Gazelle (4 page)

              She hurriedly scrolls the address on his clipboard.

“
Bu
t…
ho
w’
re you going to get home
?
”
 
Julian asks.

“I’
m not going home. 
I’
m going to that bachelorette party.  I
t’
s only a few blocks from here, I can hoof it
.
”

“
Alright,
I’
ll drop your car off.  Thanks
.
”

              She hands the driver a small wad of bills. 
 “
Her
e’
s fifteen and another ten.  Thank you, have a good night
.
”
              Alice and Julian step onto the curb and watch as the driver begins to hook her car to the tow truck.

“
Wh
y’
d you give him ten extra
?
” Julian asks.

“
You always tip roadside
.
”

“
Really?  I had no idea
.
”

“
Have you ever had a car break down on you
?
”
“
…
No
.
”

“
There you go
.
”

              The two stand for a moment, watching the driver lock her car into place.

“
I can give you a ride
.
”

              She hesitates, frowning at his baseball cap and turned up collar.
 “
Promise yo
u’
re not a serial rapist
?
”
              He laughs and kicks at the asphalt.
 “
I have
n’
t been one recently
.
”

              They drive in relative silence, listening to his radio.  In a few moments, she is going to leave his car and that will be the end.  He will check his voice mail.  Answer his agent.  Go back to the tomb.  Take a hot shower and tug one out.  Fall asleep on satin sheets and wake up to a barrage of meetings and distractions.  The stink of stale cigarette smoke and her cotton candy perfume will be washed away with a cold nigh
t’
s sleep.

“
I
t’
s that house on the lef
t…
the one with the iron fence.  You can stop here
.
”

              She unhooks her belt before the car has stopped moving, as if she ca
n’
t wait to get out of the car.  His heart sinks to think she does
n’
t feel the same connection. 

“
Thanks so much for your help
,
” she says, smiling.  Her eyes squint above her cheeks.  Her hair bounces in a ridiculous lump on the top of her head, tiny, thick triangles of dark baby hair dangling from the corners her round forehead.  He smiles back, pushing the brim of his hat up.  She hesitates a moment, then digs through her bag.  She pulls out a tiny brass case with the initial
s‘
S
A
’ engraved on the cover.  She hands him a card with a picture of a screaming cat, eyes bulging, tongue hanging out, and her name, website and number. 

“
I had a lot of fun with you.  I mean, in a completely non-sexual, platonic friend way.  If you ever want to jus
t…
decompress and hang out, call me.  My lif
e’
s maybe not as exciting as yours bu
t…
we could just get coffee or something
.
”

              His heart skips and he nods vigorously
.“
I definitely will.  Definitely
.
”

              She hops out of the car, peeking her head in once more.
 “
It was nice meeting you, Julian
.
”

“
You, too.  Have fun
!
”
“
Always
!
”

              It was only after he was lying in bed, staring up at the skylight, did he realize she had called him by his real name.

2.

              After an hour, the lighting on the set feels like tiny knives on his eyes.  Jakob, the photographer, relentlessly snaps pictures while barking a cacophony of encouraging commands.  Julian struggles to look unaffected in his two-piece, beige Vuitton suit that has become a lead weight on his skin beneath the heat of the lamps.  The make-up assistant frantically powders the sweat off his long, chiseled nose and chin.  He glances at CeCe who moves casually to Jakob and calls the shoot.

“
Okay, everyone
,
” Jakobsighs, irritably.
 “
I think we got it.  Julian, honey, you look gorgeous as always
.
”

“
Thanks
,
” Julian mumbles, instantly removing his blazer and tie as he heads to his dressing area.  A swarm of hands move about him, handing him bottled water and tugging off his clothes.  He spreads his arms as they handle him like a doll.  In seconds, he is standing in his tank top and boxers.

“
That was memorable
,
” he growls to CeCe who gives him his jeans.

