“Life is expensive, and what you make in a month, I don’t make in a year.”
“We’ll go take a look at the condos in two weeks when they have their first open house.”
“And you’re going to pay for the whole thing?”
“I’ll sleep on it.”
“Joe, why don’t you just marry me? You know you’re crazy about me, and I’m the most fascinating and appealing thing in your life. Then we won’t have to waste money on some condo.”
It was impossible to deny. She was the most exciting and stimulating woman I’d ever met. Perplexing, frustrating, even irritating at times, but from the moment I set eyes on her I was in awe. Drop-dead gorgeous, off-the-charts brilliant, unpredictable, fearless, and for some crazy reason we were better together than apart. It didn’t hurt that she was reading my favorite novels one by one. Granted, the pages of those books would never be the same after her frenzied scribbles in every bit of free space, but I had come to appreciate that she devoured books the way she did a piece of red meat, a bag of cocaine, or me.
“If you don’t mind me asking, whatever happened to your father?”
“I cut his dick off while he was asleep, drunk. I locked the door to his room and he bled to death. It was ruled a suicide.”
We continued dancing, occasionally stopping to powder our noses and drink some wine. We eventually took the party outside and sat by the pool. Nancy decided to take a dip. It was hot, and all the coke only magnified the heat. I watched her walk to the edge of the diving board, and I swear at that moment I had never seen a girl so beautiful and sexy. She dove into the water without bothering to take off my coat. She swam the length of the pool and stepped out, dripping wet, my $400 jacket ruined, and walked up to me.
“Did you enjoy?” she giggled.
“Quite amazing!”
She took the jacket off and dropped it in a garbage can I kept outside. I threw her a towel and she dried herself off. “Do you mind if I put on another one of your jackets? I so love Armani!”
“Only if you promise to let me know when you plan on taking another dip, so I can take a picture and have the memory forever frozen in time.”
In the end, life is a series of moments. No one knew that better than I did, and no one was better at creating memorable moments than Nancy.
At ten o’clock that night we ran out of coke and debated whether we should order more. Wisdom won and we took two sleeping pills each, drank another bottle of wine, and passed out on the bed watching All About Eve.
Chapter Sixteen
After ten wonderful hours of sleep, I found my lovely Nancy sitting at my desk reading Sunday’s Los Angeles Times and, as usual, taking notes. Discarded pieces of the paper were strewn all over the place. She was concentrating so deeply that she didn’t hear me get out of bed and walk toward her. I bent down and whispered in her ear, “Sleep well?” She looked up and smiled, “Wonderfully, Joe.”
She was drinking a glass of wine and offered me some, which I gladly accepted. She reached for a list and handed it to me. “A recap of yesterday and all the promises you made to me.” At the very top of the list in bold was the promise to buy her a condo and pay for the entire thing. Just below that, she wrote, “But the wise thing to do, as we discussed, is simply to marry me, save the money on the condo, and live a happy and crazy life forever and ever with the girl of your dreams.”
She pointed out that she would sign a prenup just in case I thought she was after my money. Even though many other men had begged her to marry them, never once insulting her with the mention of a prenup, I was “too perfect a man to let slip by” without a fight.
Before I could finish reading the recap, Nancy informed me that she was moving in for the next two weeks. When I said I didn’t think it was a good idea, she sternly replied, “Yes, it is a good idea. It’s the only way you will know what a perfect wife I’ll make. Why blow your money on a condo when you can have the best thing in your life living with you all the time?” She decided that I didn’t need to meet her mother. “Let the bitch rot looking at reruns of The Dick Van Dyke Show believing that Mary Tyler Moore is her child.”
I took a large gulp of her wine. I didn’t have the mental capacity to argue with her just then. She added that she would not accept just living with me. It was either marriage or the condo. She was willing to compromise and try a 30-day trial period, but that was it. I told her I would think it over. It was a lot to mull over so early in the morning, and I needed a shower.
She informed me that she had already showered and had used my toothbrush, which she didn’t see any problem with. After all, we had already passed our germs to each other playing doctor and snorting a mound of coke from the same straw. She offered to cook breakfast, which was almost as big a shock as her ultimatum.
“I didn’t know you cooked.”
“I don’t, but if you’re willing to take a risk, so am I.”
I told her to order out and have it delivered. She was fine with that.
I walked into the bathroom and found a disaster area. The shampoo and conditioner bottles were on the floor of the shower. Sections of The Los Angeles Times were scattered around the toilet. My unrinsed toothbrush was sitting on the edge of the sink. She had apparently used my razor to shave her legs and God knows what else. I cleaned the bathroom as quietly as I could, for some bizarre reason not wanting her to feel self-conscious about the mess she’d made. Why I believed she might be self-conscious about anything I don’t know, but in spite of everything it was my nature to be a gentleman. Thankfully, I had a spare toothbrush under the sink. I got in the shower, closed my eyes, and let the cold water pound against my body until I was literally quivering with pain.
