Lush (6 page)

Michael:
Yes brat. It’s a long drive.

Julia:
Then I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m
home. Thanks for worrying. Very paternal of you.

Michael:
And very juvenile of you to say
that.

Julia:
Before I go, what are your plans for
tonight? Don’t read anything into it. I’m just curious.

Michael:
Way to crush a man’s dreams. I reckon I’ll
go over the results from the speed dating and have the compatible
emails sent out. Before I forget, you never handed in your
assessments from the eight dates you did take part in.

Julia:
I know. I wasn’t interested in any of them.
But don’t take it as a sign of failure. I think the format and the
way you present it is perfect. I’m just not into that kind of
thing.

Michael:
Ah yes, you did mention your dislike of
the practice after your colostomy bag eruption all over poor Stan–
I mean Steve.

Julia:
Ha-ha. You are such a comedian.

Michael:
And you are a great storyteller,
Belladonna. Now hit the road. See you Tuesday.

Julia:
Looking forward to it, Mike. Cheers.

Michael smiled as he
reread the messages then tried to turn his attention back to his
work, but it was futile. Julia was making him feel things he hadn’t
felt in what felt like forever. For the first time in about seven
years work was not his primary interest and it felt strangely
liberating. His father had told him many times that he needed to
find a balance, but he hadn’t understood what that meant. Not until
right now.

What was he doing
working on a Sunday evening anyway? He really needed to get a
life.

Shutting down his
computer he grabbed his gym bag and headed out. One of the
downsides of the lifestyle he’d created for himself was that he had
been too busy working to make time for his old friends outside of
carefully scheduled appointments and social events. Now he felt
uncomfortable about calling any of them out of the blue. He’d even
put his sister and parents into the same box and could not bring
himself to break the habit. At least he had the gym at his dad’s
New York office to go to. It was open 24/7 to anyone who had a key
card.

While bench-pressing he
thought back to the first time he’d realised that he was attracted
to Julia. It was the day she hopped on the back of his bike and
demanded that he take her to the derelict parking complex that
Winthrop International had just acquired and would eventually turn
into one of New York’s most exclusive apartment buildings.

Julia had wanted him to
teach her to ride and, as usual, he’d been unable to say no.

As they rode around the
lot and he explained gear shifting she had pressed up against him,
breathing against his neck as she craned her neck in order to study
his hand movements over the clutch, brakes and gas. He had gotten
so turned-on that he’d needed to stop the bike.

Unwilling to let on
that he felt that way about her he had tried to dissuade her from
learning to ride till she was older, but she had been adamant that
she would master riding motorbikes before her fifteenth birthday.
With or without his help. She’d threatened to use her father’s
bike. And she would have too. Her parents often worked the same
shifts at the hospital and Julia would no doubt get on her dad’s
heavy motorcycle and end up hurting herself.

In the end he had given
in and started teaching her. It had been two weeks of torture.

Watching her gain
confidence on his scrambler had been a turn-on of epic proportions.
Her lithe body had moved as one with the bike and her natural grace
had made not salivating over her every move damn near
impossible.

On the last day of
training, after she had successfully handled the bike in wet
conditions, and even the fire hose downpour that he’d created, she
threw herself in his arms and told him, as she often did, “I love
you, Mike! You are the best.”

Normally he’d simply
reply, “I love you too, kiddo.” Except that day, as her sopping wet
cloths melded to her body and her body melded to his, he’d wanted
to say, “I love you, Julia. I’m crazy about you.” He’d wanted to
kiss the daylights out of her and never stop. Instead he’d ruffled
her hair as though she was still just a cute little tomboy and
said, “Right back at ya, kiddo. Now let’s go, I’ve got a ton of
homework to get through.”

*

Text Between Michael
and Julia. Sunday night, 11:30 pm.

Julia:
Hey Mike. Just got in. Traffic was heavy but
made it home safe and sound, so if you’re lying awake worrying
about me you can stop.

Michael:
I was actually a little worried. If you’d
kept me waiting any longer I would have sent out a search party.
Might even have filed a Missing Persons report.

Julia:
Yeah right. You’re probably in bed with a
long-legged bimbo. Tell me, have you guys just had sex, or are you
about to?

Michael:
You’re half right. I am in bed, but I’m
not with a long-legged bimbo. I’m all on my lonesome and snuggled
up with a thrilling book.

Julia:
About long-legged bimbos?

Michael:
About long-dead pharaohs. It’s basically a
history of all the known dynasties.

Julia:
Must be a long book.

Michael:
Very. It spans from 3000 BC till 30
BC.

Julia:
Damn! Good thing you don’t have company.
You’d have put the poor bimbo to sleep.

Michael:
What’s with all the bimbo talk? It’s
getting irritating.

Julia:
Nothing much. Just saw a picture of you with
a long-legged, blond bimbo in the society section of today’s paper
when I stopped for gas on my way home. So sorry my curiosity
irritates you.

Michael:
Ah, you must be referring to the story
about Lush’s meteoric rise to fame as the latest New York,
celebrity hotspot. The blonde’s name is Karolenka Alexandrova and
she’s dating the reporter who wrote that article. By the way, in
case you missed it when you were jumping to assumptions based on
that photo, the reporter’s name Sadie Rivers. For some weird reason
lesbians don’t find me attractive enough to sleep with. So there
you have it. No reason for you to be snippy or jealous.

Julia:
Don’t flatter yourself, Winthrop. I’m not
remotely jealous. Was just concerned that if you’re dating someone
she might not take kindly to you and me attending a ball game
together.

Michael:
I’m not seeing anyone, Kincaid.

