A lurking fear of spending many Friday nights alone with a video rental and cheap wine had been creeping up on Elise lately. Even worse, she’d been haunted by visions of transforming into the weird chick sitting at the end of the bar alone if she didn’t find some other comrades quickly.
She introduced herself to the girls.
“We just moved here, too,” Brooke said. “I’m from Pittsburgh, and Tracey is from North Carolina.” Judging from their tans, they had been here a lot longer than Elise, and she was afraid she might permanently scar their vision when she removed her T-shirt and shorts.
“Please, help yourself to some snacks.” Tracey held up a bag of Ruffles with one hand and pointed to some onion dip sitting atop a cooler. “They’re for everyone. We’ve got plenty.”
“Thanks.” Something about potato chips and onion dip made her feel right at home. It was classic beach food, and the sight of salty ridged chips and a sour cream carton with sand glittered around its edges gave her a strange sense of nostalgia and pleasure.
Tracey and Brooke were sweet girls who unfortunately had roommates but promised to keep on the lookout for Elise. Tracey was an accountant, and Brooke attended law school at USD while waiting tables at a Japanese restaurant in La Jolla. They spent the day lazing in the sun, sharing stories about their recent moves over the buzz of Jet Skis.
She couldn’t help but listen with envy and admiration when they both told her they had walked to the bay from their apartments and described living situations that didn’t include helicopters and loser boyfriends who ate their food and ruled the television set.
“I wish my move had been as easy as yours,” she said to them.
“Well, you know why you’re having trouble,” Brooke offered. “Because you have a dog. It’s impossible to find places anywhere around here that will take dogs. I had to send my dog back to my parents’ house in Pittsburgh. It was better than giving him away to some stranger. You could always give her to your parents for a while.”
Not an option. Elise would never part with Bella. Even if it meant living in the ghetto until she was able to buy her own place. At the rate her career was going, she might never be able to own a home. She had a bond with that dog as if Bella were Elise’s own child, and frankly, she liked the dog more than most kids.
She’d saved Bella from her weird neighbors, the Fosters, in Tucson. From the outside, Cathy and Mark Foster appeared to be a charming young yuppie couple. She drove a Volvo, toting around their well-groomed young children to flute lessons and karate. He drove a Mercedes sedan and belonged to one of the nicest gyms in the area. When they got a puppy, Elise thought it was cute that they had completed their family. Nice parents, two cute children, and now the pup. They had asked Elise to feed Bella when they went to visit family in Scottsdale. Bella was a good puppy, not the type that jumped all over you and ripped at your shoelaces with razor-sharp teeth. Rather, she was affectionate and seemed to crave cuddling as if she were starved for attention. After just a couple days of pet-sitting Elise let Bella stay at her place for the rest of the Fosters’ vacation. She’d fall asleep with the dog’s warm body curled next to her and wake up looking at her big pointed ears and puggish face.
Seven months after the Fosters had taken Bella into their home Elise learned that they “were getting rid of her.”
“Know anyone who wants a dog?” Mark Foster had asked casually one morning as he grabbed the newspaper. “We just can’t keep that dog anymore.”
“Why?”
Mrs. Foster shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. We don’t have time for a dog, and I just don’t think we’re pet people. I’ve never really liked animals. We just thought she might be good for the kids.” She chuckled. “And Mark told me I could get a new coffee table if we gave her away.”
Weren’t animals supposed to be a lifelong commitment? You don’t go buy a pet and then trade it in for furniture several months later.
“She’s kind of funny looking, too,” Mark added. “She gives me the creeps. Maybe someday we’ll get a nice golden retriever for the kids.”
“A golden retriever will probably look better on the Christmas cards,” Elise said. She couldn’t help it. Though she was being sarcastic, they actually nodded. And this was why they were weird. One, they were shallow. Two, as far as Elise was concerned, anyone who wasn’t “pet people” was suspect. People who didn’t like animals couldn’t be trusted. Who didn’t like the warm feeling of a puppy licking her face, or the sound of a cat purring? She didn’t have any friends who jumped in circles and leapt for joy when she walked through the front door.
