Let's Stay Together (15 page)

36

“I want to see you, too,” Patrick said. “I need to feel you. I need to hold you.”

“Yes, you do,” Lauren said. “I’m flying out tonight to New York.”

Tonight? Tonight is too soon! Look at this place!
“But I have to work tomorrow.”

“You don’t work all day,
every
day, do you?” Lauren asked.

“Just about.”

“Could you make an exception for me?” Lauren asked.

She can’t come here! Not here to this dump!
“I probably could. I don’t know.”
How can I make her understand that? I’m forty years old, and this is all I have to show for it! Most of my furniture came from my mama’s apartment after she died. The only thing I ever bought is the bed, and it’s nearly fifteen years old!

“Probably?” Lauren said. “You have to have some vacation time, right?”

“I’ve never taken a vacation,” Patrick said. “I was supposed to be off last week, on Thanksgiving, but I ended up working. I’m on call twenty-four hours a day, and some people seem to wait for Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day to call me. I have plunged far too many toilets on Thanksgiving Day and Christmas morning to count.”

“I don’t mind waiting for you,” Lauren said. “I’ll be warming up your bed.”

“Lauren, that sounds wonderful,” Patrick said. “Really. But I don’t know if you’ll want to wait that long.”
How can I slow this down?

“It’s no trouble for me to fly out,” Lauren said. “I
have
to be with you, Patrick. You have me aching, man, and I haven’t ached in such a long time.”

“I want you to be with me, but I’m . . . I don’t feel . . .” He sighed. “Lauren, I live in a dump.”

“So do I,” Lauren said. “You should see where I live now. I live in a studio apartment, and there isn’t even a sink in the bathroom. I brush my teeth and wash my face over the kitchen sink. Let me show you.”

Patrick watched as she panned around a small apartment. “You’re not in your mansion on the beach?”

“It was never my mansion,” Lauren said, her face returning to the screen. “I was only the mansion’s maid. Maybe that’s all Chazz really needed me for, huh? To cook and clean for him. I was his housekeeper for seven years. I should sue him for back pay.”

Her place isn’t much bigger than mine, but . . .
“But this place is a mess. I can afford only seven hundred square feet, and that’s because I get half my rent paid as part of my salary. I don’t have any carpeting, I sleep in a double bed, I have one window, the only things on the walls are dust and cobwebs—”

“I don’t care about that, Patrick,” Lauren interrupted.

“You might,” Patrick said. “You’re Lauren Short. You deserve better than this. Everyone in the world knows you.”

“I doubt that,” Lauren said.

“They do,” Patrick said.
Even fifty-year-old Dutch women in Boerum Hill know who Lauren Short is.
“You deserve better than I probably could
ever
give you.”

“But I don’t care about that at all,” Lauren said. “Trust me on that. I grew up in Congress Heights, in D.C. I grew up with very little.”

“But you’ve gotten used to a lot more, right?” Patrick asked.

“While the money I’ve made is nice, I’ve never gone crazy with it,” Lauren said. “I remember my roots. I don’t care where you live, okay?”

“I do,” Patrick said. “What kind of man would I be if I couldn’t provide a nice place for you?”

“You
do
provide for me,” Lauren said. “In only a few days, you have given me everything that has been missing in my life. You’ve just set my body on fire, and you didn’t even touch me. You’re magic, and I want to feel more magic. I might explode if you really touched me.” She smiled.

“I don’t want you to explode, Lauren,” Patrick said.

“I think I need to, okay? I need to go buck wild or something. I have seven years of sexual frustration to unload, and I don’t plan to be quiet about it.” She laughed. “You even have me laughing, man. I have missed laughing so much. And if I have to explode, I can’t think of a better way to go, can you?”

“No,” Patrick said. “I can’t. But seriously, Lauren, I don’t have much. There’s nothing I can give you.”

“You’ve given me love, and that’s everything,” Lauren said. “Let me come to you.”

I don’t know if I’ve given her love.
“I haven’t given you anything you couldn’t get somewhere else or from someone else.”

