The Love Laws (16 page)

The theatre was
still and empty around them and his voice seemed to echo, loud and desperate in
the large space. He hoped the dim lighting hid some of the disappointment on
his face as Jamie gently removed her hands from his grip and stepped away from
him.

She wrung her
wrists and took a deep breath. “Kevin. I’m sorry. I totally messed this up.
Despite what happened a few minutes ago I’m not in the market for a boyfriend
right now.”

He crossed his
arms to avoid reaching out and shaking her. “Not in the market for a boyfriend?
Or not in the market for a boyfriend like me?” He asked sarcastically.

She shrugged.
“Neither. I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

“Bullshit.” He
barked. Taking a deep breath he gentled his tone slightly. “My life isn’t
exactly stable right now either. But it doesn’t prevent me from going after
something that I think could be incredible.” He paused for a moment, watching
her face to see if she agreed, but her expression remained mulish and closed
off. “Then you’re either a coward because you’re afraid to make the effort and
fail or you’re just making excuses. Which is it?”

She put her
hands on her hips and raised her chin defiantly. “Fine. If you really must
know. I am making excuses. I was trying not to hurt your feelings.”

Kevin glared at
her. “Jamie. I’m a big boy. Just tell me the real reason. Then I’ll leave you
alone and we can both get on with our lives.”

“The truth is
that even if my life was on track, I wouldn’t want to pursue something real
with you. You seem like a nice guy, Kev. But as you pointed out, you’re not
exactly in a good place right now. Even if I ignored the whole man-whore aspect
of your past, you’re obviously in the middle of some kind of crisis. Why would
I take that on? Why would anyone? Chemistry is great but not at that price.”

“But you admit
we have chemistry?” He latched onto that bit of information like a drowning man
to a life preserver. If she would acknowledge their attraction then maybe he
could use that to get close to her and convince her there was more between
them. Besides, he didn’t want to focus on the rest of her explanation. She’d
struck too close to the truth about his situation and he wasn’t ready to deal
with what was at the root of his downward spiral.

“Kevin.” She
gave him a pitying look. “I’ve been around enough to realize that real relationships
are based on respect. Common goals. Shared interests also play a big role. You
and I don’t have any of that. I’m looking for a guy who wants to share my life.
Not just my bed.”

Kevin nearly
howled in frustration. “But I want that too. Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?”

Jamie touched
his arm gently. “You don’t even know me. And what you do know isn’t very nice. You
said it yourself. I’ve been running from you and insulting you since the moment
we met. If you think about it you’ll realize that the Jamie you’ve been chasing
after isn’t such an angel at all. In fact, she’s kind of a bitch.” He shook his
head in denial but she ignored him and continued. “I think what’s really going
on here is that you’ve been successfully seducing women for so long that you’re
excited by the challenge I present. This has everything to do with your ego and
nothing to do with me.” She shrugged one shoulder delicately. “I’m just a
novelty to you.”

Kevin stared at
her. “You’re serious? This is what you think is going on here? I’m making an
ass of myself to preserve my oversized ego? That makes no sense.”

Jamie withdrew
her hand. “It doesn’t matter if I’m right or wrong about your motivation for
wanting me. The fact is that I’m not playing some hard-to-get game with you. I
really am immune to your charms. I don’t know how else to put it. But this…”
She pointed to him and then at herself. “…Isn’t happening. Okay?”

Kevin was so
tempted to just pull her into his arms and prove her wrong. She wasn’t immune
to him, no matter how vehemently she denied her attraction to him. But he
couldn’t force her. If he tried, he would lose her forever.

What Jamie
didn’t know about him is that when he wasn’t drinking himself into oblivion or
staring at a blank page he was online, re-enacting famous historical battle
scenes. It was his secret geeky vice. He was actually considered a master
strategist among his nerdy peers. And yes he would die if anyone outside that
particular online community ever found out about his hobby.

