Page 6 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition
“It’s not ready yet.”
He grabs a mug from the open shelf and slams it down on the counter. “Pour it now or suffer the consequences.”
“You’re an uncultured ass.”
“You’re an overcultured dork. That smells amazing.”
“It’ll taste better in two minutes.”
“Fine.” He plops down on the bench at the enormous table and yawns again. “I was thinking about it, and I don’t want you working at a perfume store or a perfume counter.”
“That is unfortunate, because that’s the only kind of business I’ve been sending my resume to.”
“Yeah. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I just got a master’s degree in Scent Design and Creation. What job do you think would be more appropriate for me while I’m setting up my Etsy store?”
“Anything that doesn’t require you to speak to or be exposed to men in any way.”
I roll my eyes. Here we go again. “The customers at perfumeries and perfume counters are ninety-five percent female.”
“Exactly. Find a job that’s a hundred percent female consumer-oriented and do that.”
“So I should be a former TV star turned singer-songwriter and sometime bartender?”
“Hey, I have guy fans too. I mean, my friends are fans. But how about this—you can wait tables at The Hotel Café when I’m tending bar or doing a show there.” Nico was a bartender for about a year when he was transitioning from acting to his music career, but he still does it sometimes for fun.
“But you only tend bar when you feel like it. That’s a ridiculous idea—I’d have to work way more hours than that.”
“Well, I’ll tell my friends there to watch out for you when I’m not around.”
“Brother, dear. I am twenty-four years old. I hate to tell you this, but?—"
He covers his ears. “La-la-la-la-nooooooo! Don’t say it. You’re the baby. Guys in LA are super horny.”
“More horny than European men? I doubt it.”
“Okay I really don’t want to hear about horny European men.”
I press the plunger of my French press down slowly then pour my brother a cup.
He still thinks I’m so inexperienced. The little sister in me wants him to keep thinking that because it’s cute how protective he is. The twenty-four-year-old woman in me is like,Dude. I’ve had sex with two men who were older than you.Not at the same time. Separately. One was English and one was Italian. Neither were anything to write home about. But still. I’ve engaged insoixante-neuf.In France. With a Frenchman. It was awkward as fuck and I’d rate it about acinqueout ofdixfor execution,but I did it. I can handle myself just fine. I’ve just yet to meet a man who can handleme.
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Maybe I should just stay with Harley until I can afford my own place.”
“Absolutely not, young lady. That girl is trouble.”
“She isn’t trouble.”
She totally is trouble.Harley is my friend from Cornell. We lived in the same residence hall, and while I was getting my chemistry degree, she was studying Computing in the Arts. Now she does computer graphic stuff for films and stalks male models at gyms, I think. She invited me to stay at her place, but she has a one bedroom and a roommate and there would be no room for me to set up all of my fragrance supplies. Plus, her roommate sprays Febreze everywhere, and it would completely mess up my nose.
And besides, the main reason I chose to move to LA for now is to be with family. I passed up a job as a lab assistant at a major perfume house in Paris so I could be back in the US and start doing my own thing. I can’t start my career in our hometown suburb of Detroit, so my brother’s futon will have to do. He’s just being crabby because he thinks he can’t bring a girl home while I’m here. I mean, I don’t want him to bring a girl home while I’m here either, but does he not have carnal relations with women who have their own homes?
“This is good,” he says, staring down at his mug of coffee and nodding. “This is good. You make good coffee.”
“Thank you.” I serve him a plate of eggs and turkey bacon. Let’s change the subject. “What are you going to do today?”
“I’m supposed to meet up with Shane later. You want to come?”
