by Force, Marie
He’s pacing the length of the playground when I return. “What the fuck, Flynn? Are you all done seeing to your personal agenda? Can we get back to work?”
I ignore the first two questions. “Yep.”
“What’s the deal with the girl?”
“No deal.” It’s none of his fucking business, but unfortunately, he’s known me forever and can tell I’m lying to his face.
“Dude… Seriously? She’s an infant. You’ve got no business dragging a sweet girl like that into your world.”
The sad part is, he’s totally right. There’s no place at all for a nice girl like Natalie in my world. No place at all. But I’m fascinated nonetheless and counting the hours until I can see her again.
Chapter 3
Flynn Godfrey asked me to dinner. The sentence runs through my mind over and over and over again on the walk home. I’ve put Fluff down to walk because my arms are aching from holding her for so long. She’s got a new pep to her step, probably because she thinks she’s succeeded in running off Flynn.
It also occurs to me on the walk home that preparing for this evening is going to occupy my entire day. By the time I reach the three-story brownstone where I live with my roommate, Leah, I’m wishing I never agreed to go.
Fluff and I dash up the stairs to the front door and up one flight to our second-floor apartment. Inside, it takes me a full five minutes to remove all the layers I’ve worn for my walk. By then, Fluff is dancing around my feet, wanting her lunch.
I feed her and stand in the kitchen for a minute, feeling stunned and numb as I relive the events of the last hour. Reaching for my phone, I read and reread his text: So nice to meet you, Natalie. Look forward to seeing you later. Flynn.
Leah comes in, carrying a huge basket of laundry and bitching about the stink in the laundry room that seems to get worse with every passing day. She is tall and stick thin with long brown hair and blue eyes. I envy her ability to eat anything she wants. She envies my curves. Except for a couple of fundamental differences in philosophy, we get along well.
“Tell me the truth,” she says, dropping the basket and coming over to me. “Do I smell like the laundry room?”
I lean in and take a whiff of her hair, but all I smell is the salon shampoo she’s gotten me addicted to, even though neither of us can afford it. “You smell fine.”
“Remember that episode of Seinfeld? When he picks up his car from the detailer and it smells like BO? Then he starts to smell like BO, and Elaine starts to smell, too, because she’s been in the car?”
I wasn’t allowed to watch TV growing up and I was too busy trying to survive in college, so I’ve gorged on television since moving to the city. Leah’s obsession with Seinfeld reruns has worn off on me. “I love that episode.”
“That’s going to be us if they don’t figure out what the fuck stinks in that laundry room. No one will want to be around us.”
She swears like a sailor when she’s home, getting it out of her system, she says, after a week on best behavior in the classroom with fourth-graders. She encourages me to swear, too, but the few times I tried resulted in hilarity on both our parts. Leah says if I live with her long enough, she’ll eventually wear off on me.
“How was the walk?” she asks from the sofa where she’s set up shop to fold the mountain of clean clothes.
“It was… You won’t believe what happened.” The story bursts out of me in a flurry of words and hand motions. When I’m done, Leah stares at me as if I’ve just told her I saw aliens in the park.
“You’re making this up. You’re fucking with me.”
“No, I’m not. I swear to God it’s true.”
“You smashed into Flynn Godfrey in the park, Fluff bit his arm, you had coffee with him, and he asked you to dinner?”
“Yep.”
“You’re fucking lying.”
“Leah,” I say, beginning to feel exasperated, “why would I make that up?”
“You really met Flynn Godfrey.”
“I really met Flynn Godfrey.”
“Holymotherfuckingshit!” She’s off the sofa and grabbing me. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave out one single detail.”
I go through the whole thing again, slowly this time, with as many details as I can recall—which is all of them, of course—and she hangs on my every word.
“And he’s coming here? Tonight?”
I show her the text he sent me. “Seven o’clock.”
“I’m calling in sick to work.” She moonlights at a bar down the street and makes almost as much working Saturday night as she does in a full week at school.
“No, you’re not. You can’t afford to call in sick.” I tutor nearly every day after school to supplement my income. Since Leah can’t stand to spend one extra minute with her kids, she works at the bar on weekends.
“I’m not missing the chance to meet Flynn Godfrey.”
“I’ll bring him by the bar to meet you before we go wherever we’re going.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
She waves a hand frantically in front of her face. “I feel like I’m hyperventilating. Am I hyperventilating?”
Since she’s still able to form sentences, I say, “I don’t think so.”
“You’re really going out to dinner with Flynn Godfrey.”
“I really am.”
“You soooo have to do him.”
“I am not doing him. I already told him that.”
She moans loudly. “Natalie, honestly. You’re going out with the hottest guy on the fucking planet. If you won’t have sex with him, I will.”
“You know my feelings about that.” I made what I now know to be a mistake of epic proportions when I told my new friend and roommate I wouldn’t have sex with any man unless I’m married to him. I haven’t told her—or anyone—the reason for my vow. I have a good reason, but it’s my business and mine alone. What she doesn’t need to know is that by telling men I’m saving myself for marriage, I save myself the bother of sex, which is exactly the way I want it. She has mocked me endlessly, so much so that I finally told her to shut up about it or I would never tell her another thing ever.
