by Jesse Jordan
Right. Connections to turn me into the next Los Angeles celebutante, not a legit journalist. No thanks, Dad. But I can't piss him off too much. He does pay the bills as much as I don't like it. “Dad, maybe another time. I'll text you later.”
I hang up with Dad, my nerves jumping up a little. I hate that Dad calls me daily, I feel like he's keeping tabs on me even though I've insisted on trying to live my own life. Still, my cell phone feels like an electronic smart leash as much as it does a communications tool.
My phone rings again, and I snatch it up, ready to tell Dad I'm really not able to go to lunch with him when I see that it's Joey. It's eleven fifty, he's ten minutes early. “Joey?”
“Hi,” Joey says, again sounding bashful, it's so cute. It's perfect, just what I need right now, and I feel my mood lift immediately. “Uh, I know we said noon, but traffic was light and I got here early. The security guy just rolled by and is giving me the hairy eyeball, so I was thinking...”
“I'll be down in one minute!” I laugh, hanging up on him.
I get down to the parking lot just as the security guys come around again, waving to one of them who I've seen before, they know most of the residents by sight. He and his partner give me a nod and pull out, just as Joey gets out of an older model Buick. I come around and give him a quick hug, and it feels... great. He's strong but gentle, and his hands stay exactly where they're supposed to be, north of my waistline to be respectful, but low enough to tell me that he's not hugging his grandmother. Joey grins as I let go and go around to his passenger side. “That's the best start to a date I've had in a long time.”
“Thanks, you give good hugs too. I was... what's that in the back?” I ask, spying the cooler. “What did you pick up?”
“It's a surprise,” Joey says with a smile. “And I didn't pick it up. So, where are we heading? I checked out the area, but I don't know which are the good parks and which aren't. I can tell you all about little dive bars that play decent music though.”
“Maybe another day we can check out the dive bars. For today though, there's a park about a mile from here. It overlooks the ocean and has good grass and picnic tables too,” I reply, chuckling. Joey might drink, I drink too, but he doesn't look like it. In fact, right now, except for the tattoos on his arm, he looks more like a choir boy than a rock guitarist. “Just turn right out of the parking lot, go down to Ocean and hang a left. The park's not far after that.”
“I can follow those directions,” Joey smirks, backing up and turning around. “So, what's with the security guys?”
“They're suspicious of every visitor. I think they even follow the FedEx guy around when he makes deliveries. How long were you waiting before you called?”
Joey turns out onto the street, his eyes fixed on the road. “Just about ten minutes. I guess a Latino in an old Buick does look out of place there.”
“Yeah... sorry about that,” I reply, and Joey shakes his head. “What?”
“Andrea, let's be straight on this. You're a white girl. I'm a Puerto Rican guy. It doesn't matter to me though. Unless you want to do a remix on West Side Story,” Joey says with an ironic chuckle. “Although we'd have to switch sides then. I’d make a terrible Natalie Wood.”
I laugh, nodding. “Okay. We can acknowledge that, but not get hung up on it. I'm cool with that. Don't worry, I like the car too.”
“Even though you're of the Coates?” Joey asks with a little nervous smile. “Sorry, when I mentioned it to James our publicist, he nearly fell out of his chair. I'm not sure if it was fear or envy. I honestly didn't know, but I'm not into things like that. I let James handle that sort of stuff.”
“Yes, I'm one of those Coates,” I acknowledge. “Ocean's the next block.”
“Gotcha,” Joey says, moving over into the left lane so we can make the turn. “If you're from a family like that, what led you to work at the paper as a reporter? I mean, from what James said, you don't need to do anything but sit back and collect interest on your trust fund accounts if you don't want to.”
I nod, leaning back as Joey takes the turn. “I could, but I choose not to. You told me a lot in your interview, so I know your family struggled, but Joey... let me ask you, just between us, would you keep playing guitar even if you made stupid levels of cash from the next album and tours and could retire rich for life?”
Joey nods. “Of course. I love playing guitar, I'd do it for free at birthday parties if I had to.”
