Chapter 4 - The Cosmopolitan

Cosmopolitan


Nothing says sisterhood and togetherness quite like a Cosmo does. Because of its status on Sex and the City, single and married women from high school age to forty-something had elevated the Cosmopolitan to the It drink to have on a night out with the girls.

Jazz might not be one to follow the crowd, she preferred to set her own trends, but not even she could escape the trendiness of the Cosmo. Many afternoons were spent rehashing a night’s events and dissecting dates and men’s coded behavior.

That being said, I wasn’t surprised to see her standing outside the bar on Sunday afternoon. There was no doubt in my mind that she wanted to discuss The Date.

“About time,” she said tapping her foot for full effect of her exasperation. There was one thing I could say about Jazz, you always knew where you stood with her. She wasn’t one pretend anything.

“Sorry, some of us had to stay up late working on Saturday night.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “You poor thing,” she said as I unlocked the door for us. She followed me inside and turned on the lights for me.

With the lights on, we took up our normal places. Jazz was on a bar stool barking orders while I stood behind the bar and pulled down a glass and checked it for spots and other dirt. I then grabbed a shaker, Stoli’s vodka, triple sec, and mixed it with cranberry juice, thoroughly shaking the hell out of so Jazz couldn’t complain about how it was blended. As much vodka as Jazz liked in her Cosmo, it was amazing she could “taste” an unblended Cosmo. She claimed there was a difference and she had to order it strong to set her apart from the trend-followers. It was a typical Jazz response.

Jazz grabbed the lime wedge I offered her and squeezed juice into it. With a stir, she blended it into the drink then took a sip. “Perfect,” she said and smiled. “You’re the only one who can make them right.”

I smiled at her. “That’s only because you want to be difficult.”

She glared. “Speaking of difficult, you haven’t even begun to discuss Friday night. So, let me know. Was he divine?”

I rolled my eyes. “Divine? Really, Jazz? Have you been reading trashy romance novels?”

Now it was Jazz’s turn to roll her eyes. “Well, you did, didn’t you?” she asked.

“She did,” Eddie said strolling in through back entrance.

“What!” Jazz shouted. “You told Eddie!”

“I didn’t tell Eddie anything. He’s speculating.”

Eddie held my gaze. “You’ve been in awfully good mood.”

“That is a myth!”

“Whistling?” Jazz asked.

“I caught her a time or too yesterday whistling.”

Jazz squealed. “That means it was good too, Eddie!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” I said patting Jazz’s arm and trying to pull her down to earth. “It was great and scary all at the same time.” Jazz looked at me as if she thought I was crazy. “Scary? How exactly is it scary? You’re not a virgin, so it’s either good or it’s bad.”

I sighed and chewed on my words. Then I saw Eddie waiting for my response. “Eddie, chicken fingers,” I said. He gave me a long look, but dutifully vanished back into the kitchen.

The sad thing was that he would still be able to hear every word of the conversation. Banishing him was simply a matter of etiquette. In our bar, the cooks and bartenders had a standing rule that what was said in the kitchen stayed in the kitchen. So if the bartender overheard the cook talking about something, she could file the information away, but not make a comment on it until the cook finally spilled face to face. The same was true in reverse. When the bartender was talking and the cook was cooking in the kitchen, the words the bartender spoke had to go unnoticed until the bartender decided to tell the cook. Ridiculous, I know, but people obeyed that one unwritten rule to the letter.

“You know he can hear,” Jazz said.

“I know,” I told her but didn’t volunteer any more information.

Jazz looked at me expectantly. “Details, please.”

“Aww!” I said with sarcasm in my voice. “You said please.” Jazz gave me a dirty look. “Okay, okay,” I said and then began to spill the details of the date. I told her about dinner, about our margaritas, and then about going back to his place. Then I told her about the morning after and my brief spazz attack.

“I can see where it would be scary to learn to like other people. You’ve always been such a misanthrope.”

“Oh fuck you,” I said.

“Wow! The first f-bomb was not from Jazz!” Eddie yelled impressed.

Jazz laughed. “Other than that terrifying experience of realizing just how much you let someone in, I’m glad it was good.

Now, I need three words to describe him.”

