She pointed her pool cue in the direction of a pretty boy in a pair of tight jeans and a baby-blue muscle shirt, hair all gelled to perfection.
“Gay,” I replied.
“The fuck! He’s not gay.” She licked the corner of her mouth. “His name’s Troy. That’s manly enough.”
“I still say no guy with a body like that and hair like that is straight in West Hollywood, Electra.”
“He’s a model,” she said, shrugging. “The one on the Calvin Klein billboard outside the Beverly Center. You know, in the underwear?”
“I thought he looked familiar.”
“I’m going for him,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Just be careful!” I shouted after her as she pranced across the bar. The last time she tried to woo a gay guy she really frightened the poor fella. It was a traumatic experience for us all. I think she’s convinced that she’s so beautiful she can turn homosexual to heterosexual like it’s simple chemistry. It’s annoying to be around that, but I grudgingly respect such blazing self-confidence.
I waved as I saw Jeremy come in. He walked over to me and tousled my hair. Then we hugged. He stood next to me and we chugged pints as we watched the scene.
“So who’s Harlot O’Hara’s newest conquest?” he asked.
I aimed my glass in the pretty boy’s direction. “What do you think?”
“Gay.”
I laughed. “That’s what I said!”
He took my hand and examined my engagement ring. “Looks fake.”
“Oh, come on.”
“It does!”
I pulled my hand away. “You could congratulate me, you know.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
He shook his head. “Marriage, man. It doesn’t seem like you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. You’re all goofy and shit. You’re all over the place.”
“What a strange thing to say!”
“You’re the strange one, toots. Want another beer?”
I studied his features as he leaned over the bar to order us two more. He has a big nose, I think. And his hair is so dark you can see where the hair on his face is going to pop out even when he’s just shaved. He has deep dark eyes that are blue and gray like the ocean on a stormy afternoon.
Sometimes I kid myself and say that Jeremy is the love of my life. Sometimes I want to murder him. He’s cold and critical and not very supportive. But the way he makes me feel…I just can’t explain it. I can’t even explain it to myself. He makes me feel so good. He makes me feel like I am not alone. He makes me feel safe. I don’t tell him these things.
Electra came back looking smug. “He’s not gay. He’s coming home with us.”
“Good for you.”
She eyed Jeremy while his back was turned. “My God, Doll, what is that shirt he’s got on? He looks like he just got off his shift at the hospital.”
In reality he writes copy for the Associated Press. He tells people he’s a reporter but it’s not like he’s scooping stories, really. He just takes the words and feeds them into the computer and then later they show up under someone else’s byline and never Jeremy Flowers.
I nudged her. “Let’s bail soon. I want to go after I drink this last beer.”
“I’m almost ready, too. I’m eager to introduce that pretty boy to my bed.” She laughed as she sashayed off.
I watched her go. She’s a funny girl. She would never feel an ounce of guilt over anything she does when Josh isn’t looking. Do I feel guilty? Of course. But like I told Ava. I need Jeremy. I can’t explain just how or why. I just know I do. Maybe it’s that he can relate to me in some twisted way. We both want the best we can get, but even when it’s great, we’re never sure if we’ve got it. We both want to get somewhere, only we’re not sure just where.
Or maybe it’s just that I adore him in a very strange, mystically irritating way. Maybe it’s as simple as that.
“What an awful fucking world,” Jeremy was saying later as we watched the late news and it seemed like everything was about killing and kidnapping and terrorism and hate crimes. He was lying on my bed with me and taking up most of the space. He’s a big, tall man so he’s allowed to do that. I’d say just a little taller than Roman but much paunchier.
“You’re not kidding.”
He turned on his side and looked at me.
“What?” I asked. Two picture frames had already gone over on my desk from Electra’s sleigh bed knocking against the wall. She and the pretty boy were shouting from her room. I couldn’t count all the times I’d heard, “Oh, yeah! Uh-huh, that’s right! Give it to me, baby, give it to me!”
“Nothing. Just thinking about you and my girlfriend.”
Jeremy’s girlfriend is named Pristina. I laughed my ass off when he told me that. He rolled his eyes and told me to get an encyclopedia and that really insulted me. Apparently Pristina’s of Eastern European descent. Whatever. I could give a fuck where she came from. And I certainly don’t need to get an encyclopedia. I’m quite positive he didn’t know the intricacies of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia before Pristina told him of how she was named for her parents’ birthplace in Kosovo. He won’t even play against me in Trivial Pursuit because he knows I will kick his ass in every category except Sports & Leisure.
She sounds exotic and interesting, but trust me. She’s not. And she has a mustache. She really does. I saw this infomercial recently for this roll-on hair remover. You just roll it right on and your hair wipes right off. I thought about ordering one and having it shipped to her.
He seems to find her unattractive, but then acts as though she is the loveliest woman in the world. He seems to dislike her personality, but then acts as though she is the most delightful woman in the world. I can’t really figure out why he stays with her. But if I were to ask, he’d just shake his head at me like I so do not get it.
She works as an in-house nurse to a very sick and very wealthy old man who has been hanging on to life with an iron grip for years now. She is there five days a week and sometimes six. There are several other nurses who attend to him as well, and all of them are secretly hoping that he will remember them in his will. The whole setup reminds me of this porno movie I saw once where all these nurses were helping these con artists conspire to steal this dying man’s money, or something like that. They spent most of the movie giving one another oral sex. I can’t remember how it ended. I was probably too busy giving oral sex myself.
“So what are your deep thoughts on Pristina and myself?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve
