Gazelle

by Bello, Gloria

She hugs him from the side, drinking her beer as she does. She wears a strapless black and white polka dot swing dress over fishnets and heels. Her hair is swept into a tight, rockabilly pomp, swirling up in a curl resting softly to the left. Blood red lips, long, sleek eyeliner under velvety lashes. He has never seen her look so beautiful and is momentarily confused, unsure if it is really she. She looks up at him, her eyes watery, drunk, a slow lazy smile.

  “You’re a little bit late. Just a little bit,” she whispers.

  “I got caught in traffic…I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me. Not my birthday.”

  He flashes a quick smile and sips his beer as she releases him, squeezing his side before she does. Before he can respond, she turns and grabs onto another man, this time in a more firm, determined manner. Anthony steps up to them, the crowd instinctively falling quiet, studying the man’s jutting chin and hard eyes as he stares down Julian. He is clean-shaven and much more handsome than Julian remembers. His white-collar shirt is buttoned high, pushing his face forward and out. His black slacks are pressed and his hair is combed into a sleek 50’s style, streaked with gray. The shop suit is gone, the grease removed, and Julian, envious, sees this man fitting the young girl on his arm perfectly.

  “Julian,” Anthony says, grabbing his hand in a confident, firm shake,“thank you for coming. It means a lot to my mom, to all of us.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Thanks for inviting me.” He glances down at Alice who releases Anthony’s arm instantaneously, having confirmed the reception went as she hoped.

  “You’re a good friend of Alice’s. It’s nice that you can be a part of this,” Anthony says.

  “Antonio is my oldest,” Angie quickly says, wrapping her arms around Anthony and kissing his cheek. “He’s a godsend, a complete godsend.”

  “I love you too, mama,” Anthony says, hugging her back. “No more sangria, okay? I don’t want you to get sick.”

  “I’m fiiine. It’s my birthday! Let’s party!”

  His brothers, casually, but poignantly, gather around them, laugh and relax. The women chase after the children, couples continue to dance on the grass.

  “These are my friends, Trina, Will and Chris,” Alice says, casually introducing them to Julian.

  “Hi! Trina,” Trina says, shoving her hand into his. “Oh my god, we’ve heard so much about you!”

  “Not that much. Just your basic stuff…you know, social security number, underwear preferences, deodorantchoices. Not more than is usual for one to hear about their friend’s employer. I’m Will,” Will says quickly. “This is Chris. We are big fans.”

  “Thanks. Yeah, uh, Alice has told me about you guys, too. You’re the‘movie night,’ right?”

  “Is that how she describes us? ‘Movie Night?’ A bunch of losers, eating pizza and drinking beer, sitting around watching movies?” Trina frowns.

  “That is what we do,” Will sighs, as if disappointed to realize it for the first time.

  “No,” Julian says,“It sounds fun. I tell her to invite me all the time but she’s kind of stuck up. Thinks I’ll embarrass her.”

  “It’s true,” Alice nods. “I don’t want to risk exposing you guys to him. His favorite movie is‘Showgirls.’”

  “It was a poignant story and a real eye opener into the trials and tribulations women face on a day to day basis,” Julian smiles.

  “He’s funny…you can’t be funny, too. That’s just not right,” Trina whispers dreamily.

  “And on that note, I’m going to introduce Julian around before Trina strokes out, okay?” Alice says rolling her eyes. As Alice grabs Julian’s arm and moves him through the crowd, she glances at Anthony, who stares back at her completely humorless.

  They sit on the lawn furniture behind couples dancing underneath Christmas lights, weaving in and out of decorations. Trina and Alice lean against one another, watching the crowd sway before them. Julian picks at the carné, tearing at it with his teeth. The meat melts in his jaw, he sighs and rolls his eyes back.

  “Fuck, this is delicious,” he says.

  “I told you,” Alice chuckles. “You can’t beat real Mexican food.”

  “You realize you added another hour to my routine tomorrow?”

  “No, it’s all protein. It’s good.”

  “Beefis not good. It weighs you down, clogs you up. Sits in your colon for years.”

  “With everything else you have packed up there, it’ll be New Year’s by the time you take a shit.”

