Romantically Challenged (11 page)

Once we veered north, the fog disappeared and we could see the street lights below us. This time David spotted the runway before I did. I was too busy looking for an empty street or some soft trees.

The tires hit the runway and bounced once before settling back down to the ground. We were on our way to an empty space at the end of the row of parked airplanes when the engine choked and then died. David didn’t even attempt to restart it. We both climbed out of the plane and I followed him across the tarmac.

“Evening folks,” the terminal attendant said when we were close enough to hear. “Are you spending the night?”

“The plane is,” David told him. “I’ll pick it up in the morning.”

“No problem,” the attendant replied. “What space are you in?”

“We’re not,” David said. “We ran out of fuel on the runway.”

The attendant pointed me in the direction of the ladies room and I ran inside for the longest, most satisfying pee of my life. My mind was racing, but I couldn’t focus. All I kept thinking was the next time I go up in a two-seater plane with a guy who isn’t even instrument rated, I was definitely bringing toothpaste.

Never Say Never

By the time I unlocked my office door Monday morning I was deep into my depression. I had a conference call with Mark Parsons at eleven, which meant that not only did I have to start working right away, but I would also miss the Monday morning bitch session which I sorely needed. Rosenthal had been on a tear lately and I had a lot of venting to do.

I’d finished looking over my notes by 10:55, but I was feeling rebellious so I waited until 11:03 to call Mark’s office. I congratulated Mark on the birth of his son, then we quickly got down to business.

“So what’s your analysis,” he asked.

“Although Rita maintains that the sex was consensual—”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

Having seen Rita, I agreed. “Unless we can prove that Jared is lying, my recommendation would be to settle the case. With Rita’s track record, we wouldn’t want to go to trial. It’s too great a risk.”

No response.

“Unless you object, I’m going to call Jared’s lawyer and set up an informal meeting. I want to get a sense of how strong they think their case is and what kind of money they’re looking for.”

“Good. Call me after the meeting.” He hung up before I could even say goodbye.

Since the conference was so short, I was able to catch the tail end of the Monday morning bitch session. When I walked into Simone’s office, Greg was already sitting on one of Simone’s two guest chairs. This was a new development. Greg didn’t normally join our bitch sessions. I moved Simone’s stack of files off the other guest chair and sat down.

“What’d I miss?” I asked.

“The usual,” Simone said. “Rosenthal’s being a prick to everyone.” She gestured to Greg. “Even golden boy.”

“It’s not possible.” I was only half joking. Greg had earned his nickname.

“’Tis true,” Greg said. “My sheen must’ve dulled. He ripped me a new asshole this morning for—”

Greg’s assistant opened the door and said, “Parker’s looking for you. He said he needs to talk to you before Mr. Rosenthal gets back.”

Greg stood up and bowed slightly. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure, as always.”

I waited until Greg closed the door behind him before I asked, “What’s up with that?”

“I guess now that he’s single again, he’s decided to be more social,” Simone replied. “Why? Don’t you want to let him in the gang?”

“Of course I do. You’re the one who didn’t like him. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“I like him better now that he’s getting a divorce. He’s not so uptight.”

“He must not be if he doesn’t mind being called golden boy.”

She laughed. “That one sort of slipped out. But he took it pretty well.”

“Probably because he knows it’s true.”

After Simone told me about her weekend adventures with her fiancé, Todd, I filled her in on my disastrous date.

“I just have one question,” she said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking it would be romantic. I didn’t know he couldn’t land the plane if the airport fogged in.”

“Clearly trolling emergency rooms isn’t working out for you. I think you need to find a new source for men.”

I agreed. Even a Jewish doctor wasn’t worth dying for. “Got any ideas?”

“Actually, yes. Remember that company I told you about—Just A Date?”

“Isn’t that the dating service?”
“Yes, and don’t make it sound so suspicious.”

“I told you, I’m not joining a dating service.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s for desperate people, and I’m not desperate.” Not yet anyway.  

