10/30/91
Intuition is a flash of insight. Neither faith, nor instinct, its enlightenment comes from empirical evidence, consciously or unconsciously attained. Intuition may not tell you what you want to hear, but if ignored you're basically fucking yourself.
___
Kate met Lee for the first time on Halloween, 1991, at Jerry's Deli in Studio City. She picked Jerry's for blind dates because it was always crowded which gave the illusion of safety in numbers, though the facade was wearing thin after the drive-by last month. The deli was famous for its pastrami and kosher pickles, and the Hollywood types--actors, directors, producers and the like that hung out there. They came for lunch, or to do a meeting. Studio City, a quiet suburb in the Valley, was home to many movie and TV studios. Up against the Hollywood Hills, it was still considered one of the better areas in L.A., even with the recent shooting there. Violence was spreading everywhere.
To be precise, Kate didn't exactly meet Lee at Jerry's. Sheer terror of living life alone and childless, of being nothing, to anyone, ever, compelled her to run a second personal ad in the Daily News that year. Her window of youth was closing. The first ad yielded no prize, but she met a few nice guys, even dated one for a month, a widower with a three year old who turned out to be seeking a mother in the form of a wife. It was a numbers game, family and friends assured her. Personals were the new hip, slick and trendy way to meet in L.A. Ads were free and an easy way to meet men ostensibly seeking what she was. So far, most were on the widower's page. Even now, with desperation choking desire, Kate held out for so much more. So she placed a second ad in the Daily and chose her twenty-five words more carefully. Out of both ads, Lee was number forty-two to respond.
Five bucks a pop and anyone could leave a message on the voice mail account the newspaper provided with Kate's personal ads. She called most everyone back. They were spending hard earned cash just to introduce themselves and Kate felt obligated to return the introduction. Lee's message came days after everyone else's, but he sounded like he was reading from the same script as the twenty guys before him. He was 30-something and "at a great space in his life," a successful entrepreneur with plenty of money and time for play. Loved travel, reading, music, and cycling on the strand at the beach. All he wanted (not 'needed'--'wanted' makes one better adjusted) was someone to share his wonderful life with.
As she drove to the famous deli that cool, windy October night, Kate smiled in anticipation of meeting Lee. This wasn't like the few other first meetings with guys from her ads--her heart and mind racing with hope. Kate had dismissed the possibility Lee could be Mr. Right last night during their first phone conversation...
"What are you doing right now?"
After exchanging typical stats and pleasantries, Lee's question felt invasive, like he was peering through the phone at her.
"Writing. What are you doing?"
"Writing what?" He kept the conversation focused on her.
"Nothing important. I'm just screwing around."
"I bet it's fun screwing around inside your head." He paused, and laughed, deep and filled with resonance. "Playing with ideas, I mean."
Now Kate laughed, ran her hand through her short, thick hair pulling it away from her eyes. "Yes. It is. Reliable entertainment without complications." Mental masturbation, she heard her father in her head. "It's probably why I'm 33 and still single." She mimicked her mother without meaning to. "What about you? You seem nice enough. Why are you still single?"
"I'm not."
She should have hung up right then, said thanks for the chat and goodbye. But she didn't.
"We've been separated almost a year now. I live in Glendale, she lives in Long Beach. I haven't seen or spoken to her for over nine months. We've already filed. Just waiting on the final papers."
"I don't date married men." Kate wasn't about to be added to that list of stupid women stats, or become a causality of his inability to keep his commitments. Trusting divorced men seemed somewhat of an oxymoron.
"I don't date married women. You sound like a very bright lady and I would really like to get together for coffee or something. My marriage is over. If you're worried about that, don't be." He spoke softly, but with conviction.
She was stretched out on her stained, comfy gray couch with a notebook in her lap, in her cozy living room. Her dog, Face, was curled within arms reach on the throw rug that cover most of the dark wood floor. The room was dim with only one window, especially since the fog had already settled in outside and masked the afternoon sunshine. She'd been writing in her journal, stringing together some prose on Intuition when Lee called, and now she was ready to get back to it. And Kate was just about to give him the 'you sound like a really nice guy...' speech when she heard the unmistakable sound of him sucking on a joint.
"What are you doing right now?"
He laughed knowingly. "Why?"
"Are you getting high?"
"Would it matter to you if I was?"
