No Strings Attached (40 page)

Keith threw his head back and laughed. “You're kidding! You've made that very clear, my friend.”

Nick blushed. “Sorry, I'm just … this is hard for me. It's a new situation. I thought maybe with time, it'd get easier, but it's the opposite. I'm thinking about quitting.” There, he'd said it.

“Don't.”

“Why not? I'm … man, I'm miserable here.”

“Look, you came out here to be a model—”

“Not that kind.”

“Dude, everyone starts somewhere. And no matter what you think of Les, or the studio, it really can lead to that billboard up there.” He pointed through the restaurant window to the billboard of a man and woman posed sexily for Armani cologne.

“You think so?”

“You've got the look all right, you've got the determination, and the work ethic. You need to pay your dues, and then you need a break. From where I sit, you're on the right road.”

Nick considered. “So you think this internship, this summer, could really lead to something big? I should stick it out?”

Keith's brow furrowed and he leaned in over the table. “Do you mind if I give you some advice?”

“Mind? No, I'd really appreciate that.”

“You need to get closer to Les. You do that, he'll shoot the portfolio for you, and he'll hook you up with the best agencies in town. I've seen it happen. But right now, you're not exactly making friends at the studio, and that influences Les.”

Nick's stomach clenched. Was Keith saying what he thought he was? 'Cause no freakin' way, man.

Keith continued. “You're a lust magnet. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know—why else would you be here? You made it this far, you put yourself in the right place, right time. Now you gotta play it for what it's worth. Otherwise, you can take those pretty pecs and sculpted abs back to Michigan. Open a gym or something.”

“That can't be the only way to break into modeling,” Nick groused.

“It's your call,” Keith said carefully. “No one will ever force you to do something you don't want to. But you know that famous saying, ‘The lady doth protest too much, me thinks'—and you know what that means.”

Nick had no freaking idea what that meant. He put his cards on the table. “Look, Keith, I'm not gay. And I'm not gonna do anything … like that. If making friends with Les means what I think it does, forget it.”

“You'd just as soon go home a failure, huh?”

Nick swallowed hard.

“Let me ask you something. Been dating a lot since you got here?”

“Why do you ask?” In fact, he hadn't dated at all since getting to L.A.

“Haven't seen you with any girls, you haven't talked about anyone. Just curious, that's all.”

“Well, don't be. I could get any chick I want. …” He trailed off, and for some reason, began to sweat. “I've just been really busy this summer. I haven't had time,” he mumbled.

Keith shrugged. “How much time do you need? All I'm saying is, don't close the door on something you've never even tried. At the very least, it might be a means to an end. At best? You might like it.”

Nick went all drill sergeant on Sara that evening, just hammering away as she grunted and panted through her push-ups. “I want to see ten more reps!” He was angry, and knew it was wrong to take it out on her, but couldn't seem to stop himself.

“No, not … possible,” she moaned. “Too hard.” She flopped on the floor.

“Let's get those arms toned—let's try twenty-pounders.” He brought over the weights.

Sara sat up. “Nick, is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” He attempted a smile, but missed. “We've been working out for three weeks; it's time to ramp things up. That's how it works.”

“Okay, let me put my hair up, and we'll do weights.” She
pulled a ribboned one from her pocket and pulled her wavy hair into a ponytail.

“Here.” He gave her a titanium barbell-shaped weight.

Instead of taking it, Sara slipped her arm around him. “I can tell when something's wrong, Nicky.”

He tensed. “Please don't call me that. Now, come on. If you get a callback for
The Outsiders
, you want to look lean and mean.”

Sara took the weight.

“Pump it up,” he coached. “Come on, up, down, up, down. Feel the burn?” he asked as she struggled with the barbell.

“All I feel is burning tired. Nick, this is too hard,” she grunted.

“No pain, no gain,” he recited, feeling like a heel but unable to stop.

“These weights are too heavy,” she complained. “I can't do it.”

“Sure you can. Build up that muscle.”

“I'm gonna pull a muscle first.” She dropped the weights on the floor.

He exhaled. “Let's do aerobics, then. Here's a jump rope. Think you can manage that?”

“Why are you being so mean?” Sara began to cry as she took the rope and started the routine he'd taught her.

“I'm being real. You're being too sensitive,” he growled.
“You gotta toughen up in this biz, or you'll never get anywhere. I thought you learned that.”

Ten minutes later, Eliot walked in. He grabbed a water bottle from the nightstand and handed it to Sara. “Nick, give the girl a break. She's sweating bullets here. What are you trying to do?

“I'm helping her. She's gotta tone those muscles if she wants to make it.”

“It won't help if she's dead.”

After Sara had left to take a shower, Eliot confronted Nick. “What was that all about?”

Nick dropped down on the bed, kicked his sneakers off. “What?”

“Why were you pushing her so hard?”

Defensively, Nick replied, “I ramped up our workout. What's it to you?”

“The girl was practically in tears, Nick. What'd you say to her?”

“Get off it, Kupferberg. If Sara's got an issue, she's a big girl, she can tell me. Or do you speak for her now?”

Eliot's jaw dropped. “What's going on, Nick? This is not you.”

“When did you appoint yourself expert on me?” Nick said defensively.

Eliot scratched his head, then turned to leave. “When you're ready to be normal, I'll be outside in the hot tub. Sara and I are going to rehearse there.”

Five minutes hadn't gone by before Eliot stomped back into the room, slammed the door, and accused him, “You like her. That's what it is. You want her for yourself.”

Nick bolted up. “What the—?”

Eliot pointed his finger accusingly. “You're hot for Sara. Only you can't have her, so you're being nasty to her, and to me, instead. I'm right, aren't I?”

Suddenly, Nick burst out laughing. Leave it to Eliot to take a situation and bring it to a whole new level of ridiculous.

Eliot's face turned beet red. “Nice to see your mood shift, but I wasn't aware I was being so funny.”

Nick got off the bed and threw his arm around Eliot. “Sorry, man. For everything. I just had a really rotten day at work, and I guess I was taking it out on Sara. And you.”

Eliot was unconvinced. “You know I like her. … I mean, I really like her, Nick.”

“Well, go for it, bro. The coast is clear—except for, uh … well, there's Donald.” He ticked off his fingers. “There's the purity pledge. And there's”—he looked skyward—“the big guy upstairs. I don't think she's giving it up for anyone.”

Eliot smiled wanly. “She looks good when she's sweating.”

Nick grabbed a comb from the dresser and looked in the
mirror. “Got a question for you. This guy at work said some mumbo-crapo about some lady is protesting too much. Like I was supposed to know what he meant.”

“What guy at work?”

“What's it matter? Just tell me what it means. If you know.”

“‘The lady doth protest too much' is a line from
Hamlet
. You remember a little of tenth-grade Shakespeare? It means that if you keep saying no to something, the opposite is true. Like if you keep insisting, over and over, that you're not into Sara, the opposite is true. You really
are
after her.”

And how'd we get back there? Nick was confused. He was not after Sara.

“Why not?” Eliot broke in like a mind reader wielding a sledgehammer. “How could you not be attracted to her? She's sexy, she's gorgeous, she's sweet … she's the whole deal. I'm having a hard time just being friends.”

Nick worked hard to not let his panic show. Sara was hot, anyone could see that. So was Lindsay. Yet he wasn't really interested in either of them. Was it possible that the job was changing him? Turning him gay? Could someone turn gay?

Carefully, he said to Eliot, “Look, bro, I know you like her. And even though I think she's a challenge—Religion Girl's got baggage, like we just said—I'm just stepping out of the way. Not to sound, you know, obnoxious, but I can get any girl. I don't need Sara.”

“Good,” Eliot said. “Step far out of the way. 'Cause if she does decide to ditch Donald, I want to be the guy, y'know? And even though I'm not that great-looking, I think I have a chance with her. I really do.”

All Nick could manage was, “Keep the faith, dude.”