  He swats her arm as she giggles. “You’re wasted.”

  “I’m not wasted. I’m slightly buzzed. It takes a lot more than a few Coronas to get me wasted.”

  “A few? How many’sa few?”

  “Less than 6…more than 4…” Trina laughs.

  “You’re gonnahave to add an hour to your routine tomorrow, too.”

  “If, by‘routine,’ you mean trekking to some snotty grocery store for a disgusting wheatgrass and ginger tonic for you, then yes, I will.”

  “Kombucha. I like to drink kombuchaafter I’ve been drinking. It cleans the poison right out,” he says, tearing at a hunk of meat.

  “He’s right. It works for me, too,” Trina says.

  “Ug, you and your pinché kombucha. I’m not drinking moldy anything, it’s disgusting.”

  “No, it works, I’m telling you. It’s loaded with probiotics.”

  “So is probiotic vitamins. Kombuchatastes like burnt, yogurt poop from a dinosaur’s ass. I can’t believe I ever let you talk me into trying it, I almost threw up.”

  “You drank it? I can’t believe you drank it!! You said you’d never touch it!” Trina says.

  He laughs and nods. “I remember that! Your face got all red and you couldn’t talk for like, five minutes.”

  “You made me chug the whole thing, too!”

  “It doesn’t work unless you do.”

  “It didn’twork. It made me want to puke even worse.”

  “What’s up, guys?” Will dances in front them with Chris, both of them drunk and leaning against one another. “You gonnadance or what?”

  “He’s eating. And he doesn’t dance,” Alice calls.

  “I dance.”

  “You do? Since when?”

  “Since always. I love dancing. It’s my second favorite thing to do.”

  “What’s your first?” Will asks, grinning mischievously as he sits next to him.

  “Eating carné,” Alice laughs.

  “Drinking kombucha,” Julian grins through a mouth full of meat.

  “Hey, seriously, what’s it like working for this guy, Alice? Is he a ballbuster?” Chris asks as he plops down on Will’s lap.

  “Totally. Makes me get his laundry. Buy him socks-”

  “You buy me socks?”

  “Where do you think they come from? The sock fairy?”

  “I don’t know…I thought maybe CeCejust got them with the rest of my mail clothes.”

  “See? Doesn’t even appreciate. Run his errands, get his travel arrangements all done, make his doctor appointments, make sure his bills get paid, cook for him-”

  “You cook for him?” Will laughs in disbelief. “You can’t cook!”

  “I can, too! Shut up!”

  “No, honey, you can’t,” Chris laughs. “Remember when she made that bowl of mash potatoes for Dominic’s Halloween party?”

  “Oh, Jesus, we had to soak the bowl‘til the next day to get them to unstick,” Trina adds.

  “We used some of it to plug the leak on our bathroom sink! Who brings mash potatoes to a Halloween party!?”

  “You guys shut up! You said bring something to go with the roast! Mashed potatoes go with a roast.”

  “Yeah, when they’re actually mashed and not hard, little pigeon nuggets. Was it instant?”

  “…I made them right…”

  “It was, wasn’t it!? Alice and her instants. Do you even knowhow to boil a potato?” Will laughs.

  “Screw you both.”
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  “So you cook, you pick up his laundry and you buy his socks?” Trina asks.

  “Yeah, and a million other things. He’s pretty high maintenance. Big shotmovie star,” Alice grins.

  Julian shakes his head, smiling down into his empty plate.

  “Shit, I do all that for Will! You sound like his fucking wife! Tell me you have a pre-nup, lady,” Chris laughs.

  “She definitely nagslike a wife,” Julian laughs.

  Alice laughs into a snort, shoving Julian who braces against her and pushes back.

  “What’s so funny?” Anthony asks, coming up alongside them.

  “Alice was telling us about her cooking. How she‘cooks’ for Julian,” Will says, raising his eyebrows.

  “What?!Like, Top Ramen, right?”

  “You guys are the worst. Totally embarrassing me. I cook good, tell them, Julian.”

  Julian nods. More reserved and on guard with Anthony present, he stops laughing and drops his attention to his plate. “She does. She makes a pretty good lentil soup.”