“Why do you keep saying that? Joining a dating service doesn’t mean you’re desperate. It just means you’re a busy professional who’s having trouble meeting quality people on her own.”

“You sound like a brochure.”

“As a matter of fact,” she said and reached into her bottom desk drawer. She handed me a glossy purple pamphlet folded in thirds. Instead of ripping it up and throwing the pieces at her, I opened it. I’d hit a new low.

* * *

The following Friday afternoon it was Kaitlyn who called me looking for a drinking partner. Of course I obliged. When I arrived at El Cholo, a loud, always crowded, Mexican restaurant on Wilshire, she was waiting for me at the entrance.

“No table?” I asked.

She shook her head. “And it’s three-deep at the bar.”

If El Cholo didn’t have the best fajitas in Los Angeles, we would’ve found a new favorite long ago. We split up and each made several laps around the lounge until Kaitlyn spotted a couple paying their check. Kaitlyn hovered next to them and I grabbed their seats on the couch as soon as they stood up. It wasn’t roomy, but at least we had a place to sit and someone to take our drink order.

“Have I told you lately how much I love my job,” Kaitlyn said after our waiter had left. “My assistant brought me home-baked cookies this morning and my boss has to go out of town next week and is giving me his Hollywood Bowl tickets.”

If I’d had my margarita, I would’ve dumped it over her head. “Let me know when you’re hiring, I’ll send my resume.”

“You should,” she said. “You know in-house is the way to go.”

Kaitlyn had left her firm job after only two years and has been at Westside Studios ever since. “Eventually, but not yet. I want to make partner first.”

“You’re not up for partnership for another year and a half.”

“It could be shorter. Brian Reynolds made partner at the end of his sixth year. Of course, he’s a guy and he kisses Rosenthal’s ass.”

“Which I’m sure you’re not doing.”

“You know I wasn’t born with the ass-kisser gene. Besides, right now I need to concentrate on finding my soulmate. I can only focus on one major life-changing event at a time.”

“Any new developments?”

“I’m considering a new plan of attack.”

I waited for the waiter to set down our margaritas before I pulled the Just A Date brochure from my purse. I handed it to Kaitlyn and inhaled chips and salsa while she read.

“So what do you think?” I asked after she’d set it down on the table.

She paused for a moment before she said, “I can’t believe you’re really thinking about doing this.”

Not the answer I expected. Kaitlyn was normally so supportive. “Why are you being so negative?”

“Why do you feel like you need to do this?” she said in her best pseudo-psychologist voice. She’d definitely picked that one up from her mother.

“I don’t
need
to do this,” I responded in full defensive mode. “I’m not even sure I
want
to do this. I’m just
thinking
about doing this.” I’d been thinking about it nonstop all week.

That was when the woman sitting next to Kaitlyn picked up the brochure. Kaitlyn and I were still staring at her when she turned around. “Is this yours?” she asked Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn leaned back as if the woman were trying to hand her a snake. “No, it’s hers.”

The woman reached across Kaitlyn and gave it back to me. “Sorry, my sister joined one of these a few weeks ago. I think that was the one.”

“How does she like it?” I asked.

“She’s only had one date,” the woman said, “but she liked the guy, so I guess it’s working.” The woman turned back to her friends and I put the brochure back in my purse.

“See,” I told Kaitlyn. “You’ve been with Billy too long. You don’t know what it’s like to date.”

“Past tense,” Kaitlyn said. “We broke up, remember.”

“Yes, but you haven’t started looking again. It’s not so easy. Once you’re out of school and past the singles bar stage, it’s really hard to meet people.”

“How can you say that? You’ve had tons of dates.”

 “But none of them worked out. I need to find a new source for men.”

“What about David?”

“Besides the fact that he almost killed us, there’s no chemistry. I’ve decided to stop wasting time with people I know aren’t The One. My new rule is three dates max. If I’m not convinced there’s a chance in hell that I might want to spend the rest of my life with someone after three dates, then they’re out.”

