Tastes Like Chicken

by Lolita Files

  “I’ll have the roast pork,” James told the waiter. The guy scribbled on his pad and went off. James raised his mojito. Reesy followed suit.

  “To auspicious beginnings,” he said with a sly smile.

  “To hopefully booking my first movie.”

  They bumped glasses and sipped their drinks.

  “So am I the first callback?” Reesy asked.

  “You’re the only callback.”

  Reesy sat her drink on the table.

  “You’re kidding,” she said.

  “Nope. I saw over two hundred girls today. You were the one. That fried chicken bit blew everyone away.”

  Reesy picked a lime from her drink and nibbled at it. Something about this didn’t make sense. There was no way he could pick her just like that. She’d always heard that Hollywood was different, tough. Aside from the random idyllic fairy tale of overnight discovery, this kind of thing didn’t happen.

  “So are you saying I got the role?”

  James nodded.

  “Yes, you did. You’re the leading lady.”

  “But I didn’t even do any lines. You don’t know if I’m flat, what kind of chemistry I might have when I read against somebody. Nothing. I don’t get it. This doesn’t seem right.”

  James leaned forward and grabbed her hands.

  “Look, lady, the way you rolled on that floor—everyone in the room could see that you were willing to go out on a limb to throw yourself into a part. We watched the tape again after you left, before the next person was called in. You should have seen yourself.” He shook his head as he laughed. “Hysterical. Sexy, fun, hysterical. Kind of like a black Lucille Ball, you know.” He drank some mojito. “We were all digging it.”

  The waiter returned with two plates heaped with food. He placed the plate of roast chicken in front of Reesy. The aroma was intoxicating, rich with onions and garlic. There was rice and plantains and a small bowl of black beans. Within seconds, James was forking his roast pork, tearing at the succulent meat. He took a bite, juice dripping down his chin. He wiped it away with his hand, no napkin.

  Reesy bowed her head and said quiet grace. James’s fork froze, poised midway on a second arc to his mouth.

  “Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

  She glanced up.

  “Sorry for what?” she asked.

  “Not waiting for you.”

  Reesy picked up her fork.

  “Eat your food,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  He didn’t. He went at the plate like it was execution day and this was going to be his last meal. There was something feral about it.

  James fucked the same way he ate his pork: with abandon and gusto, no moment of silent appreciation of the meal before him, no napkin. Juices dripping down his chin.

  They were back in the stale, empty room where she had auditioned. It wasn’t far from the restaurant, and Troy and Ray weren’t expected back for a few more hours.

  She wasn’t quite sure how they ended up there. It had all been a blur of emotions run amok, a whirlwind she didn’t stop herself from being sucked into.

  James had paid for lunch and walked her to Black. He asked her if she would take him back to the “office.” Troy and Ray had dropped him off at the restaurant before they headed out on their location-scouting expedition.

  “I let them take my car,” he said.

  James exuded sex and had a rapier wit, which, to Reesy, was always a sign of true intelligence. He had an immediate comeback for every quip she made, which challenged her. She appreciated a man who thought quick on his feet and in his seat.

  James had asked her to stop at a 7-Eleven when they were on their way back so he could buy some bottled water. At least, that’s what she thought he wanted to stop for. It turned out to be bottled water with a side order of condoms.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said as she lay beside him, circa round three. “We’re going to be working together. This is not a good start.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other,” James replied. “I’m feeling you. You’re feeling me. That was apparent the other night at the club.”

  Reesy realized his words were true. There had been an electricity between them from the very beginning. The pièce de résistance was that James was a superior lover. He was savage, adventurous, hyper, animalistic—like an adrenaline-high cheetah in the throes of a fresh kill.

  His weaponry wasn’t too bad either. It was thick, sturdy, a generous serving of solid meat that made her reach out and grasp it to see if it was real.

  After Rhiannon’s revelations about physical alterations being a common occurrence in L.A., Reesy didn’t consider anything beyond inspection anymore.

