Live Love Rewind: The Three Lives of Leah Preston (12 page)

Leah crossed her arms.

Astrid laughed. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“No!”

“Really? I like Josh’s tight little buns.”

Leah stood up from the table. Astrid reached out, catching her wrist. “I’ll behave, promise.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I don’t think I want to tell you. Not while you’re leaning over me, all sour-faced.”

Exasperated, Leah sat down.

“Okay, here goes,” Astrid said. “Like I told you, it wasn’t exactly an accident when you walked in on us. I knew if I didn’t answer the door, you’d come in. You were late, by the way.”

Leah just looked at her.

“You’re forgiven. I found something to occupy my time.” Astrid grinned.  “So I unplugged the television set –”

“So I’d hear you guys…doing it.”

“I didn’t want us to get drowned out by the evening news.”

Leah thought,
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

Astrid said, “Josh likes it when people watch. He was turned on by the thought of you seeing us.”

“You went along with him?”

“Truth to tell, I found it a little sexy, too.”

Leah was stunned. “I don’t believe you. Remember when we went to Black’s Beach?”

“The nude beach in San Diego? Yeah.”

“I had to drag you down the walkway. You wouldn’t even remove your sunglasses, much less your swimsuit.”

“How long ago was that, girlfriend?”

“You nearly had a panic attack when we passed the Senior Center’s volleyball game!”

“I’ve changed.” Astrid looked up when Fogarty, the club’s owner, put a plate of fried zucchini on the table. “You know, Foghorn. Tell her.”

“She’s definitely a new woman,” Fogarty agreed in his rich, deep voice. His broad, friendly face shifted with an inner amusement.  “I’ve known you girls for a long time and I’m telling you, little Astrid Iversen is not the same sweet child she used to be.”

“No one changes that much.”

“Believe it,” Fogarty said, pouring a pair of drinks. “Instead of your usual spritzer, let’s try this. On the house. A little Romanian variation on the theme, a şpriţ de vară.”

Wiping his bar towel over a splash of liquid on the tabletop, he told Leah, “Last month, as I was locking up, I caught Astrid and her boyfriend in the unisex bathroom. They were, um…actively engaged in some vigorous interpersonal communication.”

Leah stared at her friend.

“I only wish they’d used the game room,” he said. “The pool table has to be more comfortable than a toilet stall.” His heavy laugh filling the space, he returned to the bar.

Astrid said, “I’ve made some pretty obvious changes. New hairstyle, sexier clothing. I’m a lot more open. You haven’t noticed because we’ve only been seeing each other in art class.”

“You found a guy. New boyfriends always fill up some free time.”

“I’m not as reserved as I used to be. A lot more fun.”

“I don’t think I’d call it ‘fun’,” Leah snapped.
God, I sound like such a prude
. Softening her tone, she added, “What happened to you? Was it Josh?”

“Not for a second.” Reaching into a canvas bag, Astrid brought out a book. “It’s this.”

The cover appeared to be made of leather and, even in this dim light, the entire volume showed age and wear. Astrid pushed it across the table.

Leah read the title:
Sun Zu’s The Art of Whore
.  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Deadly serious.”

“You’re studying to be a whore?”

“A lady in public, a whore in the bedroom. Isn’t that what they say every man wants? Although, I know, I haven’t been such a lady in public lately….”

Taking a sip of her spritzer, Leah busied herself by checking the time on her cell phone. “I’ve got to get going, really. I wasn’t lying about my manuscript. It’s not halfway done and the deadline’s almost here.”

“Quit binge-fantasizing over Chris Stark and you’ll get it done.” Astrid sipped at her drink. “You know, this tastes good.”

“Enjoy your book.”

“It’s not mine, I was just lucky enough to find it.”

Leah rolled her eyes.

Astrid said, “In 500 B.C., there was this Chinese general named Sun Tzu and he wrote a treatise called ‘The Art of War’. You ever hear of it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve heard of it, I never read it.”

“Tzu wrote about the strategy of battle, about defeating your enemies without going into combat. While he was putting his book together, one of his contemporaries, Sun Zu, was interested in a different kind of battle.”

“The Art of Whore,” Leah interjected. Despite herself, a sarcastic edge colored her words.

“He talks about winning love without having to engage in all of the unnecessary bullshit that colors a new relationship,” she replied. “He takes you through the initial steps of winning true love.”

From out of nowhere, Leah heard her own voice echo in her head:
I want to find my one true love. That’s what I really want.

“Are you all right?” Astrid asked.

Taking the glasses from her face, Leah rubbed at the corners of her eyes. “Just feeling a little…odd.”

“Look, when I helped you paint your bathroom, you said you owed me a favor. I’m calling it in. I want you to read this book.”

Leah thought about it. In the past, Astrid would never have made this type of demand. Recently, however, she’d become much more outspoken. She’d been acting with more confidence, too.

Her change in attitude had paid off. At work, she’d received the promotion she’d been chasing for over a year and her love life had flowered. In short, she was happy for the first time in a long time.

“Later,” Leah tried. “Once I’ve finished ‘Twilight Tales’, I’ll seriously consider it. After I’ve met my deadline.”

“After the deadline, you’ll find a new excuse. You’ll have another novel to write, then another and another. You said so yourself, it’s one of the curses of being a novelist these days. If a writer wants to pay their bills, they can never get off of the treadmill.”