I stopped drying a glass and looked up at the ceiling, searching for the right words. “Well…Patient.” Jazz nodded. “I mean, it was a month before I let him take me on an actual date. Not only that, but I made it blatantly obvious I wasn’t attracted to him. But he was patient and wore me down and even watched bad movies for me.”

“Is that patient or tenacious?” she asked.

I thought for a moment. “Maybe a little bit of both. My second word is considerate. I mean, he’s came by to check on me, asks if I need anything. He even brought me some leftovers from an evening meeting by the bar for me. And when I started flipping this morning, he seemed to genuinely care. He made me promise I was just worked up over the whole lack of double protection thing.”

“And you lied to him,” Jazz pointed out.

“Of course I lied to him!” I snapped. “Do you really think I should have said well, I got a little freaked out because I haven’t let anyone get close to me for a couple of years because I’m not strong enough to deal with…” I paused and took a deep breath. I was learning to let people in, but there were still things I wasn’t ready for apparently. “Should I have confessed that, Jazz?” I asked.

“Point taken,” Jazz said softly. “Trying to get a raise out of you, Sunny. But a different kind of raise.”

I smiled. “I know. Ok, the third word…” I paused and thought. “Confident. Yes, he was patient in his chase of me, but had he not had confidence, he never would have come to the bar. And there’s something really sexy about confidence.”

“Sure,” Jazz said.

“Confidence just always brings me these daydreams of these ‘take charge men.’ Men who take what they want. It’s barbaric and disgusting and yet I’m strangely drawn to these men.”

“You want to be dominated.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Who doesn’t? There is something so sexy about being dominated. Like when you’re in bed and he starts ordering you around and the sex just becomes so good!”

“Easy, Jazz, my stomach isn’t strong enough yet.” Eddie yelled from the kitchen. Jazz flipped the middle finger in the direction of the kitchen. “You’re flipping me off aren’t you?”

“Yep!” I yelled back.

“Whatever, Eddie,” Jazz said and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Men were meant to dominate women between the sheets. We have to submit to them to do the deed. So, a man with confidence that inspires barbaric thoughts…” A far away dreamy look suddenly crossed Jazz’s face. It was quite possible she was remembering sex with Radio. “Very, very scrumptious. And to prove my point, Eddie helpfully pointed out that you have been whistling.”

I glared at Jazz. “So…maybe you’re right.”

“Fingers up,” Eddie said and delivered Jazz’s lunch. He then rolled his eyes at Jazz and returned back to the kitchen to get it in working order for the day.

Jazz grabbed a ketchup bottle and poured some on her plate and then grabbed a chicken tender and dunked it. “Nice to know someone is getting quality sex. Speaking of sex, I got a text message at 11:30 last night.”

“Really?” I asked a little intrigued. Jazz was allowed to ask for a booty call, but no one else could request one of her.

Her men all knew they could not ask her of this too. Jazz had a complex about them. Her thinking was that when women agree to the demands of a booty call, they were devaluing themselves and would never be seen as anything beyond a midnight toast. Jazz liked to say that he wasn’t serious if he couldn’t call at a decent hour.

However, Jazz could call at an indecent hour and if they did not jump when she commanded, they were dropped. Also following true to form, Jazz was not serious about them if she called at an indecent hour. I t was one of the many duplicitous rules that Jazz followed and made those pursuing her follow.

Jazz nodded her head. “Rainbow texted me.”

Playing the part of the dutiful bartender, I nodded and said “Uh-huh.”

“I stayed in by myself and made margaritas. I get a text telling me I am unbelievable. So text back ‘what the fuck.’ Anyway, he says he has a new movie he wants me to see. I asked him if it as a porn and apparently offended him. Remember, he always had that complex about coming straight out and saying sex. I’m blaming it on Catholic school. Anyway, I finally did get him to admit that sex would be nice. I then said I had a very nice vibrator to cap off an evening of margaritas. He fucking offered to get me a cab to come by his place!

“Seriously, Rory, what the fuck! A cab? Who in the hell does he think I am? And if I did come over – which I wouldn’t because it’s a total booty call – I would demand a cab once the sex was all said and done because I don’t ever spend the night.”

“Wow, Jazz. You still haven’t gotten over that eccentricity? I can’t imagine why you’re single right now.”