  It had been many months since she had seen new dick. For a time, when Reesy and Dandre were happy and planning their life together, she believed the days of foreign dick were done. She was pleased about it. Dandre was a total package and everything about him—to her—equated hitting the jackpot. He was the consummate lover, confidant, and friend. He was beautiful, soothing to her eyes and to her spirit.

  And his dick was a fabulous testament to perfection. The standard. It was museum-worthy.

  Seeing James’s wood had excited her, but, in an odd way, she found herself comparing it to Dandre’s.

  She stared it in its one eye and studied the girth of the head. It didn’t seem symmetrical, like there’d been a flaw in the mold in which it was cast. She sat on the thing, wondering at the way it sort of just pushed in without ceremony, nothing like how Dandre’s introduced itself with more of a natural glide. She bucked on it, but it didn’t hit the corners the way she liked.

  She realized how Goldilocks must have felt, trying out those three bear beds. As pretty as James’s dick was, and despite his talent at putting it down, something about the way he fit just wasn’t quite right.

  Now that the urgency of the sex had subsided, something discomfiting—a strange sense of sadness—was tiptoeing its way across her brain.

  She glanced down at the penis hanging limp and spent on James’s thigh.

  Her eyes flitted across her left hand. The ring glinted at her. She twisted the thing, trying to turn it around.

  Her finger was too thick. The ring wouldn’t budge.

  The ride back to Manhattan Beach seemed longer than her trip cross-country. It was too much time alone, too much time to think. She blasted the radio to drown out her thoughts, but her brain was aflutter.

  It had been a while since she’d done anything as reckless as her moment with James. Reesy had done casual sex before.

  That wasn’t the problem. But what the incident did, more than anything, was make her realize how much she still cared for Dandre.

  “I don’t want to love you, you fuck,” she said to the windshield wipers as they flashed back and forth. “Not after what you did to me. Not after what you did to my life.”

  She thought about Sleazy’s words and his insistence that what had happened at the wedding may have been out of Dandre’s control. That didn’t matter to her. Holding on to her resentment was easier than wrapping her brain around the concept of letting him into her heart again.

  Sex with James wasn’t premeditated, although she had an intuitive feeling that by going back to meet him for lunch, something more than discussing her getting a role in the film was going to occur.

  It was supposed to be closure, an act that would shut the door on her and Dandre and the loss of the baby. Opening her life—and her legs—to new L.A. experiences.

  Everything is still too fresh, she thought. That explained why she was feeling so sad. It was like trying to work out after not hitting the gym for months. Her dating muscles were atrophied. Her emotional reflexes were shot. She was determined to fix that.

  “I’ll just keep at it,” she said.

  Soon enough, she reasoned, being with someone else would seem easy, and her love for Dandre would begin to fade away.

  Pier Avenue was right in the heart of Hermos
a Beach. It was a street teeming with retail stores, restaurants, and bars. There was always a crowd of people strolling, shopping, passing through on their way to the beach, or enjoying good food, good drink, and good times with friends.

  Dandre sat in a pub with a tall glass of Guinness. It was his third. He nibbled on a chicken wing as he tried to kill time.

  He didn’t want to be at the house when Zoe and Chloe left. They had cried through the night, appearing in front of him with their eyes swollen, faces puffy, that morning.

  He was not going to be swayed. He knew the girls had money. They hadn’t paid rent in five years but were always working. They could get another place if they wanted. Their dramatic display didn’t change the fact that they both had disrespected not just his request, but his person as well.

  He sat in the booth, contemplating whether he should tell Reesy about the incident with the three women, and about Rejeana coming to his house. He wanted both things out in the open so they could never haunt him again, like those atrocious pictures.

  Dandre was determined not to let anything else come between him and Reesy, once he got her back.

  “I’m going to tell her,” he said into his drink.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

  Sleazy slid into the booth beside him.

