“Stop,” he croaked weakly, making her titter all the more. When she had laughed herself out, she rolled over in the opposite direction, removing a fuchsia silk box from her bedside table. She sat up and crossed her legs as she took out a plastic baggie and began to roll a joint. Once completed, she lit it and took a deep drag, handing it to Tobias, who had only managed to lift his head three inches off the bed during the whole process.
“You shouldn’t stay away from me so long,” Simone chided him as he took a hit of the joint and coughed most of it out.
“I don’t think I could stand this on a regular basis,” he said. He handed the joint back to her and sat up to recover his breath. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and panted like a much older man for several seconds.
“In fact, I think this kind of thing might kill me one of these days.” Simone tapped him on the shoulder to hand him the joint again, but he waved it away. “No more for me,” he said, standing up on wobbly legs.
He tottered off to the bathroom, leaving his girlfriend to puff away to her heart’s content. When he returned several minutes later, she was nowhere in sight. He collapsed on the bed, pulling the sheet over his private parts. He was on the verge of dozing off when she popped out from behind a door and flew at him like a crazed animal.
“Jesus Christ!” he cried, taking a direct hit. At least she wasn’t heavy, he thought as he threw her off him. “Lay off that shit, will you? I’m not in the mood for exhibition wrestling right now.” Simone pouted for about five seconds, then bounced up and began jumping up and down on the bed.
“Cut it out,” Tobias said, but Simone smiled and continued to bounce energetically. After several irritated appeals, he reached out and grabbed one of her legs, sending her crashing down.
“Owww!” she moaned. When it was evident no sympathy would be coming from Tobias, she abandoned her sore leg and snuggled up against her man.
“I’m hungry,” she whispered in his ear.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he answered.
“You know what I’m craving right now? Caramel corn. Doesn’t that sound divine?” Tobias made a dubious face. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything that sweet.
“No,” he said flatly. Simone remained undaunted by his cold response.
“Umm, it does to me. Where can we get some? I could eat a truckload of it. I bet you they have it at Coney Island. Let’s go get some.”
“Forget it. We are not driving to Coney Island for caramel corn. Besides, that crap will make you fat.” That remark got her attention.
“I’m getting fat, aren’t I?” Without waiting for an answer, she squirmed off the bed and stood in front of her full length mirror, pivoting back and forth as she anxiously appraised her dangerously slender frame.
“Of course not. Don’t be idiotic,” Tobias told her.
“I am. I know am. That’s why I haven’t had as much work lately,” she fretted, attempting to pinch her imaginary love handles with no success.
“Simone, if you had one fat cell, it would expire trying to find a mate.” Simone was unconvinced. “Oh please, you’re being ridiculous,” he said, exasperated by her histrionics.
“I’m getting fat.”
Tobias propped himself up and looked at her. “You’re right. You’ve got a great big lump of fat on the back of each leg, just below your butt.”
Simone craned her neck as she endeavored to locate the offending bulges. “Where? I can’t see it!” she whined.
“Right…there,” he said, sending her into a fit of convoluted postures that failed to yield sight of the dreaded lumps. “Here, I’ll show you,” he said, beckoning her to come to his side. When she was within reach, he pulled her down on top of him, holding her tightly while she squealed and squirmed.
“Let me go, let me go!”
“No, I’m not going to let you go until I hear you say you’re skinnier than Olive Oyl,” Tobias said.
“Skinnier than olive oil? What does that mean?” Tobias rolled his eyes. Cradle robbing definitely has its drawbacks, he thought, not for the first time. He had to constantly remind himself Simone hadn’t even been alive when his musical career took off. All the fads, fashions and world events that had shaped him in his formative years were largely unheard of by her generation.
“Never mind. Just tell me you’re not fat,” he amended.
“I am fat,” she said. Tobias squeezed her tighter.
“Uh…” she huffed.
“Say it,” he said, tightening his grip further.