“Yes, you have.” Her face filled the screen. “I may even love you.” She smiled. “I probably do love you, Patrick. I know that’s a lousy way of saying it, but I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know if I truly am. Yeah, we’ve only known each other a week, but in one week you have given me so much attention, you’ve given me so much of yourself, and I love that about you.”

She
may
even love me,
Patrick thought.
She
probably
does. I should be happy about that, but I’m not.
“But I really have nothing, Lauren,” Patrick said. “I live month to month. I don’t have much in savings. I don’t have investments or a retirement plan or even a health insurance plan. When I get sick, I usually stay sick and keep working.”

“You have so much more than you know, and I want it,” Lauren said. “All of it. I want all of you. Please, Patrick. Let me come to you.”

He minimized Lauren’s picture, went to Google, and typed in “map of US.”

“The screen is shaking,” Lauren said. “What are you doing?”

“Hold on.” He clicked on the first map that appeared.
What’s halfway between Brooklyn and LA? Kansas? Nebraska? Oh. They’re having a snowstorm out there now. Oh yeah, global warming is the real deal. Blizzards in November.
“Let’s meet . . .” He focused on a city.
I guess this will do.
“Let’s meet in St. Louis.”

“What?”

“Let’s meet in St. Louis,” Patrick said.

“Why St. Louis?” Lauren asked. “I can be in New York and in your arms in less than twelve hours.”

I haven’t been west of New Jersey in my life, and I’m about to go about a thousand miles west to the banks of the Mississippi River.
“I know you can, and I really appreciate the idea, but this is our first date and I want it to be special.”
And anywhere but here.

“In St. Louis?”

“Would you rather meet in Kansas City, Omaha, or Oklahoma City?” Patrick asked.

“No, St. Louis is okay,” Lauren said. “But that’s not the point, Patrick. It would be
so
much easier for me, who is currently unemployed by the way, to get on a plane and be with you in less than twelve hours.”

“It’s tempting, really, but let’s meet in St. Louis first,” Patrick said.

“I don’t understand this plan at all,” Lauren said. “Why do you want to meet me in St. Louis?”

Patrick sighed. “This is no place for a star.”

“This star grew up in a much worse place,” Lauren said, “and this star isn’t a star anymore.”

“You’ll always be a star to me,” Patrick said. “You’ll always be a star to the rest of the world, too.”

“I won’t,” Lauren said. “I will fade away in a matter of weeks. Trust me. The world has a very short attention span these days.”

How can I convince her?
“Lauren, my entire wardrobe probably cost less than a single pair of your shoes.”

“You think I . . .” She laughed. “I don’t spend a lot of money on my shoes or my clothes. I’m sensible. I still look for bargains.”

“I have boots that are over ten years old,” Patrick said. “Do you?”

“No,” Lauren said.

“Do you have any clothes that old?” Patrick asked.

“No.”

“I do,” Patrick said. “Just let me do it this way, okay?” Lauren sighed and shook her head. “But it makes no sense!”

“It does to me,” Patrick said quietly. “And it’s how I want it to be.”

“Okay, okay,” Lauren said. “But why St. Louis?”

“I want to meet you on neutral territory.”
That sounded weird.

“Neutral territory?” Lauren’s eyes blinked.

It sounded weird to her, too.
“Yes,” Patrick said. “If you come to New York, what will most likely happen?”

“We’ll get to know each other very well,” Lauren said quickly, “and I won’t let you leave the apartment for twenty-four hours.”

“No, I mean, what will most likely happen when the
media
finds out that you’re coming to New York? What will happen then?”

Lauren’s lips wrinkled slightly. “I’m yesterday’s news, Patrick. They won’t care.”

“Really?”

Lauren sighed. “Okay, so they’ll make a little fuss, but we’ll be together, and that’s all that matters.”

“Maybe I need a place to practice being with you before I bring you home,” Patrick said. “Like normal people do when they date. I want a date before the hookup.”

“A very nice hookup, but I understand what you’re saying,” Lauren said. “I don’t want only a hookup either. But St. Louis, Missouri? Really?”

“I want to wine and dine you first, okay?” Patrick said. “I want to do this right. I can’t do that if you come here. I can’t afford to take you anyplace nice in New York.”

“I
don’t
mind paying, Patrick,” Lauren said.

