“Josh, what’re you having?” David asks.
I ask him, “They have Guinness?” since I know he’s been here before.
“They do. He’ll have a Guinness,” he tells the bartender, early twenties, baby face bearded to help him look older. It helps.
The guy catches me looking at him and says, “Hey…I saw you at that showcase.”
I thought he looked familiar. “Oh, right. How’s it going?”
He pours my Guinness the right way, nice and slow, a dense foam layer on top. “You were great, man. It was like I was taking a class just watching you. So present, you know?” David looks at me, impressed.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” I look to Amber, but she didn’t hear him. Could I ask him to repeat it? Damn.
David pulls out his card. “This one’s on me, then.” The guy takes it with a nod and a grin, goes to ring us up. “I’ve never seen you act.”
“It’s no big deal,” I say.
He scoffs. “Modesty will get you nowhere in your business. Cut that shit out right now. So, I bet Amber calls you in all the time, huh? Kind of the perfect set-up.” He signs the bill and I shoot a quick look to Amber, hoping she didn’t hear that.
She didn’t, but I catch the tail end of Jess yelling, “Lady with a baby,” and think, what the fuck? Amber looks at me and says, “She’s kidding. I’m not…”
I have no idea what just happened. What are they talking about? When I’m sure she’s not listening, I tell David, “No, it’s not like that. I don’t mooch off her.” We walk to the table with our girls in front of us, purposefully distance them out of earshot.
He gives me a sideways glance. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
“Is she working on anything right now?”
“Yeah. Amazing project,” I say, watching the girls sit down, us four steps behind.
“So, what’s up? You don’t want in?” He whispers.
“Doesn’t matter. Auditions are over. It’s cast.”
“Too bad,” David says and drops it.
One more step, and I take my seat beside her.
Now’s my moment. I announce, “Dinner is on me, by the way.” Surprise all around, which kind of irks me.
“Yeah? Why is that?” David asks.
I pause for effect. Look to Amber, then to our friends and BOOM: “Booked a national commercial!” Gasps. I grin and high-five David across the table as Jess says I’m awesome.
I look to Amber and see the look I’ve been hoping for: love, respect and pride. She throws her arms around me. “Oh my God, baby. That’s so great!” she says and kisses me. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Right here. Right now.
I grin, “Perfect timing, huh? It’s like I got a gift from the gods for moving in with my girl.” I kiss her again, stoked.
“Well done, Josh. On you, then! I’m starving,” David says. “I want to order soon, if that’s okay with you guys.”
“Me too, so hungry,” Jess agrees. As her attention goes to the menu, a smokin’ hot little number – brunette, skimpy dress, legs all the way to China – walks by and smiles at us. David checks her out; I pretend to look at the menu. She told us to ditch the girls, with her eyes and body language. Women. I swear some of them get off getting men other women have. Guys do it, too. But you can punch them. I’m glad Amber didn’t see. I don’t want anything dampening the sex we’re going to have later. As everyone talks about the menu - what we’re going to order, what wine – I check out Amber’s thigh next to mine. I reach down to touch it, feel the silky fabric of her dress covering it, all the time acting like I’m not hard; like I’m not counting the minutes until I can get her home and take her on the kitchen counter. Home. Our home.
When David starts up with, “We had a lot more fun unpacking than you guys are gonna have,” competitive guy that I am, I can’t help but take the bait.
“We’re going to have more fun than you guys had,” I say. If I had a sword, I’d pull it out.
His eyes narrow, “I doubt that you could.”
I’m about to tell him exactly how I will, when I’m interrupted. “Amber!”
I look up. Jake Fucking Lombardi is standing above me – a Panther in a tree – and he’s looking at Amber in a way I’m not okay with. Then he acts as if he didn’t see me, which I know is a load of bull. “Josh! Holy crap! Hey buddy. How’s it hanging?”
I shift in my seat. He was always like this in class, too. “Hanging to the left, man. Hanging to the left. Long time. How the hell are ya?”
“I’m great, man, great. And wow, Amber. You look amazing.”