The image of Joey playing guitar and singing 'Happy Birthday' makes me smile, but at the same time, I nod. “So, you get my drift. I've always wanted to write, especially about entertainment. Yeah, I kinda grew up surrounded by all these people who either were in the entertainment world or had family in that world. My high school class looked more like the Disney Channel than the actual shows. But what I saw... well, you know how publicists want to present this image of you?”
“A little,” Joey says with a chuckle. “Like how I'm this mysterious, dangerous rock guitarist instead of just a guy who likes cameras and... well, you'll see in a minute, we're here.”
Joey finds a parking spot and we get out, Joey grabbing the cooler out of the back. As he's bent over a car goes rolling by, and I swear for some reason that the driver's looking at me and that I've seen them before. It's weird, I seem to get that a lot, and maybe it's just that everyone in Los Angeles sorta looks the same, but I don't think so. Joey pulls the cooler out, holding it up like a trophy until he sees my face. “What's wrong?”
“Sorry... just one of those weird things where you think you've seen someone before. Anyway, I was saying, about public image. A lot of those people, you could tell there was a real person underneath there, behind all the front that they put up. Some of them, they wanted to really let people know about that side of them, like this one girl. I'm not going to name names, but she hated the fact that her contract wanted her to act all slutty all the time when in real life she just wanted to be a normal girl. On the other hand, there was the clean-cut image guy who was a total manslut. He would use his public image to pick up girls and then...”
I see Joey trembling in anger, and I nod, changing the subject. Joey must have a history with guys like that, maybe he lost a girl he liked to one of the manslut types. “Yeah. Anyway, I've always wanted to tell those stories, both to help the people who want to get their real image out there, to let people know about the awesome stuff that isn't always backed by the big conglomerates like my Dad's, and maybe cut down a few idols who exploit the people.”
“Hopefully only those that deserve it,” Joey says. We go over to a picnic table and he sets his cooler down, opening it for me to an exquisite bouquet of aromas. Spicy, sweet, grilled vegetables... “What do you think?”
“It smells amazing. Where'd you get this?” I ask as Joey takes out plastic wrapped things that look like sandwiches, some grilled vegetables, and I don't even know what else. “This looks homemade.”
“That's because it is,” Joey admits with a little bit of pride. “Growing up, Mama worked long hours, so I learned how to cook, starting with boxed mac and cheese. But I wanted to do more to take care of Maria, so I started picking up some more skills. As our financial situation's improved, I made sure to give my family the best that we could afford. I can't lay claim to the jibaritos, though.”
It's my turn to blush, embarrassed. “Okay... I'll bite. What's a jibarito?”
Joey picks up what I thought was a sandwich, but looking closer I see that the bread is actually a smashed, fried banana. “Back in the day, wheat to make bread was expensive in Puerto Rico, especially outside San Juan. So, the country farmers, the jibaros, would take two plantains and turn them into a bread substitute. They'd fill the space in between with meat, cheese, mayo, just like a regular sandwich. Mama made these, I'm not good with green plantains yet.”
I unwrap one, inhaling the heavenly scent. It's not sweet like I thought it would be, but more mellow, meaty, cheesy mayo smell and with a good dose of starch
from the plantain itself. I've been to the Michelin starred restaurants here in Los Angeles, but right now I can't think of anything that's smelled better than this sandwich. “Wow, I may have a new favorite food.”
The sun's nice as we start eating, and every bite is amazing. “You seriously cooked this all? Except for the sandwiches?”
Joey nods, blushing. “I know, it's not the tough guy image, is it?”
“I... I'm not looking for a tough guy,” I admit, taking another bite of my sandwich. “I've had my fill of blowhard tough guys.”
Joey gives me a relieved smile, setting his bottle of Coke aside. “Phew. I mean, I'm no scrub, you can't be a total scrub and get through the high school I went to, but that's a relief to me.”
“You said you and high school didn't get along. What was it like?”
