Chapter Five

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Chapter Five:

APOV  

Tyler was going to be here in an hour and I was totally losing my fucking shit.  I didn’t know why I was even doing this.  This was going to be a complete disaster.  What business did I have dating this guy anyway?  This was Jordan’s area.  She was the dater.  She was the one who brought guys home, or had a guy around for more than a night.  I was the celibate one. 

Christ, it wasn’t even about that—sex wasn’t even in the picture right now—I’d told him that upfront.  That would have probably been easier.  This other shit—this dating shit—I didn’t know how to date.  What do you wear?  What did I do when we were at the restaurant?  How do I get around topics that I don’t want to talk about?  What if we ran out of shit to talk about?  What do you even talk about?  I didn’t even know if we had anything in common.  I wasn’t even on the fucking date yet and I was already a fucking mess.  I didn’t want to ask Jordan.  I was an adult; I was supposed to know this shit.  Or I wasn’t supposed to be this nervous about it.  I didn’t even know what I was stressing about.  I didn’t know anything.  Jesus fucking Christ.  I needed help.  So much help.   

I finally just bit the bullet and asked.  “Jordan?”

“Yeah?” she called from her bedroom.

“What do you wear on a date?”

There was silence, then the sound of something falling over, and then she was in the doorway.  “You have a date?!”

“Jesus, it’s not that surprising.”

“Uh, yeah.  It is.”  She nodded.

I stood in front of my closet and looked over the clothes.  It was kind of amazing.  This was the most clothing I’d ever owned.  It wasn’t really a lot of clothes either, but more than I’d ever had in one place.  Being in a place and staying there meant I actually kept more shit.  It was surprising how much I’d collected in the time I’d been in New York. 

“So… is it that Tyler guy?” she asked, moving to stand next to me.

“Yeah.”

“Ok.” I think she was excited.  “What are we going for?”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyebrow rose.  “I think you know what I mean.  What look are you going for?  Are you trying to be sexy? Are you trying to be casual? Are you trying to be a slut?  What’s the objective?”

I chuckled nervously.  “Uhm, casual.  Definitely casual.”

“Right.”  She nodded.  “But not, like, pajamas and I’m-so-comfortable-with-you-because-you’re-like-my-brother-casual.  We want at least a little bit of an edge.”

I smiled slightly.  Sure.  We could go with that.  “Right.”

She clapped her hands and immediately starting taking out items of clothing.  “Jeans, then, I think.  And the shirt can be a little edgier.  But you’ll have to wear a coat, so… it can’t wrinkle.”

Holy shit.  Was this what I was supposed to be thinking about while getting ready?  That I didn’t want to be wrinkled?  I was stressing over so much other shit, wrinkled clothing was the farthest from my mind.  She was talking, but I was sort of panicking, so I think I missed a lot.  I hope there wasn’t advice in there.   “Yo, Allison.  Are you with me?”

“Yeah.  Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

Nothing.  Just thinking about calling him and telling him this was a bad idea.  Panic and fear and nervousness and everything. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes,” I managed.

“Why?”

I gave her a look and she held up another shirt to look at me.  “Does he know?”

“Know what?”

She rolled her eyes.  “What does he know about you?”

“Next to nothing.”

“And what scares you more?  That he knows next to nothing and he wants to date you, or that he’ll find out and be gone?”

“I don’t know which one scares me more.  I think the second one.”

“Well, he took the stripper thing pretty well, I think.  All things considered.”

I glared at her again.

“Hey, he came and apologized and shit.  He seems like a decent guy.  I mean, he keeps coming back.  You can’t say he’s not persistent.”

“Yeah, I just don’t know why he is.  It’s confusing.”

Jordan smiled.  “Well, he’s a guy.  And he’s into you.  That means he’s gonna keep coming around until you tell him to fuck off.”

I sighed and sat down on the bed.  “I just don’t know what I’m doing.  I don’t know if this is worth it.  If he’s worth it.  If I’m worth it.  Christ.  I just think it’s a bad idea.  I swore I wouldn’t do this.  I wouldn’t be in a relationship of any kind.  Too much bad shit.  And you can never tell what a guy’s really like.  I think it’s just easier not to have one.”

