Chapter 7

In the morning, unlike the scene in a nearby hotel room between Henry and Lindy, Connie was a bit sore for more fucking, so she and Joe enjoyed relaxing together in bed, eventually getting up to share a sensuous shower and a domestic breakfast.

Nearing noon, Connie called Henry and had him put his phone on speaker, which she also did. “I need you guys to register for your various unions,” she told them. “Come on over, and after we get that done, you can work here, Henry.”

“Cool,” Henry said.

“Leave your shit at home and try not to imbibe until we’re done.”

“Too late,” Lindy giggled.

When they arrived, Henry had the look of being somewhat coked out, which Joe realized was his natural state, and Lindy carried a brown bag with the 101 Wild Turkey, about a quarter of it remaining.

Joe, after taking the bottle from her and stashing it, made her a fresh cup of coffee and the last of the bagels to sober her up somewhat. Using Henry’s detailed résumé and contact information for the actor’s production company, Connie filled out the forms online and had each of them give the first payment so the following payments could be taken from their accounts. Once done, Joe went out to get everyone sandwiches, leaving Connie and Henry with theirs. He then tossed some clothes and stuff for both him and Lindy into a day bag. Giving Connie a kiss, he told her, “We probably won’t see you until Sunday.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“Me too,” he replied, giving her another kiss before leading Lindy out.

In his rental, Lindy sobbed. “Oh fuck Joe, I’m such a mess,” she moaned.

“Let’s head up to Griffith Park,” Joe said. “Okay?”

“Whatever you want Joe.”

He let her sobbing quiet while they drove into the Hollywood Hills. At the park they sat on the lawn and ate their sandwiches, gazing at the now familiar city of LA below them.

Lindy pulled out her phone. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed and made a call. “Fuck Stella, I’m sorry. I’m such a mess right now. Are you still at the Getty? Call me please. Please forgive me.”

“Fuck,” Joe muttered. “I forgot too.”

“Of course you did, otherwise we wouldn’t have stood her up.”

“Blame me,” Joe shook his head.

“I don’t Joe. It’s just that you’re the responsible one.”

“True,” Joe chuckled.

Lindy’s phone rang and she put it on speaker. “I’m so sorry,” she moaned.

“I got that,” Stella laughed. “It’s why I called back. You sounded so abject. Yeah I’m still here. I like the Getty.”

“How long is it open?” Joe asked.

“Until six, so about five more hours.”

“We’re at Griffith Park.”

“It’ll probably take a while, but that should be fine.”

“See you there.”

“Yep,” and she ended the call.

They pulled the remainder of the sandwiches together and headed to the car, Lindy seemingly sobered up. They ate quietly along the way, heavily trafficked.

Lindy finally spoke. “Henry’s talking about a threesome.”

“You don’t sound pleased,” Joe noticed.

“Actually I don’t really care about it. In fact having another girl as a distraction for him would be good.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Henry’s the problem. Even his cock doesn’t do it for me. I mean it does, but then there’s the rest of him. I mean okay, he’s got the soft body of his, which doesn’t help but it’s not that. He’s just such a...”

“Asshole?” Joe filled in.

“Obviously, but I was going more for a dick. God if he was just a little bit like you ... I mean even when I take control, which, even pretty fucking drunk I was able to do, in the end, when I let go of the controls, he’s back to being the selfish dickhead he seems like he always is meant to be. Mr. Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am. Fuck. Doesn’t he want a relationship?”

“Apparently not,” said Joe. “Maybe he thinks being some genius director will get him some fawning pussy who won’t care about being his cum bucket.”

“It would probably have to be a fan, because his personality...”

“You know he can be charming.”

“He managed to charm the pants off me, but that was actually pretty smarmy, and I was pretty drunk.”

“I think it depends on if someone speaks his language, like with me and him, we used to talk for hours, sometimes still do, about the relative charm of bad movies or Tarantino’s influences, stuff like that, and I can forget what an arrogant asshole he can be. I remember when we first met at MCAD he had a girlfriend I think he met at the video store he worked at. Except for her bosoms, I wouldn’t call her his type, kind of soft and thick like him, but I could see their fondness for each other. She didn’t last all that long with him though, at least from when we met.”

“Probably cheated on her.”

“Probably. Or he decided she wasn’t hot enough.”

“Probably.”

“Dick,” they both said.

“What about you Joe?”

“What about me?”

“I mean I’m no classic beauty.”

“No but I think you’re beautiful.”

“For some reason. But were you into some type before me?”

“Not really. None of my girlfriends, though few were all that long lasting, I would call classic beauties. I like cute...”

“Like Connie?”

“Yeah, but very few have been like her, and none of those ever really lasted. No, for some reason, the women I ended up being with the longest tended to be what you’d call big boned. My first real girlfriend was like that, and the last one before you.”

“I’m not that.”

“No, but I did find you attractive. Fascinating really, especially your eyes.”

“Most men I’ve fucked ignored the face and focused on the body.”

“You do have an amazing body.”

“But you’re the first that I can recall that managed to keep at least some of your focus on my face.”

“Some?”

“Well, when we’re fucking, not necessarily making love, you do tend to focus on my other features. Face first in my tits or pussy or ass,” she laughed.