Jazz glared at me. “Tease all you want, they’re apparently begging me to come back. And that is after I’ve tried to set them up with my friends and have told them that they will never ever get to experience the joy of sex with me ever again.”

“You have a way with words.”

“I do, don’t I.”

“So who is the current Man du Jour you are focusing all your intensity on bending to your will?”

“He is a very nice specimen. Truly he is.” I was quiet and waited for her to continue. “He’s a doctor. Recently divorced, recently moved to the area, and without kids. Now, tell me what about that situation sounds bad?”

“Well, let’s see. He has been married, so he can take orders. He just moved to the area so he hasn’t heard of your reputation yet, and he has no kids which goes without saying. Plus, he’s a doctor so he’s rich. Daddy will approve and not accuse of him of dating out of his social class to get Armani suits.”

“Ugh,” she said and rolled her eyes at my reference to one of her college boyfriends who wanted to be a painter. He was nicknamed J.P. after Jackson Pollack. “Anyway, we have talked on the phone and sent cutesy, flirty text messages back and forth. He asked me out, but I declined.”

“First time or second time?” I asked. Jazz did not agree to a date until a guy asked her three times.

“Second. I was out of town this weekend,” she said. “Visiting college friends.” I rolled my eyes. “He asked if any of those friends would happen to be an ex. I let him draw his own conclusions.”

“You are the Queen of Games.”

“A title I gladly wear,” she replied graciously.

“Still, despite you’re ability to play games, you’re without a ring.”

“Which of those men would’ve made good husband material? None. I found out and promptly ditched them.”

I furrowed my brow in concentration to think about all of Jazz’s men. Ok, Rainbow Brite seemed somewhat normal from the start. She knew Radio wouldn’t work, but was enticed by Buffett, she blew things with The R.N. because she liked his nickname too much, and The Gecko…well…that was toxic from the get-go and she had her reasons for not ending it sooner.

“So describe him,” I said.

“Nope, nope, nope. Not yet. I want to hear about 501 some more. Like the three negative words.”

Jazz has always stressed the importance of balancing out the positive and negative. Her mom says this is because Jazz was born on the Virgo-Libra cusp and a part of her craves balance. I attribute her balance when it comes to guys on one of college boyfriends.

Back when Jazz and I were college freshman and cultivating our dating rules and credos, Jazz dated a pre-med junior who played soccer. Brains, beauty, body, sarcastic and witty, he was every girl’s dream. Jazz noticed he had wandering eyes right off the bat. She was always attentive to a guy’s attentions, and figured she’d be safe as long as she kept him happy and busy. She was wrong. Since then, she insists on listing three negative characteristics to see if they are deal breakers. Unsurprisingly, wandering eyes is a deal breaker.

“I’ll tell if you describe.”

Jazz looked momentarily stricken for a minute. That was a little strange, but she agreed, so I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“The first word would be tenacious.”

“A deal breaker? Really?” Jazz asked incredulously.

“I know, I know. But Jazz, I keep asking myself, why put yourself through that kind of drama and pain for a girl who at first had no interest in you. I’m well aware that I’m not without, that some might consider me a catch, but at first glance, at the first meeting, why would someone go after me so determinedly. I’m cute, but not about to grace Vogue magazine.
Jazz waved her hand in the air as if I was being completely obtuse. “You have one of the best asses ever. Ever. And in that outfit you had when we went out…well, there was a reason I grabbed your ass as we were walking out to the car.”

I rolled my eyes at her but moved on. “He drinks screwdrivers,” I said.

This time Jazz did wrinkle her nose in disgust. “Ok, that is appalling. First off, he’s a man, hasn’t he heard of beer? Second off, he’s an adult. If you must drink a cocktail, make it masculine like whiskey and coke or whiskey and water. That’s just classless.”

“Deal breaker?” I asked.

She shook her head. “You’re a bartender. You’re in a good position to move his taste to better things on the sly.”

“Ok,” I said mulling over what she said. “The last thing would be that he’s too perfect.” Again, I received another look of incredulity. “He just…he answers when I call, he’s thoughtful, appreciative, listens to me…that’s not normal, Jazzy.”
Jazz let out a breath. “It’s not normal, Rory, but it’s how it should be. It is quite possible that Levi is a genuine decent guy.”