Joey laughs, looking up for a moment as he chooses his words. “Well, you know how you said your high school looked like a Disney Channel show? Okay, now take that idea and change it. Imagine a show set in a high school, but make it on... oh, let's say HBO. Not quite The Wire, but pretty close. Got it?”
I nod, an image in my mind. “Morgan Freeman anywhere nearby?”
Joey shakes his head, smirking. “No... but he could have been. Now, make everything about ten percent worse than the show. That was my high school. Metal detectors, gangs in the courtyard, all of it. Part of the reason the teachers didn't bug me about my grades and sleeping in class sometimes was that at least I was showing up, wasn't dealing or starting crap. Actually, my worst fight was because of that.”
“What happened?” I ask. “A fight in class?”
Joey nods. “I'd worked twenty straight nights, between night jobs and practice and doing gigs with the band. We weren't the Fragments, I hadn't met Rocky yet. The night before, I'd been up until one thirty working a job at an all-night car wash, lying about my age to be able to do it. The owner knew I was lying, but he just thought I was lying about being a US citizen. Anyway, it was history class when some guy started getting into it with the teacher, going off about... honestly, I don't know what the hell it was about. I was at my breaking point and snapped at the guy, and one thing led to another.”
“How'd it turn out?” I ask, and Joey shakes his head, smiling. “That bad?”
“I was exhausted, and he was on the wrestling team. He probably could have kicked my ass either way, though, dude was in beast mode most of the time. But yeah, that was my high school.”
I reach across the table and take Joey's hand, smiling. “Thanks. You're the first guy I've ever dated who was man enough to admit that he isn't the world's toughest guy. And before you ask, I'm not exactly living the great life either.”
“Tell me about it,” Joey says, reversing our hands so that he can hold my fingers more comfortably. “I get the feeling that you... well, you might have a Lexus and live in one sweet apartment, but you've got problems too.”
I nod, looking into Joey's calm, dark eyes, and open up. “My Dad's clingy. You're right, I have the Lexus. Paid for by him. My apartment? Again, paid for by him. The job I have at the Pulse is because Dad gave all his buddies in his little group of media types a call and made sure I couldn't get hired anywhere with a circulation over a thousand copies, and I had to go to him to get anything decent. Every time I try to gain my own separation, I feel like he's clutching me tighter. Today, I chose the park because I've never been to something as simple as the park before for a picnic. It'd be something totally un-Darren Coates. Then there's Chad.”
“Uh-oh,” Joey says, giving me a reassuring smile. “I know that tone of voice. Chad's not your best friend from college.”
I shake my head, suddenly for some reason blinking back tears. “No. He and I hooked up at UCLA. He was a grad student while I was a junior at the time. His father's a big-name lawyer downtown, he runs in the same country club circles as my Dad. At first, I thought he was charming, kinda cute, strong. Turns out he's a borderline alcoholic man-child who cheated on me and is accused of raping a girl at a frat party. And since I broke it off with him, he's having a problem accepting that it's over.”
Joey doesn't ask if it's really over, or if I was playing Chad, or anything else. Instead, he looks me in the eyes for a moment, then nods. “What do you need? What can I do to help?”
It's the last question I thought anyone would ask me. When I broke up with Chad, everyone wanted to know why or said to give him another chance And no one ever offered sincere support when I've ever complained about my dad. Joey just has though. His expression is calm and accepting, and he’s strong in ways that I've never seen before. He doesn’t puff out his chest or bully people like both Chad and Dad do. Joey's strength is the real strength, and if I ask, he won't let the weight of the world hurt me. If I ask.
“I... right now, what I need is a good picnic in the park with a good man, and maybe a walk on the beach across the street,” I finally say, causing Joey to give me another one of his dazzling smiles. I smile back, giving his hands a squeeze. We finish up, and walk the short distance to the beach. The ocean's way too cold in the fall to even think of swimming or walking in the surf, but it's still beautiful, and the sand's warm as we sit down.
