Page 89 of Start With A Slap

“Am I? Or did I just want to get the fuck out of my father’s house? Ask yourself.”

Her smile faded as he walked away.

Classic rock began to play from the bathroom shower speaker, and he sang along. She concentrated on her screen. She scrolled through the headlines, then skipped to Arts and Design. Ivy saw her phone light up in her periphery.

Incoming call: Le Mal

She glanced at the bathroom door, then at Huey. “Don’t judge me.” She answered it, plugged her ear and hissed, “Why would you call me when you know Jason’s home?”

“Why did you take my call?”

She sat down on the couch. “He’s in the shower.”

“How convenient for me.” It sounded like he was walking somewhere. “Have you dressed yet?”

“Why?”

“What have you got on?”

“You know,” Ivy said, “I could get you a few numbers from the back ofLA Weekly, they’ll play this game with you all day long for a nominal fee.”

“But you’re the only one I want to talk to, and it’s a serious inquiry.”

“Fine. If you must know, I am wearing this gnarly old wifebeater I’ve had since college,” she pulled it away from her body to inspect it, “complete with sexy new coffee stains; frumpy gray boycut undies and a butt-ugly pair of brown wool socks. Oh, and I have yet to shower or shave.”

There was a pause. “Don’t change. I’ll be right there.”

She chuckled, “Right.”

“Twelve oh eight, yeah? I just passed the tenth floor.”

She sat up. “You’re here? Are you insane? Jason’s in theshower?—”

“How long of a shower does he usually take?”

“No. No, no, no, you can’t?—”

“How long?”

She was circling the room, panicking. “I-I don’t know, twenty minutes?”

“When did he start?”

“Maybe three minutes or so before you called, but?—”

“Don’t change a thing, don’t fix your hair, don’t move except to answer the door.”

“This is stupid, Sever. Stupid, and wrong, and?—”

“I’m here. Shall I ring the bell, or will you let me in?”

“Don’t you dare ring the bell! Just— wait a second.” She herded Huey to the balcony and bounded to the front door.

He looked ...surprising. Instead of a suit, there was a blue cashmere v-neck sweater over a white dress shirt, with the tails showing, and then the little hint of Pavlovian cologne... Ivy had to remind herself that this was an outrage. “What the hell are you doing, hanging around my building? You’re acting like a stalker!”

He smirked at her striped wool socks. “Theyareugly.”

“Okay, fine. You’ve seen the funny socks. Go home.” ‘Stuck In The Middle With You’ began to play from the bathroom, as if she needed to be reminded.

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