by Nelson, Cara
“See you at 7:00,” I said.
“Great. Adios,” Trinity said
She took off through the gate and I started to drive away. Everything seemed to get a little darker without Trinity with me. I shook my head, don’t fall for her.
Chapter Seven:
Dinner or Date
Since I was only supposed to be in LA for a few weeks, I hadn’t brought a lot of clothes. I stared at my suitcase, trying to find a new combination of the clothes I’d been wearing. My casual, noncommittal demeanor did not mean that I wasn’t very aware of what I was wearing, when I’d worn it last, and how I could make it fresh. Just like sex, a wardrobe could be the spice of life.
“What’s taking you so long?” Brynn asked me, stepping into the small second bedroom that was my makeshift home.
“Just can’t figure out what to wear,” I said, not looking up.
“You can invade my closet,” she said to me.
“Thanks, but all the tops you have would not fit quite right.”
“Sure, brag about those big boobs, Trin. I appreciate you not talking about how all my pants would slide right off you. Small ass and huge boobs—you have been given gifts.”
“And I enjoy using them to my fullest potential,” I replied.
“So, things are going good with Hunter and you, aren’t they?” Brynn asked.
Red flag. I knew what she was getting at. “We have a lot of fun together. He’s a blast.”
“It’s just fun?” she asked.
I looked at her and shook my head. “I’m just as anti-relationship as I was when I got to LA, as I have been for most of the time we’ve known each other. Hunter and I are kind of like two peas in a pod, we seize the day and get a little wild. It’s perfect. Don’t ruin it by bringing in the sentiments of the heart.”
“Trin,” she said, shaking her head at me. But she shut up about it, and that was good. Relationship, seriously?
“Well, let me know if you need anything. I have a live Q&A going on the blog right now, and I’m also going to be going onto set with you tomorrow. I’m doing a small story about it,” Brynn said. Then she left.
“Tease,” I shouted after her. She knew that would drive me crazy, and I’d want to know the details. I almost walked out, but then I glanced over at the blue numbers of the digital clock and saw 6:45 glaring at me. I had to get ready. The inquisition would have to wait.
In the end, I chose a red silk halter top and some tight black capris with rhinestones along the seam, and a pair of strappy super sexy shoes, the golden ticket to a night of adventure with Hunter. He really was amazing to have sex with, as talented in that arena as he was musically. I put in a few temporary streaks of red into my hair and pulled it up in a high ponytail.
“Hey,” I said, opening up the door. Just one look from Hunter confirmed what I’d suspected, he liked what he saw.
“You look great,” he said to me appreciatively.
“Thanks, you look pretty great, too,” I said.
“Hey Hunter,” Brynn called out.
He poked his head around the doorframe and waved to her. Then she started typing again.
“Some live Q&A for her blog,” I said, trying to explain why Brynn was more content sitting on the couch in her loungers than actually getting up to have a conversation.
“Well, we should get going so we don’t interrupt her,” Hunter said.
“Sounds good, I’m starving.”
“I got us reservations at Anar Indian Restaurant. They say it’s good.”
“Do you think they serve Indian food there?” I asked. I looked at Hunter expectantly, and, as anticipated, he looked at me with an ‘are you serious’ expression. I blew my own cover and started laughing. “You’re so easy to trip up. Do you really think I’m that ditzy?”
“I didn’t, but maybe you were so hot and bothered from the day that you short circuited,” Hunter said, recovering and giving me a playful jab.
Forty-five minutes later we were sitting at a small, enclosed booth across from each other, our knees occasionally touching. With the way the restaurant was set up, we were completely enclosed in a private setting back in the corner of the restaurant, which was not grand and beautiful on the inside, but was really warm and inviting. I didn’t fare well with snobby people so it seemed ideal. I immediately began enjoying the aroma of the food that wafted through the air, eager to try the chicken satay appetizers that were on the way, and the taste of the Pinot Gris wine. I was usually a beer with Indian food type of woman, but the waiter had recommended it, so Hunter and I decided to give it a try.
He raised his glass and said, “To the adventure.”
My glass touched his and I added, “May it continue.”
I looked at Hunter and the realization that I really didn’t know a lot about him as a person hit me. It was funny how you could know someone so well in a casual sort of way, or in a sexual way, but not in a personal way. I had no idea what his favorite color was even. Was it truly revealing of the person? I didn’t think so—that type of hippy spirituality wasn’t really my thing—but still.
“I really don’t know that much about you, other than the bits you’ve shared, and what I read in Brynn’s article,” I said, casually.
“I’m a Pisces, I enjoy long walks, and…”
I cut him off, laughing at his little joke. “Please, don’t go there.”
“What would you like to know?” he asked me.
“I’m not certain. What do you want to tell me?” I asked.
Hunter looked at me, evaluating my answer, and then the light bulb went off in his head. “The scar. You really want to know about the scar?”
“I’ve seen it several times now, just curious, but I don’t expect you to tell me.”
