“I’m sorry I’m late,” Alice says, rushing in.
Julian manages a weak, grateful smile as she hands him the smoothie. He looks exhausted and pale, she thinks, before turning her attention to Michael. His face has contorted to a condescending scowl he has acquired especially for the clownish woman his client insists on employing.
“Did you get lost again?” Michael asks. “Well, I’m sure it’s fine. We all understand how a health store you use to work at is hard for you to find. He’s only been at it for four hours without eating a fucking thing, a few more wouldn’t kill him.”
“Knock it off, Mike,” Julian sighs, squeezing her shoulder as he moves towards the ab ball and plops himself down, sucking on the straw like a baby bottle.
“I got caught in traffic. There was an accident,” Alice mumbles, fumbling with her phone.
“Speaking of accidents, is that a new outfit? Very urban. Who says you can’t wear sneakers after high school, right?” Michael smiles.
Alice raises her gaze to him, narrowing her wide eyes. She smiles politely to hide her own contempt but they both understand, in this area of ruthless, glib attacks, he is the expert. Still, she cannot resist the attempt.
“’Urban’, huh? Is that your way of saying‘not white?’”
“That’s my way of saying‘not rich’. A small difference for you, I know, but significant, and comforting to me, nonetheless. Julian, darling, I got to get. But, hey, one last thing. This charity event, you know, it’s a funny coincidence, really, but Dors willbe there!”
“That isa funny coincidence!” Julian laughs sarcastically.
“I will be sure to tell her to say‘hi.’ Good luck, try to have some fun.”
He charges from the room, his phone immediately pressed to his ear. Alice glares after him before moving slowly towards Julian, who leans on his knees, staring at the floor. She tucks her hair behind her ear and squats next to him, her own knees cracking as she does.
“The cartilage is deteriorating in your knee joints,” he whispers distantly, the straw dangling from his mouth as he sucks absently at the empty cup.
“Years of hard labor in a grocery store will do that,” she says, taking the empty cup and handing him the GQ.
He stares down into his own face, scowling handsomely back up at him.
“Mr. Russell,” she says, in a creepy, nasal voice,“can I get your autograph…and your babies in my bellies?”
He snorts and reads the headline out loud in a deep, threatening voice.“Julian Russell: Tough Never Looked So Sensitive…”
“Was that what you were going for?”
“I guess. I’m not sure. There was a lot of shouting…I was a little stoned.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. I ate that mint you gave me.”
“Wow, really? The‘ganga’ mint? I never thought you would.”
“It was an accident. I thought it was just a mint. I realized about a quarter through the shoot I was pretty high. You see that scowl? It’s me trying to figure out where the hell the voices shouting at me were coming from. All I could see were the bright lights, calling my name.”
She laughs and stands up, extending her hand to help him. He slowly rises, his entire body aching as he groans and arches his back. “Fuck…me…”
“You need a massage.”
“Yeah. Maybe after the ride along.”
“You have to be at the airport by 6.”
He moves very slowly towards the connecting bathroom. She grabs his arm and wraps it around her neck and he leans against her.
“I’m all sweaty,” he says.
“Hazards of the job. I’m more concerned with how heavy you are. You really bulked up,” she grumbles.
“In a sexy way, right? It’s sexy?”
“I’m more of a beer gut and pork butt kind of girl, myself, but yeah, sure, why not?”
“Yeah, well, I’m going for a more realistic physique. Most cops are super ripped these days, aren’t they? After all, this is the new era of police enforcement. No donuts and cheeseburgers here…god, that sounds so good.”
“I’m making you a lentil soup with egg whites. It’ll be done by the time you’re out of the shower.”
“Instant lentil soup?” he asks apprehensively.
“No, no. I made it last night, I’m warming it up.”
“Aw, you cooked for me on your day off?”
“No, I cooked for meon my day off. These are the left-overs.”
“What’d you do…ow, fuck…yesterday?”
