How The Cookie Crumbles (53 page)

“Is Jake too cheap to get you tickets? Oh, don’t tell me he’s still boinking that silicone blonde! Chloë and I figured it would take you no more than a month to get him drooling over you again. Frankie, you’re losing your touch!”

“You can say that again,” I sighed. “I’ll tell you everything when I see you.”

“Okey-dokey, I’ll text you all the deets! Bye!” She hung up, still somewhere on cloud nine.

Staying at Sofia’s house was fine. She was the youngest in a family of five and the only one still living at home. That meant there was lots of extra room for a random friend who desperately needed a place to crash. Her parents were very warm and welcoming. I had hedged the truth a little, claiming that the guys needed my room back. But I think that Sofia had told her family something a little closer to the truth, so her mom was constantly offering me delicious snacks to “cheer me up,” and my favourite so far was this spicy Mexican hot chocolate. I was getting worried about gaining weight because I was far from my gym. So I ended up doing a lot of walking around her suburban neighbourhood, which only fed the rumour that I was broken-hearted since nobody walks in Los Angeles.

And maybe I was broken-hearted, but I tried really hard not to think about that at all. And except for the night time, I pretty much succeeded. At work, I was doing some interesting new stuff: helping to put together all the educational materials for an upcoming show. I had decided that I didn’t really enjoy the archival parts of curatorial work, I preferred working with people. My boss, Angela, told me that it was only in a really large museum like ours that everything was so specialized, normally a curator would get to work in many different areas.

The one problem was that in the few days I had been staying with her, Sofia had been acting all weird. I guess I figured that we’d have girl talks at night, or at least go out together, but she seemed to be avoiding me! I decided to confront her on our next drive together to the LACMA. I had left the Audi at Jake’s, so I was back to transit and cadging rides.

“Okay Sofia, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. What could be wrong?” She stalled like this for a while, but luckily we were caught in a horrendous traffic jam and the stress of possibly being late for work broke her. Sofia was as anal as me when it came to being competent and on time.

“Frankie, it’s just… you’re dating a lot of different guys, right?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“I, uh, feel so bad. Something happened.” She bit her lip and then honked her horn. She yelled out the window, “Let’s go, people! Some of us have to get to work!” And then she took a deep breath. “The other night when you had the dinner party, when I gave Cameron a drive home, um, we started talking about you. Both of us agreed that you still seemed to be hung up on that Jake guy.”

“What? Why do you say that?” I mean, it was true, but I thought I had hidden it pretty well.

“Well, for starters you hardly looked at him all night.”

“How does that translate to being hung up?”

“Do you know how much effort it takes not to look at someone, especially when they are only four people in the room? It’s tough! Cameron noticed some other stuff too. Anyway, on the way home, he was all sad about you being into someone else. Cameron was saying how hard it was to find nice, normal, smart girls in L.A.”

Yeah, I could just imagine him spinning out this reel: the misunderstood artist looking for a little stability and a real woman. “So you got with him?”

Sofia looked over at me, hugely relieved that I didn’t seem to be upset. “Well no, I didn’t have sex with him. But we made out. So Frankie, you’re okay with this?”

“I think Cameron is a lucky guy to be with someone like you. And rid of a head-case like me!”

“Oh Frankie, I’m so relieved. He’s been calling and asking me out, but I’ve felt so guilty. Now I can go. And he’s such a good artist.” She sighed happily.

“He is.” It was funny, but competence was such a turn-on in a guy. For some it would be artists, for others hockey players. I pulled out my notebook, and made a note.

“What are you doing? Writing me off as a friend?” Sofia laughed.

“No, are you kidding? You’re letting me live with you, that’s true friendship. I’m writing a reminder to call Cameron and arrange to return the painting he lent me. I can also apologize for not being fair to him, but I don’t really have to worry since he’s traded up!”

But even as I was trying to forget about Jake, I started hearing from him more than ever before. At first it started with texts.

<
hey, u left ur stuff here. want me to bring it to u?>

<
What stuff?>

<
magazines, hair thing, crackpot
>

<
Did you just call me a crackpot
?>

<
no! sorry stupid autocorrect. crockpot.>

<
No, keep it all or trash it
.>

Then it escalated to phone calls.

“Hey Frankie,” Jake sounded nervous. Good.

“Jake.”

“How are you?”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“Well, I was wondering, if you’d like to go to the game this Saturday? We’re playing the Canucks, I know you like to see the Canucks. I could get you two tickets and you could bring Sylvia.”

“Sofia.”

“Yeah, sorry. And we could go out for dinner afterwards.”

“I’m already going to the game,” I told him coldly. He was so obvious, thinking that hockey was some aphrodisiac for me. The guy had no clue about what made me tick.

“Oh, you are? Are you meeting Bauer?” Jake sounded pissed, and that made me smile.

“No, I’m going with Bianca. There’s a Canucks fan trip, so I’ll be sitting with the Canucks fans.”

Jake sighed, and there was a long silence.

“Frankie, I really want to see you. Do you want to go out Sunday? We could go out for dinner.”

“Jake, what’s the point?”

“The point is that I want to see you. Can’t we at least talk about stuff?”

Now I sighed. I didn’t want to sound like a Doris Day movie, but unless he was ready to commit, why should I see him?

“Look, I don’t really see why we should meet now. Do you know what you want?”

“I want to see you. I don’t have some big plan like you always do, but we could talk about stuff.”

That wasn’t unreasonable, but I really didn’t want to get involved again for nothing.

“I’ll think about it. If I want to get together, I’ll call you.”

And then I hung up. I figured I had waited around long enough for him, and he could wait for me for a change.