“
It will be.  Those shots will be everywhere.  GQ called while you were shooting.  I scheduled for another one of these next Tuesday
.
”

“
Jesus, CeCe
.
”
“
Do
n’
t blame me.  Your agent moves fast.  This is it, hon. Get use to it
.
”
              He shrugs on his black t-shirt and slicks his sandy hair back.  He glances at his reflection, noting the excessive powder over his stubble.  Quickly, he grabs wipes and scrubs at his face until only the stubble and raw skin remain.

“
I know.  I just fucking hate it
.
”
“
Yes, and you need to change that.  Your hatred is coming through the lens
.
”

“
Do
n’
t kid yourself, CeCe
,
” he sighs.
 “
Tha
t’
s what they want.  Nothing sexier than a man wh
o’
s repulsed
.
”

              He jerks his head to Jakobwho is laughing and smiling triumphantly with his assistant while they scroll through the pictures on his tablet.  They look up at him, waving and giving him
a‘
thumbs up
.
’ He returns a tight-lipped smile and gestures to CeCe a confirmation.

“
Ready for the Foundation meeting
?
”
              He groans and tugs his hat on.  With a swift motion, he grabs his phone and wallet, shoving them in his pockets and avoiding her gaze.

“
Julia
n
…” CeCe begins.

“
Did you get the car
?
”
“
Julia
n
…”

“
Prius, right?  Tinted
?
”
              She frowns at him, pulling keys from her purse and handing them to him.

“
Yo
u’
re going to drive yourself there, right
?
”

“I’
m skipping it.   Something came up
.
”

“
Julian, you ca
n’
t jus
t‘
ski
p
’ this.  They set this up three months ago.  Yo
u’
re thei
r‘
face
.
’
 
They have a contract
.
”
“I’
m still thei
r‘
face
.
’
 
My face is all theirs.  Go in my place,take down the where, the when and the why.  Give me my lines and tell me where to be and
I’
ll be there
.
”

“
The Paula Dell Foundation, now
.
”

“
Just not now, okay?  Make it just not now
.
”

              She sighs exasperated and folds her arms.
 “
Fine.  But yo
u’
ll be at Warne
r’
s.  No excuses
.
”

“
E
h…
wher
e’
s the car parked?  What color is it
?
”
“
Julian!  I
t’
s Warne
r’
s
!
”

“
I know! 
I’
ll-call if I ca
n’
t make it
!
” he says as he starts towards the door.

              She follows after him, panicking.
 “
Oh, no you do
n’
t, not again! 
I’
m calling Michael right now
!
”

“
See?  Mik
e’
s going to be there, yo
u’
ll be there, youreally do
n’
t
need
me!  Tell them I had an emergency
,
” he laughs, running away from her.

“
Julian! What the fuck?
!
” she shouts, the room falling quiet as they watch him run out of the building.

Julian: Hey.

              He pulls out of the parking lot and rips down the street, pulling into a small strip mall off Sunset, tapping the phone against the wheel as he waits.  Less than a minute passes before she responds.

Alice: Who dis?

Julian: Dennis.

              Alice, still in bed with her make up caked to the pillow, her hair a tangled mass around her face, bolts up and cringes as a wave of nausea and spins hits her.  She grabs her bottled water, chugs it and responds.

Alice)I thought yo
u’
d never call!

              He laughs and subconsciously turns the volume down on his radio.

Julian: I
t’
s literally been 12 hours.

Alice: What, are you bored?

Julian: Of course.  Being a dentist and all.  What r u doing?

Alice: Trying not to puke my guts out.  What r u doing?
Julian: You had fun then? 
I’
m sitting in a parking lot talking to you. What are your plans today?

Alice: Errands.  I have to pay some bills and get my car.  Wanna?

Julian: Run errands?  I would love to!

Alice: Seriously?

Julian: Sure!  Beats a root canal.

Alice: Depends on the bill you have to pay, I suppose.  If you mean it, come get me.

