The Good Life

by Beau, Jodie

  I hugged him because I’d really hated our argument earlier, and I was glad he was home. He smelled like beer. I know this is weird, and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with all of the sexual experimenting I did when I was in high school, because beer was usually involved, but the scent of beer on a guy’s breath was a huge turn-on for me. And being in the dark, and so close …

  But I made a promise that I wouldn’t use him as a distraction anymore, and I wasn’t going to break it on the first day. At least, it wasn’t my intention to. But Jake didn’t pat my head this time. He hugged me back. Tightly, too.

  “I’ve been waiting for you all night,” I whispered into his neck.

  “Me too,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  Then he kissed me. It was rougher than usual. He was aggressive.

  He wrapped his hands into the bun on the back of my head and held my face so tightly to his that even if I’d tried to pull away, I couldn’t. Not that I tried to pull away. I had enough self-control not to start anything with him. But once he started it, it was over. I wasn’t trying to stop him. The only thing I tried to do was catch my breath before he took it from me again.

  He snapped my head back with a quick pull of my hair and I gasped. He kissed my shoulder, my neck, and just under my chin.

  “Why?” he asked quietly when his mouth was right by my ear.

  “Why what?” Why was he talking? I couldn’t even think, let alone form words.

  “Why are you sorry?” he asked.

  “We’ll talk later,” I told him. “Right now I just want you to fuck me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He threw me onto the bed and, not long after, he ripped those ruffles right off my butt. Better late than never.

  “We seriously have to stop doing this,” I said quietly. We’d been quiet the whole time since my brother was home. There was something seriously hot about quiet sex in the dark. It’s way underrated.

  But my inability to keep it in my pants was not as hot. I was beginning to sound like a broken record. If my life was a movie, the viewers would be throwing popcorn at the screen right now. I was even annoying myself. Make up your damn mind!

  He had been lying next to me but sat up in self-defense. “You’re the one who told me to fuck you!”

  I sat up, too, and pulled my comforter up over my chest to keep warm. “Shhh! That’s because you’re the one who got rough with me and kissed my chin. You know you can’t pull my hair like that and kiss my chin and then not fuck me! It wouldn’t be right!”

  “What did you think I was going to do when you pulled me into your dark bedroom? Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this. You even had on those ruffles. But I’ll take the blame if you want. I’m not the one who keeps saying we need to stop.”

  I smiled and shook my head at him in disbelief. “This. Is the best argument. Ever.”

  “I agree.”

  “At least we agree on one thing.”

  He lied back down, got comfortable and patted the bed beside him for me to lie down, too. So I did. I crawled under the covers facing him and enjoyed the comfort of being close to him.

  “Why were you waiting for me all night?” he asked.

  “I wanted to say thank you,” I said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “For telling it to me straight.”

  “About the running?”

  “You were right,” I said. “I have been running. I just didn’t realize it. No one ever called me out on it, and I’m glad you did. Now I can stop running and learn to deal with things instead.”

  “You’re welcome. I guess. But if you’re not running anymore then why are your bags sitting by the back door?”

  “My lawyer called. We’re gonna have a face-to-face with the other side to see if we can work something out.” I sighed because all of this divorce and lawyer stuff was annoying. “My lawyer thinks I should get more than fifty percent because I’ve been a homemaker all this time, and I’m the one who is going to have to get a lower paying job and get used to a lower paying lifestyle. Caleb’s not agreeing on the bigger settlement, so we’re having a sit-down. I don’t care either way. I just want it over with so I can move on. But when someone says to come to The City, I don’t argue.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow,” I told him. “The meeting is Wednesday morning. I was gonna ask if you could drive me to the airport so I don’t have to pay for parking. Adam has to work.”

  “I could just drive you to New York.”

  “You … want to come to New York?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t bartend until the weekend, and I can reschedule some photo shoots. I’ve never been there, and I’d love to get some shots for my portfolio.”

  I sat up, suddenly not tired anymore, and clapped my hands together in excitement. “Omigod! You have to come then. I can buy you a plane ticket with all the money I made being your underwear model!”

  He looked away from me. “I can’t fly. You know.”

  I’m such a douchebag! How could I forget?

  Jake’s grandparents, his mom’s parents, died in a plane crash when he was six. He and his mom lived with them so Jake was super close to them both.

  After the accident, he was plagued with nightmares for many years, and refused to ever set foot on a plane. I thought it was weird that he would come to the lot by the airport with me if he was so afraid of them. I guess they didn’t bother him as long as he was on the ground. But he swore he would never, ever step into one. Being on an airplane was his worst fear.

  I lied back down and reached for his fingers next to mine on the bed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s fine. You up for a road trip?”

  “Always!” I said, eagerly. “But there’s one thing you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I am not going to have sex with you.”

  He laughed.

  “Ever again.” I said, determined.

  “Please, Roxie, don’t challenge me. It’s only going to make me want to prove you wrong.”

  “I mean it!” I said, even if I knew he could easily prove me wrong if he tried. Especially with that take-charge-and-throw-me-around shit.