  “Is that right?” Anthony asks, his eyes moving over Alice, his mouth moving into a slow smile. “You never made me lentil soup.”

  Alice smiles and looks up at him, bringing her beer to her mouth and taking a drink before answering. “You? Eat lentils? You’d never touch lentils. Too healthy.”

  “Not true,” he says, moving before her with his hands in his pockets, his legs slightly spread. “If you made it, I’d eat it.”

  “Ooo, be careful, dude,” Will says,“Remember them potatoes?”

  “Do you even know what a lentil is?” Alice asks seductively, standing slowly in front of him.

  He smiles and drops his gaze to the side before looking at her again. “It don’t matter, I’d eat it.”

  Julian stiffens, watching the sexual tension between them, fighting his sudden confusing jealousy. He glances at Will and Trina, Trina watching him closely and deciphering what he is feeling. He quickly drinks his beer and regains his composure.

  “Dance with me,” Anthony says softly, pulling Alice into the haze of twinkling lights and lawn elves.

  They move to the middle. He pulls her to his chest, holding her hand in his as they sway. Will sighs, taking the beer from Chris and drinking it. “Ay…here we go again. It won’t last.”

  “What do you mean?” Julian asks. “What won’t?”

  “This-them, right now. In an hour, they’ll be fighting again. There’s nothing he can do or say that’ll bring her back.”

  “You don’t know that,” Trina says, still watching Julian.

  “Yeah, I do. Alice was broken before him. And he hasn’t changed, that man’s still a dawg, always will be. He won’t, not for her, not for anyone.”

  Julian watches Alice and Anthony, studying Alice’s face, so calm and sweet, cat eyes closed, cheeks flushed from drinking. He looks to Anthony’s face, staring at the crowd of people in the house where it is more rambunctious with laughter and life, his longing plain, his acting terrible, and Julian has never hated anyone more.

  “What’s‘praying mantis?’”

  The restaurant is not loud enough,the tables are packed too closely together. The lights are dim and the ambiance very peaceful in a rust and orange haze about them. Though she asked softly, it was still loud enough that any response he made would be heard all around them. He pretends he didn’t hear the question, separating the cilantro foam from his sliver of sea bass.

  “Julian? Did you hear me?”

  He glances up at the beautiful woman, her hair hanging around her concerned eyes and pouting mouth. She reaches a hand over his, her nails grazing his skin lightly.

  “What are you talking about?” he smiles, taking her hand but returning his attention to his eloquent plate as if truly fascinated by its design.

  “What is‘praying mantis’? You said it…earlier, remember?”

  “When?”

  She sighs and releases his hand. Her lips wobble and then form a firm smile. She draws her Chardonnay into her grasp and holds the stem but does not drink. “You know when.”

  He bites into the sliver, letting it melt on his tongue without tasting it, and blinks up at her. He laughs and cuts another tiny bite. “Yeah…I know. Uh…it’s a little embarrassing.”

  “Tell me!” she smiles, suddenly riveted. She leans towards him and runs the tip of her toe up and down his calf.

  “I don’t-uh…”he looks from side to side before leaning towards her, chewing thoughtfully,“I was watching a show, a documentary on insects earlier. Before I went to your place. And uh, I don’t know…I just had a hard time getting my mind out of it, I guess.”

  Her smile hardens. Her eyes flash. He knows as soon as he finishes the lie that she would not believe it. God, I am the shittiest actor that ever fucking lived, he thinks, shaking his head and laughing.

  “A documentary. You were distracted by a documentary.”

  “Yeah…I know. Sounds awful, I’m sorry. It’s really embarrassing. I just-have had a lot of things on my mind. My focus is all over the place. It’s just that, that’s all. I haven’t got the focus I need. I’m sorry, it’s fucked up, I know.” Much better, that she’ll buy for sure.