“I like doing what’s not expected of me sometimes. Okay, so the scar,” Hunter said, getting a bit more serious. He rubbed his two hands together, and started to talk. “My older brother growing up, like many brothers, enjoyed torturing me. I was pretty scrawny back then, and not quite as outspoken as I am now, so I put up with a lot. Since I couldn’t cry to my parents about it without getting some payback from my brother, I kept my mouth shut, and figured it all out on my own.”
Hunter looked at me, and I nodded, not having anything to say. I just wanted to listen.
“Anyway, one day I walked into my brother’s bedroom and saw him sticking a needle into his arm. He was shooting up, but I didn’t really know what he was doing back then. I just knew it was wrong. He looked at me and said, ‘Be cool, little bro. Don’t tell mom and dad about this.’ I nodded my head and left the room. I wasn’t going to tell, either, but it was eating me alive.”
He paused to take a sip of the water glass next to his wine. “Are you sure you want to hear this? It’s not a great story.”
“I’m sure, but only if you want to tell it,” I said. “What happened next?”
“Well, I just couldn’t get it out of my mind. I ended up going and telling my parents that night. I’d been in bed already, and when I heard them go into their bedroom, I knocked on the door and told them.”
Hunter breathed in, and then kept on. I wasn’t sure what it had to do with the scar so far, but assumed I’d find out.
“My dad went ballistic, completely irate about it, and I immediately regretted telling them because he was so angry and I didn’t know what he was going to do to my brother. He charged across the hall and charged into my brother’s room. My bro was passed out, completely out of it, and had no idea what was going on. My dad started to rummage through all his drawers, completely tossing his room, but he didn’t find anything. He yanked my brother up, shouting, ‘Where is it? What shit have you brought into this house?’ It had been next to my brother the whole time. He’d gone comfortably numb before he hid it, or whatever.”
“And you watched this entire thing?” I asked softly.
“Yeah,” Hunter said. “My brother looked over at me and said, ‘You betrayed me, bro.’ It just
about killed me. My mom was crying and trying to calm my dad down. Everything was intense and crazy. Anyway, my old man kicked him out that night despite my mom’s protests. She wanted to take him to the hospital, but he wouldn’t do it. He just kept screaming that he could come back when he was clean, and that he wouldn’t be introducing that shit into the house, or to me, his little brother. Well, my brother left, but the entire scene really fractured our connection, and impacted our family. We were never the Cleaver’s, but we weren’t completely dysfunctional, either.
“The next day when I was going to school, my brother popped out from behind a bush and scared the hell out of me. He had a butterfly knife in his hand and he was waving it in front of me, threatening me for ratting him out. I was so fucking scared, it was crazy. Only time a weapon has ever been pulled on me. I tried to stop him by apologizing and reasoning with him, but he was completely whacked out of his mind. The next thing I knew, I felt a horrible burning sensation on my chest. I looked down and there was blood there. My brother saw it, and it was enough to snap him out of whatever was going on. He freaked out even more, and just ran away, leaving me there. I turned around and ran home, and my mom took me to the hospital right away. My dad had already gone to work. Well, the hospital said they had to file a report and the cops started looking for my brother, and they did find him. He was lying in the woods, dead from an OD.”
The silence was heavy, and I didn’t even know what to say that might make Hunter feel better. I was sucky at feelings. “I can see why you don’t like to talk about it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Not very good date conversation,” Hunter commented.
I noticed he said date, not dinner. What was wrong with me? The guy just shared a clearly painful story, and I had to focus on date instead of dinner.
“Thanks for telling me. I’m surprised that I’ve never read that about you before,” I said. The words seemed odd coming out of my mouth, and I meant them, but I don’t know. Hunter had suddenly became a human who could bleed, not just a good time party boy who was great to hang around with, and have fun with.
“Only three people know that story,” Hunter said.
“Gauge, Simon, and you?” I asked.
“Partially correct. My parents and me. Our family isn’t one to spill our garbage.”
“Why did you tell me?” I asked. I was actually quite curious about this.
“I just felt like you could handle it without getting all analytical on me,” Hunter said.
“All I can think is that is really fucked up. Hopefully that’s not too analytical,” I replied.
Hunter laughed. “It’s perfect, Trinity.”
“Excellent,” I said.
“Okay, now it’s your turn to share something with me. Something dark and intense.”
“I have nothing to trump your story, thank God, but let’s see, what do I have…” I thought about this for a bit. There were some things that were definitely dark, but I was not going to share them with Hunter just because he’d chosen to open up to me. There was no way, and I did think he’d think less favorably of me if I shared them. I didn’t want that. I could handle it from most people, but Hunter was different for some reason.
“It’s hard to believe you’d have to think so hard to find a dark story. You are a rather dark woman, after all,” Hunter said.
“I’m an angel in disguise,” I said, winking at him playfully. “Okay, I think I’ve got it.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Hunter said to me, looking highly amused.
“Well, when I was ten years old, I wanted to start wearing makeup so badly. My parents were very traditional in this regard and said no. I asked to get makeup for my birthday, which I didn’t, of course. When I was out a store with some of my friends one day, I looked at the makeup and thought I’d just buy it myself, wear it and hide it, that kind of thing. Even back then, my tastes exceeded my budget. I only had $10 and all that makeup came to nearly $100. I was so embarrassed and went to put it away while my friends checked out their make-up, but I slid one lip gloss into my pocket. I wasn’t thinking about how dumb that was, but I felt kind of euphoric sneaking it out, you know?”