“You only had two dates with David.”

“Three if you count the dinner party.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Fine,” I said, “then we only had two. But it doesn’t matter because three is the maximum, not the minimum.”

“Well if that’s the rule, then you’re definitely going to need to expand your horizons.”

“Exactly my point. Everyone keeps telling me it’s a numbers game, so all I need to do is increase my numbers.”

* * *

I’d stumbled halfway across the living room before I noticed the blinking red light on my answering machine. “Yaaay,” I said to Elmo who was dutifully waiting for me on the couch. “Somebody loves me, besides you, I mean.”

I gave Elmo a squeeze and he responded with “Elmo’s not ticklish there.” Obviously he was mad at me for leaving him alone so long. I pushed PLAY and the answering machine told me I had one new message. “Well at least one person loves me,” I told Elmo.

The machine beeped again and my mother’s voice came on the line. “Julia, it’s Mommy. Call me when you get this. Daddy and I are coming to visit.”

Sometimes it’s better when nobody loves you.

Parental Crisis

I called my parents the next morning before I’d even had my coffee. My mom picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Julia. We were wondering when you were going to call us back.”

“What are you talking about? I just got your message last night. By the time I got home it was too late to call you back.”

Her voice brightened. “Oh, did you have a date?”

“No, I was out with Kaitlyn.”

The critical tone returned. “You’re never going to meet anyone if you spend all your time with Kaitlyn.”

“Mother, I’m not discussing this with you. I called because you said you and Daddy were coming for a visit.”

“Right,” she said. “Your father has a business trip to San Diego the end of next month. Since it’s Labor Day, we thought we’d stay over the weekend and visit you in L.A.”

Another holiday weekend shot to hell.

“We figured we’d drive up on Friday afternoon and spend the weekend at your house. Then you can take us to the airport Monday morning. We have an 8:00 a.m. flight so you’ll have the rest of the day to yourself.”

“Won’t you need to drive yourself to the airport so you can return the rental car?” I didn’t want to have to get up at 5:00 a.m. on a vacation day.

“Your father thought we’d drop it off on Friday night. No sense having two cars all weekend.”

“What if you two want to go off and do something on your own? Spend the day at Disney or something?” In other words, save my sanity.

“I guess either you’ll come with us or we won’t go.”

I made a final attempt. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in a hotel? My apartment only has one bedroom.”

“We can sleep in the living room. You still have the pull-out couch, don’t you?”

A ray of hope. “No, I replaced it with a futon.”

“Oh, let me tell your father.”

In the background I could hear their yelling to each other from opposite ends of the house. Having lived with them for the first eighteen years of my life, I knew exactly where they were and what they were doing.

“Phil,” my mother yelled from the phone in the kitchen.

“What?” my father yelled back from the couch in the den. The TV was so loud I could hear the announcer’s play-by-play.

“Julia’s on the phone. She says she got rid of the sleeper sofa and now she has a futon.”

“So?” he yelled back. At this point he would be rolling his eyes and muttering to himself.

“So do you want to sleep on the futon?” she said with an edge to her voice, “or do you want to stay in a hotel? I know you don’t like futons.”

“What are you talking about? I never said I didn’t like futons.”

“The last time we slept on one at Deborah’s house, you did nothing but complain about it the—”

“Mom, can’t you argue with Dad later?”

“We’re not arguing, we’re just talking.”

“Then can you talk to Dad later? In the meantime I’ll assume you’re staying with me.” Maybe Kaitlyn could get her mom to write me a prescription for a weekend supply of Prozac.

“Hold on a minute and I’ll put your father on the phone.”

I could hear more yelling in the background, then my father came on the line.

“Hello?”

“Hi Dad.”

“Hi baby. How are you?”

“Fine, Dad. How are you?”

“As well as can be expected for someone my age.”

