Grown Woman

by Jen Luerssen

  Me: Duh, yes.

  Javi: I feel like if I didn’t mention the wine your answer would be different.

  Me: Duh

  Javi: Wino

  Me: Duh

  About ten minutes later, he arrives looking windblown and beautiful. It’s chilly for October and his cheeks are an adorable red.

  “Javier, may I take your coat?” Paul offers and I give him a “stop being a creep” look as he strokes the jacket Javi hands him.

  “Oh, Rehab Addict! I love this show. Nicole is fucking hot.” He makes himself at home on the couch and I grab him a glass and pour him some wine.

  “I’d totally do her,” I say and Javi raises his eyebrows.

  “Aaand, now I have that picture in my spank bank,” he says as he clinks his wine glass to mine.

  “Girl, she’d tear you up, you are way too soft for her,” Paul chimes in.

  “I’d think we’d complement each other well. Although I’d always feel like she was trying to repair me, ya know? Like, ‘Lia you have a beautiful soul, let’s just strip it down and then bring it back to its former glory.’” I make a naughty hand gesture and we all laugh.

  “‘Hey baby, you are super sexy, but I like a hardwood floor not a shag carpet if you catch my drift?’” Paul adds.

  “Oh no, I think she’d definitely demand a full bush. I’d hope there’d be some attention to detail there though,” Javier ponders.

  “Aren’t your roommates having a party tonight?” I ask as it dawns on me that he kind of invited me.

  He nods. “Yeah, but I wasn’t really in the mood.”

  I smile and try not to go there. You know, to the place where I think he’d rather hang out with me than go to a party.

  We continue to chat and make inappropriate comments about the show and the host, who I’m certain is a lovely person and likes none of the things our sick minds would suggest. After two episodes, Paul excuses himself since he’s tired and jet lagged. He winks and then does a thrusting motion and points to Javier. Thank Ozzy he didn’t see that ridiculousness.

  Javier refills our wine glasses and lowers the volume a little. “Hey, I wanted to ask you about the Mike thing just to see if you’re okay. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want, but I know a little that he’s told me and I wanted you to know I’m not taking sides and just want to support you both.”

  “Thanks,” I say slowly and put my wine glass down and turn to him, tucking my feet under my legs. “I like Mike a lot. We went on a few dates and I wasn’t feeling any zoom zoom with him.”

  “Zoom, zoom?” He chuckles.

  “In my boom boom, ya know?” I’m being ridiculous but have had a lot of wine in my defense. “We’d kiss, and it was nice, but there was no urgency or fire.”

  His smile is warm and understanding. “That makes sense. Mike said he’s upset because he feels like you strung him along a little.”

  I sigh. “Maybe a little, I think I was afraid to hurt his feelings, so I wrongly drug it out. He’s my friend and I should have known better than to agree in the first place, but nothing ventured, right?”

  He looks at me, nods, and I have a moment of panic that he’s going to kiss me. Then, when he doesn’t, I feel a little disappointed. Really, I need an ego check, not everyone wants to get in your pants, Lia.

  We both sit back on the couch our shoulders touching. It’s comfortable and easy to be with him. “Zoom zoom in your boom boom?” he says under his breath and then I can feel his shoulder shaking. I turn to him and he is in a fit of laughter, so intense it’s silent.

  “But, it’s all I wanna do,” I say and join him in hysterics.

  Javier picks me up the next morning, well afternoon and I’m still a bit hungover. A ride along the coast in the sunshine to get delicious BBQ is definitely what the doctor ordered. That is until I realize I have to straddle Javier and basically hug him with my crotch for 30 minutes. My vagina is going to be hugging on his ass for the whole ride and I’m hoping I can keep my shit together and not come all over his bike.

  He hands me his spare helmet and I realize that this isn’t going to be pretty later. Oh well, I’m so happy to eat pig, I don’t really care.

  “This is probably the wrong time to tell you I’m a vegetarian,” I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “Diva, I’ve seen you eat bacon, devour half of a meat lovers pizza and eat an entire large bag of pork rinds.” He fake gags a little. I know, pork rinds are an acquired taste.

  “Javi, you don’t like chicharrones?”

