Page 46 of Keep Vegas
He laughs big and loud, and so do I.
tony
We’re sitting on the chaise lounges by the pool and her body is on full display, the bikini clinging to the areas I’m dying to uncover. I’m sipping something clear and fresh, and she’s opted for a dangerous fruit punch full of whimsy and vodka. We flirted and kissed a little, and she let me hold her hand like I’m doing now. The feel of her fingers in mine is something I miss. Laura was never a big hand holder, and now she’s gone off the rails. Of all my relationships, other than Mak, I thought Laura and I might end civilly. She and I were friends and laughed a lot. We used to joke and talk for hours. We had something, even if it was just an amped up friendship, there was something. Then she turned cold and cruel out of nowhere. It wasn’t like we were on solid ground, but she’s the one who moved to the guest room. Even though she was obsessed with making appearances and being in the right place at the right time, she was so cool the rest of the time. Now, I wonder if I ever knew her at all. I miss my friend but can’t wait to get rid of my wife.
My favorite voice brings me back. She’s lying on her side, looking at me. She says, “Now why are you here?” I roll over to face her.
“Work was fucked up.”
“You’re hiding?”
“No, I needed to feel good, and your face always makes me happy.”
She screws up her face into what she thinks is an ugly version. I laugh and she squeezes my bicep.
“The test launch of my current project was an utter failure. One of our podcast hosts screamed at my producer and a celeb chef while we were doing a taping. Then the coding failed with the recipe finder and the platform for the local ingredient swap did nothing. The SEC rejected two of our channels for streaming rights. The contracts for SAG talent are all fucked up. My dad’s disappointed and furious. I don’t know how to fix any of it. I can’t seem to get divorced, and I was feeling out of sorts. You always brought me clarity. Even when you were nothing but a memory. I wanted to see you, hope that’s ok. How was your day at work?”
We pause as I take a breath.
“That’s a lot.” She leans over and kisses me like it’s something we do now. A casual, reassuring kiss that lights up every fucking part of me with its familiarity.
She settles back into her chair and, as much as I want to put her on my lap, I don’t. I grip the sides of the chair instead.
She says, “Start talking. That’s your avoiding face.” I reach over and stoke her sun warmed cheek, and she leans into my palm.
“Ladd Media—”
“I’m familiar with it.” While on my feet, I hurl a towel at her.
“My focus has always been on tweaking and improving. But this project I’m trying to do is pure creation. It’s a multi-platform simultaneous launch. My concept, my build out, my people, this is all me.”
She sits up and sips her cocktail. “Explain to those of us who don’t work in, say, um, tech or media. Give me your stairwell pitch.”
“Elevator.”
“What elevator?”
“It’s an elevator pitch.” I correct her.
“Then give me that.” She shakes her head and waves her arms around.
I laugh at her and toss a towel over her torso. “Stop distracting me. I’m buying you a caftan so I can have a conversation without losing all sense of reason and blood in my brain. The Cookery is a large-scale multi-tiered beast.”
“Go big or go home.” I grab my dick and she laughs.
“I’m creating a living cookbook through podcasts, mini reality shows, websites, blogs, all socials. All modeled after my favorite cookbooks.”
“You still read cookbooks?”
I nod. “I like the ones where it’s kind of bio, a bit of skill, technique, and part recipe. But it’s the story they tell through their food that matters.”
“I agree.”
“You read cookbooks? This is a strange coincidence.”
“I saw your shelves in Boston long ago and I was intrigued. It became a habit.”
I rush back over to her and hold her face in my hand and brush my lips over hers. Then pull back quickly so we don’t get caught up in orgasms.