“It’s possible that he in a month’s time he will be completely over me.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “He’s treating you the way you’re supposed to be treated. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Fine,” I said. “But be prepared for the day I tell you I told you so.” Jazz rolled her eyes. “Now, details about the Doc.”

Jazz sighed. “He is positively gorgeous, Sunny. He is really into running and has this amazing body despite…well…I’ll get to that.” I looked at her curiously, but she continued. “He has thick dark hair, a great smile…I mean looks wise, he’s perfect. I never would’ve thought I’d be attracted to him though.”

“Ok, what’s the defect?”

“It’s not a defect. Just an abnormality in my tastes.” I stared at her waiting for her response. “He’s forty-seven.”

My jaw dropped. “Forty-seven? Jazz, he could be your dad.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” she hissed. “God, I didn’t plan on it. I don’t like dating men more than ten years older than me, let alone two complete decades. But dad and I met with him to look over his accounts and make suggestions for tax exemptions. I thought he was attractive, but that was it.

But then I got to know him. He’s spastic and crazy, so hyper and full of life. His energy is so contagious. When I’m around him, I just feel so…like my body is humming with anticipation. And not just sexual anticipation although I’m wondering what that is like.”

“So how did this start and why I am just now hearing about this?” I asked her.

“I’ve been a little embarrassed. Dad knows something is happening, and he’s been such a jerk about it. I mean…I guess I understand. He is older than my dad’s brother. But then again, my dad’s brother was born ten years after him which isn’t exactly normal.

“I just…don’t know what to make of the attraction I guess,” Jazz said and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar, her head in her hands.

“So what of the attraction? What has happened? Have you talked about the divorce? Why he doesn’t have kids?”

“Well, it started out at our first meeting. Dad left to take a call from my mom. Some ridiculous crisis, I don’t know. We just started talking and I asked about the divorce. He didn’t come out and tell me the details then, just said things drove them apart and I made the comment ‘I’d work extra hard to keep you near me.’ It just came out of nowhere. I had no idea about the attraction, really, just thought he was nice looking, but old.

“The comment caught him off-guard, but he did manage to volley a comment back at me by saying he thought a nice girl like me wouldn’t have any problem keeping a man interested. Things grew from there. The next thing I knew, we were sending each flirty text messages and he was asking me out.”

“What were the flirty text messages?”

“Oh he went to Chicago one weekend for a conference. I told him that he could find some cougars at a bar and he said he was happier being a sugar daddy. I said he could be whatever he wanted with his looks. The next thing I know I’m wearing barely-professional skirts with sexy pantyhose and dangerous stilettos. Kind of hard to keep that from my dad and he soon discovered the common denominator.”

“And you’ve kept this from me?”

Jazz sighed. “I was just…It’s so completely different and out of character for me. I’m still trying to figure it out, Rora. But hearing you so happy, it was as contagious as The Doc’s enthusiasm.”

“So is he McDreamy or McSteamy?” I asked referring to the popular nicknames of two of the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy. I hadn’t watched the show with my work schedule but had heard plenty about the show from my customers.

A dreamy looked appeared on Jazz’s face. “Salacious. He kissed me a couple of weeks ago and since then, I’ve had dreams.”
“Dreams?”

“Sex dreams.”

Eddie yelled from the kitchen, “Is this going to continue much longer?”

“It’s sex dreams, Eddie!” I snapped. In my opinion, sex dreams could be some of the best. Especially if climax came, something I had experienced one time. It was so good and delicious that I was in a great mood for the complete week. It was so real. And the best part was that there was no risk of pregnancy or disease. Amazing.

He mumbled something from the back which Jazz and I promptly ignored. Jazz then spilled the imagined pleasured the doctor was giving her. Eddie banged pots and pans around to try and drown out the sound and to show us how annoyed he was.

“So, the kiss,” I said. “You heard about my date, about how he pled his case…I want details now!”

Jazz sighed and bit into another chicken tender. “Fine, fine, fine. It was two weeks ago,” she said. “We had sent the flirty messages, and I had begun to dress for him. My dad was out meeting with a client and hadn’t got back to the office yet. I was finishing a phone call. The Doc was early. When I got off the phone, I told my secretary to send him in. I figured there was no harm, I could get my stuff together, talk some shop with him – okay, flirt – before my dad got back.

