Love Bites

“What’s that?”

“He’s my boss. Does that mean I have to quit?”

“Absolutely not.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, like he’d majored in corporate adultery. “Here’s what you do. You walk into work on Monday like nothing ever happened. If he tries to bring it up, you casually tell him that you think you should keep your relationship strictly professional.” He paused, taking a sip of the martini. His face puckered from the taste, and he took a straight shot from the vodka bottle instead. “The guy isn’t going to say shit. If he’s your boss, he could lose his job for pulling something like that.”

Hmm. He had a point.

“But seriously, though, why the tears?” He cocked his head to the side. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this, since you’re Renee’s best friend and all, but Justine, you’re gorgeous. You could have anyone you want. Was this guy really that great?”

I thought back to all the days I had spent with Vincent, joking around in his office, flirting at happy hours. We shared the same sense of humor, I admired his intelligence, and I was crazy attracted to him. He was definitely part of the reason I was upset, but it was more than that.

I was sick of the Vincents of the world. Sick of disappointing my parents. Sick of envying my best friend for having a great guy and wondering if my turn would ever come.

In short, I was lonely.

“I did like him,” I said. “I’ve dated a lot since I moved here, and I really thought that this time it was going to work out.”

“LA’s a different scene, that’s for sure. But, like anywhere, you have to take the good with the bad. On the downside, there are a lot of douches on the dating market. On the upside, it’s 75 degrees year-round.” His eyes lit up. “Speaking of, I have an idea. You have a pool here, right?”

I nodded. The pool was our apartment’s greatest selling point. It was heated, secluded, and open 24 hours.

“I say we go for a swim and exchange worst-date-ever stories.” He tossed me a knowing look. “If anything will cheer you up, it’s the David Whitman dating rolodex.”

I looked down at my outfit hesitantly. After the night I’d had, even the thought of selecting a bikini seemed exhausting. But David’s damn puppy eyes and taunting dimples were impossible to resist.

“Fine,” I surrendered. “But you’d better have some damn good stories.”

The pool was exactly what I needed. The warm water on my skin made my experience with Vincent seem like it was nonexistent. I felt like a kid again.

When I was in the third grade, my father lost his job and we had to live with his parents for a year until he and my mother got back on their feet. While my parents were devastated, I was elated because my grandparents had a giant built-in pool in their backyard.

I always remember that summer being the best of my childhood. My friends from school would come over and we’d swim all day. Sometimes we’d play games (“The Little Mermaid” had made its debut the year prior), and other times we’d just hang out on the blow-up rafts. But I’ll never forget the feeling of happiness that came from the water.

That was exactly how I felt right now, swimming around in my pink-and-white-striped bikini. I’d chosen a girl-next-door type of suit, as I didn’t want to bust out the thong bikini and give David the wrong idea. David seemed to sense my ease once we started splashing around. He kept looking at me with a proud-dad smile, like he was happy he’d made the suggestion.

The great thing about our pool was its seclusion. It wasn’t connected to our apartment building at all. You had to walk through the parking area to get to it, and even then it was fenced in, so you couldn’t see in from the outside. Luckily, our apartment management was very low-key and didn’t close it at a certain time. The glowing blue pool lights stayed on all night, unlike a lot of other buildings that closed the swim area at ten.

“Okay,” David said, resting his arm on the ledge. “Worst date ever. Go.”

I had to pick just one? This could take a while…

“I met a guy at the W hotel last year, who introduced himself as D.X.X.” I used hand quotations as I said the acronym. “I refused to call him this idiotic term, but he insisted it was his name.”

David was already laughing. “Don’t you love how no one in Hollywood uses their real name? It’s like, if they tell people their name is John Smith, they’re destined for career failure.”

“Yeah, well, he was cute, and I was drunk, so I agreed to go out with him.” I sighed, partly wishing I hadn’t agreed to divulge this horribly embarrassing story to a gorgeous guy. “I met him at Katana, that sushi place on Sunset, the next night and he tells me that if I want to have a few drinks, I can stay at his place since he lives right next door. He promised to be a perfect gentleman.”

“Famous last words,” David joked.

“Well he was, at first. We both fell asleep shortly after we got to his house. But then I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard a weird noise and I look over, and the guy is kneeling above me on the bed, jerking himself off.”

“While you were sleeping?” David threw his head back and laughed loudly. “That’s got to be illegal somehow.”

I lowered my head, mortified.

He waved his hands in front of him like he was surrendering. “Okay, I’m starting to understand the martini pity-party.” He swam closer to me. “I went home with a girl once, after our first date. We were taking our clothes off, having a good time, and then she tells me that I don’t have to use a condom. Because she’s already pregnant.”

I was feeling better already.

“I went out with an actor once,” I said. “And I asked him what he did when he wasn’t shooting. He started running his hands over his body and said ‘well, not to be cheesy, but my job is to maintain this’.”

“Stop it.”

“That wasn’t even the bad part. The bad part was that my gorgeous classmate showed up at the same restaurant we were at, and he immediately dropped the douche act and invited her to join us. He ignored me for the rest of the dinner and stared at her fake boobs the entire time.”

“So how was the second date?”

“Funny.”

David grinned. “I went out with an actress once, too. The date was awesome, actually, until her fiancé showed up at the restaurant and punched me in the jaw.”

“You’re lying.”

He pointed to a small scar on his chin. “I don’t date actresses any more.”

Okay, I was really starting to feel better. If a hot catch like David had just as bad of a track record as I did, then maybe there wasn’t something wrong with me.

David paddled in a circle around me, then lifted me up and tossed me underwater. After I came back up and wiped my face, he pulled me towards him.

“Well, Justine, I have good news and bad news,” he announced, looking into my eyes ever-so-seriously. “The bad news is that I officially made the worst martini ever, therefore I’m not in the best shape to drive home.” His lips twitched devilishly. “The good news is that I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

Chapter 7 (#ulink_eba77053-7875-5c6d-ba09-1d9021306a6c)

Renee had decided to start house-hunting. I think it was partially because she couldn’t stand living in a cramped condo filled with boxes, and partially because she needed a new project to work on. Renee couldn’t sit still. She loved writing, and when she wasn’t working on a freelance assignment, she was managing Dylan’s band. And when she wasn’t managing Dylan’s band, she was searching for somewhere else to direct her energy.

Today, she’d decided to focus her energy on houses. Dylan was at rehearsal and wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it in time, so she’d elected me to be her co-conspirator for the afternoon.

I agreed to meet her at a new real-estate company in the city. Apparently they were headquartered in New York but had recently opened a Boston location. A friend of Renee’s had referred them, so she’d made an appointment to go in and meet with one of the agents. I couldn’t think of a less fun way to spend the afternoon, but Dylan had promised to meet us after his rehearsal, so I hoped I’d be off the hook soon enough.

The Keller office was bright and beautiful. Everything seemed to be made of glass or granite: a vibrant, open space. The receptionist looked up from her computer as I walked in.

“Welcome to Keller Realty,” she greeted. “Do you have an appointment with us today?”

I pointed to Renee, who was already seated in the lobby, filling out paperwork. “I’m with her,” I said. Renee smiled and waved me over.

I strolled across the office and sat down next to Renee, still admiring the surroundings.

“Nice office, huh?” Renee asked, following my gaze.