Julia:
Oh really? According to the article you’re a
big hit with the ladies of New York. It implied that you have a new
girlfriend every week.

Michael:
Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to believe
everything you read in the papers?

Julia:
But if I don’t believe what I read in the
papers what should I believe?

Michael:
How about you take a leap of faith and
believe me. I’m not seeing anyone. Besides, you said it yourself;
we’re going to the game as friends.

Julia:
Yep, friends. I just don’t want to find our
picture in the paper next week with a caption stating that I’m your
latest flavour.

Michael:
Careful Julia, guys are visual creatures
and the things you’re making me visualise are... intimately
friendly.

Julia:
Hey, Friend, lock that shit down!

Michael:
You started it, Friend.

Julia:
Then I’m ending it. Night, Friend. I’ll see
you on Tuesday.

Michael:
Sweet dreams, Jules.

As Michael put away his
phone and turned off his bedside lamp he thought about the bimbo
comments and what they most likely signified. There was a very good
chance that Julia was into him after all. His feelings for her were
not completely one-sided. If he played his cards just right he
might get the opportunity to live out at least some of the
fantasies he’d dreamed of ten years ago.

***

Tuesday, 5:30 pm.

“Oh my God, Oh my God,
Oh my God! I can’t believe you and my brother are finally going out
on a date!” Kirsten crowed over the phone as Julia tied the laces
on her sneakers.

“Seriously, Kirst?
Three oh my God’s in a row. What are you, twelve and a Bieber fan
who just got to see him flick his stupid fringe live on stage?”

“Catch up, Jules. He
got a haircut and these days he’s showing off his stupid abs and
wearing pants that are ten sizes too big for his scrawny ass.
Anyway, back to the reason for all my oh my God’s. You were so in
love with Mike back when we were kids and now you’re finally going
to get to have him. You have no idea how much I wish I hadn’t been
so busy these last few days. It would have been fun to get together
and discuss his good and bad features over lunch or something.”

“Jesus, woman, he’s
your brother, not a new handbag. And it’s not a real date. We’re
going as friends. Totally plutonic friends.”

Mmm.
Julia
looked her self over in her dressing room mirror and frowned. She
probably shouldn’t be wearing the skimpy, skin-tight, lacy tank top
she was wearing considering that this was not a real date. The
Jeans were fine, but the top? Not so much. Switching her phone to
speaker she ripped the garment off and dug through her underwear
drawer for a t-shirt bra.

“Friends?” Kirsten
cried. “Have you seen him? Heck, if he wasn’t my brother I’d
totally go for him!”

Julia shuddered at the
mental image. “Girl, you are sick and twisted, and not in a good
way.” Feeling a little violated by the topic of conversation she
quickly put on the bra and fastened it.

Kirsten of course
seemed to find no problem with the subject matter and chuckled
merrily. “Yes, I’m a sick and twisted weirdo, but you love me
anyway.”

Julia found herself
chuckling along as she tugged on a fresh t-shirt. One that read
‘LOOK UP!’ over the breast area. Aside from provoking alarming
mental images, Kirsten was the best. “True. Speaking of sick and
twisted, did you meet anyone interesting at the dating orgy? Carve
another notch in the proverbial bedpost?”

Suddenly Kirsten’s
voice was less than bubbly, it was kind of reticent. “Um, no. Don’t
get me wrong, there was some definite talent, but I just wasn’t
interested in scoring.”

“But you’re always
interested in scoring.” The woman was all about milking every last
drop of pleasure out of life. And men were a source of great
pleasure for Kirsten.

She laughed wryly. “I
know, right. I must be coming down with something.”

Her impending non-date
with Michael totally forgotten, Julia focussed all her attention on
her friend. “What’s wrong, Kirsty-pie? Is it the flu or does it
feel more serious? Come to think of it, you’ve been less crazy than
usual for a while.”

In fact now that she
really thought about it, Kirsten hadn’t been totally herself since
the one-year anniversary of her aunt’s death. That was back in
April. At the time Julia had thought that her friend was simply
re-mourning Beatrice Winthrop’s passing because that was the kind
of thing that generally happened when you were reminded of the loss
of a loved one. Only now she found herself wondering if it was
something else entirely.

“It’s definitely more
serious,” her friend replied sombrely. “Maybe even incurable.
Certainly the end of life as I know it.”

“Oh my God! What’s
wrong? Do you need me to come over?”

“I think I’m growing
up.” This was followed by a hoot of laughter. “Relax chick. I’m
totally fine.”

Julia slumped against
the wall in relief. “You just took ten years off my life,
Kirst!”

“Damn. I was aiming for
twenty.”

“Well tell me what’s
really up with you and you might get your wish.”

“I swear, nothing’s
wrong. I just wasn’t in the mood to get it on with some guy who was
desperate enough to try speed dating. Actually it’s more than that.
You’re right, speed dating blows. It’s way too formulaic. Plus I
thought about what you said about competing for attention along
with a bunch of other women and I drew a startling conclusion: I
don’t do competition.”

“Aw man! Did I ruin it
for you with my big mouth and nasty comments? I was just in a
rotten mood. You know I say the dumbest things when I’m
grouchy.”

“Well this time you
actually said something smart. But seriously, don’t sweat it, I
still had fun. Some of those guys were cool to talk with and I did
enjoy myself. I might even take the time to get to know a few of
them if it turns out that we’re compatible. Lush sent out the
emails yesterday.”

“Did you stay till the
end?” That would be a sure way to tell if Kirsten was still her old
self.

“Of course, Silly. I
wasn’t going to leave early when the Cosmopolitans were so
delicious. I must have ordered a new one every three dates.”