  She tilts her head and he studies her. The tilt. When people listen, they tilt their heads just like this. How many times had he seen her do this move? In interviews, in her shit movies, at the parties they went to, whenever she talked to someone who might be someone. Whenever he spoke about anything heavier than fashion or magazines. Whenever they watched a foreign film together that he knew she didn’t understand. She would sit through the entire two hours with her head cocked to one side, her eyes unnaturally wide, her lips slightly parted as if she were about to discover something truly fascinating and, when it was over, she would look at him in feigned awe and say how it was‘amazing.’

  “Oh, honey! I’m sorry!” she says, grabbing his hand again. “My poor baby, I know how hard this is for you. You’re so amazing, though. I don’t know why you’re worried.”

  “Worried? I’m not…” he doesn’t finish the sentence and frowns down at the next micro course the waiter places before them.

  “It’snatural, babe. Everybody gets a little freaked out, I think. You don’t have to explain it to me. I know you’re stressed out. I can tell. Today…you’ve never been so aggressive,” she says after the waiter has left.

  He pokes at the tiny quail, remembering a story Alice told him about a half chicken and an internetdate.‘We went to this fancy ass restaurant. I was so excited because I’d never been anywhere fancier than like, Applebee’s. And I ordered the half chicken, thinking it would be like, a wing and a leg or something because that’s like, half a chicken, right? But when it came, it was literally sliced in a half, right down the middle of the chicken and it looked like a fetus to me! I couldn’t eat it. And the whole time, my date kept talking about how he wanted to settle down and spawn (he actually said the word‘spawn!’) and all I could picture was these little half chicken, frog babies running around!’.

  “Hon? Did you hear me?”

  “What? Uh, yeah. I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  Her brow furrows and she tightens her grip. “You were smiling right now…I thought maybe it was about what I said…what were you thinking about?”

  “I don’t really…I can’t eat this, I’m still really full from earlier,” he says, pushing the plate away,“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said,‘I didn’t know what to think after today.’ My ass is still really sore,” she whispers in a giggle.

  He smiles and squeezes her hand. “Was it too much for you?”

  “No…not at all. I liked it,” she says with another tilt. “It just caught me by surprise. I never thought you were the type.”

  “What type?”

  “You know…the aggressive type. You’re always so…”

  “ ‘So’ what?”

  She smiles and runs a hand over her dangling curl, batting her ey
es seductively. “Romantic. Tender.”

  Her foot runs up his leg again, higher, arching around his calf and pulling him towards her. His eyes narrow suspiciously, recalling the night they met. “Really? What about the first time?”

  She giggles and fingers the stem of her wine glass. Everything about her is timed perfectly, down to the twist of her lips around her scripted words. “Well, there’s never a time like the‘first time.’”

  He leans back and sees her at last, in awe that it has escaped him so long. She blends into the scene; men and women in expensive clothes, lit softly by the luminance of candles. Their faces wear the same exact coy, clever smile, placed in proportion to one another, to the room, to the food that evaporates before they taste it. Clever and clean, he sees himself sitting on the rusty lawn furniture watching these beings, trying to place them beneath Christmas lights and laughing children, barking dogs and tubs of beer.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks, watching his face vanish and stare at her in utter confusion.

  “Nothing,” he says, regaining himself.“I’m just-I told you already. Things are just a little out of whack right now.”

  She bites her lip and widens her eyes, much to his annoyance. Yet he flashes her a reassuring smile and grabs her hand. She accepts the gesture, whether she believes it or not. “I think maybe you need to have a little fun.”

  “What kind of fun?”

  “There’s a party tonight. I think we need to go.”

  “Oh…not tonight. I have a meeting tomorrow morning with Nathan and Mike,” he says, sipping his water.

  “Oh, no, please? Just for a little while. Let’s go for a little bit and I promise, if it’s no fun, we can go home. Please?”

  He knows if he refuses, he risks a possible confrontation and is too exhausted to do so. He smiles and nods. “Just a little while.”

  The music thuds against their bodies, grinding and twisting against one another. Strobe lights streak thin, blue lines across their faces twisted in concentration and ecstasy. Their brightly colored clothes swirl about their bodies in a continuous, rhythmic locomotion. Young, hip, Hollywood hellions, drinking and smoking, snorting and popping, the heavy cloud of cannabis and cigarettes swallows them up and tosses them into one another on the shore of blissful detachment.