“I’m not fat,” she grunted, then gasped as he tossed her off him. “That was mean,” she said petulantly, swatting at him ineffectually.
“Watch it, or I’ll do it again.”
Simone lay quietly for a moment, and then recovered some of her former vigor. “Since I’m not fat, can we go get some caramel corn?” she asked as she leaned her face close to his. It was at this moment that the door cracked open and Winston poked his head in. Finding Simone in bed and naked, he halted momentarily, until he realized it was Tobias in there with her.
“Tobias!” he cried out in his oddly affectionate way, taking a flying dive at the two of them.
Must be some genetic proclivity toward hurling one’s body through the air, Tobias thought, as he rolled out of Winston’s path just in the nick of time. He tried to slip off the bed, but Winston was too quick for him, grabbing him in a playful headlock, which felt far too exuberant to Tobias.
“Dude! Where’ve you been, man? Simone’s been moping around the apartment for days.”
“Shut up—I have not,” Simone protested, hitting Winston over the head with a pillow.
“Bullshit,” Winston countered, letting go of Tobias in order to snatch the pillow away from her. “You should’ve seen her, man—she was like in a funk or something. Didn’t even make one of her shoots. I thought Arianna was going to blow a gasket. You’re lucky she didn’t can your ass,” he said over his shoulder. Simone glared at him with arms crossed.
“Hey, can’t you see there was something private going on here, until you so rudely interrupted us,” she said coldly.
“Looks to me like it’s over now,” Winston said, unperturbed by his sister’s anger. “Besides, I smell smoke. And where there’s smoke, there’s ganja. Give me a toke,” he said, holding his hand out.
“Get it yourself, butthead,” Simone said peevishly.
“Don’t have to get your knickers in a twist just ’cause I told your boyfriend what a mess you’ve been, worrying that he’d never call you again. ‘What did I do wrong? There must be someone else. He doesn’t love me anymore, boo hoo!’” Winston mimicked in a sing-song falsetto. Simone tried to wrest the pillow away from him, but he was much stronger than her.
“Give it to me!” she wailed.
“Jesus! Would you two shut up? I feel like I’m babysitting a couple of four-year-olds,” Tobias said. He had made his move during all the commotion and slipped into his jeans. He stood at the side of the bed, regarding the sibling squabble with disdain. While he pulled his T-shirt on over his head, Simone punched Winston in the arm as a parting warning, then scooted off her side of the bed and relit the roach.
“Darling Simone, dearest sister of mine,” Winston beseeched her, his thumb and forefinger extended to receive what was left of the joint. She took a long drag and grudgingly passed it to him.
“Tobias won’t take me to get caramel corn,” she said as she exhaled. Winston’s eyes widened at the mention of this sticky confection. “Doesn’t that sound good?” she asked, sensing her brother’s renewed alliance.
“Definitely,” he croaked out. “So does a hamburger and onion rings. Or a nice, thick filet and fries, like they have at Juniper.”
Here we go, Tobias thought as he pulled his boots on. It was the same scenario he’d gone through dozens of times before: have sex, get stoned, end up taking the whole family out for a prolonged orgy of food and drink, come back here and repeat the proc
ess all over again. The novelty had worn off long ago, but Tobias had yet to wean himself off the habit of Simone.
“The fries are better at Norton’s, and so are the drinks. But I still want caramel corn,” she insisted. Out of deference to her brother’s presence, she had donned a pair of skimpy undergarments. Despite her urgent craving, Tobias knew from past experience that it would be at least an hour before Simone would be ready to leave the apartment.
Tobias had two choices: hang out with Winston and Josh while he worked up a hunger of his own, or nix this plan right off the bat. It shouldn’t have been too hard a choice, though Tobias found himself reluctant to give up his connection to the outside world.
Now that he’d been relieved of his sexual tension, his mind kept straying to Priscilla and the massive collection of verse he had purchased from her. He was aggravated with himself for having gotten into a huff over waiting for her outside the bank. It wasn’t her fault, yet he’d been standoffish with her when he should’ve been getting answers to the questions that plagued him.