She shut up about it, but she hasn’t forgotten. “This is no time for rigid virtue, Nat. This is the time to cut loose and have some fun that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not happening. I know you find my beliefs ridiculous, but they’re important to me.”
“They’re not ridiculous,” Leah says with a sigh. “They’re admirable.”
I roll my eyes at her because I don’t believe for a second she means that.
“They are admirable, and I’m not making fun of you. I swear I’m not. It’s just… They might be slightly… unrealistic. That’s all.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not changing my mind or my values just because a famous actor asked me out. If I change who I am for one night, who will I be tomorrow?”
Leah puts her hands on my shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “You’ll still be you. You’ll just be you having been done by Flynn Godfrey.”
She’s so sincere and so imploring that I bust up laughing, which she doesn’t appreciate.
“Mark my words. You’ll look back in ten years, when the cherry has been popped and you’re stuck with the one guy you’ll get to have sex with for your whole life, and say to yourself, ‘I so should’ve listened to Leah and fucked Flynn Godfrey when I had the chance.’”
I put my hands over my ears, pretending I can’t hear her.
“I’m writing the date down so I can remind you of this conversation in ten years.”
“I’ll look forward to that, but for now I need to figure out what I’m going to wear. Are you going to help me or what?”
“Will you please, for the love of God and all that’s holy, wear ‘just in case’ underwear underneath?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ugh,” she sighs, “you’re ridic
ulous, but I’ll help you anyway.”
* * *
At four o’clock, the buzzer sounds from the lobby with a delivery that Leah goes down to get. She returns carrying the most incredibly gorgeous purple orchid in an equally beautiful ceramic pot.
She hands me the card. “As if there’s any doubt, it’s for you.”
I feel foolish as I take the card from her, because my hands feel shaky as I open the envelope.
Enjoyed meeting you and Fluff this morning. Looking forward to dinner. FG
“What does it say?” Leah is jumping around trying to see over my shoulder, so I hand the card to her.
“Oh my God! That’s so romantic!”
Granted, it’s nice of him to send me such a beautiful plant—that I haven’t the first clue how to care for—but romantic? I don’t know if I’d go that far.
“Isn’t it romantic?” Leah’s excitement is starting to grate on my nerves. It’s just dinner. I can’t figure out why she’s making such a big deal out of it.
“Sure,” I reply, because it’s easier than getting into another debate with Leah about why I’m not wired the way other women our age are. I stopped being like other people my age when I was fifteen. That’s when someone I trusted stole my youth and innocence. But I’m not thinking about that today. If I allow myself to think about that, I’ll never be able to get my act together in time for Flynn’s arrival. I’ve made not thinking about that into an art form, and I’ve learned the hard way what happens when I allow the darkness to intrude on my new life.
By six thirty, I’m a total disaster. I’ve spent all afternoon with Leah, primping and preparing, and I hate the way my hair looks, my makeup is awful, and I’m almost out of time.
She’s spraying more crap in my hair that now looks nothing like my hair. It actually resembles hair in a picture she found in Vogue that she said would be similar to what he’d expect. As if she somehow knows what he expects.
I don’t know who I’m trying to be, but it’s not me, and I can’t do it. “Leah. Stop.”
“What do you mean, stop? We’re not done.”
“Yes, we are.” I pull the towel off my shoulders and turn to her in our cramped bathroom. “I look like a freak. It’s all wrong.”
“What’re you doing? Natalie! He’s going to be here in half an hour!”
I have just enough time to do this my way. “I need the bathroom, Leah.”
Throwing up her hands, she storms out, and I move faster than I ever have in the shower to wash all the crap out of my hair and off my face. I dry my hair in record time, but don’t bother to straighten it the way I normally would before a big event. A bit of mascara, a touch of lip gloss, and I’m done.
I emerge from the bathroom just as Leah is about to leave for work. She takes one look at me and shakes her head, her dismay apparent. “Don’t forget to bring him by the bar.”
“I won’t.”
“Have fun, Nat, and don’t be a total prude. Let your hair down a little—for real.”
“I can have fun without getting naked.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, girlfriend. I’m out.”
I want to tell her that virtuous and prudish are not synonymous, but she’s gone before I can get the sentence out of my mouth. I’m not a prude. I don’t judge others for their choices. I don’t expect anyone to embrace my beliefs, nor do I try to inflict them on others. I’ve never said to Leah, for instance, “You shouldn’t sleep with every guy you date,” because that would be prudish and judgmental.
Yet she finds it perfectly acceptable to tell me I need to let loose and get naked with someone I don’t even know. It’s a double standard I could defend all day except I’m down to ten minutes until Flynn will be here. I still cannot believe I’m casually having that thought. Flynn will be here.
In my room, I put on the one black dress I own along with thigh-high hose and high-heeled black boots. I hope I don’t regret the heels, but I’m also hoping we won’t be outside for long, because the temperature has dropped into the teens. Feeling rushed and not at all ready for a date of this magnitude, I fill a small purse with the essentials, adorn my wrist with silver bangles and insert fake diamond stud earrings to complete my ensemble.