She sat down on the bed with me.  “I think that’s the fear talking.  Who wouldn’t want a decent guy if they came along?”

I shrugged.  “I dunno.  Me.”

“They’re kind of like big animals.  You feed them, water them, every once in a while they get laid or a blowjob and they’re good to go.  They’re rather easy to please.”

“See, that’s what I don’t want.  I don’t want a pet.  And I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship that includes sex.  I don’t even know what that means unless they’re paying for it or slapping me around.”

“Well, that’s not the typical way of a relationship—the slapping around thing.”

“I just don’t want to fuck up what I’ve got here, ya know?  I’ve worked really hard to get to this place.  Even if it’s still as a stripper.”

“Allison, you’ve come so far.  I don’t think it’s a matter of one or the other.  I think you can have both.  And maybe Tyler’s the guy you can do that with.  Maybe not.  But you’ll never know if you don’t give it a chance.  Give him a chance.  And if he hurts you, I’ll kill him.” 

She said that so coolly, and with a smile, I couldn’t help but smile back.  Like it was just a given.  A truth. 

I nodded and took a deep breath.  “Ok.  So, will this shirt wrinkle?” I pointed to the one she had in her hand.

“I think this one is perfect.”  She smiled and then basically pleaded, “But don’t wear those ratty sneakers tonight.  You have that decent pair that looks more like you bought them last month instead of at birth like the others, ’k?  Please?  For me?”

I chuckled, “Yeah, ok.”

She happily squeezed my arm and then pushed me off the bed.  “Ok, so change.  What else do you wanna know?”  She folded her legs under herself and looked at me expectantly.

I started changing.  Nudity among fellow strippers was sort of like what I imagined locker rooms to be like—it was so common that there wasn’t much embarrassment.  She’d seen me during much worse.  For some reason, though, the idea of Tyler seeing that terrified me.  There was no reason to be nervous about your body when a dude was paying.  He didn’t care what you looked like.  He had only himself in mind.  You became largely irrelevant.  By myself, I’m sure I had my share of insecurities, but I never really had the reason to worry about them. 

I tried to think of shit to ask Jordan, but my mind was racing in all sorts of other directions.  “Uhm.  I really… dunno.  I feel completely… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, where are you going?”

“That Chinese place on Lexington.”

“Booth or table?”

“I dunno.  Whatever they give us, I guess.  Why do I want one or the other?”

“Booths are cozier.  Tables tend to be less private.”

“Ok.”

“What do you normally talk about?”

I scoffed, “We haven’t really.  I mean, we talked that night we got arrested, and we talked about video games a little, and then the alley happened and all that shit.”

“Well, what do you already know about each other?”

“Not much.  And I don’t want him to know all about,” I gestured wildly while hopping to get my jeans up, “everything right now.” 

“Ok, so set some ground rules before you really start.  Like, I don’t want to talk about this, or that and ask him if that’s cool.”

“Ok.”

“Then it’s just about getting to know each other.”

“I just don’t…”

“What?”

“I don’t feel like I have any… skills for conversation.  I mean, I don’t know shit like he does.  What could we possibly have to talk about?”

She scoffed, “I’m sure he’s not that intellectual.  He seems down to earth, too.  Just keep it simple.  Simple shit can tell you a lot.”

“Like what?  What kind of simple shit?”

“Like… I dunno.  Ask him if he likes sports.  Or music.  Or if he likes movies.  Just stupid shit, but it keeps the conversation going.  I mean, you can ask him deeper shit, too, but don’t ask him anything you don’t want to or can’t answer.  Because he’ll ask you the same—that’s fair.”

I nodded.  I felt so out of my league.  Not that I thought Tyler was better than me or something, just… out of my element. 

When we got to the restaurant, that seemed to blow up even more in my face.  I felt so… completely out of place.  Like this was not something that strippers did on a Tuesday.  I didn’t know what they were supposed to do on a Tuesday, but this seemed too… normal. 