I got dressed and left the bathroom just as breakfast was delivered. Nancy was going through my wallet, taking out cash to pay the deliveryman. “Hope you gave him a good tip.” She smiled. “I always leave good tips.”
She chaotically set the dining-room table with plastic utensils and paper napkins from the delivery bag. She ate a piece of toast with scrambled eggs, and I tore through the six pancakes and six pieces of French toast she had drenched in butter and maple syrup for me. I was starving and ate it all, along with two glasses of wine.
“So did you think over what we discussed?”
“Nope, not yet. We have time.”
“If it’s no trouble, can you drop me off at my apartment so I can pick up clothes and other things I need for work?”
“No problem.”
“We can’t stay too long because I don’t want to run into the owner and get into a fight, even though he’ll probably be happy to hear that I’m leaving.”
Nancy finished her breakfast, took the glass of wine, and walked away without clearing any of the remains on the table. “Um, Nancy, sweetheart, did you forget something?” She turned back around and looked at me. “I don’t think so.” I pointed to her dirty remains from breakfast and said, “There’s a garbage can in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She picked up the mess and disappeared into the kitchen, then re-emerged with a full glass and a new bottle of wine. She refilled my glass, remarking, “You see, I can be perfect in so many ways.”
We drove back to her apartment a few hours later. The thought of going back into that hellhole was disturbing enough, but as luck would have it, there was a parking space right in front of her complex. We got out of the car and started to walk up the stairs, but I stopped and told her I’d forgotten something in the car. “Fine, just don’t be too long.”
I walked around to the manager’s office, knocked on the door, and walked in. The manager, a slight, effeminate man in his early fifties, looked up from the TV and said, “What can I do for you? We have no vacancies.”
“I’m here to pay Nancy’s back rent. Apt. 302.”
“Seriously, I was planning on kicking that sick bitch out at the end of month.”
“That sick bitch is my sister.”
“Doesn’t make her
any less sick.”
“How much does she owe?”
“She’s three months behind, including this month. So that’s $3750.”
I paid the man and told him, against my better instincts, that Nancy would be moving out at the end of the month.
“Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”
I entered Nancy’s apartment and the place looked even worse than I remembered. She was throwing clothes and books haphazardly into empty cardboard boxes. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I paid your back rent and told the manager you’d be moving out at the end of the month.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the right thing to do, Nancy.”
“Did you at least get my security deposit back?”
“Nancy, darling, have you ever been spanked?”
“Not that I recall, but who knows, it might be fun. I’m game if you are. Does that type of shit turn you on?”
“No, Nancy, it doesn’t, but if you keep it up I’m going to take off my belt.”
“Oh, please, you would never hit a woman.”
“Not a woman, no, but I’d have no problem whipping a selfish little child like you.”
“Screw you!” She handed me a box to carry down to the car.
Chapter Seventeen
Nancy and I carpooled to work or, more correctly, I drove while Nancy changed stations on the radio. The drive was short, not more than a few miles, but it took over a half hour to get to our destinations. Nancy had designed a two-passenger helicopter no bigger than a Volkswagen that would allow travelers the luxury of flying over this nightmarish traffic. It would be very costly to manufacture and crazy expensive to buy; if every jackass could afford one, the traffic nightmare would simply transfer from the ground to the air. What good would that do?
Nancy asked me if I would finance the project. “No!”
“Of course not. Why get involved in anything that might relieve the suffering caused by overpopulation and congestion when you help sell cigarettes? It’s cool and sexy, and who doesn’t want to cut their life expectancy by at least ten to fifteen years?!”
In a determined effort to prove how truly wonderful she was and what a great wife she would make, Nancy decided that we should have lunch together every day for the next two weeks. I was asked to choose the restaurant since I was, naturally, paying. I chose Mo’s Restaurant, a landmark in Toluca Lake. I ate lunch there at least three times a week. Wonderful food, charming atmosphere, and the service was great. I never had to wait for a table even though the place was usually packed. I was a great tipper, and I spread the money around to everyone from the busboy to the maître d’.
I got there about fifteen minutes before Nancy, just enough time to have two hot and spicy Bloody Marys. Needless to say, she was the main attraction from the moment she arrived. In a town with more beautiful girls per square foot than any other place in the world, Nancy was a showstopper. It was as though time stopped when she entered a room.
She sat down across from me and ordered whatever I was drinking. She surveyed the clientele, reached into her pocketbook, and took out a notebook. She wrote a few lines and passed the paper to me. It read, “I could have fifty percent of the men in this restaurant get down on their knees and beg me for a date.”
I passed the paper back to her. “Only fifty percent??” She laughed.
“That’s accounting for the fact that thirty percent are fags and another twenty percent are depraved perverts who prey on the weak and innocent. This is Los Angeles, after all.”
I asked her about work. “Same shit, Joe. Creating magic on the same tired, worn-out faces of spoiled, talentless actresses … making them look a lot more beautiful than they deserve to.”
“What keeps you behind the scenes instead of in front of the camera? You could be making a ton more money.”
“Would you like me better then? A prized piece of famous ass to showcase?”