  “Ugh, we’ve had this conversation before, what you eat are not the same.” He takes the helmet I’ve been flinging around and places it securely on my head and taps it.

  I shrug. “I still say fried pork skin is fried pork skin, but whatevs.”

  He gets on and looks back to me expectantly. I know, we’re friends, I know he probably takes dudes on this thing, but I’m just so aware of our butts to nuts situation I hesitate and blush. I step forward and not so gracefully I swing my leg over and sit gingerly on the back of the bike which has a little bar behind me I could grab onto as another option. I rest my hands on the bar and Javi, who has not put on his helmet yet, turns and shakes his head.

  “Diva put your arms around me, I can handle it. Plus, if you have your hands back there sometimes the balance is off. You have to move with my body on the bike.” He taps my arm and I give it up and put my arms around his torso. His hard, smooth, warm torso. Okay, yeah, why haven’t I been on more motorcycle rides with dudes?

  Once we get on the road my intention to keep a tiny bit of distance from Javi and his fine ass is thrown out. Not only is the ride exhilarating, it’s also a tiny bit terrifying. Once we made it onto the 1, my lady garden was fully hugging Javi’s ass crack. I was plastered to him like a sloth clinging to a tree for dear life. The ride only took about 20 minutes because we were on a bike and he could maneuver around stopped cars, which shaved off a few years of my life. We pulled into the parking lot and I reluctantly peeled myself from Javi’s backside.

  I handed him my helmet to lock to the bike. “That was fun.”

  He chuckles a little and nods. “Yes, it was.”

  I smack him in the bicep. “Let’s go meat it up.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, I’m making that one work.”

  “‘Meat it up?’” He looks at me like I’m an idiot, and I am.

  “Get our meat on?”

  “No.”

  “It’s meat time?”

  “No.”

  “‘Cue up the meat?”

  “Oh, yes, that’s the one,” he says dripping in sarcasm.

  “You’re just jealous you didn’t come up with any good ones.”

  He purses his lips and nods. “Do not underestimate me, Diva. I meat it.”

  “Oh, no.” I roll my eyes into oblivion, link my arm with his and drag him into the building that’s actually a train car and has drool worthy smells wafting out.

  We get way too much food, a six pack of beer and head to the beach. It’s a warm day with a little bit of a breeze but nice enough for our picnic. I eat my weight in brisket, ribs, mac and cheese, and cornbread. After we finish, we walk a little along the shore.

  “I feel like I might die,” I say cradling my full stomach.

  “You might, I’ve never seen anyone eat that many ribs.”

  He gets an elbow to the gut for that one. “I have few talents, but power eating is something I excel at.”

  “You have more talents than that.” He waggles his eyebrows and I fake indignation.

  This time I punch him in the side. I’m no boxer like Jane but I’ve gone to a few classes over the years so I can properly throw a punch.

  “I surrender, Diva! I mean your musical talents, of course.” He holds his hands in a defensive pose. “How did you get into singing anyway?”

  “In high school, my boyfriend Timmy was in a band. He let me sing a few times and I was hooked. I was in chorus and a few school pl
ays. I’m a horrible actress but could hold a tune and loved the stage so I got a lot of parts.” For some reason, the stage has always been my wheelhouse. I’ve never had stage fright in my life, even when I’ve bombed. “Once I was in a band though, it was addicting. I always thought I’d be famous one day. Obviously, I realized that was not a realistic dream, but playing music was. I worked really hard to keep it in my life, even when it feels like I’m spinning my wheels.”

  “You’re pretty well known in the city. The shows I’ve been to are always packed.”

  “I have a bit of a following, yes, and I don’t ever take it for granted, it’s a level I’m completely satisfied with, now. When the band I was in didn’t go anywhere. I made my second love, books, work for me.”

  “How did you get from New Jersey to San Francisco?”

  “Ugh it’s so embarrassing, but I followed my boyfriend, Timmy, across the country. He thought our band would have better luck on the west coast, and he had a friend here with a recording studio.” I shrug, “He and I lasted three months once we got out here. We fought constantly about money and the music we were playing. I immediately fell in love with the city but he hated it here. Following my high school boyfriend across the country may have been a mistake, but moving here was not. I got a job at the library, found my apartment and my best friend, Jane, on Craig’s list and found some musicians through Timmy’s friend to play with and started booking shows.”