Leah knew Astrid was right. While there were some days when she loved sitting at the word processor, her joy in being a wordsmith had slowly diminished. The unrelenting grind of the job was the biggest reason why
Twilight Tales
was so far behind schedule.

Picking up a golden circle of zucchini, she bit it in half. It’s warm, salty taste filled her mouth as she tried to think of another reason not to carry the ancient tome back to her house.

Just looking at the cover, I’ll think of Josh showing himself to me. Knowing I was watching. With Astrid beneath him, wanting me to watch.

I’d rather lose those memories, thank you.

“I’ve read over Sun Zu’s advice so often, I can actually quote most sections,” Astrid said. She placed the book in Leah’s hands. “It’s your turn to do some studying. You have to promise.”

Leah quickly flipped through the pages. The volume was short, so that was a plus. There were illustrations between the chapters, further reducing its length. She could read through it in a few hours.

The pages were so old, she could almost smell the dust on them.

“You’re barely glancing at the pages,” Astrid accused her.

“Whatever.” She clapped the book closed. “When I can, I’ll give it a try.”

“Green paint dripped onto my hair and it took forever to get it out. I expect you to do more than try.”

“I’ll read it, okay? You win.” In the end, Leah decided, it wouldn’t matter. She owned a shelf full of self-help books and not one of them had ever created a lasting change in her life. 

Words on a page could never do that.

Chapter Five

“So a few days pass and you’ve already met your dream man?” Leah said into the phone.

“Did I use those words?” Mary Ellen responded. “I said I went to a line dance and struck up a conversation with a good-looking guy. A widowed rancher who, it so happens, knows a few things about genealogy.”

“A cowboy who dances and shares an interest in your favorite hobby? How can he not be the man of your dreams?”

“The man of my dreams would ask me out on a date.”

“Maybe he’s shy.”

“Shy is cute, when the guy is sixteen and you are, too. It’s a lot less cute when your crush is a full-grown man. Hunter asked me out after a single Tequila Slammer.” 

“What’s going on with Hunter, anyway?”

“He took his new girlfriend and the two of them moved to a trailer in Asshat, Texas. May they both rot in Hell.”

“As long as you’re not bitter.”

“How about you? Anything happening with Professor Handsome?”

I never should have shared his nickname,
Leah thought. She wished now that she hadn’t mentioned him at all. As far as Mary Ellen was concerned, Parkins checked off all of the boxes on Leah’s Dream Lover Checklist.

Gorgeous?
Check.

Sexy accent?
Check.

Intelligent?
Check.

Talented?
Check.

Unobtainable?
It wasn’t any part of Leah’s wish list but it was definitely part of her reality. Mary Ellen could put a check mark beside that one, too.

“Where there’s life, there’s hope,” Leah said, feeling completely hopeless. “Talk to you in a few days, ‘kay?”

Ending the call, she rolled over on her bed and returned the phone to its base.
The Art of Whore
sat beside the base, purposely ignored. She’d left the book on the top of the nightstand, undisturbed, since the night she’d carried it home from
After Hours
.

Glumly, Leah considered the ancient tome.
I promised. I have to at least try.

Although I could just say I’d read it.

She hated to lie, though, especially to a friend. Besides, Astrid knew her too well. She’d ask her questions about what she’d read, Leah would try to bluff, and she’d get caught. It wasn’t worth the grief.

Pulling a blanket up to her chin, she reached for the book. “You are an utter waste of time. In a few weeks, Ian goes back to England and I’ll never see him again. He won’t remember me from Adam – or Eve, for that matter – but I’ll probably never forget him.”

Vaguely hopeful that this tattered relic might somehow give her a way to forestall the inevitable, she opened the book. The smell of dust returned as she viewed the cover page. The illustration was wonderfully drawn, its delicate lines depicting a lovely Chinese woman. The woman’s kimono was open, her breasts exposed, and she gazed at the viewer without shame.

“If I looked like you, I’d walk around topless, too,” Leah told the drawing.

Flipping past the title page, she considered the Table of Contents. Each chapter had its own heading:

The Opponent

The Supplicant

The Watcher

The Aggressor

The Conqueror

Just five chapters,
Leah noted
. The titles aren’t too inspiring, they sound like something out of a kung-fu flick, but I can do five chapters standing on my head.

I’ll be done before I go to sleep.

She turned to the first chapter, only to find a new illustration. The Chinese woman was naked in this drawing, her kimono crumpled at her feet. Comfortable in her nudity, the woman’s legs were spread. A man knelt between her legs, his mouth on her sex.

“Ah,” Leah said. Abandoning the text, she flipped to the next illustration.

Completely exposed, the woman sat across from her lover, her legs open and her ankles resting on his shoulders. He was wearing some kind of ceremonial gown, open at the waist with his penis erect. He was about to penetrate his lover.

Leah felt herself grow moist. Belatedly aware she was touching herself, she slammed the book shut.

No, no
, she told herself
. Oh, no.

Masturbate? To drawings?

How desperate am I?

Returning the book to the nightstand, she flipped the switch on the bedside lamp and the room went dark.

Punching at her pillow, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

# # #

At first, she wondered where she was. While the space around her was similar in size and shape to her own bedroom, it felt foreign. There was the same type of nightstand as the one she owned and a crude but inspiring buffalo bowl, like the piece she’d been given as a child. It was the buffalo bowl that had first interested her in sculpture.

The rest of the room was less familiar. The floor was made of bamboo while the mattress beneath her was thin and rested directly on the floor.