The following Thursday night, everyone except Naomi settled around the poker table in the game room. It'd been ten days since Lindsay and Sara had auditioned, a fact Lindsay made everyone aware of … every minute. “I so know that phone's gonna ring,” she burbled, getting up to refill her glass and Jared's with vodka. “It's gonna be Amanda. And she's gonna say, ‘Call back tomorrow, Linz, for your second audition for Cherry. The casting directors love you!'”

She gaily winked at Sara. “And then, Eliot's phone is going to ring—that's the number they have for you, right?”

Nick growled, “Can you just deal the cards, Lindsay? We're here to play poker, not be the audience for your nightly monologue.”

Lindsay smiled sweetly as she carefully dealt a card to each person. “And Eliot's gonna answer his phone and go, ‘Sara, it's for you. It's Lionel … you've got a call back, you're still in the running for
The Outsiders
!'” With a flourish, she threw a dollar into the pot. “Who bets I'm right?”

Jared raised her a dollar. “I bet you lose this hand.”

“I hope you're right, Lindsay. I raise both of you,” Sara said with a grin.

Eliot won the round. He chose his next words carefully, having planned this for a while. “I have a wager. I bet not a single one of you will know what to do when an earthquake hits. And I'd like to—”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Would you stop with this already? It's August. You'll be gone in a month. Then you won't have to worry.”

“You wouldn't either, if you knew what to do,” Eliot responded sagely. “I'm going to teach you.”

“Like hell.” Jared pushed his chair back, went to refill his glass.

Lindsay hopped up too. But she was too stoked, in too good a mood to be annoyed. She strolled behind Eliot's chair, draped her arms around his neck, and playfully kissed the top of his springy hair. “As long as we can keep playing cards, I say, let the El-man go all ‘Earthquakes for Dummies' on our asses.”

Eliot flushed copiously.

Jared whirled around from the bar, gave her a look.

But he wasn't gonna mess with a deliriously happy Lindsay. And Nick wasn't gonna bother putting a cork in the Catastrophe Kid, either. When El was on a tear, nothing was going to stop him.

Over several hands of Texas Hold 'Em, five-card stud, and high-low, Eliot gave detailed preparedness instructions. “First, there are over three hundred and fifty earthquakes a year in L.A.”

“That's like one a day—no way,” said Nick dismissively.

“They're just so small you don't feel them, except for maybe a gentle wave in the middle of the night. That's the other thing: ninety percent of earthquakes happen in the middle of the night.”

“Why's that?” Lindsay, suddenly interested, asked.

“There's a theory about seismic activity triggered by geological temperature changes that happen at night.”

Lindsay snickered. “I can see why temperatures definitely rise at night.”

Eliot got flustered. Damn, that girl could make pure snow blush. He plowed on. “There are generally two kinds of quakes. The first is a rolling quake; it rolls through in a waving motion and you feel like you're on a boat. That's the ground bending. The buildings actually sway and move. The wave rolls through and is gone in about four or five seconds.”

“What's the second?” Sara asked nervously.

“The shaker. It hits like a bulldozer. You feel like you got slammed by a WWE wrestler. The shaking is so intense, windows blow out and buildings pancake—implode. The nineteen ninety-four quake lasted over forty-five seconds!”

“Doesn't seem like that long,” Nick noted.

“It will when you're going through it,” Eliot responded. “Anyway, we won't have much warning, but if you start to feel a wave beneath you, get moving. Whoever's closest to the kitchen, grab the preparedness kit and distribute the contents. Then get out of the kitchen fast! It's one of the worst places to be during an earthquake. If you're downstairs, duck beneath this table; it's the sturdiest one in the house.”

Jared was astonished. “You weighed it?”

“I didn't have to. It's made of solid cherry wood, and we'd all fit under it. Unlike the low coffee table in the living room.”

Lindsay grinned wickedly. “But it'd be cozier under the coffee table … and there's water there.” She looked at Sara. “Oops, it's Kaballah water—you can't drink it. You'll have to go Jewish, or stay parched. 'Cause everyone knows in the event of an earthquake, don't drink the tap water.”

Nick started to scold impish Lindsay, but Sara put her hand up. “It's okay. In case of an earthquake, I think I could make an exception. Anyway, what if you're upstairs when … I mean … if it happens?”