Seeing Bianca again was fantastic. I had some great new friends, but there’s nothing like having an old friend around who gets you. We couldn’t really get into my complicated love life with her dad around, but it was reassuring just to see her in person. The game was absolutely crazy, there were a ton of Canucks fans there, and it was almost like a Canucks home game. And once the Canucks started winning, the visiting crowd got even louder.

Naturally I was watching Jake, and he wasn’t having a very good game. After one of the twins scored with Jake kind of lying on top of the Kings goalie, Jake threw a total fit at the ref.

“What’s his problem?” I asked Bianca.

She was watching the replay, “It looks like he thinks he got crosschecked, but really it wasn’t that hard. Nothing compared to what Cookson does all game long.” She was in game mode, so Jake became another enemy player and not someone she had gone to dinner with.

To add to his great night, Jake took a diving penalty, then he accidentally tipped in an empty net goal for the Canucks, and at the very end of the game, after yelling at the refs, he got a 10-minute misconduct. Before I moved out, I used to watch some of his games on TV, and I thought he was getting pretty emotional out there.

“I don’t really get why Jake acts like that.” I told Bianca and her dad, as we walked out amid the drunk and ecstatic Canucks fans and the glowering Kings fans.

Her dad shrugged, “The Canucks assistant coach once said, ‘To be a man on the ice, you must be a man off the ice.’” Coming from Mr. Leung, in his clipped Chinese accent, that sounded like Confucian wisdom.

Jake

I missed Frankie even before her taxi was out of sight. And it wasn’t all about the food like she thought; it was Frankie’s energy that I missed. Even when she was asleep, it was like she was this happy little ball of energy in the house.

Every time I walked in, it felt the same. Like something was missing. I couldn’t help it; I kept trying to get in touch with her. I found stuff around the house that belonged to her, and I tried to get her to meet up to get it. I invited her to a game, but she was already going. And I finally just asked her out, and she said she was going to think about it. But then she never called me back.

Domer was cool. After telling me off the first time, he never said another word. I guess he could tell that I was bugged or maybe he figured it was pointless to argue. We went back to eating pasta, BBQ, and take out food, and we never mentioned Frankie at all.

I had no idea where Frankie might be sitting at the hockey game, and it turned out to be pretty tough to figure out since there were a ton of Canucks fans at the game. If she were wearing my jersey, it would have been easier, but since she was mad at me, I figured that probably wasn’t happening. So I gave up looking for her and focussed on the game.

After a crappy loss to Vancouver, I was ready to go out. Maybe I got too frustrated; I ended up taking a stupid diving penalty and then a misconduct at the end of the game. But I was already pissed about not getting a call on their second goal, which turned out to be the game winner. Anyway, it was time to leave that crap at the rink and have a night out with the boys. It was an early game, so we could go out for dinner first and then hit some clubs.

We were having a good time, and I was dancing with this chick, she was older and she was already talking pretty dirty to me. I didn’t know if I wanted to leave with her or not, I figured I’d decide later. It didn’t feel quite right though. There was no question that Frankie was way better looking than pretty much everyone in the club.

When I went to the can for a piss, Link was just finishing up. As he washed his hands, I saw him looking at me in the mirror, and he didn’t look too impressed.

“What’s up?” I asked him.

“What’s with the chick you’re out there with? She’s kinda ancient, isn’t she?”

“No big deal. One night, and she seems pretty kinky.”

He shrugged. “It’s your life.”

I felt kinda pissed; Link had scored a ton of skanks, so how come he was lecturing me? “At least I get pussy, you are a pussy.”

“Fuck you, Cookie. I knew that was what you thought. But you know what?” He surprised me by laughing. “I’m happy now. I feel good all the time, no highs and lows anymore. Like before, when I woke up, I’d be hurting and I didn’t know where the fuck I was, I didn’t know who the fuck the chick beside me was, and I’d feel so shitty. But I’d do it again, to feel the high again.”

“I’m not like that. I don’t feel shitty about doing stuff I enjoy.”

“I guess it’s just me, then. Do what you want,” he said and turned away. But with one hand on the door, he turned back and said, “It’s better, Cookie. Being with someone special, it’s better than a different chick every night. I know, because I’ve done both!”

64. Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Jake

“So, what’s the best way to make things up to a girl?”

I was playing cards on the plane with Duper, Lovey, and Link. I hadn’t heard from Frankie before we left on a weeklong road trip, and I figured that I could use all the advice I could get.

“Flowers, for sure. Chicks love flowers,” Duper offered up.

“Depends what you’ve done,” said Lovey. “If it’s big, you might need a Kobe Special.” Yeah right, I wasn’t spending $4 mil on a ring, even if that was possible.

“Are we talking about that blonde you brought to Roady’s party?” Link wondered.

I shook my head. “No, it’s Frankie.”

“Frankie? I didn’t even know you guys were back together.” Link looked puzzled. “She’s really nice. But how can she avoid forgiving you, since you guys live together?”

“She moved out,” I explained, not wanting to get into the whole confusing situation.

“Then it’s going to take more than flowers, defs jewellery,” Duper said. “You need to apologize and tell her how wonderful she is, ‘Oh baby, you’re so fantastic and I’m such a d-bag, I’m not worthy of you!’” He started snickering, and Lovey gave him a disgusted look.

“If you’re going to give her a gift, make it something she’d really love,” Lovey suggested. “Something unique that shows you really get her.”

I sighed. He was right, but I had no clue what that was.

When we came back from the road trip, I should have been flying. We went four for four on the road, and were gearing up for the playoffs. The flight home had been a great time, and as Domer and I drove home, it was late enough that there was no traffic at all. Smooth sailing, until we got home.

When we walked in the door, the place smelled stale. I walked into the kitchen, and it was the same mess we had left there on Tuesday. There were no cookies and only expired milk in the fridge.