              Julian pulls up to a 193
0’
s apartment complex of tiny cottages.  The undulating yards are strewn with clotheslines and deteriorating gardens of broken, rusted furniture and weeds.  He makes his way cautiously to the back unit, the most colorful of them all.  Bright, primary colored pots overflowing with succulents and tomato plants line the side of the building.  Yellow, billowing curtains dangle and sway gently with the breeze inside two large, open windows.
 ‘
Grime
s
’ blares from inside, along with the sharp, deep bark of a dog as he knocks on the screen door.  He hears her shout at the dog and turn the radio down before swinging the door open and beaming at him.  Her hair is wrapped in a purple towel, her face is stripped of make-up, looking brighter and younger than her late twenties.  She wears a ripped blue sweater over a pink tank top, short jean shorts over white leggings and a pair of converse.

“
Come in
!
” she says, giving him a quick hug.  He takes in her clean scent and moves cautiously into the space.  Every wall surface is covered in pictures and posters.  Some are portraits rendered in classical realism.  Some are simply splotches of dazzling colors stretched over large areas in geometric shapes.  There are subway posters of Rocky and Crocodile Dundee next to giant images of James Cagney and Gary Cooper covering the ceiling.  The furniture is sparse; a futon, a small, old TV resting on top of a DVD player, a bookshelf overflowing with books and a large, cluttered drafting table covered in images, paintbrushes, markers and paper. 

“
Who
a
…” he whispers, overwhelmed by the intensity of his sudden claustrophobia.  It was the exact opposite of Mik
e’
s tomb.

              The dog barks again and he looks down at it for the first time.  It has the head of a pit bull and the body of a tiny dog, simultaneously ferocious and comical.

“
This is Dirt Bag.  H
e’
s harmless, I promise
,
” she says as she lets his leash go.  The dog rushes to him and immediately begins sniffing.  Julian puts a long hand to him and the dog licks him adoringly.

“
Wow, he likes you.  I was totally lying right now,h
e’
s a total asshole.  He usually bites everyone
.
”

              Julian yanks his hand back
.“
Seriously
?
”
              She laughs as Dirt Bag grabs a toy and drags it to Julian, dropping it at his feet.
 “
No.  H
e’
s an absolute angel.  I like to tease.  Come in,
I’
ll give you th
e‘
grand tour
.
’
 
Tha
t’
s the kitchen
,
” she says, pointing to a tiny sliver of a sink, stove and refrigerator covered from top to bottom in family pictures.
 “
Back here is the bathroom.  And ther
e’
s the bedroom
.
”

              Julian pokes his head into the bathroom, still steaming from her shower.  A stall, a toilet, a giant ivy plant growing along the edges of the shower and down to the exposed sink and tiny medicine cabinet.  He moves to the bedroom, which is larger than the living room and kitchen combined.  There is hardly anything in the room except a queen size mattress on the floor, covered in a white goose down and pale, blue pillows, a clock resting on the edge of the window seal, and a small stack of books in the corner.

“
I
t’
s empty
,
” he says.
 “
I mean, relatively speaking, compared to the rest of the place
.
”

“
Yeah, I like to have a space clean for my dreams.  Do you want anything to drink?  I have tea and almond milk
.
”
“
No,
I’
m good
.
”

“
Okay, give me a second.  I need to slap on some make-up.  Have a seat and
I’
ll be right out
.
”

              He wanders back to the living room and strolls around, studying the art.  The initial color assault has faded and he begins to absorb the work.  Beautiful, tender images of strange creatures and sad people like out of one of Fellin
i’
s circus movies.  Clowns without their make up, each face in mid contortion, about to betray an emotional state they can no longer suppress.

“
These are all your paintings
?
” he calls.
 “
The
y’
re good.

“
Thanks.  Most of them are mine.  Some of them are from friends.  My friend, Trina is a great artist.  Tha
t’
s her picture of Rocky Balboa after his defeat.  She made it for me for Valentin
e’
s one year
.
”
              He studies the bruised face of Sylvester Stallone over the television set.  Glittering red hearts surround his battered, exaggerated face with the wor
d‘
Winne
r
’ scrawled in calligraphy across the bottom.

“
Romanti
c
…” he laughs.