As you can probably guess, when I hang out with Liam, I need a buffer. That’s where Stephanie comes in. His girlfriend, Kora, is an okay buffer, but I’ve known her for so long that she’s practically family now. Liam met Kora in Oberlin, the small liberal arts college in Ohio where he studied Economics. After graduation, he took an internship at Citibank in New York City, until he realized that he didn’t want to go into finance after all. He switched to law, which my father had been harping on him to pursue for years. He’s been singing the same song to me, but I was wise to ignore him even after I grew up. But Liam’s a natural. He graduated from University of Michigan and then came back to the LA area to practice law. Kora followed him all around the country. She completed her Master’s degree in Education and supported them working as a middle school teacher while he was in law school. Now, he supports her. They’re a nice couple, really. I don’t have anything against them. Except that we have hardly anything in common.
I look down at my Omega watch. We have half an hour before we have to be at the restaurant. I guide Stephanie’s hands as we pull into the slip.
“We’re back,” I whisper into her ear. She giggles and flashes me a smile of her pearly whites.
“What should we do now?” she asks. Suddenly, she’s acting shy. All this time on the water, she was flirting like hell. Okay, I’ll bite, I decide.
“I can think of a few things,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. She’s standing in front of me, with her back to me. I push away her windblown hair and kiss her neck. Little goosebumps run up her spine. I feel them with my tongue. She tilts her head back and moans a little. I run my tongue from her earlobes to her collarbone. Then I flip her around and press my lips onto hers. She responds right away, forcing her tongue into my mouth. I pull her toward the cabin, taking extra precautions to make sure that she doesn’t bump her head. I have learned that injuries are not romantic, no matter what all those romantic comedies try to tell you. I push Stephanie onto the bed. When I don’t climb on top of her immediately, she pulls on my shirt. This is going to be a good night. Even if everything else tonight goes wrong, this is going to be so right.
After we are both more than satisfied, we get dressed and get off the boat. We took a little longer than I thought, so I hurry Stephanie along. She ends up re-applying her lipstick and blush as we walk to the restaurant in the harbor. Women’s ability to multi-task never ceases to amaze me.
Stephanie is wearing a designer black dress with spaghetti straps. It’s so short, if she bends over I’ll see the lower part of her perfectly toned butt cheeks. Stephanie is a yoga enthusiast with a body to match. For a moment, I hesitate. I want to go back to the boat and tear that dress off her again. Then I spot Liam and Kora somewhere in the back of the restaurant. It’s too late. I wave hello.
Unlike Stephanie, who isn’t afraid of the self-tanner, Kora is so pale that she looks ill. Her jet-black hair is cut short, and she’s wearing hardly any makeup. She has nice bone structure and a pretty enough face, but a little bit of makeup would go a long way to making her look beautiful. My brother is no different really. He has the same cheap haircut and is wearing a crumpled old suit. He doesn’t care about fashion one bit and only wears suits because they’re required for his line of work. He doesn’t seem to know that there are new lines of suits coming out each season and has worn the same two suits since law school.
“Hey there!” Liam gets up and gives me a warm hug. After giving Kora a kiss on the cheek, I introduce Stephanie and we all sit down.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Stephanie,” Liam says, glaring at me. “I wish my brother had told us that you were coming.”
I smile. What he really means is that he wishes that I had told him so that he could tell me to not bring her. Well, she’s here for me. Not you.
“Nice to meet you too,” Stephanie says in a high, peppy voice, completely oblivious to Liam’s half-assed compliment.
Liam and I each order a scotch and Stephanie and Kora order lemon drops. We make small talk about the weather and the traffic – usual LA stuff – before I finally broach the subject of why I’m here. I’ve waited long enough for them to bring it up.
“Not that I don’t love catching up with you two,” I say finishing my scotch. I motion to the waitress to bring me another. Alcohol is pretty much essential if I have to spend time with my family.
“But what’s the big news already? I’m dying to know.”
“Well, the big news is that…” Liam looks at Kora. Her eyes light up and she sticks out her left hand.
“We’re engaged!” They say simultaneously.
“Oh my God! Congratulations!” Stephanie gets so excited that she spills her drink putting it back onto the table, before grabbing Kora’s hand.
“Oh my, this is beautiful. Two carats?” she asks.
“Two and a half,” Kora smiles.
“Holy shit!” Stephanie yells. She isn’t a girl with much of a filter, but the expression on Kora’s face says that she couldn’t be happier with Stephanie’s exuberance.
“He did really good. You did really good, Liam!” Stephanie says approvingly. “And the diamonds on the sides, nice touch!”
“Logan?” Liam turns to me. Stephanie has ushered in the kind of level of excitement that I can never match. At least, not about this.
“Wow, congratulations!” I say as peppy as I can. Apparently, it works because Liam smiles.
“How long have you two been together?” Stephanie asks.
“A long time. Seven years,” Kora says. Kora’s been trying to get Liam to marry her since they have graduated from college. Honestly, I’m shocked that it took Liam that long to keep her at bay.
