She tosses a ten on the bar. “Keep it, friend-o.”
“What’s so funny?” Julian asks, leaning towards her.
She shakes her head and sips her drink. “Dennis the dentist…really…”
“Yeah…why’s that weird?”
“Do you know that dentists have the highest rate of suicide?”
“I know. It’s why I chose to become one. I’m very ambitious.”
She laughs again, this time in a more melodic, joyous manner that resonates.
“You’re pretty sharp for a dentist. I guess I should have guessed, though, from those pearliesyou have. That smile could light up Antarctica!”
“Oh, yeah? That bright, huh? I did ask for the premium package. I wantedto glow in the dark. Tired of stubbing my toes.”
“You glow, Dennis. No doubt. All I see is the baseball hat and that grill. Listen, I’m going to change real quick. I don’t want to show up to the party in my work clothes. Watch my drink for me?”
She scoots off to the restroom before he can respond. He glances back at her, noting how she moves effortlessly through the crowd and seems to disappear. His phone vibrates and he glances down, hoping it was not yet roadside service. His agent. He hits‘ignore’ and sips his drink. For a long time, he studies the people blurring together in the mirror. These are people in and out of his life, his brother, his friends, swarming around, moving like an aquarium of exotic fish, but never closer than the mirror will allow. How much different is a mirror from a screen, really?
He remembers the last conversation his brother, James, and he had. It was obvious they were no longer as close as they once were. Each word was a struggle. James was too uptight, to anxious to ask how Julian really was. Since Julian’s‘breakdown’, James made it a point to call him at least once a week, doing his duty, torturing him with prolonged silences. But they had nothing in common, making it impossible to even connect through small talk. James was married, living as an accountant with a pretty wife and kids in D.C.. Julian felt envious of James, knowing full well his brother felt the same about Julian’s freedom and how ridiculous they both were. The calls were out of obligation to characters they both once were. Characters that were old and tired, boring for both of them to play, and they had run out of dialogue. When they did manage to speak, it was broken and hollow, about their mother and James’s family, but never about any details that would implicate their actual existence outside those characters.
The pompadour has moved on to new territory. Another local is starring in his own karaoke video to‘Little Pink Houses.’ The barflies buzz in their own hazes, their own dreams and nightmares. Lindsay use to have a guru. He remembers how she use to talk about osmosis, the connectedness of everything and everyone within the‘cell of life.’ He would tease her endlessly about being in a cult, and, truthfully, he never really took it too seriously. But the osmosis bit always struck him, especially in places where he felt completely out of his element. There was no out, out was the illusion. There was no separation.
“I was walking my dog today,” she says, suddenly coming up alongside him in a tight, short black dress, scooping her dense, dark hair into a tighter bun on the top of her head while staring into the mirror,“and we passed this drunk that lives on my block. He’s always ranting on and on about whatever and I usually just ignore him. But when I passed him today, he was telling a little story. He said,‘Youfollow your older brother. Little brother follows older brother. And if you love him, you fall.’ That stayed with me all day. I don’t know why. Drunks have this world they live in that is fragmented and shattered, but in that fragment, I feel like they maybe see things more sharply and clearly than everyone else. Like, they drop some heat from somewhere else, you know? And if you happen to be passing, just for that little fraction, it somehow applies to both of you. Like…prophets. That little guy over there reminds me of him. He’s just going on and on, nothing really making sense, just trying to get someone to pay attention to him.”
She runs lipstick over her lips and powders her face while she says this, never taking her eyes from her own face. Her glasses are gone, exposing large, catlike eyes that stretch over high cheekbone scattered with tiny freckles she covers in quick, expert strokes. She tugs her dress down and shoves her make-up into her satchel, smiling at his stunned gaze.
“What? No good?”
“No, no you look great,” he says, somewhat unsettled.
“No, I meant, what I said…no good? Did I sound nuts?”
“Oh…no. Not at all. But it’s not-people don’t usually talk like that,” he answers.