  “Does that mean you want me to leave?” he asked.

  NO! Never! I shook my head.

  “And by the way,” I said to change the subject, “what you said earlier, about me being a gold digger –”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. Even in the dim room I could tell he looked pained and annoyed. “I told you I didn’t mean it. There’s no reason to go over it again.”

  “No, there is,” I said. “You don’t know how it was. Caleb wasn’t rich when I met him. He was a normal college guy. We really struggled in the beginning. I got my wedding dress at,” I coughed because it was so hard to get the horrible words out, “David’s Bridal on clearance for ninety-nine dollars!”

  I waited for him to scream in horror or give me a look of disgust after I revealed that shameful secret, but his expression didn’t change. Must be a guy thing.

  “When we first moved to New York,” I continued, “we were so broke we ate meatless pasta for dinner nearly every night, and I had to wear my jeans like three times in a row because we didn’t have quarters for the laundry machines.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “And I have never been ashamed of you.”

  He groaned. “I take back everything I said earlier! Can you drop it?”

  “No, I want to explain this to you,” I said. “Bartending is a respectable profession. It requires a lot of skill.”

  He sighed and rolled over to face the ceiling. I guess he was giving up on getting me to drop it.

  “Serving food and drinks is not as cool of a job,” I explained. “It doesn’t require any skill, except patience. And the ability to smile in someone’s face when you really want to squeeze lemons in their eyes. It’s a fine job fo
r someone in school, someone younger. I just feel that, at my age, I should be able to get a more professional job.”

  “I get it,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “The reason I have been too embarrassed to get my job back at The Bar is because I feel like working where I worked eight years ago is moving backward, ya know?”

  “If you were moving forward in the wrong direction, maybe moving backward isn’t a bad thing,” he said.

  “No, maybe not,” I said thoughtfully.

  We were both quiet for a few minutes. Long enough for him to relax again. He took my hand in his and started running his finger up and down the inside of my palm.

  Then I remembered something else he said yesterday.

  “And one more thing,” I said.

  He dropped my hand and groaned. He knew where this was going. “Just let it go.”

  “I didn’t choose him over you.”

  He took a deep breath. I could tell that my usually calm and patient friend was starting to lose that infamous patience. He sat up again. “I’m going back to my room.”

  “No,” I said, pulling him back down. “I won’t talk about it again. Just have your facts straight. I didn’t choose him over you because I didn’t have you to choose. You told me long-distance relationships were stupid. You said it was best for us both to move on. So I did. And there is no reason to talk about it again.”

  “Agreed.”

  I have always been a huge fan of road trips as long as the weather was nice. Winter road trips were awful, sucky, nuggets of crap. Summer road trips were the most fun to be had in a car.

  Never mind. What was I saying? Jake and I had plenty of fun in cars during The Summer of Jake and Roxie. Most of the time when the car wasn’t moving … if you know what I mean. And a few times when it was, wink wink. I know, it’s totally juvenile, but I mentioned before that we had to get creative at times. I had more fun with Jake in cars and trucks that summer than I ever had in my Manhattan bed, even with the best sheets and comforters money could buy.

  Anyway, I’m digressing. Our first stop was McDonald’s because both of us had a few drinks last night and stayed up way too late. Everyone knows a McDonald’s Coke is the best hangover cure you can get through a drive-thru. Knowing I was about to set out on what I hoped would be a great adventure, I was in a fantastic mood. When we got to the window to pay, I told the girl working the drive-thru that I was going to pay for the order of the person behind me, too.

  “What’d you do that for?” Jake asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s the little gestures that can really make a person’s day.” I didn’t mention that GLL Challenge #3 was to do something nice for a stranger.

  After McDonald’s, we stopped at the gas station to fill up … on candy. It would be criminal to go on a road trip without gummy bears.

  Jake did most of the driving while I was in charge of entertainment. The eight hour drive went by quickly, thanks to my expertise in road trip playlists and conversational games. He was so easy to be around, especially when we were just hanging out and acting like friends and not having any dramatic meltdowns.

  We arrived in NYC (aka My Soulmate) at around 4pm. I moved to the driver’s seat to give him a drive-by tour of some of Manhattan’s most popular spots. We drove through Times Square, downtown and the former site of the World Trade Center, as well as Battery Park and the Statue of Liberty, Grand Central, Rockefeller Center, and Central Park.

  I know this sounds ridiculous, but being back in The City made me feel like a completely different person. In Ann Arbor I was pathetic and whiny, but NYC gave me a confidence I’d never been able to find anywhere else. No job? Big deal. No husband? Big deal. New York does that to people. It’s like a drug. It makes people happy.

  Jake was having a good time, too. He did non-stop clicking on his camera during the drive-through tour and also had a permanent smile on his face.

  By the time we’d driven around the island, I was starving and ready to get out of the car. We had a double room reserved at The Plaza Hotel. I’d tried getting us a room at the Soho Grande or Tribeca Grande, but they were booked. The Plaza would have to do (sniff sniff). It was probably better that we stayed on the Upper Side anyway – less chance of running into Caleb up there. The last thing I wanted was for Caleb or his lawyer or any of his friends to see me with Jake. It wouldn’t look good, especially since I was there to try to get more money from him.

  I was used to being a spoiled princess, so I walked into the hotel with my head held high and acted as if I belonged there. When we got into the room, I lied down on my stomach on one of the beds and checked out the room service menu.

  “What do you feel like for dinner?” I asked him. “We can go out, eat downstairs or order room service or delivery.”

  “Um …” he looked dumbstruck by all of it. He wouldn’t have been any less obvious if he had the word “tourist” tattooed on his forehead. “You’re the one who knows what you’re doing. You decide.”

  I rolled over onto my side and propped my head up on my wrist. “I’m way too hungry right now to bother getting ready to go out so I vote for room service.”

  He agreed to room service for dinner as long as we could go out later on so he could take some pictures of the city at night. We were driving home tomorrow after the meeting so he only had one night in New York. I wanted to stay longer (like forever), but I was only supposed to use Caleb’s travel expense account for divorce-related stuff, like meetings and court. I didn’t think it would be right to stay longer than I needed to and bill him for it.

  “I love room service,” I told Jake once the food arrived and I was digging into a bunch of yummy carbs. We each sat cross-legged on our own beds while we ate. “Sometimes it’s nice to be able to enjoy a fine cooked meal while wearing cutoff shorts, yesterday’s makeup and a ponytail. Don’t you think?”

  “I would rather die than wear cutoff shorts,” he said like a smartass. “But yeah, this steak is great. I can see how you got sucked into this world.”

  “I didn’t get sucked in,” I said, defensively. “It’s not some kind of cult, Jake. I chose to live here. And even though my marriage didn’t work out, I don’t regret moving here. This is where I belong.”

  “I didn’t mean the city sucked you in. I was talking about all of the rich people stuff. Like this hotel. And room service. You seem like a completely different person when you’re here. I feel like I don’t even know you right now.”

  Hmm. He was right. He really didn’t know this version of me. “Do you want to know me?”

  He set his fork on his plate and looked at me thoughtfully and then shrugged. “I’m not sure.” That’s Jake. Always honest.

  When we were done getting ready for the night, I took Jake on a photography/barhopping night in NYC. My annoyance with him and the comment he’d made about not wanting to know me left me confused and frustrated. I took my frustrations out on my hair and face. A person can always tell what kind of mood I’m in by the amount of makeup on my face. If you see black eyeliner, walk the other way.

  I put on my new hot pink peep-toes, the ones I’d bought at Barney’s the day Caleb told me he wanted a divorce. I hadn’t been able to wear them yet, and this city was made for shoes like these. People in Ann Arbor wouldn’t know the difference between a Louboutin and a Balenciaga while some women in New York could name your shoe designer from three blocks away.

  I introduced Jake to the world of NYC transportation by using both taxis and the subway. I also showed him all about overpriced drinking. We went to bars in Chelsea, Murray Hill, the Meatpacking District and waited thirty minutes to get up on the garden rooftop bar at 230 Fifth where he oohed and ahhed and snapped like I knew he would.

  By the time we got downtown to see Hope at her martini bar, we were both pretty buzzed. She didn’t know I was coming and screamed out loud when she saw me.

  “Who is this stunning young man you’ve brought into my bar?” was the first question. No h
i, how are you, what are you doing here – just who is the guy.

  “Hope, this is Jake. Jake – Hope.”

  “Oh,” she said with a nod of recognition. “The roommate slash ex-boyfriend slash lifelong friend of the family who you accidentally had sex with?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “More than once.”

  “Nice going!” she said in approval. Jake was standing right next to me and even though the music was loud, Hope was also loud, so I was pretty sure he could hear the conversation. Especially when he looked at me with that shit-eating grin I loved to hate.

  “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink,” she said, pulling me over to the bar. “You look great. You look young and happy, like the old fun Roxie again. How’s the list?” she asked while she shook up some watermelon juice martinis.

  “It’s fine,” I said. I gave her a look that I hoped she would understand. It meant not to talk about the list right now.

  She looked back at me like she didn’t understand. “There’s a photo booth over there,” she said. “You know, in case you need one.”

  Ah ha. GLL Challenge #6 – Get your photo taken in a photo booth … Topless. And GLL Challenge #7 – Give the photo to someone.

  “I got this,” I said. “Take care of my guy for me, will you? Don’t let him get lost.”

  For the first two shots in the photo booth I tried to look sweet and innocent. For the third one, I flashed the camera and gave my best supermodel expression. In the fourth one, I was sweet and innocent again. Jake is going to love it, I thought, as I stepped out of the photo booth proudly. He loves the sweet and innocent girl turned naughty kind of stuff.

  I handed it to him at the bar right in front of Hope who gave me a knowing smile. “I wouldn’t go topless for all of Facebook,” I told him, “but I’ll go topless for you.”

  “You’re a tease,” he said smiling. “You can’t tell me you never want to have sex with me again and then give me a picture like this.”