“The better to eat you with my dear,” he said evilly.

She sighed. “Me too. I really miss that beautiful cock of yours and your shoulders and ... pretty much everything.”

“Let’s wait for the results.”

“I know. But what about Connie?”

“You did talk about threesomes.”

“And I think I’d be okay with it with you. With Connie it’s going to be a lot more experimental. But how is she going to feel when you’re back in Minnesota with me?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “All I know is if she’s as much like me as I think she is, she’ll be realistic about it instead of getting caught up in jealousy.”

“And insecurity,” Connie added.

“That too with her age. More than once I had to convince her she’s not too old.”

“You don’t think she is?”

“No I really don’t. I really like her body, and I like her maturity. It’s weird that though I never get completely infatuated with a woman, and in fact find it uncomfortable when they get clingy, and have lost more than one girlfriend when I don’t get all always and forever with them and they think I come off a bit cold...”

“Except you don’t Joe. Maybe we haven’t exchanged the L word...”

“I do love you in my way...”

“I know, and I probably love you a bit more than that, but what I’m saying is that, at least for me, there’s a real intimacy when I’m with you, like we’re good friends when not in bed, and you’re devoted to my pleasure when we are. I mean there’s a connection there, a sort of empathy with you getting excited about my excitement.”

“Of course, and when we’re just hanging out, I actually feel closer than pretty much anyone I’ve been with.”

“I know. Me too.”

“But what’s weird is as close as we’ve been, as close as I’ve been with any girlfriend since my first, I end up with another woman, something I never do. I’ve always been a serial monogamist despite the lack of deep passion.”

“That’s my fault, fucking Henry.”

“I suppose that’s true what with the cute and lovely Connie there to pick up the pieces.”

“I’m so sorry...”

“Believe it or not it wasn’t you so much upsetting me. It was Henry, and me knowing his intentions at getting back at me, and the way he tried to rape you before. I was angry at him and at you risking yourself with that asshole.”

“So if I’d been with someone else?”

“I don’t know, Lindy. With the way you get wasted and crazy and horny I braced myself for you to go off with someone else. I would hope I would at least vet him, and of course you ended up with the last person I wanted you to be with. I failed to protect you, but maybe I realized it wasn’t my place to do that.”

“It’s my mess and I had to lie in it.”

“Something like that.”

“It’s that trust thing, the lack of it, because I’m a drunk.”

“Yeah. Except the way I feel about relationships and I hope Connie feels the same, is that just because you’re with someone, it doesn’t mean you own them. They should feel free to be themselves, and maybe that means being with someone else sometimes. It was kind of like that with my last girlfriend who’d sometimes be with a guy for a night or weekend or something, but would come back to me, although by then we were more roommates who shared a bed than boyfriend/girlfriend.”

“So that wasn’t a factor, her being with some other guy?”

“No. We’d already discussed our waning passion by then, or whatever made ourselves feel bonded. But the point is communication. Being open and honest is essential.

“Again you’re talking about trust, but different then me getting wasted and crazy.”

“Yeah.”

“Because we’ve mostly had that, especially when I got over myself and my shyness and regret in the mornings.”

“Yeah.”

After a long silence, she said, “I wish I was good enough for you.”

“You don’t have to be...”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

They remained silent the rest of the way. She took his hand and he accepted it. Despite everything, they felt good together in their silence.

Lindy called Stella when they arrived and Stella met them just past the ticket office. “Don’t say it,” Stella waved her hand.

“Okay,” Lindy laughed and hugged her.

“I don’t know why I let you do that,” Stella muttered once the clutching ended.

“Because you like it,” said Joe.

“Don’t tell my wife,” Stella winked.

“Let’s see your painting!” Lindy insisted.

They took an elevator to the floor with abstract expressionist art and to the room that held contemporary versions of it. “Yours is the best,” Lindy decided.

“You’re biased,” Stella grinned.

Biased or not, Joe favored her large dark painting too.

After gazing at it for a while, Connie asked Stella, “Show and tell?”

“Sure,” Stella smiled and gave them a tour of the museum from her perspective, which Joe found richly knowledgeable. Once when the ladies walked past a sculpture that caught his eye and he walked around it like he’d learn to do with sculptures, they came back to him.

“What do you like about it?” Stella asked.

“It’s surprises when you walk around it. It’s why I like sculpture.”

“Isn’t it true of any great art? The way a master, from Pollock back to Rembrandt or Da Vinci leads your eye on a path of discovery that can leave you breathless?”

“Yes!” he agreed.

After that it became more of a dialogue, often with leading questions from Stella but not always, and Lindy found her way into the discussions. She’d been to the two major galleries in Minneapolis, the Walker for modern art and the Minneapolis Institute of Art, where MCAD resided, for a more historical view, from a young age and appreciated it, but Joe had given her a deeper appreciation the several times they’d gone to both museums, especially the Walker. They had audiences sometimes while the three discussed a painting who seemed to enjoy their words. None seemed annoyed by their talking.

At closing, all three a bit exhausted, they sat outside the doors. “What do you say to someone who thinks art went downhill since the Flemish Masters and is essentially useless now?” Lindy asked.

“Who accept the Wyeths and find even Hopper to be too abstract and undefined?”

“Yes.”