And it was so fucking hard.  Because I was constantly pulling back—but Jordan’s advice kept playing in my head, too.  I was so afraid of something slipping out that I didn’t want him to know this early, or just talking in general—I didn’t talk to many people.  And when I did, it was definitely not this type of conversation.  I listened to a lot of guys grunt at me, or say nasty, dirty shit to me.  I could deal with that.  I knew how to handle those guys.  Guys like Tyler, when they were nice, that was something I wasn’t sure how to deal with.  I had guards up 24/7, and I had a tendency to shut him down because that was easier.  I wasn’t used to someone actually wanting to know me—anything about me. 

Things weren’t going well.  I’d been fuzzy with details.  I’d laid out the things I didn’t want to talk about a little too harshly, I think, and he just kept trying.  I had to try, too.  Jordan’s question thing was genius.  It wasn’t too deep, but it gave us a chance to at least get a feel for one another.  I didn’t learn a huge amount about him, but he didn’t about me, either.  It was comfortable.  It was a level I was comfortable with.  Ease into it.  That was the last thing Jordan had said to me before he came to the door. 

Once I loosened up a little, things flowed much easier.  It was fun.  I hadn’t teased someone and had them actually like it in a long time.  It was fun to push it, to see what he’d take.  He was easy to get along with, easy to talk to. 

Jordan was right, too—he was persistent.  It wasn’t too much, he was just… happy.  It was like he was just happy to spend time with me.  And I had to admit, I kept saying yes because I liked it, too.  I liked spending time with him. 

Tyler wasn’t the typical guy I ran into.  He opened doors and held them, and brought jackets and shit.  He held out arms so people not paying attention wouldn’t get run over by speeding cabs.  And part of me wanted to laugh at that, to laugh at the showy side of it, because, c’mon, was that really for real?  Did dudes actually do that kind of shit?  It seemed very… outdated.  Very Disney-film.  I didn’t think it was common.  Or maybe I’d just run into so few actual… gentlemen that it seemed unreal.  The only other man that had ever done that kind of shit for me was Doug, so it wasn’t completely strange, but with him it seemed more dad-like.  It seemed more fitting for him.  Tyler was young and he was cute enough that I didn’t think he needed to use that to get chicks. 

Thing was, it didn’t stop.  He didn’t drop it after the restaurant or anything.  And the putting his arm out thing—it had been nice.  I mean, great that he didn’t want his date to be smeared all over the road, but… Tyler had something in his eyes that always made it seem so real and honest.  Like it wasn’t an act.  Or that he might have cared beyond his potential sex partner being dead before he got laid.  In New York especially, but everywhere I’d ever been really, no one cared about anyone else.  My death by cab wouldn’t have brought anyone to my rescue.  I would have been lucky for a 911 call.  No one was going to push me out of the way either.  Had Tyler not been with me, no one else was stopping me.  My death would have just been part of the rest of the night. No news mention.  No one to care, except maybe Jordan, and Doug and Lois on the string, wondering why I never called again.  But this dude I just met… it was confusing, but exciting, too.  To think that he might really be that sweet. 

I never really knew what to expect.  In a good way for once.  It was nice.  Refreshing that I didn’t have to prepare for him being a dick all the time, or wait for him to get all grabby or pushy.  At least I hadn’t yet.  I hoped I wouldn’t have to worry about that.  His track record was pretty good if one date was enough to judge by.

I suppose I was even more nervous for the second date.  Because of that reason.  I’d really only had one to go by.  And this was bringing me back to his place.  In another way, I was relieved that this would either make or break his word.  If he was gonna be a dick, his apartment would be the place to do it. 

“Going out?” Jordan asked as I grabbed my jacket from the hall. 

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’ll be back before work, but if not, I’ll see you there.”

“Where ya goin?’” she asked way too happily.

“None of your business,” I said back.

“Ooh… got another date, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“He put out yet?”

I turned to glare at her.  “Fuck off, Jordan.”

She laughed.  “Where’s this one?”

“His place.”

“He gonna put out today?  Kinda early for a romantic dinner.”

“It’s not a dinner.  We’re just watching a movie.  God, mind your own business.  Do I ask you about the guys you see?”

“That’s different.  I’ve always seen guys.  You don’t see guys.”

“So?”

“So, it’s different.  I’m just checking up on ya, making sure he’s treating you right.  You’ve seen him for, like, three days straight.  You realize that’s more than anyone else besides me sees you, right?  It’s a big deal.”