  “Something tells me Timmy is kicking himself somewhere in Jersey.”

  I laugh, “God, I wish, but no, he’s actually a really successful session musician in L.A. Meh, he was a good guy. We were just young and stupid.”

  “You make it sound like 20 years ago, you aren’t that old.” I shrug, we haven’t had this specific conversation. I know he is 21 because he had his birthday right before we met and he and Mike were talking about him being able to drink legally. Mike knows how old I am because we talked about my 30th birthday coming up, but this was on one of our dates. Knowing Javier, I’m sure he’s curious but way too polite to ask.

  “No, I’m not that old, I have a big birthday coming up next month though.”

  “Wait, you’re not 21 yet?” he asks with a cute little expression on his face.

  “Cute, Javi, you think you’ll get points for that, but no. I’ll be 30.”

  His eyes go wide. “30! Oh, for the love of Pete Frampton, let’s get your walker.” He gives me a giant shove and I stumble into the surf, getting my feet wet.

  “You’re gonna get it now, Rojas.” He does not look even a little scared, but obnoxiously smug. I run toward him and he lets me catch him and drag him to the water, where he lifts me up and tosses me directly into a breaking wave.

  Halloween Massacre

  Over the next few weeks, things get mostly back to normal, the one exception is Javier and I spend way more time together without Mike. I’m loving every minute of our fun, friendly, flirting. We go for coffee, drink wine at my apartment while watching Hallmark movies, and he’s come to a few of my shows. Paul calls him my un-boyfriend. All the dates without the good stuff. I try to shrug it off but I feel like every time we touch, which is often, I’m like a baby bird, desperate for more worms. Thirsty, I think the kids call it.

  It’s Halloween and Paulie and I are dressed up like Sonny and Cher and headed to my friend Dean’s annual party. Since he lives near the Castro, we usually take the bus there, check out the amazing costumes and the crazy crowd, then walk to the party. Javier and his younger cousin are meeting us at Castro and Market, which is a mob scene since the weather is perfect. Today was an unusually warm day and that has carried into the night. Warm nights are super rare in San Francisco, so people are taking full advantage. I’d say some have even adjusted their costumes accordingly, but let’s face it, Halloween is when people let it all hang out. Even my seventies-style pantsuit has a vee cut down past my belly button. Paul helped me apply some double stick tape to keep everything in place, but a wardrobe malfunction could happen, depending on how this night goes.

  I spot Javi and his cousin and wave them over. Holy shit, Javier is dressed up in a super tight Giants uniform, eye black, and is carrying a ball and glove. His cousin is in a full wetsuit with mask and flippers, and he looks a little green around the gills.

  “Hola, Cher,” Javier leans in and kisses my cheek. “Sonny.” He nods to Paul who taps his cheek until Javi obliges him with a loud smack of a kiss on his cheek.

  “I got you, babe,” Paul sings and we all laugh.

  “This is my cousin, Angel. He’s wearing his wetsuit and regretting it, I think.” We shake hands with Angel and make our way down Castro Street, taking in the sights.

  As we walk, I notice Angel sweating and looking uncomfortable. It could be the hot wet suit, the warm night, or the fact that he may not be used to hundreds of drag queens passing us by in all their glory. We stop at a liquor store and buy some beers and then head to Dean’s party.

  Dean has a big backyard and has decorated it to the nines for this party. There are about a hundred blazing jack o’ lanterns, twinkly lights, and a huge table of food. There is a bar, naturally, and we head there first. Javier and Angel are arguing about what Angel will have to drink. Javi says soda and Angel, of course, wants a beer. Javier wins in the end but I see Angel pour something from a flask into his soda.

  It’s a fun party, tons of people, great music, and the costumes are pretty epic. Paul is in the corner of the yard chatting up a guy dressed as one of the “unsullied” from Game of Thrones. At one point, I see Paul gesturing to the guy’s crotch, no doubt confirming that he’s not a eunuch, an interesting way to break the ice.