HANG UP! Don't meet this guy. In his mid, probably late 30's and he was blatantly getting high at 4:00 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. A married (soon to be divorced or not) stoner was not the knight she'd been holding out for all these lonely years. Her intuition screamed at her to dismiss this man. Say goodbye and hang up. But she didn't. She chose to listen to the part of her brain that craved escape from fear and want, and the weight of her ordinary life. "Do you know where I can get any?" She practically whispered.
He laughed again. "Yeah. I can come by right now. We can hang out, get a buzz on, get acquainted."
Kate sighed. He didn't get it. She may use, but she refused to be a prick tease, and she'd never been easy. "Look, I told you, I don't 'get acquainted' with married guys." Or stoners, but she didn't say it. "I'm looking for an eighth of green, no more than $40. If you can't make that happen, or you're not okay with only meeting to connect then--"
"I get it." He said it with that same teasing tone as earlier. "First things first. Meet me tomorrow night and I'll have your request filled and available."
"Are you a dealer?"
"Nope." Again the sucking sound of smoking a joint. "Though it just so happens my neighbor is." He exhaled, sounded like wind through the wire. "Got lucky I guess. It's definitely getting harder to find good connections the older I get."
Lee's comment cut. It was true. She tried to ignore her disgust at the addict she swore to herself she'd quit modeling. Instead, she focused on the anxiety release she knew would come with the first few hits. She hadn't been high in a very long month, and before then only sporadically since Billy quit dealing after signing with MCA last summer. Kate had been on the prowl for a solid connection since. So she agreed to meet at Jerry's Deli at 9:00 p.m. the following evening, which just happened to be Halloween. One quick cup of tea would tell her if it was safe to deal with Lee.
The heater was blasting but with the passenger window half open Kate was freezing the entire drive to Jerry's. Face was in doggy bliss though, her long nose stuck far out as possible, craning her neck to snuffle in the cool, crisp air, her jowls puffed with wind.
Ahh, to be a dogÂ… to be so idyllically simple, to thoroughly enjoy living instead of suffocating under the weight of fabricated complexities.
One hand on the wheel, with the other Kate retrieved the pen stuffed inside the metal coil of the ring-binder notebook she kept on the passenger seat. She flipped open the black cardboard cover to a blank page and wrote down the thought as she joined a line of cars creeping along to get to the parking lot. As with all entries she titled it simply by date: 10/31/91.
Ten minutes later she finally pulled into the lot, and then waited five more for the valet--wearing only a Tarzan loin cloth (with the build to pull it off) to give her a parking pass. He refused to park her two-door Civic with a German Shepherd in it. She pulled into the first available space in the business center lot the deli used for overflow parking, then gave her dog a quick scratch on the head, on the black diamond marking between her huge, rocket ears. Kate told Face to stay as she got out, locked the car and then made her way through the maze of parked cars to the restaurant to meet Lee.
Now, the patrons of Jerry's were strange enough, but on Halloween, every celluloid wacko came off the streets to make their appearance. Mostly everyone was white, in their mid 20's to late 50's, in shape and in vogue. Some were in costume, though most were not Bonnie and Clyde ran across the parking lot with toy machine guns and slowed as they neared the crowded entrance. Bonnie lifted her gun as if to shoot two nuns blocking the entryway and for a moment Kate's mind played out the scene, blood, gore and all. This warped thought produced a twisted smile. Those who proselytize religion should be executed for crimes against humanity. Then she flashed on the news of the drive-by there and felt sick, and afraid of the anger encroaching from outside, and inside of her. But as she neared the front entrance she forced herself to focus on the moment at hand.
Lee stood outside near the double glass doors by the wrought iron bench against the wall. He wore 501 jeans, a black T-shirt and a tailored black leather jacket and shifted about striking poses to appear casual, apprehensively glancing at anyone who was female and alone. He looked pretty much like his description, on the short side, 5'8" maybe 5'9", a little heavy--what most people called 'stocky' on a guy. He had a full head of thick, wavy dark hair which was unusual for mid-30's males. Most were thinning or flat out balding. His green eyes focused on her as she approached and his thick lips took on a reticent grin. He was actually quite cute.
Kate knew he liked the way she looked when he saw her walking up. Guys were pretty easy to read. When they found their date unattractive there was this awkward little silence while they try to figure out an early exit strategy. Lee smiled slowly, tentatively, almost hopefully. He looked her straight in the eye as she walked up to him and his gaze never wavered.