“Yeah, whatever.  I’ll see you later.”  I left without waiting for her to say anything else. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her asking or wanting to know where I was.  I mean, it was smart.  We always looked out for each other, and on the off chance Tyler was a psycho, she’d know where to start looking.  It was just… I felt like a child.  And I wasn’t one.  I could take care of myself.  And if I had a question, I’d ask. 

Of course, because she'd teased me, that's all I fucking thought about the whole way there.  What the fuck was normal or correct in terms of sex in a relationship?  Was there a time that was considered, like, ok... now is the time we fuck?  My only experience was limited to prostitution.  There was a very simple protocol for fucking.  They came in the room, there was a money exchange conversation—because you always fucking saw the money upfront at least—there was fucking, and payment, and everyone went about their business.  How did that work in an actual relationship?  Was that what we called this?  Was that what we were doing already?  Was I in a relationship?  When was fucking expected?  God, this was worse than being a whore.  At least there were no questions there. 

All of this was so fucking annoying.  I’d already told Tyler up front that sex was not on the table at the moment.  But what did that buy me?  What amount of time was that good for?  When could he cash in the fuck now coupons?  I mean, should I have talked about this further with him?  Given him some sort of time for expecting that?  What constituted sex even?  I hadn’t defined what sex was.  Did that include kissing?  Touching?  Blowjobs?  What did he consider sex?  Fuck, what did I?  

By the time I reached his fucking apartment, I was thoroughly annoyed and even more confused.  Asking him seemed stupid, and asking Jordan would probably only mean more teasing or more serious conversations with her about the nature of dating or some shit.  Which, maybe that wasn’t even a bad thing.  Maybe I needed that kind of talk.  It’s not like I’d ever had a parent who told me all of that shit.  I didn’t go to any school long enough to learn it from other kids.  I think my experience was hugely different than most people.  So, where did people like me go to get this fucking information, then?  Was there some chart that I’d missed?  Some pamphlet that I wasn’t clued into?  

Ugh.  Maybe I’d just ask Tyler.  That’d probably be least embarrassing as he’d be the one involved.  

I knocked on the door, which was basically pointless because it wasn’t like they’d gotten around to fixing the lock.  Tyler opened the door all smiley and messy haired, and it was impossible not to smile back at him.  

“Hi.”  He moved back to let me in.

“Hey.”

“How’re you?”

“I’m ok.  You?”

“Good, good.  I’ve got the movie all ready, and all I have to do is press start on the microwave for the popcorn.”

I chuckled, “Prepared, I guess, huh?”

“Yeah.”  He smiled.  “Not like I’ve had it ready for two hours or anything.  Or that I forced Aidan to get the fuck out of the apartment.”

“No, right.  Not at all.”

He made a motion toward the couch.  “Sit, get comfy.  I’ll start the popcorn.”

I sat and watched him move around the kitchen.  “You didn’t have to make Aidan leave.  It wouldn’t bother me.”

He made a rather disgusted noise.  “Aidan wears out his welcome really quickly.”  He glanced at me.  “Plus, I wanted you all to myself.  He’s an attention hog.”  He shrugged.  

Hmm.  So… how did normal people read that?  He wanted me all to himself because there was an ax hidden under the couch cushions?  He wanted me all to himself because he was totally gonna make a pass and I’d have to fight him off?  He wanted me all to himself because he was just sweet and didn’t want Aidan to spend time with me, with us?  I chewed on my lip while I thought about that as the popcorn started popping in the microwave.  

Tyler was suddenly just there, too.  “Shit… before I forget…”

I totally froze.  Was this the pass already?  He started pacing in front of me, talking quickly.  

“It occurred to me, that should there have been some disaster today—like forty people called in sick at the Strand and I would have been called into work, or I fell in the shower and Aidan let me drown, or there was some emergency class meeting that I actually attended—that I had no way to contact you.  So… I was wondering if you had a phone number at the apartment, or a cell or… something?  In case I needed to call you for something.  For emergencies… or in case you forget your jacket and I got lost on the way to your apartment to return it…”

This was what I was talking about.  Just when I was panicking and I thought he was going to do something, or I just didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing—which was normally the case—he did this kind of shit.  I smiled, furrowing my brows.  “Did you just ask me for my number in a really… weird way?”