“I went to the movies with a friend, and then spent the rest of the day and night painting.”
“What’d you see?”
“We went to see an indy. ‘The Rape Fields.’”
“Oh, yeah, I heard that was good. Very dark. How was it?”
“Hilarious.”
He chuckles and moves into the bathroom, leaning a moment on the door, looking down at her. She smiles back at him. “What‘friend’ did you go with?”
She looks away coyly and swats his stomach. “Take a shower, stink-fest.”
They drive to LAX in relative silence. The radio is set to the BBC, and a man with a thick, English accent drones about the war in Libya. Julian leans his head on his fist as he watches the cars speed by. He wears a dark sweater beneath a leather coat and his Yankees hat curled over his eyes. She glances at him a few times before clearing her throat.
“What’s going on, Julie? Are you alright?”
“Yeah…just thinking.”
“About?”
“Mike wants to hook me up with Sharleen Dors.”
“Sharleen Dors? Really?”
“Yeah, why…no good?”
“No! I mean, yeah! She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah…it wouldn’t be real, though. It’s a‘beard.’”
“What do you mean, like, beard…gay‘beard?’ But you’re not gay.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s…they want me to appear‘romantic.’ Apparently, it’s detrimental to my career.”
“Oh…so…do you want to do it?”
Julian switches the station to CSPAN and turns the volume low. The sound of constant talking has become soothing to him. He can’t remember the last time he actually listened to music. “Hey, you think you and CeCecould furnish my house? Nothing fancy, very sparse and clean. Just some chairs and couches and shit. Maybe a few beds in the guest rooms. I think I might have my family visit for Christmas.”
“Of course, no problem. I’ll get on it as soon as I get home. We’ll hit up Ikea, me and CeCe, together.”
He frowns at her. She smiles and hits him. “Kidding! We’ll hire a decorator. Can you even imagine CeCein an Ikea’s? I think her head would explode with the shame.”
“She’s definitely got standards. She once told me that‘if it wasn’t quality, it didn’t qualify.’ I mean, what’s that even mean? ‘Qualify’ for what, the Indy 500? The summer Olympics?”
“She’s a classy bitch, that’s for sure,” Alice laughs.
“…Do you not like her?”
“No, I like her. She scares the shit out of me, but I like her.”
“Really?” he laughs. “I’ve never seen CeCeas scary.”
“You’ve never had to get her‘list’ done. That woman has longer lists than Schindler. I think she stays up at night with a tablet and a chamomile, struggling to come up with impossible shit that’ll drive me insane trying to find.”
He chuckles in a high-pitched‘hoo’ he picked up from Alice.
“You didn’t answer me, you know.”
“About?”
“Do you want to make Dorsyour‘beard’?”
“Ah, oh, god, I don’t…uh, I don’t know. It seems...”
“Desperate?”
“Yes! Pathetic, kinda, even.”
“Like internet dating.”
“Exactly! Nailed it.”
“You know, I met Anthony on the internet.”
“Really?...I can’t imagine Anthony using
a computer. It’d be like a gorilla trying to drive a car. A really tiny car, like, one of those Smart cars only divorcees and spinsters drive.”
“Yeah…his cousin posted his ad and helped him. I-I’m not really all that social-”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he smirks sarcastically.
She shoots him a dirty look. “Anyways! I decided to give it a shot. I figured like, what was the worst, right? We were together for a year and a half so…I guess it worked.”
“You saying I should try dating online?”
She laughs sharply and quickly covers her mouth. He chuckles and watches her out of the corner of his eye.
“Can you imagine?” she asks. “That would be a total lotto win. You’d show up to the restaurant with a red rose in your pocket and Birtha’dshit herself on the spot, I promise.”
“Really? Just, like-‘Hi, I’m Julian’, and she’d,” he makes a raspberry and gestures wildly,“all down her new floral print dress?”
“Right into her tight pumps, all over the pump fat.”
“Yeah, that’s the effect I have on women, in general, I think. I got mad‘diarrhea’ game.”
