Read How The Cookie Crumbles Online

Authors: Melanie Ting

How The Cookie Crumbles (41 page)

BOOK: How The Cookie Crumbles
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“‘Cause I like what’s underneath even more,” I told her, and I pulled hard. Instead of the nightie coming off, a buzzer sounded, and Frankie started to disappear.

“Noooooo….” I called out, and opened my eyes. It was sunny and my alarm was going off.

I hadn’t realized how tough it was going to be having Frankie right here in the house, right in the bedroom next to mine. She was so pretty, and so hot in her high heels and little dresses, and I already knew about her lingerie – oh fuck, I had a boner already. How was it going to be living here with Frankie swishing around 24/7?

But other than being a mental distraction for me, I hardly saw Frankie in the beginning. She disappeared early for her new job and didn’t get home until after we had left for the game, and then I went out the next night, so it was a few days before I had a chance to even talk to her alone.

We were in the living room after dinner. Dinner had been fucking amazing: beef and vegetable stew, biscuits, salad, and a blueberry pie, even though she worked all day.

It was hard to be mad at anyone after a dinner like that, but for some reason I felt a little irritated, and I started giving her a heads up on how life here worked.

“So, on game days, we take naps. It’s got to be quiet, well not totally quiet, but not noisy.”

“Okay, I’ll tell my heavy metal band we’ll have to practice at the drummer’s house.” She rolled her eyes at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m not home before you leave on weekdays, and I’m not a noisy person. I have had roommates before, I know how to live with other people.”

Probably I was setting rules so I could keep some distance between us, and I kept going. “Look Frankie, it’s kind of a party house. A lot of the guys like to come over and hang.”

“Cool,” she said. “I like parties.”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s not really for girls, it’s usually a bunch of guys drinking and stuff.”

“No girls?”

“Maybe the odd girlfriend, but mostly guys.” Not us of course, but some guys had the kind of girlfriends who went everywhere with them, like Link.

“I think I can handle it. I have two brothers and a job at a restaurant where they hire women in order to attract male customers. Lots of guys are not a problem for me.”

I frowned. “Well, if it’s a poker party or gaming night, maybe you could go out shopping or something.”

“Maybe you could get into the 21st century! Anyway, I can make the food for your parties. I love entertaining!” She actually looked excited about this.

“We eat junk food, you don’t have to cook anything.”

Could she not get the hint that maybe she needed to go out and leave us alone sometimes? Having Frankie swishing around when my horn dog teammates were here would be a disaster.

“So you don’t want chili? Layered bean dips? Chicken wings? Ribs? Homemade pizzas?”

I stared at her, was she shitting me? Of course I wanted all those things. “Well, I guess if you want to cook stuff, then that would be okay.”

“Gee, thanks. Oh, by the way, there are cookies in the big tin in the cupboard. I baked them last night when you were at the game,” Frankie remarked. My granny had sent a care package in that tin.

“What kind of cookies?” I wondered.

“Snickerdoodles.”

I loved snickerdoodles. Did she know that? Well, there wasn’t really a cookie I didn’t like. It was kind of nice having Frankie around. I had a glass of milk and some cookies, and I decided I had been too harsh. “Thanks Frankie, for all the cooking and everything you do around the house.”

“No problem, I’m not paying my way here, so I like to contribute anyway that I can.” She smiled up at me. I could really feel a difference in the way she was treating me; she wasn’t flirty or anything, just friendly, like I was a brother or something. She seemed more relaxed with Domer than me. I guess the date trick had worked.

“So, can I ask you something?” Frankie asked.

“Uh, no.” I knew this wasn’t going to be good. I let down my guard for one minute, and she’s right into it. But she ignored me and kept on ploughing ahead.

“I’m interested in knowing about Aspen, when a guy who’s not into relationships, is suddenly in a relationship, why her?”

“It’s not a relationship!”

“It’s not? Sorry, I guess I was fooled by the way she walked in, kissed you, called you Jakey, and then you guys left on a date. Plus, anyone that you see more than once is a relationship.”

Wouldn’t that make what we had a relationship? I wasn’t going there for sure. “Y’know Frankie, you’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Oh, please! Maybe surprised that you went for someone that obvious. But you always were a breast man.” My eyes dropped to hers as she said that, and I frowned. Frankie’s tits were amazing.