“I’m running an ad,” Cathy said. “So far no one has called, but if I don’t get rid of her by next week, I’m going to take her to the shelter.”
The shelter? She’d said it as if it were no big deal, like Bella would be going to some kind of doggie summer camp. Elise had always had pets growing up. Dogs and cats. Since she’d been in college she’d missed having a pet. She thought about it overnight and the next morning went to retrieve the dog. A week later she saw a Bekins truck delivering a brand-new oak coffee table. It was so ugly.
Not long after adopting Bella she had realized that not only were the Fosters shallow assholes, but their kids were complete fuckers, too. It became obvious that Bella had suffered much torment at the hands of the Foster children. Every time a child came near her, she would whimper before hiding beneath the nearest piece of furniture. What those kids had done, Elise would never know.
They’d been together for two years now, and Bella was the most loyal and steady companion Elise had ever had, especially since she wrote alone all day. Bella was like a coworker and a companion. Giving up her dog would never happen.
Stan raced over and grabbed a beer from his cooler. His team had won, and he was in an exceptionally good mood. She noticed that Tracey and Brooke both seemed to laugh more freely after Stan sat down. They ran their fingers through their hair and sucked in their stomachs, too. She wondered if one of them had hooked up with her brother, or if they were hoping to. Surprisingly, Stan never had a hard time getting women. He’d always been active, doing things outdoors—surfing and bike riding daily. As a result, he was tanned and chiseled, and his big blue eyes often reminded Elise a little of Jared Leto’s. She had often wondered if he would ever find the right girl and settle down. He tossed a cold beer on Elise’s towel. “So who is this guy you’re going out with tonight?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It’s a blind date.”
Tracey and Brooke raised their eyebrows and released surprised gasps. For some reason the words blind date elicited the same response she’d get if she told them she was going bungee jumping over the Bermuda Triangle. “God! That’s scary. Do you know how brave you are?” Brooke said. “I did that once. And I’ll never do it again. Oh no. Never again.” She shook her head.
“Do you know what he looks like?” Tracey asked.
“No idea.”
“Aren’t you dying of curiosity?”
“Well, I’ve made a promise to myself not to expect anything. Not one thing. It’s been hard, but I’ve tried to avoid fantasies where he’s drop-dead gorgeous, has a heart of gold, and loves dogs. If I don’t think about it too much, I won’t be disappointed.”
“That’s a really good attitude,” Tracey said.
Her brother laughed.
“What?” Elise asked.
“Oh nothing.”
“What?”
“I just had this image of a complete nerd picking you up.”
“Thanks.”
He laughed harder, then stopped suddenly as if something had come to mind. “Seriously, if the guy is a creep, call me, and I’ll come get you.”
“Oh, that is so sweet,” Brooke cooed. “What a good brother you are. My brother is the same way, so protective.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Elise said. “Carly is going to be with me.” She flipped onto her stomach and let the sun soak into her back. “What happen
ed on your date?” she asked Brooke.
“Ugh. It was awful. I felt like his therapist. He talked about his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him all throughout dinner. He kept comparing her to everything I did. I wanted to get up and leave.”
“My roommate went on a blind date once, and the guy had a gold tooth. She found out later the guy was technically still married, too,” Tracey chimed in.
Talking to them had done the opposite of what she’d been trying to avoid. She was starting to have fantasies of Toby, her real estate agent blind date. The rest of her afternoon at the beach was spent warding off visions of him with teeth that would be stylish on a pimp, and a whole load of baggage.
Getting ready for her date made her realize just how badly she needed to go to the nearest shopping mall. It had been a long time since she’d been on a real date. If they were doing something casual, then she would knock Toby’s socks off with an adorable Urban Outfitter’s tank top and fantastic jeans with just the right amount of wear and tear. However, Carly said they were going downtown, which meant jeans weren’t allowed. If she attempted to set foot in any downtown establishment wearing jeans, she’d be greeted with the kind of stares that made her feel like she had a gigantic booger hanging from her nose.