  An arm wraps around my waist from behind and pulls me in. I turn to see Javier smiling, no leering at me. “Hey, player, what’s up?” I try but fail to sound airy. On the whole, Javier is pretty touchy feely but even more so when tipsy.

  “Dance with me, Diva,” he whispers into the shell of my ear and I feel the vibration to my boom boom.

  “If you stop calling me that, I’ll consider it.” He started calling me “Diva” after a performance at Club Deluxe where I politely asked a woman to stop talking loudly on her cell phone while I was trying to entertain the lovely people and she flipped me off. Fortunately for me, the bouncers asked her to leave and that was that. Unfortunately, Javier thought it was a brilliant show of Diva-like behavior and has called me that ever since.

  “You love it,” he says and pulls me to the dance floor.

  We dance enthusiastically to several upbeat, goofy, fun songs like “Hey Ya,” “Let’s Go Crazy” and somehow Paul got the DJ to play “Believe” by Cher. We mostly dance as a group but I don’t think I’m imagining the little touches of Javi’s hands on my hip, or him getting close behind me during a few songs. It’s still friendly but the drunker we get, the more I feel like it’s not.

  “Shots!” I hear my Sonny shout at me and I bob my head. Paul heads to the bar to get our drinks and the music takes a slow turn with Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” and Javi grabs my hand and pulls me into him.

  “This is my song,” I say directly into his ear.

  He pulls me a little closer. “I know, that’s why I requested it.”

  I lean back as we start to sway back and forth to the song I sing at least once a week, and he’s smiling his gorgeous, wide, toothy, Javier smile. I decide to just go with it and start singing along, loudly. Paul returns with our shots, separating Javier and I so we can drink the ridiculous purple whatever is in these things. Paul gives me a tiny shove and I know why. He’s like a pig in shit thinking Javi and I are going to hook up. Maybe after a few more of these purple things, we will.

  Nope. Javier and I were looking promising there for a minute. All was well, we continued to dance, drink and lightly grope each other. Then, a rather worried looking Dean dressed up in full Count Dracula regalia taps Javier on the shoulder.

  “Hey, your cousin is getting sick all over the sidewalk in th
e front. Thought you’d want to know,” Dean says kindly. Hey, we’ve all been there and it’s even less fun in full costume.

  Javi and I head out to the front where Angel is standing with his wetsuit now half off and shirtless. Holy shit, he’s like a little wolf. His chest hair and let’s be honest, back hair is an epic pelt.

  “At least he has a sweater to keep him warm,” I say and Javier gives me an irritated look.

  “Angel, are you okay? Oh shit, man, what have you been drinking? I thought you agreed to soda.” Javi approaches and notices as do I the intense alcohol smell coming from his cousin. Now probably isn’t the time to let Javi know about the flask. To be honest, this kid is getting punished enough.

  Angel vomits, wipes his mouth and gives Javi a weak smile. “Sorry, Jav, I thought I could handle it but this fucking wetsuit is killing me. I’m so hot, and . . .” Angel turns and lets loose again all over the small shrub in front of Dean’s house.

  “It’s okay, buddy, you’ll feel worse tomorrow,” Javi says with a chuckle.

  Angel moans and spits. “Please don’t tell my mom or Tia.” His eyes go wide when he says Tia as if she’s the scarier of the two options.

  “You think I’m going to tell my mom that you got so drunk you threw up while you were with me?” he asks incredulously. “I’m no fool.”

  “I’ll go get him some water,” I say and walk back into the yard where I meet Paul and the guy he’s been flirting with all night.

  “Hey, my gypsy, or are you a tramp right now?” Paul asks, his eyes sparkling.

  “Ugh, gypsy I guess, although I think that’s a racist term now. I think my tramp is outtie since Angel is out front spraying Dean’s bush with rum and burrito,” I say this with a toss of my thumb over my shoulder. “Crap, that came out wrong.” I shrug. “You leaving?”

  “Yes, darling. Grey Worm and I have some important business to attend to.” He’s so ridiculous with the round sunglasses and the ugly mustache, while holding the hand of a super hot dude in basically a loin cloth. “Sorry about the no tramp action.”

  “Don’t worry yourself about that. You take this fine gentleman and have at it.” I smack his bell bottom sheathed ass and make my way to the bar to get the water.