Resist (Songs of Submission #6)(19)

“Is it serious or what?”

“Yes. It’s serious,” I said.

“All right. Thanks for letting a guy know.”

The light changed, and I laughed to myself.

“What?” He turned into the lot.

“I thought you were going to tell me that you saw him with other women.”

He looked at me and smiled, turning into the employee level. “Guys don’t rat on other guys.”

“Robert! Don’t even—”

“But there was nothing to rat. Seriously. Stop with the girl style. It don’t suit you.” He pulled in next to my little black Honda.

“Fine. I wouldn’t have believed you anyway.” I blooped my car and got out.

Robert cut the engine and pulled his small black duffel from the back. “You think I’d lie?” He slung the duffel over his muscular shoulder. “I’m not saying I woulda minded getting with you for a night, but I wouldn’t lie to do it.”

“I don’t think you’d lie,” I said, getting in my car. “I think you could misunderstand.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. If I saw him with someone, and it was something, I’d know.”

I looked him up and down. “You know what? I believe you.” I turned the ignition. Nothing happened. Just one click. “Uh oh. Do you have time to give me a jump?”

“Turn it again.”

I did. One click, then nothing.

“It’s your starter.” He walked to the front of the car and knocked on the hood. “Pop it.”

I did. He lifted the hood and chocked it up with the metal brace.

“Should I turn it again?”

“Yeah.”

I did. Same. I got out and stood next to Robert as he shone his phone’s light at the engine, analyzing the mass of wires, compartments, and hoses. I knew what most of it was but not how to fix it.

“All right. If you got a bad starter, I can bang it while you kick it over. Sometimes that kinda gets it going. But you need a new one, probably.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, except… It should be right there. Just back of the battery and down, past these wires that serve the electricity. But there’s bolt holes. No starter.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked more closely then got under the car. I leaned down, amazed at how he would just crawl under a chassis out of curiosity.

“Do you want a proper flashlight?” I asked. “I think I have one in the trunk.”

“Nope. I’m telling you. There’s no f**king starter on this car. It got jacked.”

“My starter? Are they expensive?”

“Three hundred. Two? Look, I know it’s weird but...” He shrugged.

“Oh my God,” I said, realizing who would do the surgery required to remove a starter from a twelve-year-old Japanese car. “Fucking Jonathan. Son of a goddamn bitch.”

He’d stranded me. I couldn’t get out to Venice without a car. A cab would cost a fortune, and if a bus that far out of town even existed, it would take hours one way. I couldn’t get the car fixed in time for a meeting in Culver City in the morning. That was why he’d left so easily. He walked away accepting that I had no intention of keeping any promise I made while my legs were spread. I should have known better.

“I gotta get to work,” said Robert. “You wanna call a tow?”

“Nope. I’ll figure it out.”

“How you getting home?”

“I’m not. I’m going to go upstairs and get a whiskey. Then I’m going out. If I can’t drive, I can drink.”

“Debbie’s gonna make you pay for it.”

“Fine. I’m not too broke for a little alcohol.” I took out my phone when we got to the back hall and scrolled to Jessica’s last text. I didn’t want to talk to her. The ice in her voice put me on edge. I had no idea how I would handle our conversation tomorrow.

“You can get some guy at the bar to buy you a few,” Robert said, stopping by the lockers.

“No way.”

—Sorry. Can’t make it out to Venice tomorrow. Maybe somewhere more east?—

“Why not? It’s just a drink.”

“It’s cheating.”

“Girls are crazy. I’m tellin’ you, if I were a girl and I had a nice pair, I’d never pay for a drink.”

—My studio in Culver City, then?—

I loved how she managed to keep it on her turf. If I asked her for an Echo Park location, she’d probably manage to find a place she rented, owned, or regularly patronized.

“If you were a girl with a nice pair,” I said, “you’d be the one all the guys wanted to f**k but hated. You’d have a string of one-night or one-week stands until the guy saw you letting someone else buy you drinks. Then you’d only attract the guys looking to spend a little money and put their dicks somewhere comfortable. You’d wake up one morning at fifty years old with a pair that wasn’t so nice any more, and you’d wish you’d bought your own.”

—Great. Thanks for the change. See you at ten?—

Robert and I walked up together. “You don’t know nothing about men. Sure, we might get a drink for a girl like you to get laid. But being seen with you? That’s what gets other girls. See what I’m sayin’?”