“What are you talking about? You’re only sixty.”

“That’s old. But it’s better than the alternative.”

After we discussed what he would be having for dinner, what I would be having for dinner and the weather, we hung up.

I immediately dialed Kaitlyn’s number and she convinced me that all I needed was some ice cream and a little retail therapy. I agreed to meet her at the mall at noon.

* * *

“It’s too bad your parents told you so far in advance” Kaitlyn said between bites of waffle cone.

“Why?” I asked before swallowing another spoonful of hazelnut gelato.

“Because now you’re going to spend the next six weeks stressing about your parents’ visit. If they’d waited to call you until the week before they come, you’d only have one week to stress about it. That would be five less weeks I’d have to deal with you like this.”

“I told you my mother was selfish.”

“Jules, don’t say that. She’s your mother.”

“I know she’s my mother. And I’m not saying she doesn’t love me and that I don’t love her. I’m just stating facts.”

“As seen through your own filter.”

“Spare me the psycho-babble and help me figure out what the hell I’m going to do with my parents for three days and nights.”

“We live in L.A. There’s tons of things to do with out-of-town relatives.”

“Yes, but we’ve done them all. We’ve already been to Disneyland and Universal, and taken all the studio tours. We’ve walked the Santa Monica Pier, Third Street Promenade, the Venice Boardwalk and Hollywood Boulevard. We’ve day-tripped to San Diego, Santa Barbara, Solvang and Tijuana. What’s left?”

“You could fly up to San Francisco for the weekend.”

“They’ve already been. Twice.”

“How about museums?”

“My dad hates museums. He won’t go.”

“Well what do they like to do?”

“Argue with each other.”

“I’m serious,” she said.

“So am I.”

“What do they do when they go on vacation?”

“They go somewhere warm and lay on the beach and talk about what they’re going to have for dinner. Then they go out to dinner.”

She considered that for a moment. “Actually, we do a fair amount of that ourselves.”

“That’s the scary part. We’re both turning into my parents.”

* * *

We finished our ice cream and headed to Bloomingdale’s. Our first stop was the men’s department so Kaitlyn could buy a birthday present for her brother. I left her searching through men’s wallets, while I wandered over to watches. I don’t know how I could’ve been so oblivious for so many years, but this was the first time I ever noticed how many cute guys shopped in the Bloomingdale’s men’s department. I was glad I’d bothered to put on makeup and blow-dry my hair. Some were clearly coupled, either with other men or women, but I was hoping at least one or two might be available.

I was headed towards an attractive brunette shopping for a dress shirt when I froze. Standing on the other side of my prospective date was a couple with their arms around each other. The male half of the couple was Joe.

I hadn’t heard from him since the day of our disastrous lunch. He’d left me a message saying he’d called to apologize. I might’ve returned his call eventually if he’d kept calling, but he hadn’t. Now I knew why. He’d already moved on.

I turned and sped through jewelry, zigzagged through handbags, and circled back to men’s wallets.

“We need to leave,” I told Kaitlyn. “Now.”

“Why?”

“Because I just spotted Joe.”

“The bartender?”

“Yes.”

She started scanning the store. “Where is he? I want to see what he looks like.”

I pointed in his direction. “The one in jeans with the woman holding a shirt up to his chest.”

“I can’t see,” she said. “We need to move closer.”

I told her no, but it was too late. She was already deep into belts. I caught up with her in ties and pulled her behind a bank of acrylic cubes filled with dress shirts. We pulled out the top few packages so she could peer through, and I kneeled on the floor out of sight.

“Which one is he? The one in Polos or the one looking at the Calvin Kleins?”

“I don’t know. He’s the one in the black T-shirt.”

“They’re both wearing black T-shirts.”

I stood up, took a quick glance, and ducked back down. “The one on the right.”

“He’s cute. You should say hello.”

“I’m not going over there.”

“You don’t have to. He’s coming this way.”