  Dandre glanced up at him, alarmed by his appearance. This was one of those friends of the twins. Another L.A. party hound who was a part of his cousins’ slumming crowd.

  “What’s up, man?” Dandre said, not hiding his annoyance.

  “What are you doing here? The twins are back at the house. They’re moving today.”

  “I know,” Sleazy said. “I’m helping them.”

  “Then why are you here? I hope they didn’t send you over here to help plead their case, because it’s pointless. Don’t waste your breath.”

  Sleazy grabbed a chicken wing and bit into it. Dandre slid away from him, deeper into the back of the booth.

  “Sure,” he said. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” said Sleazy. “I will.”

  He grabbed another. He signaled a waiter, pointing at Dandre’s Guinness and holding up two fingers. The waiter nodded.

  “So you can go back and tell Chloe and Zoe your trip over here was useless. I know they told you I was here.”

  “Yeah, they told me where you were, but that’s not why I’m here,” Sleazy said. “I think I might be able to help you with something you need.”

  Dandre nodded, as if he got it. This was an L.A. hustle, he figured. This guy was about to tell him about some kind of hookup. Everybody on the come-up had some kind of scam that they tried to put their friends onto. This guy must have thought Dandre was down for that kind of thing. He already knew Dandre and his dad owned the beach house. He must have figured they had money to burn.

  “No thanks,” he said, “I don’t need anything.”

  Sleazy licked buffalo sauce from his fingers. His two-way beeped. He read the thing, then put it on “silent” so they wouldn’t be interrupted. The waiter sat two beers on the table.

  “Thanks, man,” Sleazy said to the waiter. He took a swig, licking foam from his top lip. “So you don’t need any help with Reesy?” he said as he stared into the glass of beer.

  Dandre started, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark. He’d seen Sleazy at his beach house, in the midst of major freaking.

  “What do you know about Reesy?” Dandre asked. “How do you know who the hell she is?”

  Sleazy got another wing.

  “This thing is huge, more like a turkey wing than chicken. These fucking hormone-injected Frankenfoods are gonna kill us all.”

  Dandre grabbed him by the wrist, tight. Sleazy glanced over at him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll order some more.”

  Dandre didn’t release his grip on the big man’s wrist. Sleazy let the chicken wing drop.

  “Tell me how the hell you know my girl.”

  “Your ex-girl,” he said. “The wedding is off.”

  “Look, man.” Dandre’s voice was raised as he grabbed Sleazy by the collar. The bartender heard the commotion and gestured to the waiter.

  “Chill, man, chill,” Sleazy said. “Relax. I’m on your side. That woman still loves you. I just came here to help.”

  Dandre searched his face for a hint of truth. He saw it. He let go of Sleazy and leaned back.

  The waiter came over to them.

  “Everything alright over here?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Sleazy said with a smile. “We would like some more chicken wings, though. Extra sauce on the side, if that’s not a problem.”

  “Sure,” replied the waiter with a skeptical tone.

  “Thanks, man.”

  The waiter glanced over at Dandre, who was staring off into space.

  “He’s alright,” said Sleazy. “We’re just having man talk. No big deal.”

  The waiter left.

  Dandre turned to Sleazy, his voice a deep growl.

  “Tell me how you know her. Tell me how you know our business.”

  Sleazy opened his mouth, but Dandre cut him off.

  “Then tell me how you know my cousins. I’ve seen you at the house. Were you a part of that whole situation where I got set up with those girls the other night? Was that all a part of sabotaging me with Reesy?”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Sleazy said around his drink. “I met Reesy a few days ago through a friend of mine. A chick named Rhiannon.”

  “Reesy doesn’t know a lot of people out here. I’ve never heard her mention this person before. I would remember a name like that.”

  “She met Rhiannon at the gym. We all had lunch together in Santa Monica. Reesy and I really hit it off.”

  Dandre’s shoulders squared.

