. I’ve met the current owner and he doesn’t want to sell. Every few months, I stop by the house and make him an offer.” He stares in awe as if seeing it for the first time.

  “Julian, there are other homes in the area. Why this one?”

  “Besides being a mid-century house on a cliff? Besides having a view of the most amazing bridge ever built?”

  I smile, remembering his fascination with bridges. “Okay, you got me there. But there must be another home like this one?” I ask while admiring it.

  “Just because,” he offers with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

  “You can’t tell me ‘just because.’ Th
at’s not right,” I say, curious about the home that my childhood friend wants to purchase.

  “I’m sorry. This one is special. There’s history behind the house.” He pauses, “There’s so much more to it. One day, when the time is right, I’ll reveal the real reason.” Julian takes my hand, squeezing it a bit. “Let’s eat. I think I just heard your stomach growl again.”

  “It did not.”

  “It certainly did.” He kisses my forehead without any reservation. And it feels right.

  Perfect.

  I try to forget the wonderful sensation of having his lips on my forehead. I try to forget the warm and tingly feeling I have when he’s next to me. “You have me curious. You know I won’t stop asking about the house.”

  Shaking his head, he says, “I know. I promise. All in due time, but for now, let’s eat and enjoy this night.”

  This is not a real date, but at this moment, this time together is special for both of us. My gorgeous host continues to hold my hand and squeezes it lightly every now and then as if to assure himself that I’m actually with him. I can’t believe I’m here with him after all these years. It’s amazing how time changes us and changes the way we see people. I admire Julian, and although he’s still the same young boy I grew up with, he’s now a man.

  A handsome man! His dark locks, which touch the collar of his shirt, are longer than I’m used to. A strong part of me longs to feel it between my fingers. Something tugs at my heart as I continue to study him. There’s something sad about him. I think about his life; a life filled with heartbreak and loss. And as I sit here, even with the desolation in his eyes, I can also see he’s been able to move forward and become successful. I smile at the thought of his mother being proud. I continue to assess the man before me, and as he stares at the view in front of us, I can’t help but have my heart filled with contentment.

  The weather in San Francisco at night can be cool, and tonight is no exception. Even with the shawl on my shoulders, I shiver. Realizing that I am uncomfortable, Julian leads me to the main cabin where we enjoy our local San Franciscan cuisine. Unlike our lunch earlier, when we sat and ate mostly in silence, tonight is filled with great conversation. Topics include movies, music, and books, and I realize that even after years apart, we still have so much in common. We talk with such ease that it doesn’t seem like years since we last spent time together. I glance at my watch and notice five hours have passed by so quickly.