I grabbed Kaitlyn’s arm and ran. We were six stores away before we finally stopped laughing. I felt like we were in junior high. At Kaitlyn’s suggestion, we continued on to Macy’s where Kaitlyn managed to purchase a pair of black Enzo heels, a DKNY T-shirt, and two new lipsticks in under an hour, while I was still undecided between two pairs of Kenneth Cole earrings. Kaitlyn convinced me to buy them both and we headed back to Bloomingdale’s. This time I sent Kaitlyn to the men’s department alone while I went upstairs and shopped for shoes. I didn’t really believe that Joe would still be down there, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

An hour later we were both hungry again. We settled on a late lunch at Houston’s. I was just about to reach for the handle on the smoky glass door when it opened from the inside. The four of us stood in the entranceway: Me, Kaitlyn, Joe’s girlfriend, and Joe.

The Story of Joe

“This is a surprise,” Joe said.

“Yes,” I said and silently thanked God that he hadn’t spotted me running away from him in Bloomingdale’s.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” I responded. “And you?”

“I’m good,” he said.

“Good,” I said back.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, the girlfriend extended her hand to me and said, “Hi, I’m Cheryl.”

“Julie,” I said as we shook. That was when I noticed her diamond engagement ring. Either Joe moved really quick or he was stepping out on her when he went out with me. Goddamn wannabes! They’re all alike. You couldn’t trust any of them. Now I was glad I never called him back.

I introduced Kaitlyn to Cheryl and Joe, and after a few more seconds of awkward silence, they left.

The restaurant door hadn’t even closed behind us before Kaitlyn laid into me. “What did you do that for?”

“What?” I said, pretending I didn’t know exactly what she meant.

“You totally blew him off.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

“What did you want me to do? Didn’t you notice the girl he was with was wearing an engagement ring?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. She could be a friend.”

“I don’t go shopping with my male friends. At least not the straight ones.”

“Why would he have gone out with you if he was engaged to her?”

“Obviously because he’s just another two-timing wannabe.”

“I don’t understand you. You’ll join a dating service to meet men, but you blow off the cute guy standing right in front of you that’s clearly interested.”

“First, he wasn’t clearly interested. Second, he was with his fiancée. Third, I didn’t say I was joining a dating service, I just said I was thinking about it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“We’ve established that. Now do you want to eat or not?”

* * *

Kaitlyn and I studied our menus in silence until a waitress set down a martini glass filled with dark pink liquid.

“I think you’ve got the wrong table,” I told her. “We didn’t order any drinks.”

“It’s from the guy at the bar,” the waitress said and cocked her head in that direction. “He asked me to bring it to you with this.” She handed me a folded cocktail napkin which I opened immediately. LUNCH? NO SURPRISES. I showed the note to Kaitlyn and she motioned for Joe to join us.

“Be nice,” she whispered as he walked toward our table, sans fiancée.

“May I?” he asked.

I moved closer to the partition and Joe slid into the booth next to me.

“Thanks for the drink,” I said.

“No problem,” he replied.

“Where’s your friend?” Kaitlyn asked.

“My sister went back to the hotel. She and her fiancé are staying at the Century Plaza.”

Kaitlyn gave me a self-satisfied, “I told you so” smile, then spent the next hour interrogating Joe. We learned that he’d lived in L.A. for ten years and that he moved out here after college to pursue an acting career. (I knew it!)  He’d gotten some commercial work and guest spots on a few TV shows, but that was it. The last few years he’d spent working for his aunt’s catering business, Food For Thought. He said he started out serving hors d’ oeuvres and tending bar, but discovered that he loved to cook. Now he was splitting his time between bartending and cooking.

Although I was loathe to bring up the night we met, I had to know. “Then what were you doing working at that bar in New Jersey?” It wasn’t the kind of job anyone would commute across the country for.

His smile faded. “I went back home for a few months when my dad died.”

