“I need to see your face.”
“You’ll see plenty.”
“Stop the bike.”
We were on Sunset, by the Junction, the one neighborhood where people gathered on the street, walking from bar, to restaurant, to bar, to home.
“We’ll be to your house in eight minutes.”
“Now.”
He stopped at a light and pulled off his helmet. His hair spiked and curled with the disruption, and when he turned to me, incredulity was in his eyes. I couldn’t hear what he said, and I folded my arms. I meant what I said, no matter his unheard response.
He held the corner of the helmet to his lips, and his voice came through my helmet. “You don’t get to give orders.”
I pulled off my helmet. I could only imagine what it did to my hair, but I was past giving a shit. I put the helmet on the seat and slid off the bike.
“Monica.”
“Jonathan.”
The light changed. Horns shrieked. Curses cut the night. Jonathan and I stared at each other as our lane slowly sifted around us.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, paying the flipped birds around us no mind.
“I want to talk, and I want to do it somewhere you can’t f**k me.”
“You think dragging me into a coffee shop is going to stop me from f**king you? Shit, if I want you in the middle of this intersection, I’ll take you.”
He would, too. But also, he wouldn’t.
I stepped away from the bike. A dented Acura came to a screeching halt inches from me.
“Fuck!” Jonathan shouted, swinging his leg over the seat as if he was about to cradle my broken body in his arms.
The Acura’s driver cried obscenities. Something about me being a stupid f**king bitch. Blah blah. I’d been called worse on a random Tuesday night at the bar. I flipped him off without even looking, walking backward, drawing Jonathan out of the street.
But what I considered a meaningless gesture, the driver considered a call to arms. He leaned so far out of the car I had no idea how his foot stayed on the brake. “Get your big flapping twat outta the street, you bitch whore!”
Jonathan put the kickstand down on the bike, which I didn’t understand. Why on earth would he park it in the middle of the street? The light had turned red again, but obviously that was temporary. The guy in the Acura flung some more curses my way. Apparently, he didn’t see the guy with the stone-cold expression heading for him. If he did, he might have stopped calling me a f**king skank and started getting into a defensive posture.
Shit.
I darted in front of Jonathan, but he was moving so fast, I had almost no time to get between them. My ass pressed against the door of the car, and Jonathan was nearly there. I held up my hand. “Stop.”
“Get out of the way.”
“Hey, bitchface!” said the guy behind me.
“Get the bike, please,” I said to Jonathan.
“Get out of the way.”
“Are you a f**king adolescent? You’re going to get into a fight on Sunset Boulevard? What the f**k? Please, bend me over in the intersection instead.”
“You people are f**king crazy!” said the driver the second before the light changed. Despite the fact that I was practically leaning on his car, he took off.
More honking as Jonathan and I stared each other down in the middle of the street. More cursing as his bike sat in the middle of the center lane. We had to yell to be heard over the noise.
“Why can’t I meet with Jessica?” I demanded. “Why is it so important to you?”
“You’re asking me here?”
“If you can f**k me in the intersection, I can ask questions.” He grabbed my arm. I shook it off.
“You don’t know her! This is a game, and you don’t know the rules. If she gave you her number, it’s because whatever she’s trying to do to me, she’s going to use you for.”
“So you’re protecting yourself,” I said.
“And you.”
“I don’t need protecting,” I yelled. A delivery truck missed me by inches as it tried to make the light. The wind shear thrust me forward a few inches.
“Goddess,” he said, pulling me to him for safety, “you are a shitload of trouble.”
“You sorry you wanted a commitment?” Cars whipped around us at the green, horns screaming again.
“No. You’ve turned my existence into a life.”
An SUV swerved, but we held our gaze. “I’m about to turn it into your death.”
As if daring L.A. drivers to hit a couple in the middle of the street on a Saturday night, he leaned over and kissed me. I kissed him back. It’s not every day you get to flip off a whole city.
Chapter 13.
MONICA
I didn’t tell Jonathan my phone had started buzzing while we were in the street. As I dismounted in my driveway, I glanced at it.
Jessica.
As if sensing something was amiss, Jonathan took hold of my wrist. He saw the screen display his ex-wife’s phone number in brilliant backlit blue and white. His eyes flicked up to mine, the phone lighting his face from beneath, as the phone purred in my hand like a kitten. His lips tightened.
“What?” I asked.
“You know what.”
“I’m not convinced I’m a tool for your destruction. I might be a tool for your salvation. Have you thought of that?”
“What if she told you I f**ked her?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You’ll believe her. And even if you don’t, a part of you will always wonder. She’ll alienate us from each other,” he said.
“I’m insulted by the notion that I’m going to be used to hurt you. I’m not so weak-willed. Not with her or you. I’m going to see her. I’m going to let her think she’s using me, and I’m going to find out what she wants. I’m going to let her think I’m on her side.”
He gritted his teeth. “This is not a woman you take on a fishing expedition.”
“You may not love her any more, but you respect her. Which is more than I can say for how you feel about me.” I walked toward my house. I felt him reach for me, but I was too fast. I jangled my keys and approached my door.
Jonathan came up behind me, pressing his front to my back. “I’m sorry.” He nuzzled my ear.
“No, you’re not.” I turned the key.
“I am.”
“Good. I’ll let you know how it goes.”