“Aspen’s got different ideas, not old school. We’re not into, uh, it’s like an open thing,” I explained awkwardly.

“Ahhhh, that’s the key. So you can do what you want, and I’m sure it works both ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh I don’t know, the casting couch and all that. So she doesn’t have to miss her big chance.”

I shrugged. I hardly thought about Aspen when she wasn’t right in front of me, or underneath me. And since I wanted to be free, I was fine with whatever.

 

50. Zero to Hero

I liked my intern job a lot. The LACMA was huge, so there were a lot of interns, and my particular job was in the area of cataloguing artwork. I spent a lot of time with white gloves on, being extremely careful around art. The fact that the artist might have originally thrown the work around or eaten lunch on it did not change the fact that, once it crossed the museum threshold, it became delicate and treasured. This was a job that appealed to the organized part of me.

My boss was a middle-aged woman named Angela, who had an encyclopaedic memory of every work in her area of twentieth century American art. Angela dressed in exactly the same stylish way every day: menswear trousers and white shirts with an ornate belt, and her long silver-blonde hair clipped into a severe bun. She often wore a lab coat on top, as if she were some kind of a scientist. Angela was amused by the different jewel-coloured dresses I wore each day. I was trying to be more professional, so I wore slim-cut sheath dresses instead of the fifties full skirts I loved.

“You’re like a lovely tropical bird,” Angela remarked. Then she sighed a little, “You do know that curatorial work is not that well-paying, right?”

“My wardrobe isn’t expensive. I sew a lot of my clothes,” I reassured her. Still, it was depressing to know that even at one of the biggest art institutions in the United States, curators were not making big bucks. Of course, the head of the museum was earning over a million a year, but not the lowly peons. Not only were the financial prospects not great, but the whole place was enormously politicized. There were constant battles between factions. The only issue I understood was accessibility, where one side wanted the museum to be more popular, but others felt that only those well educated in art could really appreciate it.

“Bring me your huddled masses, so that I can make them museum docents,” quipped Leon, who was interning with the museum’s volunteer coordination area. “Seriously, if I have to deal with one more Beverly Hills housewife who thinks that the Intro to Art History course she took back in the eighties makes her a flipping expert!” He mimed shooting himself in the head.

“Puhleese, Leon!” said Franco, “As if you would ever kill yourself in any way that would not leave a beautiful corpse.” Franco was completely tuned into everything that happened at the museum. He was the one who first met me, declared I was too lovely to be toiling away in the bowels of the museum, and invited me to join his friends at lunch. They were interns too, but they worked only 10-15 hours a week unlike my full-time hours, and they were going to school in the Los Angeles area.

Leon laughingly agreed, and then turned to me. “Frankie, we’re going out tonight after work, and you’re coming.”

I hesitated. It was a long bus ride home, but I did want to get to know some new friends.

“Please come,” urged Sofia, smiling. “It will be fun.” She was actually a business student who was working in the Corporate Development area; she was working as a part-time intern and attending U.S.C. at the same time.

“Okay, it sounds great,” I agreed. It was a game night, so the guys would be out, and I didn’t have to make dinner or anything. When I first got to work, I discovered to my great surprise that hardly anyone I met at the museum had any idea of who the Los Angeles Kings were. I had to call it ice hockey before people even knew what I was talking about. So work was a nice separation from my home life and vice versa. I suspected that Luke and Jake could possibly name one artist (my guess: Picasso) and had never been inside the LACMA.

The people who worked here were really smart and interesting, and to be honest I felt like a bit of a hick in contrast. Everyone knew about new artists I hadn’t even heard about and was completely up to date on all the art-related events and the power brokers. And many of them looked pretty cool too, since being in the art world meant looking the part. Most favoured an asymmetrical, artsy look: slanting hair, tops, or hemlines. Back at UBC, there were many students who were more up on the latest artists and the arts scene than I was, but I felt like I had better people skills. Here everyone had the people skills, the brains, and the knowledge; it was like Los Angeles was the big leagues. I couldn’t even imagine what the New York art scene would be like.

