CHAPTER 13
Joe
By the time Cate and I had sex for the first time, I knew I was going to fall in love with her. Our chemistry was that good. Then again, maybe the sex was incredible because I already had developed such strong feelings for her. Like a “chicken and egg type” thing. Who knows which it was, but over the next few weeks, I became addicted to her. She was so damn gorgeous, but it was much more than that. I loved her air of mystery, and the way she was willing to call me out on my bullshit. I loved the way she was so strong one minute—and quietly vulnerable the next. I loved the way she looked at me and how she touched me and the sound of her voice and the way she laughed and the smell of her skin. Not only her perfume, but her actual skin, especially after we really went at it and she started to sweat. She drove me crazy. Like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. Even in the satiated aftermath of sex, when I would have rolled away from other women, secretly wishing I could just snap my fingers and be alone, I found myself wanting more of Cate. Holding her in my arms and stroking her hair, I’d ask what she was thinking.
“Nothing,” she’d usually murmur, my go-to answer in the past when I got the same question.
“You have to be thinking something,” I’d say.
It was something I’d been told in the past, which I now understood as a statement of mild frustration. At that point, Cate would normally shush me or ignore me. The not knowing was a little unsettling. At the same time, the mystery of what was going on in that beautiful head of hers drew me in more.
Meanwhile, she insisted that we keep our relationship a secret—though she didn’t call it a relationship, or label it at all. She refused to go out in public together, except for one time when I convinced her to meet me in the very back corner of a movie theater so we could see an indie film my old buddy Charlie Vance had produced. We ended up missing a good bit of the second half when she decided to go down on me. Afterward, she got herself together and whispered goodbye.
“You’re leaving? Before it’s over?”
“You can tell me what happens,” she whispered. “It’s too risky to leave together.”
As if it hadn’t been risky to wrap her lips around my dick.
“Okay,” I said, knowing that she made the rules. “Can I see you later? Please?”
She shook her head and said, “Let’s quit while we’re ahead. I have a gut feeling that the paparazzi will be waiting for you.”
I nodded, because I actually had the same feeling; I just didn’t care. But Cate did, so that was that. It was unprecedented. Most girls wanted to be seen with me, and with them, it had usually felt like a test I had to pass. In other words: did I like them enough to go public with the relationship? That was always the question. I think even Margaret, who loathed the press and the spotlight, at times felt that the media validated us.
But Cate didn’t need validation—from me or anyone else. I let our loose status quo ride for another few weeks, biding my time, then tentatively brought it up again.
“Have you told anyone you’re seeing me?” I asked, as we sat on my sofa eating Chinese delivery and drinking Sapporos that she’d picked up from the bodega near my house.
Without looking at me, she shrugged, as if I hadn’t just asked her a yes-or-no question.
I laughed and said, “Well?”
“I may have mentioned it to Elna,” she said.
“You may have?”
“Yeah. I sorta had to,” she said. “She asked who I’d been hanging out with, and why I always came home in the middle of the night…so…yeah…I told her it was you….” Her voice trailed off.
“And? What did she say?”
“Not much,” Cate said, shrugging again. “But she agreed that I shouldn’t get busted being seen with you.”
“And why’s that, exactly?” I said, staring at her profile.
She put her chopsticks down and looked back at me. “Because I don’t want or need that kind of drama. I know you’re used to it, but I’m not.”
I nodded, feeling a little hurt. She was basically telling me that I wasn’t worth the trouble. “So…let me ask you a question….”
She made her usual mmm-hmmm sound, like she was amenable, but a little bored.
“If you liked me more, would I be worth the drama?”
Cate smirked, glanced my way, and said, “Maybe.”
“Damn,” I said, pretending to pout.
“Oh, poor baby. Did I hurt your feelings?” she said teasingly.
“A little,” I said, as she softened the blow by crawling onto my lap.
“No, I didn’t,” she said.
“Yes, you did,” I said, loving the attention.
She put her arms around my neck, then straddled me, pushing me against the back of the sofa with the weight of her body before nuzzling the side of my face with her nose.
“C’mon, Joe. It’s better this way.”
“What way?”
“This way,” she said, kissing me. “Just the two of us.”
I nodded, because it sounded nice when she put it that way. More intimate, in the way things always are when there’s a secret involved.
“So, I guess that means you won’t go to the Proust Ball with me?” I said, pointing down at the invitation that had just arrived in the mail.
“I don’t do balls,” she said.
“But I need a date.”
“I’m sure you can scrounge one up.”
“You wouldn’t be jealous? If I went with another woman?”
Her jaw tensed for one hopeful second. But then she shrugged, shook her head, and said, “No. I don’t do jealousy, either.”
“You never get jealous?”
“No,” she said. “What’s the point? It doesn’t change anything.”
“Damn,” I said.
There really was no one like her.
—
About two weeks later, I decided to try again. We’d just made love and were lying naked in my bed when I said, “I’m starving. What do you say we go to El Teddy’s?”
“Can’t we just order?”
“El Teddy’s doesn’t deliver,” I said.
“Well, we can do takeout, then. Want me to pick it up? I don’t mind.”
“Why can’t we just go?” I said.
“You know why.”
“C’mon, Cate. What are you scared of?”
“Who said I’m scared?” she fired back. “I’m not scared.”
“Then why can’t we go out?”
She sighed and said, “We’ve been over this.”
“But I want to sit at a table with you, and let a server bring us food…and we can’t get margaritas to go,” I said.
She hesitated, and I could tell I was making slight progress. But then she shook her head, kissed my cheek, and said, “Not tonight, Joe.”
“Why not? What’s wrong with tonight?”
“Because,” she said. “I didn’t bring any of my stuff….”
“What stuff?”
“Stuff to shower and get ready…my toiletries and makeup.”
“You can use my toiletries. And you don’t need makeup,” I continued. “You’re a natural beauty.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Is that a yes?”
“No. It’s not a yes.”
“C’mon. I can call ahead and ask for a private table. Nobody will see us—”
“Yeah, right,” she said with a laugh. “Like you can just go incognito somewhere.”
“I can sometimes. I did in Paris. Nobody knew I was in Paris.”
“I’m sure someone knew.”
“Well, the press didn’t…and the press won’t be at El Teddy’s, either.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s a neighborhood joint,” I said, running my fingers through her silky hair. “It’s low-key. Nobody gives a shit. And besides…it’s time.”
“Why?” she said. “Why is it time?”
“Because we’ve been together for almost two months.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“If you count Paris, we have. And you haven’t let me take you out one time here…. All we do is have sex in my apartment.”
“And you’re complaining about that?” she said with a laugh. “Isn’t that a dream scenario for most guys?”
“Maybe. For most guys. And maybe for me in the past,” I said, being as honest as I could, as if candor could somehow help my case. “But, Cate…I really like you….” My voice trailed off as I felt a surge of unfamiliar nervousness that only grew when she didn’t reply.
“Say something,” I said in a low voice.
She sighed and said, “I really like you, too. You know that.”
I smiled, feeling like a puppy who had just done a trick and gotten a treat. “How much do you like me?”
“A solid amount.”
“Enough to go drink some margaritas with me? In public?”
She let out a long sigh, pretending to be deep in thought. “Okay. Yes. I like you exactly that much. No more and no less.”
I perked up, hoping there wasn’t a catch. “So, you’ll go?”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll go.”
“As in—right now?”
“Well, we should probably put some clothes on first,” she said.
I laughed. “You think that’s necessary?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Call me crazy, but something tells me that people would notice if Joe Kingsley walked into El Teddy’s in his birthday suit.”