Page 85 of Tap Left
I haven’t even been on the app since the incident with Daire, but I can’t bring myself to tell her that.
“Not really.”
“Just not your bread and butter, huh?”
I shake my head. I’m sure there are a lot of nice guys on there after you weed through the bad apples. But they aren’t ThatGuy. They aren’t Daire.
Julian texts me again and tells me he’s got tickets for Super Krunk. They were my favorite band in high school, and I can’t believe they are even still touring. I tell him that’s amazing and I hope he has a great time. He replies and asks me if I want to go, with an added clarification a few seconds later- as friends.
I look up at Mellie, and she’s stuffing another chip into her mouth.
“What?” she mumbles around the food.
“Julian just asked me to come visit him in California.”
“Really?” she washes her mouth out with a margarita and then gives me her full attention. “That would be fun.”
“It would. But it could be weird too.”
“It’s only weird if you let it be weird,” she answers. “You guys have been friends for a long time. No reason to throw that away over one awkward encounter. And besides, you could use a few days off.”
The thought of a vacation sends me into a state of panic, and almost immediately I start to protest. There’s no way I can leave the shop. Mellie cuts me off at the pass. “You’ve got two employees now,” she reminds me. “They can watch it for a couple days. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll even check in on them.”
The offer is tempting. Truthfully, I’m exhausted. And after all of the heavy stuff with Daire, it would be nice to get away. The deal only sweetens when Julian sends another message telling me he’ll pay for my ticket with his points. And if that isn’t enough, he even says he’ll throw in a trip to Disney while I’m there.
I throw a chip at Mellie and shrug. “Looks like I’m going to California.”
38
Lola
California ispalm trees and beachgoers. Fitness fanatics. Joggers, speed walkers, Yogalates instructors, they seem to dominate the streets of LA. And between them, there’s an army of small, well-groomed dogs. Compact ones that fit into trendy purses and spend their days at doggy spas.
Guacamole seems to be a big thing here because it’s on every menu. And when it’s hand-hacked, Julian tells me, that’s when it’s even better. He lives in a condo in the Wilshire Corridor. He tells me it’s exclusive, and I believe him. Like Daire, Julian has done well for himself. Unlike Daire, Julian had quite the head start with his trust fund.
The places he takes me to mean something to him. They are about status, and I think he wants me to be impressed, but I’d have to live in the same world to understand. And I don’t.
I eat cheap nachos and frequent happy hours. My restaurants are picked based upon proximity to my apartment and my current level of laziness. Almost all of my expenses are filtered by what I can snag for the smallest amount of money and also whether or not there’s a Retailmenot coupon available.
This scene isn’t me, and I feel out of place almost the entire time I’m with him. Mellie said it wouldn’t be awkward, but it is awkward sitting here drinking a twenty-dollar martini with him while he points out local business figures and celebrities.
Also, I can’t operate any of the stuff in his condo because everything requires some form of technical knowledge that I’m apparently not schooled in. The lights are operated by phones, and timers and voice-controlled speakers that talk back. Those same speakers also blast from the fridge when I open it in the middle of the night and I really just want the nosy bitch to mind her own business.
Everything about Julian’s lifestyle is flashy and expensive. And that’s great for him. But I miss home. I miss Lou Malnati’s pies, and I swear that when I get back, that’s the first thing I’m grabbing.
The concert is on Saturday and Julian comes out of his room wearing skinny jeans and glasses without lenses in them. I cover my shock with a cough and nod when he asks if I’m ready to go.
The band is an hour late getting on stage, and it’s standing room only. Which would be fine if we weren’t packed in here like sardines. This would be the only place that I’ve been all weekend where we are not separated by class. In this room, we are all one. One sweaty heap of bodies brushing against each other. It’s hot and claustrophobic, and when the music finally comes on, everyone starts jumping around and singing along, and all I can do is cover my ears. It’s too loud to be enjoyable, and I am officially old as fuck.
I feel awful when Julian looks over at me and frowns. He brought me here for this, and I want him to know that I’m grateful. But I also want to keep my hearing for the next thirty or forty years of my life.
“It’s kind of intense,” he yells over the music. “Huh?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Really intense.”
We both try to play it cool for a while longer, but Julian is the first one to crack. “Did you notice that we’re the oldest ones in here?”
I shrug. “Retro is in, apparently.”