“I do,” Patrick said. “A nice meal here costs what I spend on a month of groceries.”

“So we’ll eat in,” Lauren said. “We don’t have to go out. I’ll even cook something for you.”

“But I want to take you out,” Patrick said. “I don’t want our first date to be some microwaved burritos.”

“I like microwaved burritos,” Lauren said.

“Really?”

“Really,” Lauren said. “I have normal eating habits, Patrick. I eat a little bit of everything, and I don’t care what we eat as long as I’m your dessert.”

“You will be,” Patrick said, “but you’ll definitely be my main course, not my dessert.”

“You make me so hungry, man,” Lauren said. “I’m starving out here. Let me come to New York!”

“No,” Patrick said. “Not yet.”

“How can I change your mind about all this?” Lauren asked.

“You can’t.”

“Please?” She poked out her bottom lip. “Pretty please?” She moved the screen closer to her lips. “Please?”

“You’re not playing fair,” Patrick said. “But I’m not changing my mind.”

“All right,” Lauren said, and her full face appeared again. “We’ll meet in St. Louis first, but then I am coming straight to Brooklyn with you, okay?”

I hope so.
“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Lauren frowned.

I shouldn’t have said maybe. I don’t like to see her frown.
“Let’s see what happens in St. Louis first.”

“What do you expect to happen in St. Louis that would keep me from following you to Brooklyn?” Lauren asked.

“I don’t know,” Patrick said. “Nothing, probably, but I’m hoping . . .”
What am I hoping?
“I’m hoping that we can be like any other couple, I guess. Just two people out on a date without . . . photographers.”

“Is that what you think happens whenever I go out?” Lauren asked.

“Isn’t it?”

Lauren winced. “Well, yeah, it does happen, and there might be a paparazzo or two hiding outside my apartment right now, but I doubt anyone will bother us in St. Louis.”

Bingo.
“You’ve made my point,” Patrick said. “No one will bother us in St. Louis.”

“Or
Brooklyn,
” Lauren said.

“You’d be bothered here,” Patrick said.

“But it doesn’t bother me,” Lauren said. “I’m used to it.”

Bingo.
“I’m not used to it,” Patrick said. “Look, I don’t want anything to interrupt our first date anywhere. I don’t want anything to distract me from you.”

“Which is sweet,” Lauren said, “but if I take a red-eye tonight from LA, and you pick me up . . . Oh yeah, you don’t have a car. We can share a cab, then. It might still be dark, and we can sneak into your apartment and get to know each other in peace.”

“We shouldn’t have to sneak around,” Patrick said. “Right?”

“Well, at first we might have to,” Lauren said.

“I don’t want to sneak around at
any
time, Lauren,” Patrick said. “I don’t want to have to hide. You understand?”

“I guess I’m so used to the attention, I didn’t think how it might affect someone who’s not.... Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. Ignore me.”

“I can’t,” Patrick said. “You said exactly what I’m feeling. I’m nobody. You’re somebody. You’re glamorous and gorgeous and sexy, and I’m not.”

“That’s not true,” Lauren said.

“It is to me,” Patrick said.

“You have no idea how important you are to me,” Lauren said. “You’re everything a woman wants and needs. And trust me, you are gorgeous and sexy, too.”

“I don’t know about that,” Patrick said, “but I know I want this to last. I want to take my time and do this right, and I can’t do it right if we have to sneak around or be harassed by photographers and reporters.”

“Okay,” Lauren said. “We’ll meet in St. Louis, and we might have a quiet evening, or we might not. I hope we do.”

Me, too,
Patrick thought.
I’m going to be nervous as it is. I don’t need an audience.

“
When?” Lauren asked.

“I’ll have to get off work. . . .”
And make sure the buildings won’t fall down without me there for a few days.
“How about two weeks from tonight?”

“Two weeks?” Lauren said. “Why not the day after tomorrow ? Why not Thursday?”

“I don’t know.” Patrick quickly Googled “flight JFK to St. Louis” and found that the cheapest fare was $240 one way.
With fees and taxes, that’s well over five hundred bucks round-trip!
He quickly went to Greyhound.com and checked bus schedules.