“They don’t, do they? I guess I’ll never fit in, then,” she sighs playfully. “Everyone’s so boring. Thank god for karaoke. Did you get a turn yet?”
He laughs and shakes his head, glancing back at the singer, relieved as she shifts the spotlight. “No. I’m too shy.”
“Yeah, me, too. Fear of public rejection and all.”
“You don’t seem like the shy type,” he says.
She looks at him, in his eyes. Her face drops for a second before smiling and looking away. But he had seen it, never forgetting the moment he discovered a kindred soul. “You work at Healthy Grocery, then?”
She nods and drinks. “Yes. Unfortunately. I’ve been working there for about five years now. I’m-I’m trying-I’m an artist. Healthy pays the bills. I won’t be famous tilI die. And that’s when the big bucks start coming in. So…I have that to look forward to, I suppose.”
He laughs, his laugh a light, airy chuckle brightened by his smile. “You’re ambitious, too.”
“Well, I have to make sure my offspring are left with a means to pay off my student loans, right?”
“You went to school?”
“Oh yeah. Art school. I might as well have taken 40 grand, piled it in my toilet and pooedall over it.”
“You sound bitter.”
“I sound indebted. There’s very little difference.”
“Hey, mama!” The pompadour swings between them, shoving Julian to the side as he moves in on Alice. “You are so very, very fine!”
“I was wondering when I’d get my turn. We were just talking about you,” she smirks.
“Oh yeah, I know! My ears were buzzing! I’ve been watching you all night girl! I like a booty on my ladies.”
“Thanks, I think. But I’m not into it. Sorry.”
“Nonono…lemmeget you a drink,” he raises a finger to the bartender who continues to ignore him. “My name is Hercules, what’s yours?”
“Hercules?! Really?”
“Yeeah! You know, he was the strongest man alive, lady! Stronger-he was- he could crush you with his pinky finger like a cucaracha!”
“Did your mama name you that?” Alice asks as she moves casually around to Julian’s left. Julian straightens up and leans in towards her but Hercules ignores him, trailing after her until he stands behind Julian.
“Yeah! She named me so I’d be a strong man! You ain’t nuthin’ les you’re a strong man!”
“Or woman,” she says.
“That’s right! The ladies, I got mad love for the ladies. Let me get you a drink, what’s your name?”
“That’s okay, thanks anyways. Nice meeting you.”
“No-no, no!” he says, grabbing at her arm.
She pulls away and Julian glances over his shoulder at Hercules. The two lock eyes and Hercules lets go immediately, putting his hands up and backing away. “Hey, man, I don’t want none. I didn’t know she was with you.”
“I’m not,” Alice says, annoyed. “But, no, you don’t want none.”
Hercules nods dramatically and slinks away defeated, disappearing into the crowd.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, reproachfully. “Even if it wasincredibly sexy.”
He laughs. “Thanks. I should use that move more often.”
“Oh, c’mon. A successful dentist like you…you don’t need‘moves.’”
His phone rings again with an 800 n
umber. He hands it to her and she answers. “Hello? Yeah, I’ll be right out. Thanks.”
She hands him back the phone and smiles at him awkwardly. “My ride’s here.”
“Let me walk you out,” he says, getting up and pulling his cap down.
“You don’t have to, it’s cool. I’ll be fine,” she protests.
“C’mon. Before Hercules comes back.”
The tow truck driver cranks her car again and again to no avail, shaking his head. “Your starter’s busted.”
“For real? Shit! God damn it!” she says. Her face wobbles and she fights off frustration and disappointment.
“What do you want to do? You don’t have the VIP membership. Towing’s not free.”
“How much is it?”
“Five a mile.”
She fiddles with the cash in her wallet. “I live like, ten…will you tow it for twenty bucks?”
“I can’t. My boss would kick my ass.”
She growls and rubs her arms. “Well, my boyfriend’s shop is three away. Can you just drop it off there? Leave the keys in the mail slot?”
“Sure. Give me the address.”
She hurriedly scrolls the address on his clipboard.
