Bicoastal Babe

by Cynthia Langston

  “Do you have a crush on me?”

  “Big-time.”

  “Then I’m flattered,” he says.

  Because he’s not making the first move here, I pull him down for a kiss. He still tastes like frosting.

  You know what should be a trend? Making out. Pure, old-fashioned making out that lasts for hours and hours and hours. On the floor, hands groping, hormones raging… and Danny and I are getting good at it. Really good at it.

  But the problem is, once you’ve reached a certain age and level of sexual experience, you’re not struggling with moral dilemmas and quandaries of decency. Loss of innocence is a vague memory, and it’s a lot easier to proceed with what the birds and the bees both know comes next.

  “I can’t,” I whisper in Danny’s ear, even though it’s my hands that are fumbling all over his jeans, and not the other way around. “Don’t let me,” I say desperately as I pull down his zipper.

  Danny pushes me away gently. “Okay.” He zips back up. “But can I ask you something, just out of curiosity?”

  I nod, scowling at my own frustration.

  “How come, Lindsey? Why won’t you let yourself?”

  I can’t answer. So I just shrug.

  Danny holds up the video camera. “You sure?” He grins, and I can tell he’s trying to make me feel more comfortable.

  “I’m sorry,” I say with a twinge of wistfulness. “Just not yet, okay?”

  He pulls me in for a big bear hug and I feel happy, because he truly does make me feel like it’s okay.

  “I’m going to go freshen up,” I tell him.

  “Sure thing.” He taps my nose. “I’m gonna grab some air. I’ll be out on the patio.”

  In the bathroom I splash cold water on my face and think about this dilemma. I want to be honest with Danny, but I somehow just can’t. I can’t tell him the truth. But Victor was right. There’s something that’s stopped me just short of having sex with Danny, because I haven’t been able to wrap my head around the idea of taking the two-guy thing all the way. At least not yet.

  I pour a couple of Diet Pepsis and put the last two cupcakes onto a paper plate. When I step out onto the patio, I can see Danny sitting over by the pool, his back to me. He always looks so calm and peaceful. There’s nothing tense or stressed about him. Sitting on that patio chair, he looks like the axis of the universe, completely strong and still as the world spins around his—

  Wait a minute. Is that smoke rising up from in front of his body? It can’t be. I squint to see more clearly. It is smoke!

  I stomp over. “What the hell are you…”

  I step back in surprise when Danny smiles up at me with a lazy grin and holds out a half-smoked joint.

  “You smoke pot?”

  “Yeah, why not? You want some?” he asks casually.

  “I can’t believe it!”

  Danny looks confused. “Do you not… Is that not cool with you?”

  “No!”

  “Really?” Danny looks surprised.

  I shake my head. It’s not that it’s not cool with me. Actually, I couldn’t care less. I used to smoke pot in college. But I never really got it right. I’d take a few hits, then spend the first fifteen minutes howling with laughter at every random thing, then the next four hours dizzy and sick to my stomach. Plus the paranoia. And the dry mouth. So eventually I decided to lay off the doobage in favor of cheap wine and beer bongs. In adult life, the menu was elevated to slightly less-cheap wine, beer in actual bottles, and a divine variety of fun and delicious cocktails.

  But every once in a while, I do question the logic of my choice. Pot might’ve been the smarter decision. No hangovers and, even more important, no calories. It’s probably cheaper too, if you’re out spending eighteen dollars on one raspberry cosmopolitan after the other.

  “Lindsey? I’m really sorry about this. I guess I thought… I mean, I didn’t realize you would be so…”

  “I’m not so anything! I don’t care if you smoke pot, Danny. Really, I don’t. What I’m having trouble accepting is the fervor and fury with which you made me feel like a complete ass for smoking cigarettes, when you’re out here tugging on a fatty like that isn’t just as bad!”

  “It’s not just as bad,” he protests. “A little bit of weed here and there is nowhere near as bad as a regular cigarette habit.”

  “I just find it ironic, that’s all.”

  Danny gets up, puts out the joint, and tosses it into the trash. Then he pulls me down to the pool chair and puts his arm around me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “If it bothers you, I won’t do it around you anymore.”