“Drop the bullshit, Nancy. I’m working on a national campaign for a new perfume that’s going to be huge. The feedback has been over the top. I am talking serious bucks.”
“And what makes you think they would want me?”
“Because they listen to me. Or would you rather they hire Bo Derek or some talentless ditz?”
“And how many innocent animals have they killed while testing this wonderful new product?”
I shook my head as the waiter came over to take our order. Nancy ordered a salad with walnuts and Italian dressing, and I ordered a jumbo cheeseburger with an extra order of fries.
“I appreciate the offer, Joe, but I’m too busy working on other things.”
“Like avoiding your landlord so he won’t ask you for the back rent?”
“That’s been put to rest, as you well know. I’m starting a new chapter in my life. You’re looking at the best and most honest thing in your otherwise deceitful life. It’s about time you open your eyes and stop looking at only my tits, face, and ass.”
“You know damn well that’s not all I look at. Your legs and hair are also marvelous, not to mention the back of your neck.”
“You’re a real ass.”
“Maybe so, but if I have anything to say — and I do — you are going to be the face of this new perfume. So when we get home tonight, be ready to take some sexy pictures wearing one of my Armani sport coats you’re so fond of.”
“That reminds me, can you drive me downtown to the library after work?”
“I’ll just buy you the books. It’ll be a lot less frustrating than trying to get downtown during rush-hour traffic.”
“They’re not the type of books you can buy in any bookstore. They’re research books, and only the library downtown has them.”
“Should I even ask what you’re researching?”
“I’ll tell you later; too many people are around.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Only if you’re a sexual pervert.”
The waiter came with our food, and I ordered another Bloody Mary. Nancy asked for an iced tea.
After lunch, I walked Nancy back to the studio. My day was almost over, except for a little fine-tuning, which I could easily do at the Smokehouse bar.
Nancy’s new research involved developing a pill, or even better, a spray, that would cause sudden, painful, and temporary genital paralysis in male predators. She was already working with a chemist. She said she needed to go to the library to research the work on castration the Nazis had performed on human subjects. I told her the whole thing seemed unethical, especially since she was Jewish.
She first replied that she was appalled both as a human being and a Jew, but then it occurred to her that, at times, scientists had to plunge into the very pit of humanity’s inhumanity to cure illness.
“That sounds like a rationalization: justifying cruelty as a means to an end.”
“It’s not like I can undo the past. What greater honor to the victims of the Holocaust than to know they didn’t die in vain? Maybe if your parent raped you repeatedly as a child, you would think differently. Your parent …” she repeated again and again, pounding on my chest with her hand. I was exactly the type of person she was trying to protect innocent women against — young, rich, handsome men who thought they were God’s gift to the world and a woman’s body was just something to be used for their pleasure and then discarded.
She let out a long sigh as she turned to the crowd that had gathered around us. “And what the hell are you bunch of perverts looking at?” They scattered like flies. I, on the other hand, tried to remain calm and concentrate on how wonderful that first cold beer at the Smokehouse was going to taste.
Nancy took my hand and, like a five-year-old child, I followed. “I seriously hope you don’t hold this against me when you evaluate our relationship at the end of the two weeks. I think it would be very foolish of you if you did.”
I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about. “What time should I pick you up?”
“I
get out at five. If that’s too early, I can …”
“No! Five is great.”
She kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Please don’t be mad at me.”
I watched as she walked down the hallway of her building and then turned around and headed straight for the Smokehouse. The lunch crowd had departed and except for a few patrons at the bar and a couple at a table, the restaurant was empty. The bartender, Fernando, reached into a bucket of ice and grabbed a Budweiser for me. I guzzled the beer and before I could order another, Fernando had already placed it in front me. We had become friends over the years and usually discussed baseball. He was a big Los Angeles Dodgers fan and I was a New York Yankees fan. Clients were constantly giving me free clubhouse tickets to Dodgers games; I used to give them to Fernando and he would take his family.
Fernando was busy restocking the bar. I took out a notepad I carried with me at all times and turned to a clean page. I drew a line down the middle of the page; the left side I titled “Pros” and the right side “Cons.” At the very top of the page I wrote Nancy’s name.
Pro #1: She’s so stunning, she could melt the sun.
Con #1: She’s so stunning, I often can’t see past it.
Pro #2: She’s exceptionally intelligent and has a wide range of knowledge. She is unpredictable and creative and can show an alarming level of concentration.
Con #2: She might unknowingly use any of those attributes one day to help destroy the planet.
Pro #3: She has morals, and, despite her sudden outbursts, she has a conscience and a real concern for humanity. Excluding her latest fascination with Nazi research and building a bomb, Nancy is the only person I’ve met in this town who doesn’t lie to further her own agenda.
Con #3: At times, I think she uses me as her personal lab rat to prove or discredit her theories and experiments.
Pro #4: She is unique …
I stopped writing at that point, pulled the sheet from the pad, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the wastebasket behind the bar. I had a few more beers, left a fifty on the bar, and told Fernando I’d see him in a day or two.
Targeted Demographics Page 9