“But…how’re you going to get home?” Julian asks.
“I’m not going home. I’m going to that bachelorette party. It’s only a few blocks from here, I can hoof it.”
“Alright, I’ll drop your car off. Thanks.”
She hands the driver a small wad of bills. “Here’s fifteen and another ten. Thank you, have a good night.”
Alice and Julian step onto the curb and watch as the driver begins to hook her car to the tow truck.
“Why’d you give him ten extra?” Julian asks.
“You always tip roadside.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“Have you ever had a car break down on you?”
“…No.”
“There you go.”
The two stand for a moment, watching the driver lock her car into place.
“I can give you a ride.”
She hesitates, frowning at his baseball cap and turned up collar. “Promise you’re not a serial rapist?”
He laughs and kicks at the asphalt. “I haven’t been one recently.”
They drive in relative silence, listening to his radio. In a few moments, she is going to leave his car and that will be the end. He will check his voice mail. Answer his agent. Go back to the tomb. Take a hot shower and tug one out. Fall asleep on satin sheets and wake up to a barrage of meetings and distractions. The stink of stale cigarette smoke and her cotton candy perfume will be washed away with a cold night’s sleep.
“It’s that house on the left…the one with the iron fence. You can stop here.”
She unhooks her belt before the car has stopped moving, as if she can’t wait to get out of the car. His heart sinks to think she doesn’t feel the same connection.
“Thanks so much for your help,” she says, smiling. Her eyes squint above her cheeks. Her hair bounces in a ridiculous lump on the top of her head, tiny, thick triangles of dark baby hair dangling from the corners her round forehead. He smiles back, pushing the brim of his hat up. She hesitates a moment, then digs through her bag. She pulls out a tiny brass case with the initials‘SA’ engraved on the cover. She hands him a card with a picture of a screaming cat, eyes bulging, tongue hanging out, and her name, website and number.
“I had a lot of fun with you. I mean, in a completely non-sexual, platonic friend way. If you ever want to just…decompress and hang out, call me. My life’s maybe not as exciting as yours but…we could just get coffee or something.”
His heart skips and he nods vigorously.“I definitely will. Definitely.”
She hops out of the car, peeking her head in once more. “It was nice meeting you, Julian.”
“You, too. Have fun!”
“Always!”
It was only after he was lying in bed, staring up at the skylight, did he realize she had called him by his real name.
2.
After an hour, the lighting on the set feels like tiny knives on his eyes. Jakob, the photographer, relentlessly snaps pictures while barking a cacophony of encouraging commands. Julian struggles to look unaffected in his two-piece, beige Vuitton suit that has become a lead weight on his skin beneath the heat of the lamps. The make-up assistant frantically powders the sweat off his long, chiseled nose and chin. He glances at CeCe who moves casually to Jakob and calls the shoot.
“Okay, everyone,” Jakobsighs, irritably. “I think we got it. Julian, honey, you look gorgeous as always.”
“Thanks,” Julian mumbles, instantly removing his blazer and tie as he heads to his dressing area. A swarm of hands move about him, handing him bottled water and tugging off his clothes. He spreads his arms as they handle him like a doll. In seconds, he is standing in his tank top and boxers.
“That was memorable,” he growls to CeCe who gives him his jeans.
“It will be. Those shots will be everywhere. GQ called while you were shooting. I scheduled for another one of these next Tuesday.”
“Jesus, CeCe.”
“Don’t blame me. Your agent moves fast. This is it, hon. Get use to it.”
He shrugs on his black t-shirt and slicks his sandy hair back. He glances at his reflection, noting the excessive powder over his stubble. Quickly, he grabs wipes and scrubs at his face until only the stubble and raw skin remain.
“I know. I just fucking hate it.”
“Yes, and you need to change that. Your hatred is coming through the lens.”
“Don’t kid yourself, CeCe,” he sighs. “That’s what they want. Nothing sexier than a man who’s repulsed.”