The way Amber says “thanks,” slams it home. They’ve fucked. I can’t believe it, and I’m about to stand up, but David sees my growing rage and sticks out his hand to block me. “I’m David! Saw you in the play, Menace. Good stuff,” he lies, throwing a warning look to me.
They shake hands. “Yeah? Thanks man. I’m Jake.”
Jake, refusing to take a hint, looks back to me and smirks, “So you and Amber, huh?” He’s not a Panther. I take it back. He’s a Rat.
Amber’s hand tightens around mine until it hurts. She holds me steady. I answer him through clenched jaw, “Yep. You still studying at Stella Adler? I haven’t seen you in class.”
He sneers like the idea is beneath him. “Naw. Been working too much. Just learning on set now.”
Fuck you, Jake.
David shoots me a look, then with his tone, tells Jake that he’s about to get a fist to the face if he doesn’t move along, from both of us. “Well, we’ll catch up with you later. We’re starving so…”
We all fall silent.
Jakes nods, “Right. Right. Well, have at it, then. You all have a good night.” He walks away, but when he gets a safe-distance from my fist, he calls back, “Amber baby! See you at the call back!”
He can’t mean what I think he means.
He laughs, looks me square in the eyes and says, “Spike Jonze. Incredible. Can’t wait.” He turns around and scurries back into the sewer.
But it’s too late. Even a rat can take down a Lion with the right tools. My heart drops to my balls, and crawls up inside. I look at her, but she won’t look back. Stunned, I lock my stare onto the cloth napkin, still folded nice in front of me on the table.
David covers with, “I don’t know about you guys but, that guy’s a dick. Hey Josh, here’s to your commercial, man. That’s amazing news.” Fuck. Why did I have to tell him the movie was cast? Now he knows exactly what Jake got that I didn’t.
But I thank him, my voice stilted, pained. I raise my glass and down my drink without stopping, take comfort in the sting of whiskey heating up my dried throat. When we order, I do it from another dimension, looking at Amber from the corner of my eyes, her silence hurtful. All the excitement and happiness I felt is gone. Is this what a lie can do? The food comes. Dessert turned down. Check paid - by me, thank you very much.
The entire time, I’m in obsession, Jake’s sneering rat-face huge in my mind. He’s auditioning for the film. Amber lied. She fucked him. He made sure I knew. So, this isn’t about crossing professional with personal …this is about me. She doesn’t think I can do it. She thinks I suck, that I don’t have it.
I come close to throwing my dinner up in front of everyone. I feel the acid sneak up the back of my throat and shove it back down with water and dignity. I can’t look at her. I don’t want to see how much she must loathe my ambition; mediocrity pursuing an impossible dream. Self-doubt slithers around my head.
After we say goodbye to David and Jess, when I’m alone with her, the girlfriend I thought was perfect, I stare at the pedestal pieces shattered around her feet. “I’m tired. Think I’m going to sleep at my place tonight. You know… say goodbye to the place.”
She doesn’t try to touch me, or make me feel better, which I’m glad for but also makes me feel worse. Instead she says, “Oh. Okay. Yeah, if that’s what you want.” Nothing else.
S
ay you’re sorry, Amber. Say you’re sorry, and you didn’t mean to crush my love for you. I stare at a blackened spot of year-old flattened gum, steadying myself against the anger. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I don’t know if I’ll be there.
“I hope so,” she says.
If she can lie, then so can I. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry,” I say, and get in the first cab I see.
“Where to?” the cabbie asks as I close the door.
“Just drive, please. I don’t know yet.”
He doesn’t object, but I do get the once over, from the rearview. They’ve perfected judgment to an art form, these guys. I’m sure I’m not the only broken man he’s ever seen. I look out the window. I can’t go home yet. I know that much. These racing thoughts would be the death of me if I did that. We make it only a block; turn one corner, before I say, “Stop here. Sorry. Stop here.”