One thing he’d
learned from his obsession was that if love was anything like war then strategy
was the key to winning the battle, not brute strength. Any good general knew
when to retreat and regroup. He would give her some time and then try again. If
she still insisted on rejecting him he wasn’t sure if he had the resources to
keep fighting. A guy can only take so many direct hits to the balls before
curling up in defeat. Fortunately for him, his nuts could really take a beating.

He raised his
hands in surrender. “Okay. I get it. I’m not getting lucky. At least not tonight.
Let me walk you home anyway.”

Jamie gave him
a blank look. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

He pushed open
the theatre door and gestured for her to step over the threshold and into the
crowded lobby. “Yup. Every deluded syllable. Now. Where did you want to go for
coffee tomorrow?”

Jamie groaned
in frustration. “I am not going anywhere with you. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

Kevin watched
her stomp through the lobby towards the exit, clearly in a hurry to get away
from him as fast as her FMH stilettos would allow. He wasn’t entirely surprised
when she turned her head as she reached the doors to see if he was following.
That was all the encouragement he needed. His long legs caught up with her and
he placed a gentle hand on her back to guide her through the crowded street. He
grinned to himself when she didn’t pull away from his touch.

Nope, this
battle clearly wasn’t over yet. Not even close.

Chapter Eight

Love Law # 5 -
Men can’t resist a damsel in distress.

This is a
slippery slope. A woman can quickly transition from being a damsel in distress
to a needy drama queen if this strategy is employed too often or under lame
circumstances. But it's totally true. If something bad happens to you, and the
guy you're interested in must come to your rescue, you own that guy. At least
temporarily. They love to look like a hero in your eyes. It feeds their ego
like nothing else. If they can ride in on their white horse and fix whatever is
wrong in your world, then they feel like they are fulfilling their purpose in
life. Just like women were created to nurture, men were put on this earth to
protect. And they will get off on doing this at every opportunity. Until it
gets old or takes up too much time. Then you're high-maintenance history and
they're moving onto the next damsel. So, even though it's tempting to invent
drama to seem interesting and exciting, ultimately, they will figure out that
you're generating dragons for them to vanquish and they will start to avoid
you. As much as we like to believe that modern romance is like a fairy tale,
it's really more like a jousting match. 

Kevin
stared morosely at his glass of scotch. It was late and he was alone. Again.

He’d
spent many nights slumped on this particular bar stool in this particular hotel
bar. He came here mostly because it was just a short stumble and an elevator
ride to his suite, but he also liked the ambience. The lighting was soft and it
was quiet here. Just the faint strains of jazz in the background and the murmur
of voices to keep him company.

For
the most part this was not a place where ladies felt comfortable. There was a
limited wine list but fruity mixed drinks were not offered. This was a place
where men came to drink in comfort. Flat screen televisions were mounted along
every wall, usually tuned into ESPN with the volume turned low. If women came
in here at all they usually didn’t stay, finding the ambience a little too
intimidatingly masculine and borderline morose for an evening of fun.

For
once Kevin was glad women were infrequent visitors to his favorite watering
hole. Tonight he didn’t actually want to pick anyone up for a change. But being
around people made him feel less isolated. Less like a thirty year old drunk
living in a hotel with nothing but a long list of one-night stands to remind
him how empty and lost he really was.

Drinking
was such a bad idea right now but he couldn’t face the reality of returning to
his lonely hotel bed quite yet. He needed the dulling effect of alcohol to numb
his churning brain and give him some peace. Self-medicating with booze had
always worked in the past, and he needed it tonight more than ever. So he took
a sip and waited for the familiar burn to distract him from the ache in his
heart and in his jeans.

Jamie
had been cool and quiet for most of their 15 minute walk to her apartment. He
had purposely kept the conversation light, but she had still responded with
monosyllables to every single one of his questions. Her lack of response made
it blatantly obvious that she was determined to forget about their make-out
session in the theatre and discourage him from any further pursuit. And it was
working. He was admittedly a cocky bastard but even his confidence was starting
to flounder when met with her determined indifference. By the time they reached
the door to her apartment building there was a strained silence between them.