He nodded, but at least he’d stopped pacing.  “Yes.  I don’t do things in a normal order.  You might have noticed.  I skip the whole number thing and barrel into arrest and fucking up before I really take you out on a proper date.”

“I see.”

“What does ‘I see’ mean?  I don’t like ‘I see.’  That seems very noncommittal.  Does that mean I’m not getting your number?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Would it help if I gave you my number?  Do you want my number?” So eager.  

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I’m waiting to decide until after we watch the ‘classic’ horror movie.  Ya know, just in case you’re really a serial killer or something.”

He shook his head.  “I wouldn’t look good in a dress.”

“What?” The fuck?

“The movie… nevermind.  You’ll understand after.  I don’t want to ruin it.”  He waved his hand and walked back to the kitchen.  

“I’m… not sure this is my kinda movie anymore,” I teased.

“Oh, shut up.  You don’t even know what it’s about,” he called back to me.

“‘Horror classic’ seems to scream cross-dresser to you, Tyler.  I may be a stripper, but I don’t get down with that.”

He laughed.  “Right.”  I watched him move around the kitchen and put the popcorn in a bowl.  “You want something to drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Beer,” he said.  “And a few kinds of Coke.”

I was sort of half paying attention, just watching him, and it took me a minute to realize what he’d said.  I could see the hint of his smirk from the side.  

“Coke, huh?”

“Yeah.  I think there’s Grape Coke and Orange Coke, and Root Beer Coke, and Dr. Pepper Coke, and even some Diet Coke.”  He glanced at me, his face full of amusement.  

“Diet Coke,” I said.

“Diet Coke,” he repeated, shaking his head and handing me the can.  “I knew you were gonna say that.  Where is your sense of adventure?  You could go Grape Coke, or Orange Coke, or –”

“Shut up, Tyler.  Before I dump my Diet Coke all over you.”

“See, now you’re getting into the spirit of the movie.  Only, you need more violence, more malice behind it.  This will never do.”

He grabbed his own drink and then plopped down on the couch next to me and set the popcorn on the table.

“You ready?”

I nodded.  “I think so.”

He pressed play and propped his feet on the table and relaxed back into the couch, moving the bowl of popcorn between us.  

So… this movie.  It starts in black and white, right?  And I’m not sure exactly what kind of movies he thought that I watched, but black and white wasn’t normally included.  And I found it hard to watch the movie when he was sitting, like, a foot away, munching on popcorn and sipping Diet Coke.  It was incredibly distracting that all that separated us was the fucking bowl.  And I was really trying to pay attention, because I figured he was going to expect me to talk about it after, and it was really unfair when he was all distracting and shit.  

This chick needed forty grand to marry her dude, and I’m not sure what the fuck kinda wedding she was planning, but I doubt it would have taken that much money—this movie was old.  She steals the dough, gets all shifty with the cops, and winds up at this creepy-ass motel run by this creepy-ass dude, Norman Bates.  I could relate to the chick because I’ve stayed in creepy-ass places that had creep-ass dudes that run them.   The place itself didn’t actually look that bad, and ’cause this chick is stupid, she agrees to have dinner with creepy Norman.  Bad idea.  I’ve made that mistake.  Norman’s a mama’s boy and mama doesn’t approve of Norman getting it on with anyone.  Norman wants to put mama away, but he’s too much of a pussy to do it.  

Creepy-ass gets creepier when he’s a total fucking Peeping Tom watching the chick undress—and I really hope those holes didn’t exist in the motels I’d stayed in, but I think they probably did.  She decides to return the money or something and then Norman’s mama stabs her in the shower.  Ok.  He had dinner with her and now she’s toast?  Harsh.  Norman finds her body and covers it up for mama.  Chick’s dude comes looking for her and mama kills some PI dude, too.  Chick’s dude goes to the cops and the cops are all confused ’cause Norman’s mama died ten years ago.  Uh oh.  Dude and chick’s sister pretend to be married and they look around at the motel.  Dude distracts Norman so chick’s sister can go look at the house, and mama is there all gross and dead and mummy-like.  For ten years.  Ew.  Norman busts in wearing his mama’s clothes and a wig and nearly kills sis.  Ok.  Shit just got crazier.  ’Cause, again… ew.  And holy fucking cross-dressing freak killer!  Tyler’s comment made so much more sense now.