It took her twice as long to get ready because she couldn’t decide on anything to wear. She hadn’t worn black pants since the days when the fashion industry had just begun to introduce boot cut. All her black pants were tapered and made her look like she needed a formal introduction to the millennium. She finally settled for a skirt that she’d forgotten she even owned and that surprisingly seemed to fit in with the current trends. It was short, light pink, and had several layers of ruffles toward the bottom. She put on a white blouse and jean jacket and thought she looked pretty hot with her new tan.
She spent another ten minutes digging like a gopher through the mountain of shoes on her closet floor for the strappy heels she’d worn to her graduation. After several minutes of frantic digging, she finally found the heels. The right one was smooshed and looked malformed from being smothered beneath the pile. When she put the shoes on, she noticed that her foot looked deformed.
She needed a second opinion.
Justine’s bedroom door was open, and she popped her head in. She found her alone in her bedroom and on the phone. This time she wasn’t murmuring monkey talk, and she looked startled when she noticed Elise in the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” Elise said, unsure of what she was apologizing for. She quickly turned from the room.
“No. It’s okay. Come in!” she called.
“Sorry. I thought I scared you.”
“No. I’m just checking Jimmy’s messages. I figured out his code for the voice mail on his cell phone.”
“Where is he?” Elise asked.
“He just went to the liquor store. We’re having some of his friends over and then going to The Whistle Stop with them. He went to get beer for before we go to the bar. Do you want to come out with us?”
“I actually have a blind date tonight.”
Instead of lifting her eyebrows and telling her how risky blind dates could be, she ignored her and pressed something on the phone. “Listen to this,” she said as if she were Nancy Drew. A female voice came crackling to life on the speakerphone. “Hey Jimbo,” she said. “It’s Bettina. I hear the whole band is in L.A., and I want to meet up with you guys. I haven’t seen you in forever, and I heard everything is going great with your little lady from Nebraska.” To that, Justine rolled her eyes. “Well, call me. I’m in L.A. for business, and I want to buy you a drink.” She clicked off the speakerphone. “I can’t stand that chick.”
“Who is she?”
“Some freaking groupie who used to date Adrian Potter, the lead singer. She has never gotten over him. So she stalks the other band members and tries to be their friend. I mean, why can’t she just leave my boyfriend alone and get a life?” She said the last part while she was standing in her dark bedroom on her day off, busting into her boyfriend’s voice mail message account.
“Anyway, what’s up?”
“What do you think of the shoes?”
“Ummm. They’re all right.” She thought for a moment. “Come here.”
Justine opened her closet door. What lay inside was the most organized shoe rack in America. Really. Elise thought someone should write Oprah about this. The world needed to see. Not only were all of Justine’s shoes neatly lined and organized, but each shelf was arranged in rows according to color and style. Beneath each pair was an index card listing the outfits that went best with the shoes.
She reached a thin arm into her closet, pulled a pair of pink pumps from a rack of heels. She presented them to Elise as if she were handling the Hope diamond.
“Those are so cute.”
“Thanks,” Justine said. “Try ’em on. I just bought them the other day.”
The black soles were as sleek and unmarked as an untouched chalkboard. “You just bought these.” Elise shook her head. “I can’t wear them.”
“Why not?”
“You haven’t even worn them yet.”
“So. Try ’em on. I bet they’re perfect with your outfit.”
Elise slipped on the shoes. Both girls studied her feet in the mirror. Her claves looked long and sexy above them, and the shoes were the same shade of pink as her skirt.
“They’re perfect,” Justine said.
“I can’t wear these. You’ve never even worn them. You just bought them, and I can’t trounce around town all night in them.”
“You’re wearing those shoes, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“But—”
“Go get ready. You can let me borrow something of yours when I need to.”
Elise was applying the finishing touches of her makeup when the doorbell rang. They were here, and five minutes early. She took a deep breath and squashed a last-minute hope that her date looked like Brad Pitt.