He came into the office and walked around behind me as I was gathering my files. I stopped what I was doing and straightened up. His arms came around me and his hands landed against my hips. I felt his lips nuzzle my neck right where my shoulders meet. I turned my head to the side to meet those lips. And it was amazing. He made Radio look like a complete novice. “

Her eyes closed for a brief moment. I knew she was reliving that moment too. “Oh, Rory. His lips right there, kissing me breathless, and then his hands so very nearly there, but not quite. Damn, girl.”

“So, what happened?”

“He looked at me and told me that he was sorry, but he had to know if I was playing or for real. Of course, that only made it all the more real for me. He then asked me out for the first time. I said that I was busy and didn’t elaborate.”

“And a week later he asked you out for the second time?”

She smiled devilishly. “Yes. And I was visiting college friends. I’m terrible.”

“Yes you are,” Eddie yelled from the back.

I waved Eddie’s comment off. “So when am I meeting the good doctor? You know, if he’s new in town, he needs to be introduced to the city’s most legendary establishment.”

She was saved from commenting by a knock at the door. I looked over prepared to tell the overzealous patron that we were closed, but I saw it was Levi. Jazz gave me a sly look, but grabbed her cell phone and pounded away at the keyboard while I opened the door. I was willing to bet money that she was texting Dr. Feelgood, maybe even telling him she wasn’t wearing panties. That was Jazz.

“Hey,” he said when I opened the door and drew me into his arm for a hug. “I didn’t hear from you yesterday.”

Still enveloped in his arms, I looked up at him and said, “Well, I got some rest and then worked, then came home and collapsed again. Wonder why I was so tired.”

He grinned cheekily and then gave me a quick kiss before I could lead him inside and lock the door. I reintroduced him to Jazz and then called for Eddie. Levi ordered a burger and fries. Eddie mumbled something, probably annoyed at my friends for popping in and setting him to work before we opened, but did as I asked.

Jazz’s phone beeped. She glanced at it and big goody smile spread across her face.

“What does it say?” I asked her.

“Three times!” she squealed. “Only, I’m not sure I should say yes.”

I rolled my eyes. Jazz and her rules. “Why not?”

“Well, technically it is the third time he has asked, but it’s last minute.”

Levi looked at me questioningly. I ignored him for the time being. “What’s the plan?” I asked.

“Well, he wants to drive me over to New Haven Square and have a picnic. He has also has a nice bottle of red wine. “

“All right, get out of here,” I said. Jazz didn’t move. “Text him and tell him to pop an extra Viagra and go with him!”

“Viagra? Really, Aurora, that is just rude. Besides, you know my policy.”

“Policy?” Levi asked.

“If he doesn’t declare his undying love for her, she won’t have sex with him.”

Jazz snorted. “You’re a fine one to talk must four weeks and no less. That’s the one policy of yours that I adopted. However, I must make sure I have my chapstick.”

I laughed and watched Jazz leave.

“Four weeks?” Levi asked.

“My standard dating procedure. I like to know the men I sleep with and know that they are serious about me.”

“I’m guessing I passed,” he said. “So what was that other stuff about? Third time but last minute?”

I laughed. “Jazz has more policies than the U.S. Congress. She likes to be pursued, thinks that men get more interested when they have to pursue a little harder than normal, and therefore, she doesn’t agree to a date until the third time a guy asks. Likewise, she never agrees to a last minute date. Last minute refers to any evening date that is discussed after noon.”

“Good lord,” he said. “Does she make them walk the tight rope too?”

“No, I make them do that.”

“No, you make us jump through hoops on a tight rope,” he teased.

I laughed. “Forgive me. It’s been awhile since someone was interested.”

“I doubt that’s true. I’m sure there have been people that are interested. They just have a hard time getting through your amazingly prickly demeanor. I should call you porcupine!”

I glared at Levi and said, “Funny.”

Levi stayed through opening and finally took off around four as we were starting to pack. When he left, Eddie came out and made some comments about Levi. Eddie may not have been Jazz, but his opinion did matter. We were close, but more than that, Eddie was here. He saw things with Levi unfold firsthand. Jazz only heard about things secondhand and not just secondhand, but from my point of view. Of course my viewpoint was somewhat skewed and couldn’t be relied on because I had a bias. My bias was of course that I ended up liking Levi.

