CHAPTER NINE
Loose Lips
The next night I met up with Madison for drinks at the Frolic Room, a small, unpretentious bar on Hollywood Boulevard next to the Pantages theater. It was busy for a Monday night. What little light there was came from a couple of TVs showing a baseball game and some UFO-shaped fixtures overhead. On the wall opposite the bar there was a mural by a famous caricature artist depicting notable figures from Hollywood’s golden age. I’d always liked the low-key ambiance of the place. A scene from one of my favorite movies, L.A. Confidential, was filmed here. I’d also heard a rumor Charles Bukowski used to frequent the bar, but then I’d heard that rumor about every dive in Hollywood.
There were two padded stools open next to each other at the bar, so we took them. Madison patiently waited until the bartender delivered our drinks to start needling me. “So what’s going on with you?” she asked. Her gold nose ring caught the light from the glow of the TV screens overhead. “I haven’t seen you since you bailed on the party. You’re busy every night. You’re not posting on social media. Something’s up.”
There was no point hiding anything from her anymore. The word was out and she’d know soon enough. That didn’t mean I had to spill everything right away, though. A slow reveal was far more satisfying when you had a secret this big. I took a lingering sip of my Moscow mule and pretended to examine the lipstick print on my copper mug. “Maybe.”
“Is this about about a guy?” She shook my arm. Her grip was strong. “Spill it, Ferris.”
The only thing Madison got more excited about than her love life was mine. It hadn’t been easy keeping my relationship with Nick from her, but that effort was about to pay off.
“Okay, yeah. I’m sort of seeing someone.” I felt like a kid with a pocketful of shoplifted candy.
“I knew it!” She smacked her palm flat on the bar. “Now we’re getting somewhere. More, please.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “We’re keeping it light and simple.”
Those were Nick’s words verbatim. I’d agreed, though I was already well past the point of “light and simple.” There were no breaks on this runaway train.
“I have so many questions. Who is it? How did you meet? Do I know him? Is it a him?”
“You *might *know him. Lots of people do.” I twisted on my barstool, waiting for it to click. I counted down, waiting for the penny to drop. “Three, two, one—“
She gasped and threw the lemon peel garnish from her drink at me.
“There it is,” I said, a smug smile on my face. I was enjoying this way too much.
“Get out!” Her outburst earned us a dirty look from a couple a few seats down the bar. When she spoke again her voice was lower, conspiratorial. “It’s not . . . ?”
“It is.” I took another drink. The tangy mixture of ginger and lime filled my senses.
“You said it was nothing. You said he was an ass! What happened to, ‘I don’t date actors. It’s my number-one rule?’” Her exaggerated impression of me was terrible. It cracked us both up.
“I may have underestimated him,” I said.
“Bitch, why didn’t you tell me?” Despite her show of peevishness I could tell she was happy for me.
Before I could respond that I was telling her, my phone vibrated. I held up an index finger while I pulled it out of my purse and checked the screen for the number. Madison pouted in frustration as I accepted the call.
“Hi,” I said into the phone.
“Hi you,” Nick replied. I could hear the smile in his voice on the other end of the line.
Madison wriggled in her seat and silently mouthed, “Is that him?” I spun my barstool away from her.
“Where are you?” he asked. “Sounds loud there.”
“I’m having drinks with Madison at the Frolic Room.”
“I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hello.” There was something in his voice, a hesitancy that was new.
“Well, hello.”
The line was quiet for a few moments. I turned back to Madison and caught her staring over the rim of her cosmo glass. I started to worry my phone had dropped the call, but then he came back. “Are you free tomorrow night? I thought I’d make dinner. At my place.”
I hadn’t been to his house yet. It was a small thing, him inviting me over for dinner, but it represented a big, important step for us.
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. I could hear him moving around on the other end of the line, pacing maybe.
“You like Italian, right? I was thinking I’d make chicken parmesan.”
“That sounds good.”
“Okay,” he said. I heard him suck in a breath. “What time? Seven?”
“Seven works for me. See you then.”
“Yes. Okay. See you tomorrow. I’ll let you get back to your drinks now.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.” The call remained connected, the digital clock on my screen counting up the seconds. “Are you going to hang up?”
“It’s your turn to hang up first,” I said.
Madison rolled her eyes. I couldn’t blame her. I’d probably do the same if I heard someone else having this ridiculous conversation. After we determined it was, in fact, my turn to hang up first, I ended the call. As soon as I put my phone away Madison threw her arms in the air. “Holy shit, Ferris. You’re already at the annoyingly sweet phone call stage?”
“I know.” I stared at the mirrored wall behind the bar, decorated with beer bottles and autographed pictures of celebrities who had patronized the place at one time or another. I was suddenly glad to have someone to talk to about all of this.
I swiveled my barstool toward her. “Can I get your take on something? Putting aside the whole movie star thing, let’s imagine for a minute I’m dating, like, a normal guy.”
“But—” She held her hands out, palms up in frustration.
“For the sake of discussion. Please. Let’s say I’ve been seeing this guy and it’s been, like, more than a month and so far all we’ve done is make out. Like, a lot of kissing at my place, but it hasn’t gone any further. And then he invites me to his place for dinner out of the blue—”
”He wants to have sex with you,” she declared with certainty before I could finish.
“That’s what you get from that?”
“He’s a guy.” She shrugged and took a drink, as if it explained everything. “It’s always about sex.”
“Psh. What do you know about guys?”
“Hey, you asked me for advice. Just because I prefer girls doesn’t mean I don’t know what makes guys tick.”
I stirred my drink, watching the ice in the mug swirl around. “I keep thinking maybe he’s being a gentleman. Maybe he’s waiting for me to be the one to do something. I don’t know.”
“Why are you telling me all this when you should be talking to him?” she asked,
It was a fair question. I’d almost brought up the subject two nights ago, the last time he was at my place. It was past midnight and we were nearly horizontal on my couch when he sat up and announced he had to go. I wanted to ask him to stay, but the words got stuck in my throat. I kissed him goodbye, then got under the covers and finished myself off, imagining my hands were his.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid of what he might say,” I told Madison. He’d never done anything to cause me to question his feelings, but it was hard to let go of the doubt.
“He’s just being cautious,” she reassured me. “Some actors make their partners sign a non-disclosure agreement before they’ll sleep with them. Those come in handy in my line of work. More than you know. The risk is even greater with you because you’re a reporter.”
“Should I go for it then? Stop waiting for him to make a move and take the initiative myself?”
“He was once voted sexiest man alive. I saw it in a magazine so it must be true.”
I snorted and took a long sip of my drink. “I’ve noticed. So what do I do?”
“First of all, you need to chill. Just breathe. It’s going to be fine.”
I took in an exaggerated breath, moving my arms around in a circle in front of me like I was in a yoga class. I felt marginally better. “Then what?”
“Second, stop worring about him making a move. This is it. This is the move.” Madison said.
“You think?” I asked. She nodded her head up and down in an exaggerated motion. I put my hand over my mouth. “Oh my god. This is the move.”
She held up her drink in a toast. “Get it, girl. You’re living the dream.”
I clinked my mug with her glass. “Amen, sister.”