Now I was sorry I’d asked.

“We, my sisters and I, were all concerned about my mom. She’d never lived alone before. My sisters all had their own families to take care of, so, according to them anyway, I was the logical choice. I took the job at the Montrose to cover my expenses and to give me something to do. I never realized how boring New Jersey was until I moved back. Who was it who said ‘You can’t go home again?’”

“Thomas Wolfe,” Kaitlyn and I answered in unison.

“Is that why you came back to L.A.?” Kaitlyn asked.

“I always intended to come back. I only agreed to stay for a couple of months until my mom adjusted. When she decided to spend the summer at the Shore with one of my sisters, I hopped the next plane home. I think my mom realized I was itching to get back here and just wanted to give me an excuse to leave.”

Kaitlyn looked satisfied.

“So is there anything else you’d like to know?” he asked. “Birth date? Shoe size? My favorite color?”

“I think we’re satisfied,” I said, “for the moment.”

“But we reserve the right to re-direct at a later time,” Kaitlyn added.

Joe smiled. “You’re not a lawyer too, are you?”

“I am,” Kaitlyn said.

“You’re surrounded,” I told him. “Next time bring your attorney.”

“Does that mean there’s going to be a next time?” he asked.

I walked into that one. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Just Friends

The three of us split the check and left the restaurant. Joe said goodbye at the entrance and disappeared into the late afternoon shopping throng.

Once he was out of sight, I turned to Kaitlyn. “So? What did you think?”

“I think he’s a good guy and you shouldn’t rule him out just because he’s a caterer.”

“I’m not ruling him out because he’s a caterer. You know I love it when a guy can cook.”

“Then why are you ruling him out?” she asked.

“Who said I’m ruling him out?”

“Because if you weren’t, you would’ve told him you wanted to see him again.”

She knew me too well. “I have to. He’s a wannabe.”

“No, he’s not. He’s a caterer.”

“That’s his day job, or half of it, but he hasn’t given up the dream.”

“Who cares as long as he has a day job.”

“I do. Scumbag used to have a day job too.”

“That was your fault for letting him quit.”

“Yes, and I’ve learned my lesson. No more wannabes, and that includes Joe. Even if he is cute and can cook.”

* * *

When I arrived home from work Wednesday night, I found a message from Joe. My answering machine told me he’d called at four o’clock. He had to know I’d be at the office in the middle of the afternoon. Obviously he was testing me to see if I’d call him back. I called Kaitlyn instead.

“Why do you always assume the worst?” she said. “Maybe he’s working tonight and that was the only time he could call you.”

“Then why didn’t he call me in the office?”

“Maybe he didn’t have the number.”

“Yes he does. He called me at the office after our lunch date.”

“Then maybe he lost it,” she said, clearly exasperated. “Why do you care? You’ve ruled him out anyway.”

“I know. But I’ve been thinking maybe we could be friends. It’d be nice to have a friend who could cook.” Kaitlyn was as useless in the kitchen as I was.

“I’m pretty sure he wants to be more than just your friend, Jules.”

“Maybe so. But its friendship or nothing.”
“And you’re going to call him back to tell him that?”

“No, I don’t want to do it over the phone. I’d rather tell him in person. Soften the blow.”

“Good thinking. Otherwise he’d really be devastated.”

“Ha, ha.”

* * *

Joe arrived at my house Sunday morning as good looking as ever in dark rinse jeans and a spotless white T-shirt. I met him at the door dressed in my white cotton cargo pants and a mint green tank top in a vain attempt to show off my slightly muscled arms. I’d started working out with five pound weights at the gym and although I was still a long way from buff, I wanted recognition of the pain I’d endured for the small amount of definition I’d acquired. Just because we were only going to be friends, didn’t mean that I wanted him to stop looking.

“So where are we going?” I asked as we climbed into Joe’s Jeep. Not an SUV, but a real Jeep with a vinyl roof and plastic, zip-out windows.