  I give him a little grimace. It does bother me. But again, it’s not the pot. It’s the irony, for lack of a better word that one could argue might start with an H. And it’s the sudden death of whatever it was that Danny did to me that truly made me not want to smoke anymore, because now I do again. And most of all, it’s the moment when something happens to make you first realize that the person you’re with is not perfect after all. I hate that moment.

  Chapter 25

  “Okay Miss Missing. Where the hell have you been?”

  Carmen and I are walking up to the swanky entrance of Avalon for a record-launch party that I was invited to through the agency.

  “I’ve been around.”

  “Around everyone but me – I feel neglected!”

  “Lindsey Miller plus one,” I tell the doorman, who runs his pen down a list. He nods and pulls back the velvet rope.

  “Carmen, I’m sorry. I really am. After The Pulse came out, everything just kind of exploded.”

  “I told you so. You’re the It girl. People who know people. The woman to invite!”

  “Ha! Yeah, for about… oh, say, fifteen minutes? Most of which are probably used up. And only among the advertising and marketing crowd.”

  “Don’t knock it. It’s about ten million miles away from where you were when I first met you.”

  We approach the bar and order two mango mojitos.

  “So tell me. What have you been doing?”

  “Well, you know. The survey, the interviews, the teen panel…”

  “No, Obvioso. The fun stuff.”

  “You want a play-by-play?”

  “And a blow-by-blow. If you know what I mean.” She winks and offers me a cigarette. I hesitate, then take it. I hold it for a second, then place it carefully on the table for maybe later. Carmen gives me a funny look.

  Okay, so what have I been doing? I go through the list in my mind.

  “Well…Wednesday night in New York I went to a screening at Miramax for some new indie movie. And then to the after-party at the director’s loft in the meatpacking district.”

  “Ew.

  “I know. Kind of strange to think about. All these glamorous places surrounded by garbage bags of cow guts and pig entrails.”

  “Did you bring Victor?”

  “I always do. Except for the nights he has his own functions.”

  “But yours are more fun, right?”

  I nod and glance around to survey the scene. Why does everyone seem so young in here? And that girl was right – there are soymilk boxes everywhere.

  “So what else?”

  “Thursday I went to a wine-and-cheese thing for the Advertiser’s Trade. That was an early night. Friday I went to a kickoff party for the new Calvin Klein fragrance at Tao. Saturday I stayed in and crunched numbers. Sunday… um… oh yeah. They had a cocktail party on a ferryboat for Mariah Carey’s new fine-jewelry line.”

  “Was she there?”

  “Of course not. But her ‘people’ were. And I got a free bracelet. Then Monday I came out here.”

  “Two more,” she tells the bartender. “And then?”

  “Um… let’s see. That night Danny was over. Tuesday I went to a couple fashion shows and then to a Betsey Johnson party at Supperclub. Wednesday was the thing at Bardot. Thursday was that AIDS charity thing at the Barker Hangar. Friday I took Danny to dinne
r at STK; then we went to Guy’s for the Smashbox preholiday bash.”

  “What a life.”

  “I’m exhausted.”

  “Did Danny have fun?”

  I bite my lip. “You know, he’s not really the ‘club’ type of guy. I mean, he sucks it up because I have to go, but he’d be a hell of a lot happier at the Dodgers game, that’s for sure.”

  “But Victor is the club type.”

  “Oh yeah. That’s why it’s a little easier in New York. And I have more energy for it while I’m there. When I’m here, I just want to lie around and stare at Danny and eat these little cheese popper things he makes in the toaster oven. It’s fun.”

  “Uh-huh. Sounds like a real barrel of monkeys.”

  As if on cue, my cell phone starts singing the Britney tune. I look at the screen. “Victor,” I say, and slip the phone into my purse without answering.

  “That’s the third time he’s called tonight.”

  “I know. I wonder what he wants.”

  “He wants to check up on you! And may I add, a lot more than he did when you first started dating him.”

  “So what?” I ask defensively. “We know each other better now.”