Norman gets busted, and some doctor says that mama is alive in Norman, ’cause he’s a psycho.  No shit, ya think?  If that’s all it took to be a head shrinker, I could fucking do that job.  I had enough experience with psychos.  Anyway, after his dad died, it was just Norman and mama, and when she found someone else, he murdered them both.  ’Cause he’s a fucking psycho, he tried to bring mama back to life in his mind.  Norman’s been killing chicks for quite some time, and again, psycho-ness helped him not realize he was killing people all the fucking time.  Or something.  

At the end, mama’s taken over his mind and shit, and she says some bullshit about proving that she’s harmless by not killing a fly or something.  Then they pull the chick’s car out of a swamp and it’s over.  

What kind of fucking movie was this?  What was that?  What just happened?  What the fuck?  She can’t hurt a fly and that matters… why?  She was fucking dead!  What?  

I sat for a second while the credits rolled and then looked over at Tyler.

“So?”

I shook my head.  “That was one creep-ass motherfucker.”

He laughed, “Yeah, hence the title.”

“I mean… I’ve been in some motels like that one, with really creepy dudes, but…  Jesus, now I’m wondering how many of them had their dead mothers in the back somewhere.  Would have explained a lot of the smells.”

He spit Coke out laughing, and I found that really cute for some reason.  I smiled at him as he wiped the soda off his shirt.  “Did you think it was scary?”

“Pffft, no.  Just another crazy dude.”

He smirked, but I knew he was fishing.  “You been around a lot of crazy dudes?”

I raised a brow at him.  “Besides you?”

“Yeah, besides me.”

“A few.”  I nodded, looking down at my hands.  

He didn’t press, and I was extremely grateful for that.  He switched topics.  “What’d you think of the shower scene?”

I scrunched up my face.  “It wasn’t what I was expecting.  I mean, I guess I expected something more graphic.”

“Right.  Like I said with the power of suggestion.”

“Yeah, I guess.  It was actually not as violent as I figured.  The music was good, though.  I can see why it’s used a lot.”

“Yeah, it’s one of the most famous scenes ever from a movie.  It was pretty hardcore for that time.  A lot of the movie was.”

“Makes sense.”  I nodded.  

“The blood was chocolate syrup.”

“Get the fuck out!”

“Nope, chocolate syrup.  Because it was black and white, it showed up better or something.”

“That’s funny.”

“They made sequels, too, you know.”

“With the same dude?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?  They let him out?”

“He’s crazy, so they put him in the nuthouse instead of jail.  And yeah, they let him out.”

“And he starts killing people again?”

“You want me to tell you?”

“Sure.”

“No.  It’s actually his mother.”

“But… his mother is dead.”

“Nope.  His aunt is dead.  They spun some story that some other lady was his mother, but was in the nuthouse when he was born, so her sister raised him.  But his ‘real’ mother kills everyone in the second movie until he kills her at the end.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.  Only the first one did really well.”

“I can see why.”

His head was resting on the back of the couch and he turned to look at me.  “What time do you have to work tonight?”

“Seven.”

“Hmm… I should probably order something now, then.  Are you hungry?”

I laughed.  “After all that popcorn?”

He shrugged.  “It’ll be, like, at least a half hour.  More if we order from someplace slow or stupid.”

“You order from stupid places?”

“Sometimes.  If they have good food.”

“Yeah, I guess.  Where are you gonna order from?”

“What do you feel like?”

What did I feel like?  Food.  I never understood that question.  I didn’t care what we ate.  And over the years, hearing that question kinda bugged me.  I guess because, for most of my life, what I felt like and what I wanted didn’t matter.  I ate what was there or available.  And the more filling a food was, the better, because I didn’t always know where the next meal was coming from.  I wouldn’t tell him any of that, of course.  I shrugged.  “What do you?”

“I don’t care.”  He shrugged back.