“Wow, that’s a long time,” Stephanie says. “I say you really deserve something more than two carats for waiting so long. Why did it take you so long to ask this gorgeous girl to marry you?”
Wow, Stephanie really doesn’t have a filter. I’m actually starting to enjoy this. I turn to Liam and watch him squirm.
“Yeah, Liam, why did it take you so long?” Kora joins in on the fun.
“You know why. Because I was in law school. And then I just started working. There were a lot of things to figure out.”
“Well, I’m glad you finally figured them out,” Stephanie announces as if she has known Kora her whole life.
“Hey, why is everyone interrogating me? I’m only 27. Logan there is 30 and has never had a relationship that lasted longer than two months.”
“Ah! Is that true?” Stephanie gasps dramatically.
“My therapist says I have commitment issues,” I say. I don’t have a therapist, but I’ve noticed that people like the sound of that. Like I’m admitting that I have a problem, and I’m trying to resolve it. It makes me sound like a good guy.
“Well, at least, you’re working on it,” Stephanie says with a sigh.
“Man, I can’t win, can I?” Liam jokes and we all chuckle.
“I think you’ve already won,” I say raising my glass. “I’d like to make a toast to you, Liam and Kora. Despite all the jokes, I know that you two have loved each other for a very long time. You have been through it all together, and now you’re finally coming together and making it official. I couldn’t be prouder of you as my little brother. And I couldn’t be happier to welcome you, Kora, into our family as my future sister. Here’s to you!”
Liam’s eyes get a little misty and Kora cries outright. Even Stephanie tears up. I don’t really mean a word of what I said, but those were nice words, huh? I like Kora okay, but I think she can do better than my brother. He works too hard and doesn’t do anything for fun. Everything is such serious business with that guy. He’s got way too many hang-ups and anxieties, and now poor Kora will have to put up with them for as long as they live. Or as long as they stay married. But I couldn’t very well say any of that. I’m not that much of an asshole.
Chapter 8 - Logan
As I predicted, that speech I made last night at dinner real
ly endeared me to Stephanie. We had a wild night on the boat afterwards, and she said that she was even open to the possibility of inviting a friend or two into our bed. And she knows the perfect girl – her college roommate! That was music to my ears. I’ve been looking for some variety in my threesomes, and I’ve noticed that it’s more effective if the girl finds the other girl to join us. That way I don’t look like a slime ball.
Stephanie had an appointment with a plastic surgeon about a possible breast augmentation down in Newport Beach the following morning, so she took off at three a.m. to beat the traffic and get an hour or two of sleep. Apparently, canceling it was out of the question – she has been waiting for it for a month. Watching her drive away in her white BMW convertible, I suddenly wondered if I was in love. Everything about that girl is perfect physically. She doesn’t want to stay the night and she’s into threesomes. What more does a man want? What more do I want?
Instead of sleeping on the boat, I decide to take the opportunity and drive back to my place in Malibu, also to beat all the traffic. I cruise down Pacific Coast Highway at 80 miles an hour and arrive at my house in record time. After stripping off all my clothes, I fall into a dead sleep.
“Well, well, well,” I hear a woman’s voice somewhere in the distance. “It’s almost eleven and Mr. Logan Davenport, an unemployed billionaire, is still asleep.”
The woman speaks in a thick West Texas accent while tapping her heel on my marble floor.
“I had a late night,” I mumble into my pillow.
Click. Click. Click. She walks across the floor, grabs the remote to the blinds and pulls them up. The sun hits me like a brick. I grab another pillow and cover my face with it.
“I had a late night, Aunt Dolly,” I moan.
“Yes, I can see that. But half the day is nearly gone already.”
“I can because I’m retired,” I say, rubbing my eyes and finally sitting up. “I can do anything I want to do.”
Aunt Dolly smiles a wide toothy smile. Her veneers are bright white and her matte red lipstick is perfectly applied. There isn’t one line on her face, and her hair is as big and platinum as ever. “The bigger the hair, the closer to God,” is a popular saying in Texas, but Aunt Dolly takes it to a whole new level.
“You may be retired, but you are also only 30 years old. You can’t just do nothing all day.”
“I don’t do nothing. I surf. I go out to lunch. I go on dates.”
I do plenty of other things too, which I can’t really mention to her. Or anyone else for that matter.
“Oh I know all about your dates,” she waves her hand dismissively. I chuckle and sit up in my bed. I can’t really get out from under the sheet, because I’m completely nude. Noticing my conundrum, she walks out of my room.
“I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” she says. “I have to talk to you about something important.”
I pull on a t-shirt and shorts and follow her out. Marilyn is in the kitchen cooking something delicious on the stove.
“Why did you let her in?” I ask jokingly.
Marilyn turns around.
“Because it’s Dolly,” she says with a smirk. “I always let in Dolly.”
Aunt Dolly smiles and tosses her hair with attitude.
“But I’m the one who pays you.”
“Not enough to not let in Dolly!” Marilyn announces.
I roll my eyes. Marilyn adores Dolly. They’ve been friends ever since she came to work for me. If she wasn’t so happily married, Dolly would undoubtedly set her up with one of her millionaire clients, and I’d be out of a great housekeeper.