“You got it,” he says and pulls over in front of a bar. I pay him, get out and go in. It’s dark, like I need it to be. Crowded, too, which is perfect because I drown in the noise. I push through strangers to get to the bar. Sitting down at the counter I order Bookers, neat. No ice to dilute it. I need whiskey. Several. Maybe the whole bottle to myself. I shoot it. Ask for another. This bartender doesn’t recognize me from a showcase. He sure as shit doesn’t recognize me from a show, because unlike Jake, I’m not working on TV shows and I wasn’t in that film at Sundance that won that award. Fucking Jake. I order another.
Thanks,” I say, when he sets them down without questioning. Big tip coming.
“You wanna buy me one, while you’re at it?” a smooth feminine voice beside me, asks.
I look to my left and see a smokin’-hot brunette on the seat beside me, who looks familiar. I squint at her trying to place it. “Hey, I just saw you at the restaurant.”
A smile plays on her red lips. “Yes, you did.”
“Nice dress.”
“You like it?”
“Who wouldn’t?” I laugh and burp.
She smiles and shakes her head. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”
I narrow my eyes, try hard not to look at her chest. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you here?” she throws back.
“I’m here to get drunk.” I take a deep drink.
She watches me and chuckles, takes a languid sip of her red wine, pushing out her cleavage so I can get a better look. Maybe I imagined that. She says, “So your blonde didn’t work out. Bad date, too?”
“She’s my girlfriend. And I love her blonde hair, so don’t say it like that.” I look at the mass of bottles on the backbar in front of me, thinking, I can take ‘em all.
Her eyebrows go up. “Really? Your girlfriend, huh…Then why are you here?”
I smirk, motion for another, answer, “Why are you here.”
“Nice,” she smiles. “I’m here because my date turned out to be a jerk.”
“Yeah? Who was your date?”
“Jake Lombardi.” She raises her glass and takes another languid sip, her thigh now exposed and pointed toward me.
I cock my head to her, frown, “You were there with Jake Lombardi?”
She waves her hand and says, “He’s not that a big a celebrity. Don’t be impressed.”
I snort. “Fuck that. I know him from class.”
“You know him?” she asks.
“Yeah. I know him. What’d he do on your date? This I gotta hear.”
“He talked only about himself and his career, which was exciting for less than a minute. Then he talked about the menu like he could cook it better than the chef himself. He even said that when the food arrived. Then he asked me, ‘How’d you like to say you fucked Jake Lombardi?’”
“He didn’t.”
“Oh yes, he did.”
I laugh despite myself. It’s a good line.
She smiles and points a pretty finger at me, “The only reason I didn’t walk out on him was because my best girlfriend hooked us up and I didn’t want to embarrass her.”
“She hooked you up with that Rat? Not a very good friend,” I scoff. The bartender drops my next Bookers and leaves. I look at it…take a break for a second.
“No, she’s fine. See, I was hosting a show for E, which I guess Jake saw, and he asked about me… so my friend said sure. But she didn’t know him well, so I can’t blame her. I’ll tell her all about it, though, that’s for sure. Are you an actor?” She tilts her head and her hair hits the bar; that’s how long it is.
“I am.”
She smiles. “I bet you’re good too, huh? You look like the real deal.”
I shrug, but I’m grateful. David’s right… why be modest? Jake’s not modest and he has a career. Plus an audition with my girlfriend. I try it out for a whirl, “I am, actually. I’m pretty good.” Awkwardly, I look at my drink. My head’s fogging up, and I didn’t like the way that felt. I think I’ll stick with modesty.
“What’s your name?” she asks, her leg swinging slightly, up and down. Up and down.
“Josh,” I answer, looking at it.
“I’m Shauna. So… your turn. Why are you here… alone.”
“Same reason you are,” I say, still looking at her leg. “Jake Lombardi.”
“How do you mean?”
I look away, take a drink, shoulders hunched, head down. “He’s auditioning for a film my girl’s casting. He’s got credits. He’s got a better agent. He’s…” The knife in my gut shuts me up from saying more.
“She’s a casting director?”