They pull through to the passenger drop off. She pops the trunk and parks the car, starting to get out.
“No, you don’t need to help me,” he sighs. “I got it from here.”
He looks to the curb and nods his head to two men standing at the door and they move towards the car.
“So, you’d do it? If you were me?” he asks.
“Internet date?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t see why not. What could it hurt, really? At least meet her, see what she’s like. I mean, you can never have too many friends, right?”
“That’s very true…did you have any bad internetdates? Before Anthony?”
She laughs and studies the men that stand at the door, waiting for him, looking awkward and ominous simultaneously, wondering how she would feel having people wait for her in such a way. “That’s not the story you need to have on your brains, right now.”
“Oooo!” he laughs. “I definitely want to hear this! Sounds ultra incriminating.”
“Get out of here.”
“C’mon!”
“No way. Not gonnahappen.”
“Fine. But you will tell me when I get back. And I’m writing you up for not telling mesooner. Consider this a written warning.”
“Jesus, you’re a total ballbuster. I didn’t realize full personal disclosure of my intimate life was part of the job.”
“It is, very much so, yes.”
“I’m calling my union rep as soon as I get home.”
“Go ahead, but it’s in your contract, I promise. No skeevy, deep dark secrets, I have to know every embarrassing detail of your life. I need to know I can trust the person picking up my dry cleaning. Make a list of things you neglected to tell me and have it ready by the time I get back. Have CeCehelp you out.”
“Haha, you’re so funny, creep,” she says drily as he climbs out of the car, laughing.
She leans back in her seat and looks to the security again. Julian steps out and shakes their hand while an attendant unloads his carry-on. He leans back in the car and grabs his backpack, hesitating as he studies her smile. He comes around to the driver’s side and opens her door.
“On second thought, I do need your help,” he says.
She steps out and he grabs her, hugging her tightly. She can feel his heart racing through his sweater and coat, his hard chest crushing against her, and she remembers the pills, disappointed she had not previously realized he was terrified of flying. She slips the Valium in his pocket and pats it to let him know it is there before wrapping her arms around him and squeezing.
“You’ll be back Thursday night?”
“Yeah, late. I’ll get a driver, don’t worry about it,” he mumbles into her hair.
“Try to have fun, please. And give that Dorsgirl a shot. She’s no slouch.”
“She’s no Birtha, either,” he sighs, grabbing either sides of her head and kissing it dramatically before moving in front of the two security guards and the attendant.
He stares out the window of his Brooklyn apartment, studying the buildings and traffic that moves through the landscape like a writhing snake of lights and noise. His tie hangs loose around his crisp, expensive shirt. His slacks rest on his hips and hug him snuggly down his wide thighs. He shifts his focus to his own image reflected in the window and scrutinizes his appearance. A memory of walking through the mall with his brother runs through him. They stopped at a kiosk of posters,‘magic posters’ of geometric shapes and vibrant colors. ‘Stare at it and cross your eyes and you’ll see what it really is,’ James said, staring up in complete fascination at the picture. He crossed his eyes and struggles to see it as well. ‘Ah, cool! Do you see it yet?’ He tried harder, feeling slightly nauseous at the effort. They stood for so long but no matter what he tried, he was unable to see the leaping dolphin his brother swore was there.
He sighs and hits‘dial.’
“Hello, Julian.”
“Hi, James. How’s it going?”
“Good, you?”
“Good. Mike said you were trying to reach me?”
“Yes, mom and I both. You’ve been busy?”
“Very. Everything alright?”
“It is. We were calling to confirm holiday plans. Are you going to be joining us this year? Thanksgiving at mom’s? Uncle Marty and Aunt Christina will be there.”
“Aw…that sounds nice. But I can’t, not Thanksgiving.”
There is a long pause. Julian squeezes his eyes shut and detaches from the implicative silence.
“That’s too bad. Mom was looking forward to seeing you there. It’s been a long time. She’s a bit worried.”