I take an assessing look in the mirror, and while I could never compete with the casual perfection of the women I see on the streets, at least I look like me—for better or worse. The buzzer sounds, and I jump a foot, which startles Fluff into a barking frenzy.
“Stop it.” I bend down to pat her furry head and kiss her furry face. “I’ll be back later. Behave yourself, and I might give you a treat.”
At the word treat, she sits and looks at me expectantly.
“Oh, all right.” I fear I’ll be an awful mother to my future children, and it’ll be Fluff’s fault. Fully manipulated by the woeful eyes of a twenty-pound dog, I dole out a couple of treats and grab my coat and purse. Pushing the button on the intercom, I say, “I’ll be right down” and end the connection before he can reply.
My hands are shaking again, and I hate that I’m so nervous. He’s just a man. A man who puts his pants on one leg at a time, as my grandfather would say. On the stairs, my heel catches on one of the rubber treads, and I stave off disaster by grabbing the banister. I strain a muscle in my arm in the effort to keep from pitching down the stairs. That only adds to the remaining aches and pains from my fall in the park this morning.
Humbled by the near miss, I stop and take two very deep breaths. Just a man. One leg at a time. Just a man. A person like anyone else. In through the nose, out through the mouth. While I’m standing still, I finish buttoning my red wool coat and pull on my gloves. Holding on to my composure, I go slowly down the remaining stairs and open the door to Flynn Godfrey himself. He’s wearing a black overcoat that he’s left unbuttoned, which is how I can see a crisp white dress shirt that he’s worn without a tie. I briefly home in on that triangle of exposed skin above his top button.
In that moment, I realize I expected him to have a driver. Movie stars don’t drive themselves around the city, do they? Apparently this one does.
He stares at me for a long moment—long enough that I fear I forgot to wipe the toothpaste from my mouth or worse…
“You… You’re stunning.”
It’s then I realize he’s staring at me for all the best reasons, and my heart begins to do this weird galloping thing that quickly makes me feel light-headed. He extends his arm, and because I’m prone to disaster today, I take it gratefully.
As he helps me down the stone stairs, I notice the shiny black vehicle with tinted windows parked at the curb with hazard lights flashing. My hands go sweaty with nerves. I’m grateful for the gloves and the cold air whipping against my heated cheeks.
Flynn opens the passenger door and holds it for me until I’m settled. As I slide into a heated leather seat and breathe in the scent of the most appealing cologne I’ve ever encountered, it occurs to me that no one will know where I am tonight. Leah knows who I’m with but not where I’ll be. She’s working at the bar until two a.m., and she won’t get home until after three—that is, unless she gets a better offer, and then she won’t be home at all. These thoughts begin to make me feel panicky as he gets in next to me and closes the door.
“You are lovely,” he says.
“Thank you.” I look at him, still not quite believing I’m sitting in a fantastically expensive sports car next to Flynn Godfrey. “Could I ask a favor?”
“Of course.”
“My roommate was very disappointed that she had to go to work before you picked me up. I wondered if you would mind—”
“Where does she work?”
I tell him where the bar is, and he considers it before turning his potent gaze on me, seeming troubled. “I hope you understand… I can’t go in there without causing a circus. Perhaps you could ask her to come out to see us?”
“Sure. She can do that.”
“What now?” he asks, studying me so in
tently that I feel unsettled and on display.
“I… I wondered if it would be all right if we told her where we’re going tonight.”
He raises a dark brow. “Are you scared of me?”
More like terrified, but I can’t say that. “No, but I only met you this morning, and it would make me more comfortable if someone who cares about me knows where I am.”
“I understand.”
Despite what he says, I can’t help but wonder if he really does understand what it’s like to be a young woman, new to the city, navigating the many perils. If I’d been speaking to my parents, they would’ve tried to talk me out of coming here. They were afraid of everything, especially things they didn’t know or understand. But I haven’t talked to them in eight years, so they didn’t get a say in my big decision. The second I got the letter of acceptance into the program, I knew there was nothing that would keep me from moving here to make my dreams come true.
I pull off my gloves and send a text to Leah, asking her to come outside to meet us. We pull up to the bar a few minutes later, and she is waiting in the cold without a coat on.
Flynn puts the passenger side window down, and leans over me without actually touching me, but I’m acutely aware of his nearness.
Leah’s hand comes up to cover her mouth when she sees him.
I’m grateful she doesn’t actually scream.
The words “shut up, shut up, shut up” are muffled by her hand.
“Leah, I presume?” Flynn says in the rough, sexy tone that made him a superstar.
With her hand still over her mouth, Leah nods.
He looks at me. “Is she always so talkative?”
That makes me laugh. “Give her a second to recover, and then she won’t shut up.” I look out at her. “Satisfied?”
“For now,” Leah says.
“Natalie would like you to know where we’ll be tonight. I’m going to use her phone to text the address to you, all right?”