The Tiger Catcher. Paullina Simons

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and a slightly frumpy too-long skirt. Her mass of corkscrew loopy black curls was poorly held back by a headband, leaving most of the emphasis on her glistening dark face, an unblemished face that needed no embellishment. And what a face it was, so symmetrically in balance, it looked fake. In her whole person, she was a sculpture of the idealized female form, carved out by an ardent lover of women: eyes big, brows arched, forehead high, cheekbones wide, lips full, body full, hair coiled and passionate. Upon introduction, Zakiyyah smiled the fake toothy smile of a beauty contest winner.

      The smile faded rather quickly, though. Julian couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but he sensed a hint of … tension? Disapproval? Almost as if the smile had been forcibly turned on and then switched off a moment too soon. After it was gone, there was no denying the plain truth: an unsmiling face was a less beautiful face, even Zakiyyah’s. Julian could put that life hack in tomorrow’s newsletter.

      They ordered soft drinks and waited for Ashton by tackling the weighty topic of sunny weather, tackling it with such enthusiasm, you’d think heat and sun were unique to Southern California. Josephine told a silly joke (“what happens when an egg makes a yoke? It cracks up”), Julian gazed at her besotted—and caught Zakiyyah’s eye. You poor pathetic fool, the woman’s expression read.

      “Never mind her, Jules,” Josephine said. “Z’s all soured on love.”

      “Is that what I am?”

      “Well, who wouldn’t be—with horrible Trevor as a boyfriend.” Josephine pinched Z’s arm.

      “Yes, shame Julian can’t clone himself.”

      “If you think my Jules is nice,” Josephine said, “wait till you meet his friend Ashton.”

      “Josephine!” That was Julian.

      “Yeah, Josephine.” That was Zakiyyah, unsmiling and unexclaiming.

      “I’m kidding. I jest. Jeez, the both of you.”

      The more Julian observed Zakiyyah, the more he was convinced that she never wanted anything less than a career in film or theatre. She seemed to be the opposite of Josephine. Despite her obvious physical assets, Zakiyyah wasn’t excitable, or whimsical, or seductive, she wasn’t quick with a joke, and not in speech or dress or demeanor did she show herself to be someone who wanted any attention, much less someone who lived for lights and applause, like his girl. It was odd. Didn’t Josephine tell him that the theatre had been their mutual dream?

      Ashton finally arrived insultingly late and unforgivably underdressed. He wore ripped jeans and an unwashed navy T-shirt. He hadn’t shaved. And worst of all: he was sullen.

      The man was usually impeccably outfitted and a charmer, especially when meeting new people, especially when meeting women. And he didn’t even apologize! He was cool toward Josephine, which wasn’t a surprise, but even cooler toward Zakiyyah. She looked up, he looked down, she half waved, he half nodded. The only empty chair was next to her, so he had no choice but to take it, but his body language said he wanted out. He held the fanned-out menu between him and Z. After they ordered, Ashton turned to Julian, and when he saw Julian silently judging his attire, he pointed out they were having ham sandwiches. “What could you possibly wear that’s too casual for a ham sandwich?” Ashton said. “A ham sandwich is something you have in bed with a chick while watching Entourage reruns.” That was the least offensive thing he would say all afternoon.

      Having been at the table less than five minutes, Ashton, instead of charming the girls, decided on a different approach. He became as obnoxious as possible. Without meeting anyone’s gaze, staring either into his water glass or at the side of Zakiyyah’s neck, he brusquely asked Z what she did for a living and cut her off halfway through her answer. Minutes later he returned to her with a “Sorry, you were saying?” Never mind, said Zakiyyah. When Josephine prodded Ashton to tell her about his extreme adventures in the American West, he dismissed her by saying he had always hated the outdoors, which was not only the opposite of true but a conversation killer.

      “Really?” Josephine said. “But Jules told me you love hiking.”

      “Jules told you that, did he?” said Ashton. “It may be wishful thinking on his part. He’s the one who digs the outdoors.”

      Fondly Josephine laughed. “Julian doesn’t like the outdoors, what are you talking about,” she said. “He hates the outdoors. Except for the beach. Otherwise, he is not one with nature.”

      Ashton took a long swig of Coke, wishing perhaps it were something stronger. “Is that what he told you?” After a strained moment, Ashton barreled on. “Paraphrasing Milton, I myself hate the outdoors with a steadfast hate. My main issue, you see, is that I don’t enjoy any of the things that share the outdoors with me. If you saw my reaction to a tarantula or a snake, I can promise you, I would not be cool and I would not be manly. No, not since Julian’s little mishap with the outdoors have I liked it. I’d just as soon stay inside Tequila’s Cantina and drink all day. Drinking and being hungover is really the only exercise I get.”

      Before Julian could speed on to another subject, “What little mishap?” a dumbfounded Josephine said.

      “You drink?” said Zakiyyah. “That’s a surprise.”

      “I drink now, sure,” Ashton said, “but not like before, in college. God, who could; right, Jules?”

      She stared at Ashton with hostility and at Josephine with resentment. Why did you bring me here, she seemed to be saying and jumped up to use the ladies. Apologetically Josephine followed.

      “Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Julian hissed as soon as the girls were out of earshot.

      “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “You’re supposed to charm them, not make them hate you—and by extension me!”

      “I’m being myself, Julian,” Ashton said.

      “Really?” Julian said. “You feel this is how women usually react to you? Bolt and run? What if they don’t come back?”

      Ashton’s gaze flicked to the sky as if to say please God. “They needed to powder their noses. How’s that my fault?”

      “What’s wrong with you?”

      “I can’t be liked by everybody, bro,” the blond man replied philosophically. “Not my fault they have a problem with me. I’m the same. I’m not the one who’s changed.” The two friends sat in silence for a moment. Just as Julian was about to speak, Ashton nodded in the direction of the returning women.

      “What mishap did Julian have outdoors?” Josephine asked as soon as she took her seat.

      “Never mind,” Julian said, wanting to kick Ashton for opening his big mouth.

      “Yeah, Josephine, never mind, Jules is right, it was nothing,” Ashton said. “We were hiking, and he got lost, that’s all. We couldn’t find him for a long time. We were sure he was dead. But then,” Ashton exclaimed, “we found him! Ah, yes, all’s well that ends well, don’t you agree? No use flailing about it now, when he’s right next to you. It’s great, by the way, how you two have hit it off. Sometimes these things go so badly.”

      A piece of chewed food fell out of his mouth

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