  “Whatever you say, dear.” She smiles knowingly. “Although you should stop to consider that these phone calls got a lot more frequent the moment you became Miss Popularity.”

  “What is this, high school?”

  “All of life is high school, Lindsey. We’re just able to hide it in a more sophisticated manner as we age.”

  “Well… I did kinda sorta drop a hint about Danny. But it was subtle. I don’t know if he took it seriously.”

  “There you go!” she says triumphantly, and drains her drink. “That’s exactly what it is. He’s checking up on you!”

  “He’s not the type to check up. I’m sure he’s having plenty of his own fun. Trust me.”

  “You trust me,” she warns. “Don’t kiss and tell. Keep it simple, stupid.”

  • • •

  Driving down to the Haunted Heaven and Hell party in my Bumble Bee costume is tougher than I imagined. I had to stuff the body with soft Styrofoam to make it bulge out like a pear shape, then attach the netted wings to the back. When all is said and done, I can barely fit through a door, much less into a small, crappy rental car.

  When I pull up, I hike up my black tights, attach my antennae, and rub some gold eye shadow onto my eyelids. I’m so cute! This costume will definitely be the “buzz” of the party. Ha, ha!

  Walking up to the house, I get the feeling that I’m in for a scary night indeed. Whoever is throwing this bash has left no gravestone unturned. The entire house is swathed in black canvas and glowing purple light bulbs, and spooky music is blasting from hidden speakers all over the yard. Menacing ghosts and ghouls surround the entrance, and I can hear bloodcurdling screams coming from the south side of the house. But it’s not until I stop to really look around that I see the most frightening sight of all.

  Every single female at this party is wearing the tightest, skimpiest, sexiest costume imaginable. I watch in horror as a giggling Naughty Nurse hands a Hooters Waitress some lip-gloss from her purse. I gulp with terror as I see a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader hand a plastic beer cup to a French Maid. I cower in fear as two twin Playboy Bunnies exchange smirks with Catwoman before pinching my stuffing and asking, “Where’s your stinger?”

  And then I turn with dread to behold myself in a car window – the sprawling reflection of an enormous, ridiculous, black-and-yellow-striped bug that stretches beyond the glass and spills onto the chrome of the fender.

  I’m ready to get right back in that car and take my bulging bee ass home, when it occurs to me that I can’t stand Danny up for this, and there aren’t many excuses to be had on Halloween night. Maybe he’s wearing a toga or something that we can easily trade. Or maybe one of these sexpots will drown in the apple-bobbing barrel, and I can steal her costume before the coroner arrives.

  When I walk into the house, I’m greeted in the doorway to my right by an angel (the Frederick’s of Hollywood version), and to my left by a handsome devil. Instant déjà vu. Where have I seen them before?

  Oh yeah. In my own torn and conflicted conscience.

  “Would you like to go to Heaven?” the angel asks sweetly.

  “Or would you like to go to Hell?” the devil says with an evil grin.

  Well, let’s see. Where would I be more likely to find Danny?

  “Heaven,” I tell them, and the angel steps aside to reveal a long, cool hallway that’s filled with poofy clouds and swirls of white, fluffy smoke. At the end of the hallway I see God, draped in a saintly robe with a long white beard, standing high on a pedestal before me. Behind him I can vaguely make out the rest of “Heaven,” with people milling about in the soft white light.

  “And what have you done, my child, to deserve entrance into Heaven?” God demands in a thunderous voice as I approach.

  “Uh…” Is he kidding? I can’t come to the party unless I’ve done something good in my life?

  “Speak louder! Look into the pious face of God and declare the virtue of your soul!” he booms. “What hast thou done that is righteous?”

  “Uh… I’m the only female at this party not dressed like a complete whore?”

  God pauses for a moment and I hold my breath. Then he slowly nods and opens his arm for me to pass through. Whew. Barely made that one.

  I look around and immediately spot Danny, dressed as a Hammerhead Shark, standing by the beer keg talking to Darth Vader and what appears to be an Herbed Crouton. He is gorgeous. Danny, that is. Not the Herbed Crouton. And any second now, he’s going to turn and behold his dorky, unsexy, bulging excuse for a date trying to squeeze through the door like a hippopotamus draped in bee fur.