We had a great night out, and of course Leon knew exactly where to go. He took us to this place called Umami Burger, which was yummy and I actually thought that Jake would like too. Then I had to remind myself that I wasn’t going anywhere with Jake. Afterwards we went out for drinks at an intimate club. It was a lot of fun, but I still had a long bus ride home, since nobody else lived near Hermosa Beach. Everyone in Los Angeles seemed to have cars but me, and who could blame them since the bus took ages and was full of weirdoes.

It was really late once I got off the bus, and the streets were pretty deserted. I started walking home quickly, my heels tapping on the pavement. I was thinking about my evening and how funny Franco had been. He had a celeb crush on James Franco, who was not only a gorgeous actor but an artist too, and claimed it was preordained because if they married he would be Franco Franco. I didn’t notice that there were two guys following me until they started talking to me.

“Hey baby, what’s your hurry?”

I didn’t turn around; I pretended I couldn’t hear them, and I walked a little faster.

“Come on, girlie, we could all have some fun together.” They were laughing in a mean way and sounded drunk. They probably stepped out of a bar, and I hadn’t even noticed them. “You ever fucked two guys at once? Fuck, with a sexy body like that, you’ve probably done all kinds of shit.”

I could tell by their voices that they were getting closer, and when I looked around desperately, I saw that a convenience store on the corner was open and I ran to it. The old Asian guy at the counter stared at me when I burst in, and I felt so relieved to be inside.

“Oh, thank God. These two guys are following me and I came in here for safety.”

The man looked at me blankly. I think maybe he was Korean, and he didn’t speak English. I sighed and walked further into the store.

I half-hid behind a shelf and looked out. The guys were standing in the shadows across the street, not exactly sure of their next move. Maybe they would wait until I came out again. It was so frustrating to be only five minutes away from home and not be able to get there.

I reached into my purse to get my cell. Maybe I could get Luke to come and walk me home. Then I realized that I didn’t have Luke’s number yet. I punched Jake’s number up.

“Frankie?” Jake sounded like I woke him up.

“Jake, you have to help me. I’m at the 24-hour convenience store off Hermosa. I don’t know the address, but you know, the one down from the Italian restaurant we went to before.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Can you come and get me?”

“Frankie, that’s like four blocks from the house.”

“Jake! These creepy guys are following me, and they’re waiting outside.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He pulled up in the SUV a few minutes later, and I zipped right into the car.

“Where are they?” he asked, looking around.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t watching the whole time. I hope they’re gone.”

“Do you think we should call the cops?”

“Well, they didn’t actually do anything. They just said stuff.” I took a deep breath. “Oh here, I got you a Diet Coke.” The old man in the store had been staring at me, so I felt like I should buy something while I waited there.

Jake didn’t say anything else on the way home. When we walked in, I noticed he was wearing a rumpled t-shirt and shorts, and I figured I had woken him up.

“Sorry if I got you out of bed,” I told him.

“It’s okay.” He looked at me. “Are you okay, Frankie?”

I felt safe now that I was in the house, but I also realized what could have happened. I shook my head.

“It’s scary here. It’s a way bigger city than I’m used to, and not as safe.” I could feel my lower lip trembling, but I was trying hard not to cry.

“You shouldn’t be out so late at night, alone,” he scolded me.

Then what? Did that mean I could never go out after work? Or that I had to take expensive cabs everywhere? Why was it always blame the victim? I made a frustrated noise.

“Thanks for getting me.” I started to head towards my room, but Jake reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me towards him.

“C’mere Frankie,” he said, and then he gave me a big bear hug, and I felt better. He stroked my hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I did. “There were two guys, I didn’t really see them because they were behind me and they were wearing hoodies. They told me to wait up and that they wanted to… do stuff to me.”

“Assholes.” Jake squeezed me tighter, and I relaxed into him.

It felt so good to be in Jake’s arms again. His chest was broad and strong, and he felt solid, like an oak tree, like someone you could count on. I looked up at him, and he was staring off into the distance. He licked his lips unconsciously, and I felt a stirring inside. I realized that I was still so into him, that I really wanted to go to bed with him, not to sleep together but only to be with him and feel safe and protected.

BOOK: How The Cookie Crumbles
5.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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