“So, Andrea,” Joey says, taking my hand again as we watch the gulls wheel out over the water. “What are your dreams? I feel like you know mine. Good music, take care of my family, stuff like that. Probably not quite the change the world sort of stuff that you've heard from people throughout your life, but that's me. What about you?”
I lean against him, feeling the strength of his arm, and consider my answer. “Work-wise, I'd like to keep writing, to bring my stories to people. And maybe more than just entertainment, I like hearing human interest stories too. I'd like to be able to stand on my own that way. If I had a money point, I guess you could say the day that I buy a Lexus like the one I've got but totally with my own money. Yeah, I'll have made it then. But I want more than just work.”
“What do you want?” Joey asks, turning to me. “I know what I want right now.”
I smile and lean towards Joey, who kisses me with tender strength. His hand cups my head as we lean closer, and while my body thrums, he's a total gentleman, just kissing me, his lips exploring mine. When we part, he smiles, his skin flushing a deep red. I feel warm myself, and I know I'm blushing. “I think we wanted the same thing.”
Joey nods, chuckling. “Well, that's one of the two things that I wanted. The other, I kind of got distracted before I could say.”
“Now's your chance,” I softly reply. “While you got me here, captivated by those eyes of yours.”
“I wanted to ask you if it'd be okay if I saw you again. Because after the interview and then this date, I want to see you again very much.”
“I'd like nothing more.”
Joey's smile spreads, and he turns to look out at the ocean, the waves crashing on the sand. “And this isn't going to be a problem? I don't mean to you, but.... well, I get the impression from everything you said about your father that Daddy isn't going to like his princess seeing a Rican just out of the 'hood.”
I lean against Joey's shoulder, setting my head on his arm. “I can get around that. Joey, I know it sounds nuts, sounds stupid crazy and right now I'm thinking of your West Side Story joke, but the moment I saw you...”
“I felt something for you,” Joey finishes, both of us turning to look the other in the eyes. “Like there was just this click, and suddenly things sort of fell into place.”
“Yeah... kinda like that,” I agree. We lean closer again when a flash pops up in the corner of my eye, and I turn, surprised. “What?”
Joey turns to look where I glanced, but there are at least a dozen people on the beach, I don't know who did it. “What?”
“I thought I saw a flash, like a camera flash. But it's sunny. Maybe just a sun flash off the waves?”
Joey shrugs, smiling. “Yeah, could have been either. You're in the press, and while you're legit, let's face it, my b
and's gotten its fair share of tabloid vultures. They were fixed on Rocky for so long, but now that he's a family man, he's gotten boring. Or maybe just a fan who recognized me. That doesn't happen often, the stage getups help there.”
I nod, considering. “I hadn't thought of that. So, can you go to the grocery store without getting mobbed?”
Joey smiles. “Next time I need to go shopping, how about you come with me and find out? I'll even let you put it in your expose on me. Joey Rivera: Rock Gone Organic!”
I laugh, and we get up, walking the beach and just having fun until the sun's an orange ball above the ocean and we head back. “I can't believe I spent nearly five hours on a picnic date.”
Joey laughs, holding my hand. “Yeah well, this is the best first date I've ever had. I'm looking forward to our next one.”
On the drive back to my apartment, I'm tempted to invite Joey upstairs for a nightcap, and maybe more. When we get to my parking lot, I see Chad's car in the visitor spot again. I can't help it, my lip curls, but Joey either doesn't notice or doesn't say anything, coming around to my door to open it for me and walk me to the front door. Just as we get there, we stop, still holding hands. “So... what's your plans for the weekend?”
“I've got a club review I need to do, and the opening of an art house flick Saturday night,” I admit sadly. “Weekends are busy for entertainment reporters. But... well, this Saturday's movie they only gave me one ticket, but I can look at making it two next time?”
Joey nods, smiling. “I'd like that very much. How about you check your schedule and give me a call? Other than my little side project, right now I'm free for most of the next three months, a few promo appearances, and stuff only. I’m going to have to find something to take up a lot of my time, I'm really not the type of guy who can lay around for three months doing nothing.”