I follow Aunt Dolly out to the porch. Marilyn brings us a tray of fruit, juice and coffee. The Pacific Ocean is unusually calm today. The sun is blistering hot and there are three pretty girls frolicking in the waves. I yearn to grab my board and join them.
“I found the perfect date for you,” Aunt Dolly announces. I shake my head. Not again. Aunt Dolly has been trying to set me up with someone for years. And for years, I’ve politely declined her offer.
“I’m not really interested in meeting one of your gold diggers. I can find plenty of them myself.”
“I do not deal with gold diggers, you know that,” she says sternly. This is a sore subject for her. I know I’m being unfair. She is careful to weed those girls out. She refuses to meet my gaze. I know that I’ve offended her. This conversation won’t go any further until I apologize.
“Okay, I’m sorry. But I can find my own dates,” I say.
“She’s completely different from anyone else I’ve ever met. And definitely not like all those stupid, hot girls who are just after your money, who you find so charming.”
“So she’s not hot?” I ask. “Thanks.”
“She’s not a model, no. But she’s plenty gorgeous.”
“She sounds boring.”
“Oh trust me, she’s anything but boring.”
I want to ask her more about what she looks like, but I know that will make me seem shallow.
“So what’s so special about her?”
“It’s hard to explain. She’s got this zest for life. This attitude.”
“So she’s a bitch?”
“No.”
“Zest for life? What’s that a euphemism for? Opinionated? Overbearing?”
“Exciting.”
I shake my head. I’m not convinced.
“How old is she?”
“25.”
“What does she do?”
“What do you care? None of the girls you date have jobs.”
“Good point,” I laugh.
“It just so happens that she runs her own business. She has a floral shop in Topanga Canyon.”
Hmm, that’s interesting. I’ve never been with anyone from Topanga Canyon before, but I’ve heard the rumors about the hippie girls who live there. They are very open-minded, sexually adventurous. I want to ask Aunt Dolly about it, but I don’t know how to phrase the question delicately, so I don’t look so much like an asshole.
“Is she one of those love the earth, flowers in her hair girls?”
“Are you asking if she’s a hippie?”
“I guess.”
“I don’t know. She definitely bathes and shaves if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not exactly what I was getting at,” I mumble.
“I don’t really know anything about her politics,” Aunt Dolly says, trying another angle. Now we’re way off course. I don’t care about politics. I mean, I have my own opinions, but I’ve noticed that there are open minded and sexually adventurous girls on both sides of the political spectrum, so I don’t discriminate.
“What makes you think that we’re going to be a good match?”
“Because she’ll keep you on your toes.”
I’m intrigued. Not so much by the fact that Aunt Dolly thinks that this girl will keep me on my toes, but by the fact that she lives in Topanga Canyon. Plus, she runs an actual business. That will be quite a change – to go out with someone with a job!
I take another sip of my orange juice and look over at Dolly. She stands out like a sore thumb, but it’s not just in Malibu. With that hair and jewelry and boobs, she would stand out anywhere. Aunt Dolly is my mom’s half-sister. My grandfather left my mom’s mom and moved to seek his fortune in West Texas and married Dolly’s mom. I met Aunt Dolly for the first time when I was 14 when she just showed up at our door in Chatsworth, California. My mom, who likes to wear sweats around the house, was horrified because Aunt Dolly was dressed in Chanel from head to toe. We have been close ever since. She’s outgoing, exuberant and knows how to have a good time. She loves to spend money, but she also loves to give it away. Despite the clothes, the jewelry and the shoes, she has absolutely no attitude. She doesn’t act like she’s better than anyone else and has a heart of gold.
When she arrived in Los Angeles, Aunt Dolly’s matchmaking business was already making close to half a million dollars – and that was in the late 90’s –but it
really took off once she got established here. That’s when the millionaire and billionaire clients started to come around.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve always found what you do a bit odd,” I say chucking a grape into my mouth.
“I know.”
“I just don’t really get why people would pay you so much money to find them a date. Can’t they do it on their own?”
“What I do is not find people dates. It’s so much more than that. I set them up with people who are their best fit.”
“And they don’t find these people themselves?” I ask. “Don’t people know what they like?”
“Okay, how about this for an analogy,” she says tapping her long nails on the table. “People can pick out their own clothes, right? They know what they like.”
“Yes.”
“But there are people out there who are professional stylists. That way when you go out to a premier or some fancy party, you can look your best. You may know what you like, but you’re not someone who deals with clothes exclusively. You don’t know all the latest styles and fashions. So you hire this stylist to curate a collection of options for you so you’re not overwhelmed by all the choices. You’re paying the stylist for their opinion.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I concede. “But what about all those online dating sites? Aren’t you afraid that you will be replaced by a computer? An algorithm?”
“No,” she shakes her head confidently. “I can’t be replaced by technology, because computers aren’t sentient beings. Yet. When that happens, we’ll talk.”
Auctioned to Him 2: His for a Week Page 70