Every time she became nervous her mind seemed to go on vacation. Clear, sharp thinking departed, and a slow and spacey substitute with delayed reactions and a lack of quick wit moved in. Sometimes if she took a few deep breaths she could bring her mind back. She inhaled deeply and could hear the muffled voices of Justine and Jimmy as they answered the door. She grabbed her purse from her desk and headed to the living room.
“Oh, hi,” she said.
“Hey, Elise,” Max greeted her, looking even cuter than the last time she had seen him. “What are you up to this evening?”
She was about to tell him she was just going out with some friends when Justine beat her and announced that she had a blind date.
He nodded. “Right on.” He set his helmet on the couch. “I meant to ask you, what’s the name of your book?”
“Double Deceit.”
“Cool. I was in Borders the other day and wanted to grab a copy.”
“Really? Thanks.”
“Yeah, I was looking for a good book to read. I ended up getting some other mystery book that was okay, but not that engaging.”
She wondered how this calm, cool, seemingly intelligent person was friends with Jimmy. “If you ever need recommendations, I can give you all kinds of books to read. I read all the time.”
They talked about good books, and for a moment she wished Carly wasn’t bringing Toby and Marcus here. For some reason, she didn’t want Max to see her going on a date.
The doorbell rang again, and it was several more of Justine and Jimmy’s friends. She wanted to visit with Max more, but a tall blonde smelling of patchouli and wearing Birkenstocks cornered him. Justine introduced her to some of the new arrivals, and Elise felt a little overdressed around their casual bar attire. She also felt an urge to ditch her skirt and heels, throw on jeans, and head to The Whistle Stop with them.
When Carly entered with Marcus and Toby, the entire room fell silent. Elise was too overwhelmed by the fact that every single person was staring at them to realize that Toby was pr
etty darn cute. She just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
This wasn’t an episode of The Bachelorette. She didn’t need an audience while she met her date for the first time.
“Well, good-bye, everyone. It was fantastic meeting you,” she said as she quickly herded her group to the front door.
Outside, music blasted. “I said sucka watch yo ass. Cuz you gonna get tagged. Bleedin till ya die. You gonna say good-bye . . .”
“Nice neighborhood,” Marcus said sarcastically.
She’d only had the opportunity to meet Marcus a couple of other times, and each time she was exposed to his company, she liked him less. She had forgotten how much better Carly could do. Going bald, he had bug eyes that popped from his little skull and looked as if they might produce beams and zap you if he stared too long. Worst of all, he was one of those people who always pointed out the obvious.
“I’ve gotten used to the rap,” Elise said. “Just like I expect to hear cheesy love songs in the grocery store, I expect to hear rappers singing about gang warfare and blow jobs in my neighborhood.”
Toby laughed. “This is actually going to be a really great neighborhood someday. Investment-wise, City Heights is moving up. Just like North Park.”
“When?” Elise asked. “Tomorrow?”
He laughed, and she thought he was cute, someone her mother would love. He and Marcus both wore freshly ironed button-down polo shirts with black pants. Toby’s hair was cut short, and though it was getting a little thin, he made the best of what he had and managed to comb it stylishly. He smelled like a good, clean masculine deodorant, but not in an overwhelming way, and he had a friendly smile.
“Why don’t we go in separate cars to Dakota’s?” Marcus said. “That way, Elise and Toby can chat. They should get to know each other.” Nothing like being put on the spot.
She climbed into the passenger seat of Toby’s Camry and was pleased to know the rims hadn’t been stolen during the brief time he’d been in her apartment. She felt a little pang of first-date awkwardness. She was nervous and conscious of the way her hair fell around her face and the way she crossed her legs. Even though her thighs were pretty muscular, if she crossed them at the wrong angle she could accidentally flash Toby a grisly shot of cellulite. She’d never struggled with her weight, but she had areas on her thighs that tended to appear problematic if in the wrong light. As of right now, she wanted to go out with him again.
Roommates Page 8