Eddie said some things that made me start to think his “perfect” flaw wasn’t a flaw like a believed. Funnily enough, he agreed with Jazz – I made sure and point out that this was probably the first time ever – that there were some men out there who could see past my bristly demeanor. Either that or they liked a challenge.

Insightful or up for a challenge, it didn’t matter because I deserved a good man. That wasn’t just my ego talking, that was straight from Jazz and Eddie. Sure, they were my friends. But they were enough of friends that they would tell me if my attitude wasn’t quite up to snuff. I had to agree with their lining thinking for a number of reasons:

First off, I was attractive. Jazz liked to say I had a nice ass. I knew it was true in high school, and because I liked to swim and run, it was still true now. Eddie agreed that my ass was nice, but also said my looks were more than I gave them credit. A sultry temptress I may not be, I may not be about to grace Victoria’s Secret any time soon, but I had an “every girl” appeal he said. I looked cute and fun and low maintenance, three traits every man was interested in.

Secondly, I was a good person. I was always there for my friends whenever they needed me. I even talked Jill into working a shift for me when Jazz called upset and emotional after a certain fight with The Gecko. At Thanksgiving and Christmas time, I had food drives and toy drives for families in need. I worked and worked hard for a living, and only cheated on my taxes a little bit.

Third, was that it was time my lucked changed. I hadn’t exactly had a string of bad luck, but I had one majorly traumatic event – The Unmentionable – and very nearly gave up. It took months for Jazz and my aunt to coax me back to the land of the living. They were patient, they were understanding, and when need be, they were brutally honest and forced me to rejoin society.
Okay, so I hadn’t exactly rejoined society all at once. It was a gradual, gradual process. It began with me reconnecting with people and eventually I convinced myself to work again. Slowly I began to live again, to take chances on life and everyone around me. Living didn’t guarantee good things were bound to come your way, but it was damn sure time some good around me happened.

I could go on listing all of the reasons why I needed a good guy, but the biggest reason was simple: I was a good girl; I should attract a good guy; I shouldn’t settle for a bad guy.

If for anyone reason Levi’s adoration of me began slipping, Eddie agreed that it was within my best interest to kick him to the curb. Eddie proclaimed that “I was named after a princess and should be treated accordingly.”

I had to agree with him. Hell, a few of my regulars sitting at the bar drinking from their beers even agreed with him. One even proposed a toast to me once it was agreed upon. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly, but very nicely provided them with free shots of Red Stag.

Closing time came quickly. It always comes quickly on a Sunday night, the one night we close early, at nine. During the week we close at midnight and on the weekends we close at three. We’re well aware that we could probably stretch our hours on Sunday, but none of the staff wants to work much later than nine. Depression or not, our profits aren’t exactly lacking, so instead of lengthening our Sunday hours and making more profits, we hour given a bit of a Sunday evening to enjoy.

And enjoy my Sunday evening, I certainly did. Before I left, Levi made me promise that I would be by after work, to even send him a text message when I was on my way. He said it was necessary for me to go over to his place immediately because he hadn’t heard from me at all on Saturday and wanted to make sure I was of sound mind and body.

I knew what he really wanted, what “sound mind and body” was code for and wasn’t about to object. It may have been hard getting back on that dating horse, but now that I was up there, I was going to ride the horse for as long as possible, reaping all the benefits that I could. Sex was definitely something I had missed.

Despite getting there around ten o’clock, Levi had dinner for me. He was putting the finishing touches on a pasta dish. Dinner was met with much fanfare from my stomach. It promptly growled when I smelled the tomatoes and spices in the air.

Levi smiled at me, got my plate ready, and even served me dinner. We sat in the kitchen and watched a Seinfeld rerun while we ate and drank from a nice bottle of red wine he had on hand. It was very nearly a perfect evening.

I say very nearly because I ended up passing out on the couch leaning up against Levi. I still wasn’t recovered from the lack and sleep and stress (which was completely my doing because I am ridiculous like that) from Friday night. The wine only added to my exhaustion. The morning, however, was very notable.