  “Not like that, man,” Sleazy said, raising his hand. “Relax, brother, relax. Damn.” He put his hand on Dandre’s shoulder. “The girl loves you. No matter what she says, she’s got you all up under her skin. She’s still got her ring on. Knowing how women are, that’s saying a lot.”

  Dandre released a deep breath and grabbed his beer. He drank and drank and drank. It was a long gulp that resulted in a near-empty glass.

  “So what do you want? I’m assuming you want something from me in exchange for something to do with her.” He stared at Sleazy. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  The waiter put down a fresh plate of chicken wings and a stack of napkins. He cut his eyes at them, still wary about their earlier exchange.

  “I don’t want shit from you,” Sleazy said once the waiter was gone. He poured the extra sauce over the wings. “Reesy’s good people. I could tell that from the second I met her. She thinks she’s tough and all that, and she is, but L.A. is crazy. It’ll eat her alive or turn her into something that nobody who used to know her will ever recognize. I mean, look at the twins.”

  Dandre cleared his throat.

  “They know how to take care of themselves,” Sleazy said. “But they’re a part of the ugly underbelly now. Those girls are really out there.”

  “What ugly underbelly?”

  “L.A. This place is like the bowels of hell.”

  “Right,” Dandre said. “I need to get Reesy out of here.”

  “Well, see, that’s the funny thing about this town. If you’ve got someone here that you love and believe in, it’s a reciprocal thing, and y’all are building a life together, this place can be heaven.” He rolled a wing around to get some of the extra sauce.

  “But if you’re single and on the prowl, or if you’re single and just don’t know what kind of people are out there waiting in the shadows, you can kiss your soul good-bye. This place will crush the shit out of it.”

  He bit into the bird. Dandre gazed at the table, wondering where Reesy was and if she was safe. Sleazy’s words were making him uneasy.

  “Yeah, man,” said Sleazy, “your cousins are first-class diggers, straight chickens, you know what I’m saying? Cold-blooded. I’ve se
en those girls take men for their money in ways you wouldn’t believe. They’re generous with it, I gotta give ’em that.” He sucked on a chicken bone. “Whenever they score, they set it out for everybody with a big-ass party. Still, it’s crazy. Z and C are my friends, and I’m not saying anything to you that I wouldn’t say to their face, but I pity the man that ever falls for either one of ’em.”

  Dandre nodded. He knew how his cousins got down, and there was nothing he could do about it. They were long past the point of return.

  “So are they really your cousins?” asked Sleazy.

  “Distant,” Dandre murmured, still gazing ahead.

  “Well, your girl ain’t out there like that,” Sleazy said. “At least, not just yet. That’s what I think I liked about her when I first met her. She’s, what, in her early thirties?”

  “Yeah.” Dandre reached for a wing.

  “See,” continued Sleazy, “by that age, broads are kinda bitter, jumpy, always expecting the worst because they’ve been raked over the coals enough to be pissed the fuck off about it.”

  “True, true.” Dandre bit into the wing, sauce dripping onto his plate. Sleazy handed him some napkins.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem. So your girl, even though she’s thirty-some-thing…I don’t know. She’s still not tainted. You know what I mean?”

  Dandre shook his head. He knew Reesy wasn’t tainted, but he also knew she wasn’t pure. When she was an exotic dancer, she saw some crazy things. She had shared with him sordid stories of her days at the Magic City in Atlanta; he knew about her almost being raped when she used to dance in New York at that skanky club, the One Trick Pony. This was all before her off-Broadway days. His woman had seen the underbelly and had navigated within it well. That he knew for certain, whether Sleazy was aware of it or not.

  “I’m not saying she’s Snow White,” Sleazy said, sensing the layers of Dandre’s silence. “I can tell she’s been around the block.”

  Dandre chuckled.

  “I don’t mean that with disrespect.” Sleazy picked up a wing. “I know she’s experienced is what I’m trying to say.”

  “That, she is,” Dandre replied.

  “But the thing with Reesy…the thing that really catches your attention…”