I kiss my drink goodbye, say, “Yep,” and drop the emptied glass on the bar with a clunk.
She leans in. “Don’t worry. You’ll show her you’re better than he is, during your audition.”
I grunt, “I’m not auditioning.”
She sits up straighter and those size double D’s of hers sit up, too. She’s making it really hard not to pay attention. “You’re not?”
“Nope.”
“Because you don’t want to…or…”
“Oh I want to. She’s not calling me in.”
“What the fuck?”
I put out my hand. “Hold on. She’s probably just afraid it’ll come between us.”
We remain silent until she offers in a voice so comforting, it soothes the ache in me, “Couldn’t it help you, if you got the part? I’m in the business, remember? I know how hard it is. If you booked this job, couldn’t it help both of you?”
I blink. “Yeah, but what if I didn’t get called back? She’s probably afraid I’d feel like I’m less than her or something.”
“Like you feel now?” she asks.
I look down at my empty glass and mumble, “I don’t know.”
“Does she know how good you are?”
I shrug, swallow down the pain. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Okay.” Then she says slowly, “We don’t have to talk.” I breathe in vanilla and look at her.
“You smell good.”
She laughs, says, “Yeah? So you do.”
We stare at each other as the air sparks. She pulls at the side of her bottom lip with her teeth, the way women do in the movies, and the effect is immediate; my cock pushes against my pants. I picture Jake with Amber. This is perfect. “So, you and Jake, huh?”
“No,” she says, shaking her shiny hair and correcting me. “Me and you.”
I run my eyes over her. “Shauna…”
She tilts her head, checks me out, too. “Josh?”
“You wanna get out of here?”
“Yes please.”
I stand and say, “Let’s do it.” Reaching into my pocket for cash, I throw three twenties on the bar. “After you.” I watch her slide gracefully off the barstool and saunter to the front door, making her way through the crowd. I’m just focusing on walking in a straight line. Outside, we wait for a cab, not touching. “Your place.” I tell her.
“Perfect,” she says. “Can’t wait.”
A cab pulls up soon enoug
h. I open the door and slide in after her. When she leans back after giving the driver her address, her dress rides up …and it looks like she has three legs, not two. I blink. Still three. The car jerks forward and I sway. “How are you feeling?”
“Great.” Watching the road as we drive through Manhattan, I think of how Amber and I are going to be even now. This will make it right. I feel something pressing on my leg. I look down and see Shauna’s hand caressing me, working her way up. I turn my head and she’s so close to me I can smell her breath; mint and red wine. I can’t help but think of Amber’s breath – how I love it when it’s natural. I look and see the highest part of Shauna’s thigh exposed from her scooting close to me, her dress ridden up. I reach down to touch her. As soon as I feel her soft, smooth flesh, a pain jabs my heart like someone stabbed it with a dull spoon at fifty miles an hour.
“Stop the cab.”
The cabby clocks me from the rearview. I pull away from her and squeeze myself against the door. “Oh, shit.” she says.
I look at her “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” I hand the driver enough to pay for her ride, and then some. “Thanks man. Sorry. Thanks.”
As I get out, she says, “Josh?” I stop. I force myself to look at her, since this is my fault. I’m the asshole. “She’s lucky to have you,” she says.
I stare for a second. “I don’t know about that.”
I close the door. She gives a small wave from inside. I tap the roof as it drives off.
My heart is pounding. I watch the cab until I can’t see it anymore. That was too close.
The Day of The Move In. Ugh.
I wake up and check the clock. The movers will be here in less than fifteen minutes. If they’re on time. I throw my feet off the bed and grab onto my head, the quickness of movement throwing me into ripping pain. I groan, go find Advil; sucking down three with some water. A text tone beeps dully from inside wherever I left my pants. I find them in the bathroom, lying with the belt still looped through. I look in the mirror. I’ve got a t-shirt on and my dick hanging out, limp as it’s ever been. Bending down is agony and, yanking my phone out from the pocket, I wonder how my head is ever going to feel right again.
I Love My Side of the Story Page 9