He jerks his head to Jakobwho is laughing and smiling triumphantly with his assistant while they scroll through the pictures on his tablet. They look up at him, waving and giving him a‘thumbs up.’ He returns a tight-lipped smile and gestures to CeCe a confirmation.
“Ready for the Foundation meeting?”
He groans and tugs his hat on. With a swift motion, he grabs his phone and wallet, shoving them in his pockets and avoiding her gaze.
“Julian…” CeCe begins.
“Did you get the car?”
“Julian…”
“Prius, right? Tinted?”
She frowns at him, pulling keys from her purse and handing them to him.
“You’re going to drive yourself there, right?”
“I’m skipping it. Something came up.”
“Julian, you can’t just‘skip’ this. They set this up three months ago. You’re their‘face.’ They have a contract.”
“I’m still their‘face.’ My face is all theirs. Go in my place,take down the where, the when and the why. Give me my lines and tell me where to be and I’ll be there.”
“The Paula Dell Foundation, now.”
“Just not now, okay? Make it just not now.”
She sighs exasperated and folds her arms. “Fine. But you’ll be at Warner’s. No excuses.”
“Eh…where’s the car parked? What color is it?”
“Julian! It’s Warner’s!”
“I know! I’ll-call if I can’t make it!” he says as he starts towards the door.
She follows after him, panicking. “Oh, no you don’t, not again! I’m calling Michael right now!”
“See? Mike’s going to be there, you’ll be there, youreally don’t need me! Tell them I had an emergency,” he laughs, running away from her.
“Julian! What the fuck?!” she shouts, the room falling quiet as they watch him run out of the building.
Julian: Hey.
He pulls out of the parking lot and rips down the street, pulling into a small strip mall off Sunset, tapping the phone against the wheel as he waits. Less than a minute passes before she responds.
Alice: Who dis?
Julian: Dennis.
Alice, still in bed with her make up caked to the pillow, her hair a tangled mass aroun
d her face, bolts up and cringes as a wave of nausea and spins hits her. She grabs her bottled water, chugs it and responds.
Alice)I thought you’d never call!
He laughs and subconsciously turns the volume down on his radio.
Julian: It’s literally been 12 hours.
Alice: What, are you bored?
Julian: Of course. Being a dentist and all. What r u doing?
Alice: Trying not to puke my guts out. What r u doing?
Julian: You had fun then? I’m sitting in a parking lot talking to you. What are your plans today?
Alice: Errands. I have to pay some bills and get my car. Wanna?
Julian: Run errands? I would love to!
Alice: Seriously?
Julian: Sure! Beats a root canal.
Alice: Depends on the bill you have to pay, I suppose. If you mean it, come get me.
Julian pulls up to a 1930’s apartment complex of tiny cottages. The undulating yards are strewn with clotheslines and deteriorating gardens of broken, rusted furniture and weeds. He makes his way cautiously to the back unit, the most colorful of them all. Bright, primary colored pots overflowing with succulents and tomato plants line the side of the building. Yellow, billowing curtains dangle and sway gently with the breeze inside two large, open windows. ‘Grimes’ blares from inside, along with the sharp, deep bark of a dog as he knocks on the screen door. He hears her shout at the dog and turn the radio down before swinging the door open and beaming at him. Her hair is wrapped in a purple towel, her face is stripped of make-up, looking brighter and younger than her late twenties. She wears a ripped blue sweater over a pink tank top, short jean shorts over white leggings and a pair of converse.
“Come in!” she says, giving him a quick hug. He takes in her clean scent and moves cautiously into the space. Every wall surface is covered in pictures and posters. Some are portraits rendered in classical realism. Some are simply splotches of dazzling colors stretched over large areas in geometric shapes. There are subway posters of Rocky and Crocodile Dundee next to giant images of James Cagney and Gary Cooper covering the ceiling. The furniture is sparse; a futon, a small, old TV resting on top of a DVD player, a bookshelf overflowing with books and a large, cluttered drafting table covered in images, paintbrushes, markers and paper.
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