He had a fleeting impulse to duck out of Simone’s and head over to Priscilla’s place, not that he was anxious to revisit her dismal neighborhood so soon. But in the end, he talked himself out of it. He didn’t want to appear desperate, not that he was desperate. Nothing of the sort. He was merely curious, and his curiosity could wait.
For now he needed to decide how he wanted to spend his evening: playing the sugar daddy to his squad of rambunctious young bloods, or holed up in his hotel like a recluse, poring over reams of lyrics that had nothing whatsoever to do with him, yet at the same time were too compelling to leave alone. Before he could make up his mind, he became distracted by the annoying audio assault of Simone’s cell phone.
“Hey, where are you?” she asked as she absently surveyed her closet. “You’re just finishing? God, you must be annihilated. Nothing. Tobias is here, and your brother the pest. We’re trying to decide where to get something to eat. Oh really? Where? Cool. Yeah, let me find out,” she said, turning her attention to Tobias. “Do you have a car?”
Tobias had to think about this for a moment. Now was the time to bail. Instead, he nodded, sealing his course for the evening. “Can we pick Josh up? He wants to go with.”
“Yeah, sure,” Tobias said, tossing a pile of clothing out of the only chair in the room and slumping into it.
“Okay, see you in a few. Ciao.” Simone tossed the phone on the bed and turned a serious eye toward her wardrobe.
“I don’t know what to wear,” she complained, picking through her clothes impatiently. “Mikeala’s having a big party at her place. She was just chosen to be the new face of Lamel. Can you believe it? That’s easily a two mil a year contract. Probably more. Damn. I’m going to tell Arianna to get me a cosmetics gig. That’s where the real money is. She says I have the face for it,” Simone announced, assessing her features in the mirror. “Do you think I do, Tobias? Tobias?”
Tobias had closed his eyes, drifting away from her prattle. With effort, he pried them open and endeavored to focus on what she was babbling about.
“What?” he said, bleary with the sudden onset of fatigue. He was hoping to catch a few winks while she busied herself with her elaborate beautification routine. Hanging around a bunch of kids straight out of high school had not fostered a vicarious sense of youth; quite the opposite. There were times when Tobias felt old enough to be their grandfather. This was one of them. His sex-a-thon with Simone had all but flattened him.
The thought of spending a greater part of the evening with a room full of similarly self-obsessed pipsqueaks made his mind ache with boredom. Oh, the price of clinging to one’s glory days! he thought, as he worked up a phony smile to mask his inattention.
“Do you think I could ever land a cosmetic contract like Mikeala Douglas?”
“I don’t know,” Tobias replied with a shrug, as he squirmed to find a more comfortable position. “Sure, I guess so.” This lukewarm response did not please Simone. Tobias could tell by her expression she was on the verge of a major snit. Perversely, he didn’t feel like pandering to her vanity.
“Just because you want a cosmetic contract doesn’t mean you’ll get one. I imagine most models out there would sell their souls for a multi-year contract in the seven figures. That’s sort of a no-brainer.” Good thing.
Simone, not known for her rationality or maturity, stood glaring hotly at Tobias before turning her back to him. Even if she hadn’t started throwing the contents of her closet out in the general direction of the bed, one article at a time, her irate vibes filled the air like a highly charged electrical field. Even a narcotic-mellowed Winston found the atmosphere too hostile for his liking.
“I’m going to have a shower,” he said, as he hauled his lanky frame off the bed. “See you two in a bit,” he added, giving Tobias a wink of solidarity as he passed. Simone seemed even more aggravated at losing half her audience. She began to hurl armloads of clothing, most of which landed just beyond her feet.
“Shit!” she cried out, kicking at the pile of assorted garments that threatened to trip her.
“What the hell are you so bent out of shape about?” Tobias asked, growing steadily more irritated by her temper-tantrum.
“Nothing,” she replied sullenly.
