(Author's Note: This was started in 2004, with an ex of mine. Cameron Grant, the one having lunch with Simone, will be appearing in the NaNoWriMo project I'm doing next month. Going forward, I'm going to be posting my progress of the novel I'm working on.)
So there I am, enjoying a nice Tuesday lunch with Simone Kelly at Carmine’s, and we’ve decided to share an order of pasta. Simone’s mother is Italian, and that Chianti-tinged blood of my best friend dictates that this is one of the few acceptable places where one can order Sunday Gravy on a heaping pile of Fettuccine.
“So, tell me why you’re fucking glowing.” She says between mouthfuls.
I blush a little. Damn, is it that fucking obvious why I’m glowing?
“I got laid last night….shut the fuck up, Kelly.”
“Look, I know you got laid. I figured you got laid at the club Friday night…so be honest….the guy’s cool, right?”
“You fucking set me up!” I take a sip of Chianti and groan. I fucking knew it…can’t find a good man without my gay best friend having a hand in it. I hate her sometimes.
“No, I did not set you up. I just assumed you met a dude….I’m sorry, I was too busy trying to score with Reyna that night to pay much attention to your wishes of everlasting love, Miss Grant.”
Goddamn I hate her right now.
“Yeah, so I met an Irishman. You know I’m on vacation for the next week and a half, right?”
“Yeah…whatever happened to ‘Oh, I have to get the Security OS up and running’?” She asked, taking another bite of meatball.
I grunt, and then leisurely take a bite of food.
“Whatever happened to ‘Live each day as if it were your last’? I’m offering Sean my services as a tour guide during his stay here.” I humph for extra emphasis. Yeah, that’ll show her!
“Tour guide of your body?” Simone bites down on a breadstick and sips her water. “Cammie….come on now…Quit bullshitting me and just tell me the three day marathon made you wuss out of work.”
“Saturday we decided to go to Central Park and wander around, getting to know each other. We were sober, clean, hung-over, and he’s attractive. We actually had a nice conversation about why Americans are total fucktards and we did it over hot dogs. If I were a traditional woman, I’d be totally retarded for the guy by now. But I’m not a traditional woman…I don’t get retarded for the boys, remember? They seem to want to be all up on me.” I shrug. This is how it’s always been.
“That’s because you’re hot, Cam. So, how was the fucking?” I really hate her now. So much I spit a mouthful of red wine onto my Batman T-shirt. Joy. I will go home smelling like a total lush.
“It…” I cough. Stupid wine going down the wrong pipe. “It was great.” Oh sure, kiss and tell about this dude? Hell no! This is MY fling. Not hers. “Just what I needed.”
“Cam…I can tell by the look in those slightly slanted eyes that you are bullshitting me.” Simone looks like she might hurl the rest of the plate at me.
I blush again.
“Best sex I’ve had in the last year.”
“Hello? ONLY sex you’ve had in the last year!” She corrects me.
“What do you have to compare this to?”
“Please. Remember that Christmas party with Jason’s roommate Bob….the one I gave head to?”
“But did you get off?” Simone asks very pointedly. I still hate her.
“No.” I stammer. “He didn’t even offer to return the favor.”
“Then it doesn’t count.” Simone looked a little too pleased with herself. For someone who only sleeps with other women, she sure is way too interested in the inner workings of the male libido. “It only would have counted if he’d done something besides run his hands through your hair as you were sucking him off and telling you how you had the best tongue action ever.”
I sigh. I’m reminded once again that while I long for a man to hold me night after night, make love to me and be GOOD at it, and occasionally surprise me with flowers or the new issue of Wired once in a while, as long as I keep myself distanced, signs point to ‘Not Bloody Likely’.
“So how come all the men here are worthless excuses for manly parts?” I finally reply.
“Because most of the men I come across are all led around by those parts. And you seem to follow those manly parts around with reckless abandon. Look, you’re thirty-two. Don’t you want to settle down eventually and get married?”
“See, here’s the problem.” I push my plate away and light a cigarette. “First of all, my job is such a security issue that I would either have to marry someone inside the company or else quit first if I wanted a civilian. Second, I’ve got more fucking faults than the state of California. Third, I’m not a girl….I’m a dude in a chick’s skin. I think like a goddamned guy, Simone…more than you. Fourth, I’m the biggest goddamned geek you’ve ever known…aside from your brother, who has a sweet ass, by the way. Now, for me to be able to continue this, I would need those gay guys on TV to make me look like a fucking princess, I’d need a guy like Sean to start working at WorldTec, and I’d have to get rid of a couple million dollars worth of Comic book and movie memorabilia. I’d also have to start watching Sex and the City, reading Bridget Jones’s Diary, drinking cosmopolitans and wear Seven jeans with the trendy little Tommy Hilfiger top. Oh, let’s not forget about the Louboutin stilettos and the Louis Vuitton bag. Simone, I’m so low-maintenance it’s disgusting. I’m actually enjoying taking Sean around and showing him shit that’s not in a fucking tour book.”
Simone was laughing. I just poured out my guts and she’s laughing at me. I think she needs to be socked. “Cam….you mentioned Sean twice in that little speech. You’re fucking retarded for him.”
“I am not. I’m showing him a little more of the Apple than I think he was expecting.” I shrug it off. The last time I was in love with a man was when I saw The Life of David Gale and watched Kevin Spacey talk….oh, I think of the things he could do to me and I just sort of…
“Cammie, I get it. You’re just showing the Irish guy a little fun.” In our speak, ‘A Little Fun’ usually includes sex. Preferably dirty, nasty, classier than a porn star, but not so much that people would assume you’re selling it in the shit parts of Times Square. “Innocent fun, right?”
Innocent Fun was the kind of sex that makes these guys write in to Penthouse about the woman who just blew their mind. Sometimes I wish the guys would be honest and tell about how they were lousy in bed and only had lasted for a good five minutes before the inevitable.
“Yeah, but the difference between the usual selection and this guy is that he seriously made my toes curl. I swear, I was in the fetal position afterwards. And he even ran a bubble bath….I watched him shower this morning before I ended up joining him.” I smirked.
“You’re fucking retarded for him. Just admit it.” She sighed, shaking her head in frustration.
“I’m not!” I can’t be…this is just fun. “Look, how in the fuck am I supposed to fall in love with a guy who has to go three thousand miles in two weeks? It’s not like I’d be able to just drive over there in no time…”
“I think you already did, Cam.”
“I think you’re wrong.” I stood up, fishing some money out of my wallet. “Look, I have to go pick Sean up and find him something nice to wear. I have tickets for Avenue Q tonight.”
This will be the second time I’ve taken in this play. When Sean had mentioned he’d never seen a Broadway play, I knew he’d enjoy this. I just didn’t tell him it had puppets that sang about porn and racism without a second thought.
“Cam, pretend he’s a guy who will be gone tomorrow and spare yourself the hurt. I don’t want to have to tend your broken heart again.”
“It won’t be a problem, Simone. Be good. Tell everyone I said hi.” I kissed her cheek and hugged her and went to fetch my car from the valet. I drove back to my penthouse and found my new friend napping on my couch.
No comments:
Post a Comment