Hmm.  Well, it couldn’t work for both of us to be indifferent.  “It doesn’t matter, Tyler.”  I settled on, smiling.

He watched me for a minute.  Long enough that I was getting uncomfortable with it, like I wasn’t acting like a normal person or something.  I used to get that everywhere—get the feeling that everyone looked at me with either pity or disgust, and I didn’t want pity, or deserve their disgust.  Tyler wasn’t looking at me like that, but just the awkwardness bugged me, too.  I had no real idea why I was getting annoyed.  He wasn’t doing anything.  

I think it was because time with him always seemed too good to be true.  Things just never went this smoothly for me.  Something always came along and fucked it up.  And I probably fucked up enough of them like this, too, by putting up the walls on something that could have been good.  I hadn’t been ready for Doug and Lois, and it wouldn’t have worked, because they wanted something that I couldn’t give them.  I wasn’t ready for their help, and things could have been good if I would have let them.  

So, I realized I had to make a choice here.  Because he was here—he was still trying, and he was still looking for ways in.  He was looking for ways to connect.  It was just that I didn’t even know how to connect with myself, so helping him in was not so easy.  

Fuck, I wasn’t sure who I was.  How could I know?  When he asked me questions, I couldn’t answer them because I’d never really had time to find the answers myself.  Maybe a little more honesty would go a long way.  Hell, what could it hurt at this point?  

I took a deep breath.  “Ok, so… this is the deal: I don’t care what we eat, because I haven’t always known where the next meal was coming from.  So, when you ask me what I feel like, when I say it doesn’t matter, that’s why.”

He blinked for a second and then ran a hand over his head, scratching in the back.  “How about Mexican?”

“Mexican is good.”

“It’ll probably be faster, then.  There’s a Mexican place right around the corner that delivers.  The food’s not that great, but their delivery is fast.  I think we have a menu around here somewhere.”

Well.  That went better than I thought.  Maybe the honesty shit was decent.  

“Their burritos are pretty good,” he suggested, handing me the menu and grabbing the phone.  

I smiled as I looked at the menu.  “I like burritos.”

“What kind?  They have beef, chicken, chicken chipotle, pork, and catfish.  I would skip the catfish.”

I smirked.  “Chicken chipotle.”

His eyebrows went up.

“I like spice.  Did you forget I lived in New Orleans?”

“Right.”  He nodded.  “That’s what you want, then?”

“Yes,” I said, handing it back to him.  “Thank you.”

He nodded once and took the menu back to the kitchen before calling and placing our order.  I didn’t miss the part where he ordered mine as a grande instead of a regular.  Apparently, honesty made him sweeter, if that was possible.  When he came back, he sat down again, and I could tell he was thinking.  

He cleared his throat.  “When did you move to New Orleans?”

“When I was fifteen.”

He nodded.  “You move with your parents?”

I shook my head.  “Nope.”

He nodded again and left it at that.  I liked that he only asked for little bits at a time.  He didn’t expect me to spill everything all at once.  He was quiet again for a minute.  “I don’t want this to sound insulting, ok?”

I looked at him.  “Ok.”

“So, the food thing—is that a current issue, or a past one?  Because if it’s a current one…” he trailed off.

I smiled.  Jesusfuck.  I smiled because I was getting used to being surprised by him, and it was less messy than suddenly bursting into tears.  It still took me a minute to answer him.  “It was a past one,” I said quietly.  “But thank you,” I added, looking down.

“’K.”  He paused again.  “If it’s ever a current one again… let me know, ok?”

I watched his face and there was no pity or disgust.  He was just looking at me like he normally did.  Like it was just a normal part of conversation to talk about that.  I nodded.  I didn’t trust my voice.

“Promise?”

I sighed.  “Yeah,” I said quietly, clearing my throat then.  

He blew out a breath.  “I’m gonna get a beer.  You want one?  Or something else?  Another Diet Coke?”

“Yeah, another Diet Coke would be good.”

I thought it might be awkward when he got back, so I was thankful for even the short break.  It hadn’t been tense or anything, but when he was nice, I just felt… uneasy sometimes.  Like the fact he was nice was so uncommon that I just expected something else, and that was probably really fucked up.  It was fucked up that an asshole put me more at ease than Tyler did.  Or it wasn’t ease—it was just normal.  And I knew that was fucked up and wrong, but it wasn’t something I could control.  I just had to work on being comfortable with nice.  Fuck, that was pathetic.