“What? Was it something I said?” This question earned him another icy glare.
“Look, I’m not really in the mood for this kind of crap,” he said, hoisting himself out of the chair.
“Where’re you going?” Simone whimpered. Tobias stood by the half-opened door, reconsidering his options.
“I know you’re young, but for chrissakes, do you have to carry on like an infant?”
“Wait! Tobias, don’t go,” she pleaded grabbing him by the arm and pulling him toward her.
“What’s your problem?”
Simone lowered her head and swayed coyly under his stern reprimand. “You really hurt my feelings, what you said about me not being pretty enough to land a cosmetic contract,” she replied in an injured tone.
“I never said anything of the sort,” Tobias said, holding her at arm’s length. She started to protest, but he cut her off.
“I said it’s a very difficult achievement, that’s all. I never said you weren’t pretty enough. I think you’re a beautiful girl, but the world’s full of beautiful girls.” A cloud shadowed Simone’s hopeful eyes. She twisted her arms out of Tobias’s grasp and wrapped them tightly around herself.
“Okay, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life. Satisfied?”
“You’re just saying that,” she pouted. Tobias swore under his breath.
“Look at me. You are the most fucking beautiful female on the planet, bar none,” Tobias said. He was about five seconds away from losing his desire for her permanently.
“More beautiful than Mikeala Douglas?” she asked sweetly, kissing him lightly around his mouth.
“Yeah, ten times more beautiful than Mikeala Douglas. Okay? All right? Are you all over your fit?” he asked as Simone redoubled her efforts to soothe him. Tobias pulled her away mid-smooch. “Want to get ready now, before I completely lose interest in going anywhere?”
Simone snuck one final kiss in before sashaying off. “I’ll be just a minute,” she assured him. Tobias rolled his eyes and headed out the door. “Tobias!” Simone called out. He stuck his head back around the door. “I love you,” she said. Tobias nodded solemnly.
“I’ll be waiting in the living room,” he replied, leaving Simone to pick through her fashion landslide. But with every step he took he felt an overwhelming impulse to flee. He glided past the living room, regarding a headphone clad Winston out the corner of his eye, and kept on moving, out the door and to his livery car.
Eighteen
Priscilla was torn from her writing by a sharp, precise knocking at her door. She quickly stashed her notebook and pen in the bedside table and hastily pulled the bedspread over the twisted bed sheets. She had tossed
and turned relentlessly all night, haunted by her incessant doubts.
She got up around 3 a.m. and scribbled till daybreak in the notebook she picked up before retiring for the night. With all the changes that had taken place in the last seventy-two hours, her penchant for writing was the one of the few things remaining of her former life.
“Just a minute,” she called out, as she struggled out of her ratty T-shirt and wriggled into her jeans. She pulled a better looking light blue T-shirt over her head and smoothed her hair down.
“Good morning,” Philip said brightly, his face positively radiant with the pleasure of seeing her. “How was your night?”
“It was all right,” Priscilla fibbed, extending her arm in a welcoming gesture. Philip stepped cautiously into the small room, unsure of what to do with himself.
“This is a nice room,” he said pleasantly, though he wished she would allow him to put her up somewhere nicer.
“Yeah, it’ll do,” she said, giving her hair a few quick strokes with her brush. Philip averted his attention to her view of the street while Priscilla applied some mascara and a light coat of lipstick, smacking her lips as she assessed the results. Good enough.
“I guess I’m ready when you are,” she said, grabbing a sweater out of her duffel bag.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Philip asked. “I have to admit, I started feeling kind of guilty last night when I got home. I feel very selfish commandeering you this way. Like you said, you’ve got troubles of your own.”
“Don’t worry about it. I chose to do this of my own free will. Whatever help I can be to you in the next three days, you’re welcome to it.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Philip said.
“Don’t mention it. Shall we go?”
“I thought I’d take you to see my office—what remains of it, anyway, and then just play it by ear.”
Alligators in the Trees Page 23