“I can see that,” Hunter said.
“Well, my parents didn’t see it the same way. I forgot to take it out of my pocket one day after school and it went through the wash. They found it and knew it was me. I only have a brother, and they asked where I got it. I said I bought it, which was dumb. My dad’s a numbers guy through and through. He’d made it a rule that we all had to keep our receipts, even if I just got a piece of gum at the grocery store. Well, I never was one for the rules and even if I had bought the lip gloss, I wouldn’t have had that receipt. The follow-up lie that my friend gave it to me didn’t work, either. Finally, I ‘fessed up, and they marched me down to the store to admit what I did, and pay for it. I just about died. I also had to do chores free of charge for a year to pay for the ruined laundry.” I still rolled my eyes when I thought about that situation. Funny how the impact of something kept rippling, even when it was thirteen years past.
“Was it a good lesson?”
“Well, I can admit that it was to you, but I’ll never breathe a word of that to my parents.”
“You really are stubborn, aren’t you?”
“I guess you might call it that, but I consider it more introverted. I don’t like to share what’s going on, and find it too painful to share anything that could be used against me,” I said.
“Now I’m curious,” Hunter said, reaching in. He looked and smelled so good. “How is lip gloss dangerous?”
“Not the lip gloss, you smart ass, providing someone else with info about you that might impact you in some way.”
“What’s wrong with being impacted, especially if it’s in a good way?”
“It makes you reliant, I guess. I know most people wouldn’t agree with me, but that’s the way I feel. If someone else gives me that certain feeling I might turn into a junkie with it and want more. Then they snatch it away and you’re screwed, left alone and withdrawing, nowhere to turn. Or worse yet, here those comfort responses. ‘You’ll be okay. You’ll get over it.’” I realized I was rambling. “Anyway, probably doesn’t make much sense to you, huh?”
“Actually, it does make sense,” Hunter said to me. I looked at him and absolutely believed him, too.
“Enough about that,” I said uncomfortably. “I think I understand why you are so diligent in your PSAs about drug abuse. It’s a story that might really impact others, you know.”
“I know, but I’m not quite there yet. I know you get that,” he said to me.
“I do,” I replied.
The waiter came over with our chicken satay appetizer, which was in a puff pastry shell, and it smelled so good, a mixture of cilantro, peanuts, chicken, and ginger that made my mouth water. Wait…maybe that was the company.
I put one on my plate and took a bite right away, eager to dive in. “So good,” I said. I looked up at Hunter, who was watching me eat. Not acceptable. “Here, try it,” I said. I picked another one up and leaned forward. He opened his mouth and let me put it in.
His jaw tensed slightly as he chewed, defining his chiseled features even more, and he smiled. “Wonderful.”
From there, we ate and talked casually, animatedly. I could not believe how much we were talking about so many different things. Working out, I was aerobic and he was weights. Movies, we were the same, gritty classics like Boondock Saints and Suicide Kings. It was so fun, and not unlike when Jessie, Brynn, and I got together for a girl’s night. Hunter probably wouldn’t have appreciated the comparison, but it was meant as a compliment. I just didn’t warm up to people easily, much less give them a chance to hear me in my rather blunt, relaxed style of conversation.
“What’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you on the runway?” Hunter asked me.
“Well, a lot of times there are little things, there are for everyone, whe
ther you’re doing a local show in the Cities or you’re an international super model like Natalia Vodianova. For me, the moment that stands out the most is the one time when I was walking down the runway, wearing these killer silver stilettos, and I just rolled my left ankle, sending me spiraling down in an ungraceful heap. I screeched and accidentally showed a bit too much under the micro mini I was wearing, and looked down to find the actual heel lying about two feet in front of me. Needless to say, I found a way to recover. I took the shoes off, slung them across my back shoulder and held them in place with my finger, and continued to sashay up that runway, leaning down in perfect model fashion to grab the heel that did me wrong. Then I walked off the stage, not turning around for the cheers I got. To this day, I’m not sure if they were happier that I was off the stage, or that I made it off without having to call in a paramedic.” I laughed and Hunter joined in. What a deep, hearty laugh he had. It was so manly, and I loved it.
“Was the designer there?” Hunter asked.
“No.”
“That’s good. I can only imagine how you would have gone off on them.”
“I did write a letter, though. The shoes were Jimmy Choo’s and I haven’t worn a pair since.”
“Which must be hard. Women love those shoes, don’t they?”
“Not all women,” I said playfully. “And for the record, he makes men’s shoes, as well.”
“Maybe, but they aren’t for this guy.”
“Well, who would have guessed we had an anti-Jimmy Choo shoe thing in common,” I said, raising my freshly filled glass of wine.
“Not me, but I’m enjoying finding common ground with you.”
“Shoes and a love of sex. Any other S’s, I wonder,” I said. My hand reached over and my finger played on the top of his hand, tracing it softly. I breathed in, feeling the heat rise inside of me.
“How about smart?” Hunter offered, turning his hand so it somehow squeezed mine. Tingles.