He came back and handed me the can and picked up conversation like we hadn’t just had that entire talk, and nothing was weird.  

“So, I have an… activity for us for our next date.”

“Wow, pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

He smirked.  “Well, after Psycho, I mean, you can’t possibly get rid of me.  I’m not a murderer, and what other guy would call that a date?  You’re so captivated by my weirdness you just want to stick around to see what I do next.”

If he only knew how much that was true.  

I spent so much time thinking about it that he was starting to fish for my response.  “Right?” he nudged me.

“Sorry, yeah, totally.” And just like that, I erased the lightness, the teasing.

He was looking at me again, the concerned look.  “Everything ok?”

I nodded.  “Yeah, I’m sorry.  I just spaced out there for a second.”  I paused, thinking of how to fix this and not make him question if I was serious about it.  “You lost me somewhere around captivated,” I said.  “What were you saying?”

He twisted his mouth into a grin and brought the beer to it again.  That should have been illegal.  “You know, I don’t have to take this abuse.  There are tons of girls who are just waiting to take advantage of my weirdness.  And you’re totally gonna be pissed you didn’t take part in my activity.”

“Tons of girls?”  I looked around the room.  “In this city?”  I paused and then started again before he could answer.  “You may not be a murderer, but the delusions… those might need to be looked at.  Have you looked for help?  For a doctor for that?  They have special ones just for those kinds of problems.”

He took another pull from the beer and shook his finger at me.  “Do you not recall that my father has a lawyer?  I could sue you for slander or something.”

“Slander?  What the fuck does that mean?”

“Like saying bad shit about me that’s not true.”

“You can sue someone for that?  Fuck, why haven’t I done that my whole life?”

“You can sue someone for a lot less than that,” he said.  

“But what if it is true?” I asked, smirking.

“Well, you’d have to prove it.  And until then, I’m suing.  I’m gonna call him right now.”  He pointed toward the phone.  “And I’m sure he’s going to rush to my defense,” he said flatly.

“You don’t get along with your father?”

He shook his head. “Nope,” he said, letting the ‘p’ pop.

“Why?”

“It’s a long story.”

I had a lot of those.  “What does he do?”

He tipped his head to the side.  “Uhm… he deals in futures.  And options.  Equities.  Foreign exchange.  Fixed income and financials.  Energies.  Metals…” He took a breath. “Agricultural and softs, and security futures products.  Also, trade execution, which I think is the best word for what he does—execution, global clearing, and eBrokerage.”

Say what?  

“Oh,” I settled on.  I let a beat pass.  “What does that mean?”

“Fuck if I know.”

I laughed.  “Ok.”

“Mostly I think it means he gets to be a dick all day long, and then all night, too.  He yells a lot on the phone and in boardrooms, and makes a lot of money for evil people and himself.”

All right, then.  “Ah,” I said, nodding.

“Yeah.  Always has a deal going on.  And it’s never convenient.  He puts work before everything else.”

The food arrived before I could ask him anything else, and really, unless I was willing to start sharing, asking him more wouldn’t have been fair.  

The food was good, and they really meant large when they said grande—they weren’t lying.  I teased him some more about this “activity” he was planning, but he wouldn’t give up what it was.  He assured me he didn’t mean anything sexual, and I hadn’t thought he had, but it was cute he told me anyway.  

He had stuff to do with his sister tomorrow, but he was free for the weekend and he insisted that the activity required him to be at my apartment at 12:30.  Needless to say, I was curious.  And for once, I wasn’t really worried about it—I was actually kinda excited.  It was probably a first.  And he seemed really happy that I was excited.  

When he offered to walk me home, or walk me to the subway, I could also say I really didn’t want to leave.  With a guy, that was probably another first.  So, right before I left, I crossed off another first and I gave him my phone number.  

And I walked home smiling the whole way, because despite the fact I had to go to work, I had something to look forward to.

One (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) |   Two   |  Three  |  Four  |  Five  |  Six  |