  I feel my cell phone vibrating in my underwear. There was no pocket in the bee suit, so I had to stick the phone into the side of my panties so it wouldn’t slip down the leg of my tights. I turn toward the wall and discreetly try to reach in and dig it out, but just when I’ve got a grip on it I feel a hand on my shoulder.

  “Wow.” Danny laughs. “Let me get a look at you.”

  “Hold on one sec,” I tell him, and glance at my phone. It’s Victor. Great timing. I go to slip the phone back into my panties, but it’s a bit awkward.

  “You want me to hold that for you?” Danny asks.

  I nod and hand him the phone.

  “Hey, we have the same phone!” He slips it into his pocket. “Now let me see.” He holds out my arms and twirls me around. “You’re adorable,” he says. “My little bumblebee.”

  “I look fat.” I pout.

  “You look precious.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do too,” he says, and kisses me on the nose. “And together we’re going to create quite a buzz with our shocking interspecies relationship.”

  “If you don’t eat me first.” I laugh.

  “I’ll eat you later,” he whispers in my ear. “But that might land you over in Hell.”

  I look up at him in surprise and he winks, then leads me toward the keg.

  This guy must he blind, I think as we work our way through the party, talking and joking with his friends. Sexy, gorgeous women are practically crawling out of the woodwork here, and most of them are taking every opportunity to throw themselves at my shark. But Danny seems to only have eyes for me.

  In the bathroom, as I struggle to reapply my lipstick while stuffed between Leather Dominatrix and Sexy Sailor Girl, I start to wonder why.

  “Why do you like me?” I ask him when we get a moment alone.

  “What?” He laughs. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m serious. Why do you like me?”

  “I guess I’m just a sucker for honey,” he says, and pulls me close. They’re playing a slow, sweet song in Heaven, and his hips are pressed against mine, swaying to the music. I can almost feel the chemistry vibrating between us, but then I realize that it’s not chemistry �
�� it’s Verizon Wireless.

  “Shit,” he says, and reaches into his pocket. As he flips open the phone, I suddenly realize that our phones are identical.

  “Wait!” I practically shout.

  “Hmm. I don’t know a Victor,” he says, and my hand juts out toward the phone, but too late.

  “Hello…Who?… Oh, yeah. She’s right here.” Danny hands me the phone with a strange look. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I forgot yours was in there.”

  “Hey, babe.” Victor sounds pissed. “Who the fuck was that?”

  I hold my hand over the phone and turn to Danny. “I’m sorry. Can I have a minute?” His eyebrows raise with skepticism and he turns away.

  I start to walk down the hallway, not looking where I’m going. “Victor,” I hiss into the phone. “Why are you calling now?”

  “I’m just calling to wish you a happy Halloween. But I guess I interrupted something.”

  My feet suddenly feel very hot and I look up to realize that I’ve wandered into Hell. All around me, red flames and flashes threaten to burn my bee suit, and wicked, cackling music pulses from the walls.

  “Wow,” I say, forgetting Victor for a second.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just this party I’m at.”

  “So who was the guy?”

  “Nobody! He’s just a friend who was holding my phone.”

  “And answering it.”

  “Victor, look. I’m flattered, but you should’ve called earlier. I’m in the middle of a party right now.”

  “I can hear that.”

  “Why aren’t you at the parade?”

  “It’s two in the morning. The parade is over.”

  “Okay. Can I call you later? Or tomorrow?”

  Pause. “Lindsey. Are you fucking some guy out there?”

  “No. I’m not.” This is honest.

  “Fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hang up, and after a few minutes of wandering lost through the blazes of eternal damnation, I realize that Hell is not easy to get out of. Then I look up and see Danny coming toward me, not quite as happy as he seemed before.

  “So.”

  “So this is Hell,” I point out.

  Danny looks at me with searching eyes. I can tell he wants to ask who was on the phone, but he won’t because he’s not that type of guy. He hands me a red cocktail and we stand in silence for a long moment. Then he sighs.