“I’ll call her when I get back.”
“Get back? Where are you?”
Fuck! He sighs at his stupid slip. “I’m in New York. There’s a fundraising event I’m speaking at.”
“Oh…really? For how long?”
“Just tonight. I fly back tomorrow.”
“That’s a shame. It really is. We could’ve had lunch or something if you were going to be there longer.”
“Well, listen,” he says, running his free hand tersely through his hair,“I know it’s short notice but I was wondering if maybe you and the family would like to spend Christmas in L.A. at my place.”
“Your place?”
“Yeah. I bought a house. It’s decent, plenty of room for you all. I’d love if you could come.”
“…Maybe. Yeah, I’ll, uh, talk to mom and Sarah and see if that works. We haven’t been out there in awhile. It might be good.”
“Great! It’d mean a lot to me,” he says.
“Okay, buddy. I’ll let you know in a few days.”
“Okay. Take care.”
“You, too.”
He hangs up and squints at window, shifting back and forth between the city and his image, struggling to see the dolphin.
Julian moves through the crowd, no different than any one else. Teeth brighter than the sun, tan skin and carefully manicured hair, endless designer suits and dresses swaying against one another, the smell of expensive alcohol and gardenias bouncing off the soft, dim lighting from crystal chandeliers above their perfect heads. He realized, as he flipped through the event’s details on the plane, that it was a date situation. And he definitely had none. In a last minute effort, deciding it was better to show up with someonerather than no one, he called Scott. Scott was an old friend who housesat Julian’s apartment. He was typically unpredictable and completely unreliable, except when it came to parties. But the parties were never quite as classy as this one. Scott was much more comfortable in a warehouse, high out of his mind, dancing and singing and fucking the entire night. He insisted they split a glass flask and a blunt on their way to the event, despite Julian’s resistance. He insisted Julian promise to drink nothing but hard alcohol the entire evening like a‘rea
l man.’ And then, once Julian was finally feeling the weight of his inebriation, Scott disappeared, leaving him to mingle in a crowd of perpetual strangers. After about an hour, feeling completely self-conscious and paranoid, he found himself searching desperately for his friend. He catches sight of Scott at last at the end of the enormous ice sculpture of a small, Sudanese child, tucked against the darker part of the room. Scott is a tall, baby-faced blonde, who looked like a skinny boy in one of Julian’s suits as he chats with a waitress and sips his cocktail. Despite the obvious class difference and the baggy clothes, Scott’s charisma and charm made him appear casual, unaffected in a way Julian strived to imitate since they were kids. Very nonchalantly, Julian moves to his side and sips his drink. The waitress’s eyes move over him, her attention drawn completely from Scott, her cheeks flushing as her smile widens. Scott, realizing he was no longer her focus, turns to see what could possibly distract her from him.
“Oh, of course!” he sighs, extending his hand to Julian. “It could only be the manhimself.”
Julian grins and takes his hand. “Who’s your new friend?”
“This is Amanda,” Scott says, making way for them to shake hands. “Amanda’s studying at NYC. Poli Sci, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Russell,” she blushes but does not break eye contact.
“Call him‘Julian.’ He can’t risk a bigger ego in those tight Versace’s, right?”
Julian nods and swirls the ice in his cup. “What were you talking about?”
“We were talking about how this foundation is helping the Sudanese rebuild their lives after they claimed independence,” Scott replies. “Did you know that that was what this is for?”
“Of course,” Julian answers, ignoring the adoring gaze of the young girl. “I’ve been an advocate of the Lost Boys since the beginning of my career. It’s what drew me to this.”
“It’s super important to have high profile support like yourself. So many people are completely unaware of the struggles and turmoil war torn natives of regions like Sudan face these days,” Amanda says. Scott rolls his eyes and signals to a waiter moving through the crowd with wine.
“Amanda volunteered to help out tonight. She wanted to be a‘part of history,’ right?”
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