L.a. Woman. Cathy Yardley
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at him. “That’s a woman’s question.”
“You’re so mysterious,” he said, and she supposed he was complimenting her. It might help if he’d stop mooning over her like some Regency poet. “I always wonder what you’re thinking.”
I’m thinking, why the hell am I still here?
She’d been staying with…Andre. His name was Andre, she reminded herself, watching the way his blond hair hung slightly in his eyes. It used to charm her. Now it just made her fingers itch for scissors. Anyway, she’d been staying with the man for the past five months. He’d been starting to pressure about things like “where are we going with this?” and hinting around “permanent relationships.” She thought he was about two years younger than she was chronologically—about five years younger emotionally, and about fifty years older when it came to things like marriage. She tried not to roll her eyes.
“So what are you thinking?” he pressed.
She winced. “I’m thinking that I’d like to go clubbing. Maybe hit Sunset.”
He frowned. “You’ve been out three nights this week. I thought we could spend tonight at home.” He grinned, his dimples pitting his cheeks. “In bed.”
She was getting bored there, too…and bored in bed meant a hasty exit, stage right. “I really felt like going out.”
His frown turned into a scowl. “Fine.”
She huffed impatiently. “You don’t have to pout.”
“Sometimes, you can be such a bitch, Martika.”
She pulled on a loose black silk robe. “No ‘sometimes’ about it,” she agreed, grabbing her cigarettes and heading for the balcony. She was two steps toward it when she heard the high-pitched trill of her cell phone. She swiped it up on her way, shutting the glass door behind her as she hit the green answer button. “This is me. And you are?”
“Are we drinks?”
She grinned, leaning back and patting the cigarette package, pulling one out with her lips. It smelled like rain…and looked like it. Fat drops were haphazardly hitting the pavement. She hoped it would storm. “Taylor, you are my white knight. I thought I was going to have to bite my own leg off to get out of this place.”
“Oh, Tika,” he said, with a slight note of disapproval. “Have we hit that point, then?”
“If you mean the leaving point, yes, we’ve hit it and run through it.”
“Damn. He’s got such a great body.”
“I know.” She lit the cigarette, taking a long drag. “Too bad he’s not a mute. Still, even then, I could only put up with those soulful looks for so long.”
She glanced back through the glass door. Andre was still sitting on the bed, naked, sulking.
“So. What’s the ETD?”
She grinned. “No departure date yet, Taylor…but soon. I feel like it’s coming up soon.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “Fuck. I hate moving.”
“Strange, for someone who does it as often as you do,” Taylor pointed out dryly. “You’re like the Bedouin Dater. Maybe you should try living with somebody you aren’t sleeping with.”
“I have lived with people I haven’t slept with.”
“Your family doesn’t count, darling, and that was how many years ago?”
“Touché.” She didn’t think about that, really. “But there was that guy…what was his name? Robbie?”
Taylor laughed. “The other restriction—you need to live with somebody I can’t sleep with. Remember?”
She chuckled. “Ooh. Right. God, what a fiasco that was.”
“Maybe you should try a girl next time.”
“What, to sleep with?”
Taylor huffed. “Roommate, silly. Although…”
Martika cut him off. “I don’t think so. Girls don’t like me.” She unleashed a feral grin. “Probably with good reason.”
She heard a rap on the glass, and looked over. It was Andre, obviously unamused. “Are you going to be out there all night?” he mouthed through the glass.
“Maybe,” she mouthed back, then turned back to look out on the road. “Taylor, there’s the warden. We are more than drinks tonight, sweetie, we are club. Sunset?”
“Oooh. Let’s be trashy and do martinis at the Viper Room.”
She grinned. “This is why I love you, sweetie. I think I want to full out this time—so add about an hour to my usual grooming regime, ’kay?”
“I’m going to go eat first, anyway, and then say hi to Kit.”
“Okay. So Viper Room, around eleven.” She made a kiss noise. “Byee.”
She clicked the phone off, and opened the door.
“Don’t tell me,” Andre said, his arms folded across his naked chest. “Now that the other man in your life calls, you’ll be off running?”
“I can’t believe you’re jealous of a gay guy.”
“I’m starting to think they’re the only men you could love.”
She smiled at him, cruelly sweet. “I see. So is that why you’re acting so bitchy? So I’ll think you’ve crossed over and fall madly for you?”
“Dammit.” His gorgeously chiseled chin rippled as his jaw tensed. He looked like the model he was. Okay, give me angry! Angry! Martika almost laughed at the thought. “Martika, I think I’m in love with you. But I don’t want you to go out with Taylor tonight.”
She gave him a lazy once-over. While ordinarily she’d be applauding his growing a spine, he’d hit a hot button. Taylor was her best friend. Nobody fucked with her friends—or told her who she could and couldn’t see.
“I’m going out tonight, Andre. You can go with me if you want…” She paused. “No. On second thought, you can’t go with me. I am going out with my friends to try to ignore the idiocy that’s just transpired here. You can throw a tantrum, or you could do something productive. Sleep. Watch TV. Write an angst-filled sonnet. Frankly, I don’t care.”
She stalked over to the bathroom, started the water running in the shower. She took off her robe and stepped into the stream, adjusting the heat. It felt good. Relaxing.
He followed her in, pulling open the door. She saw him, his handsome face obscured by the steam. “Maybe…maybe you shouldn’t live here anymore,” he said, and took a deep breath. His blue eyes were both angry and pleading. If he’d started crying, she wouldn’t be surprised.
She sighed. “I’ll be out by the end of the week.”
She shut the door.
Standing in the rain, Sarah glanced up at the sign: Basix Café. If she were going to start exploring the city, and getting used to it by herself, then this was as good a place as any. Granted, it was two blocks away from her house, but the fact that she was outside the apartment, among strangers, was a step in the right direction.
Of course, she’d tried calling Judith and seeing if she could meet her for dinner, but she’d only gotten the message machine. It had only taken her another half hour to stir up her courage to come here by herself.
The place was crowded, with a patio area that was closed in with clear plastic curtains and those butane heaters that looked like torches. She made her way toward the inner restaurant, feeling self-conscious. She wondered if she’d see anybody famous. This was Hollywood, after all. Okay, West Hollywood, but still…
The “host” looked her over, smiling slightly.