She’d
thanked him politely for walking her home and then left him standing outside
with his dick in his hand. Not literally, but close enough. He’d been half
hoping she would invite him up for a nightcap, but that hadn’t happened. He’d
been tempted to re-issue some kind of lame assurance that they’d meet for
coffee the next day, but hadn’t wanted to seem desperate. He strongly suspected
he’d already crossed into that territory. So he’d just waved jauntily and
walked away like he didn’t give a damn if they ever met again. So untrue, but
his pride demanded that he resist being totally pussy-whipped quite yet.

A
half hour later he was parked on his usual barstool, nursing a scotch and
trying to make sense of what had gone wrong tonight.

Rick,
the bartender, approached from where he’d been serving a large party of
Japanese businessmen at the opposite end of the long mahogany bar. He set a
bottle of fine single-malt scotch on the bar in front of Kevin and gave him a
sympathetic glance. “You look like you could use this. On the house, young man.”

Kevin
raised his glass in a salute, but didn’t reach for the bottle. “Appreciate it,
but I’m good. Trying to cut back.”

Rick’s
bushy grey eyebrows went up in surprise. “Well, now. It’s about time.”

Kevin
set his drink back down on the bar and glared at the older man. “Seriously? Now
my bartender is going to give me shit for drinking too much? You do see the
irony in that, right? It’s like a pusher giving a junkie a hard time for
smoking too much crack.”

Rick
winked. “Hey. Far be it for me to interfere in a man’s right to drown himself
in overpriced hooch. And let’s face it: the management wouldn’t be too happy if
I turned away your generous patronage. But I’m glad you’re slowing it down. My
tip jar will feel the pinch, but you were starting to get that desperate look
every time you came in here. The one that tells me the booze has become the
problem rather than the solution.” He tapped the bar in front of Kevin and then
cocked a thumb towards a few of the regulars sitting at two of the smaller
tables in the middle of the room. “Some guys. They never figure out the
difference. You know what I mean?” He gave Kevin an irritatingly knowing glance
and then walked back to serve a customer on the other side of the bar.

Kevin
glanced over at the men Rick had been talking about. He’d seen them here many
times: watching the large screen televisions and ordering drink after drink
until Rick cut them off or closed down for the night.

He’d
thought they were just a couple of business men who stayed at his particular
upscale hotel when their jobs brought them to Vancouver. It wasn’t until months
later that he realized these guys lived in the city and had homes but chose to
come here rather than sit in their houses alone.

One
of these men was in his sixties, dignified and well-dressed. The other was a
loud-mouth, ham-fisted salesman named Greg who had caused trouble on more than
one occasion. The two men didn’t interact or even seem to know each other. What
they had in common was a growing look of desperation as the night progressed. Written
on their faces was the dark knowledge that soon they would be alone with their
thoughts and regrets. They kept drinking but knew, deep-down, that no amount of
alcohol could keep the desolation at bay forever.

Kevin
was starting to recognize the look Rick was talking about now. He’d started
seeing it on his own face when he looked across the bar and caught his reflection
in the mirrors behind the bottles. At first he’d seen that ravaged look only occasionally,
but lately it was almost always present. So often, in fact, that he’d started
facing away from the bar to avoid his own haunted eyes.

Tonight
he didn’t look pathetic for a change. He looked pissed off. Part of that had a
lot to do with Jamie’s latest rejection, but he couldn’t blame her for all of
it. He’d also met with his agent, Lou, this morning and that particular meeting
had not gone well. In fact, it had been a disaster. He’d worn his best suit in
an attempt to look professional, but the window dressing hadn’t distracted Lou
in the slightest. He wanted to know where Kevin was with the Rawlings book. His
deadline was fast approaching and Kevin was typically finished months in
advance. But that wasn’t the case this time. Not even close.