"Lee?" Kate stuck her hand out to shake his and smiled. "Hi. I'm Kate. Sorry I'm late but parking was a bitch."
"Hi. Glad you made it." He took her hand as if to shake it but held it. "Lee Messer." And he smiled this ear to ear Cheshire grin. "And you're right on time, Kate."
His thick hand wrapped hers in warmth and she suddenly flushed, then reclaimed her hand. The cool wind gusted and Kate was chilled straight through. They stood a foot apart and two inch heels on her black boots put them almost eye to eye. She wore her favorite tight black jeans, which she'd topped with a low cut, sleeveless black rayon shirt and a thin black linen blazer. Freezing, but thinning. Kate liked black. She may not be interested in dating Lee, but she still wanted him to want her.
A hostess came outside and called Lee's name. She was dressed as a maid from The Rocky Horror Picture Show with the tiny flared skirt and 4" spiked heels. Their table was ready. She led them through the crowds and seated them at a small maroon vinyl booth along the back wall and for a moment they got caught up in the bizarre.
It was packed in there, and loud. The restaurant was big, and bright, with a large square dining room complete with the classic linoleum bar with short, chrome rotating stools. A naked man, except for his feathered cap, groin and ass was being escorted out of the restaurant by two large kitchen workers. He stopped, took off his cap and bowed to a robust woman dressed as Queen Elisabeth as they passed each other in the narrow entry lined with glass cabinets filled with elaborate baked treats. Lee laughed. Kate smiled, rolled her eyes and shook her head at the show.
Their waitress came over. She was dressed as a Playboy cocktail server, bunny ears, bushy tail and all. She was gorgeous--long, slender legs, her flat belly accentuated her perky round breasts. She knelt to our level to hear us above the noisy diner. Her cleavage demanded notice but Lee looked her in the eye as he gave his order, then looked at Kate as she gave the waitress hers. He kept his eyes on Kate as the waitress straightened, stuck her notepad into her waistband and turned away.
Don Quixote entered the restaurant next and there was a small round of applause but not from Kate or Lee since neither knew the actor. They shrugged at each other and looked back out at the floor show. Moments later Kate felt Lee's eyes on her. Then their waitress came back and set down their teas, and the room seemed to fade with her when she left.
"Why did you run that ad?" Lee asked her. "It seems to me you could date any guy you want."
In the four or five meetings she'd had from her ads, not one of the guys ever asked why she'd placed it, or given her so nice a compliment with their first few words. Lee was eloquent, a sign of intelligence, and smart tantalized. But tonight Kate hoped to get through the pleasantries quickly, score and leave. She had no desire to engage Lee, be hyper-vigilant to be perky and light, demure yet vivacious. Tonight she didn't have to pretend to be what most men wanted, what they expected--according to her mother, the authority on proper facades. Lee watched her, awaiting her response. His baby face masked his age and she just had to know. "How old are you?"
"Thirty eight." He furrowed his brow in a mock irritation. "Now would you please answer my question? Why did you place the ad?"
"To find what it said."
"Attractive, passionate, creative pro, 5'7", 135, SWF, sks, imaginative, passionate, pragmatic, independent thinker, with a wild and crazy heart.' Lee quoted her ad exactly with a haughty smile.
"'Who's ready for the real thing.'" Kate quoted the rest and returned his cheeky grin. Mentioning marriage and kids, even in the abstract was a bad move on a first meeting, but she felt no need to be careful with Lee.
He didn't flinch. Elbows on the table, he held his teacup with both hands as if to warm them. "So you're after the white picket fence, the whole nine yards?"
"I've never been into fences." She teased, sort of. "I prefer a lot of land around me, flush with trees and spectacular views of the sea."
His smile softened and a dimple appeared in his left cheek only. "Me too. Preferably beachfront, Zuma area maybe, or close to it."
Kate eyed him suspiciously. He'd described the imagery in her head. "I have plans for a house I want to build just north of Zuma, on the bluffs near Leo Carrillo." And Kate conjured the modular wood and glass structure she'd designed, immediately followed by the sobering reality that in all probability the house would never be built. Ten years out of college and she was still just getting by, keeping on top of rent and bills but sometimes just barely. "Too bad land along the coast, or anywhere worth living, is so expensive."
"Lucky I'm good at making money." His green eyes were speckled with brown. They were large, almond-shaped, the lids weighted but not sleepy, what her mother called "bedroom eyes." His long lashes nearly touched the base of his brow.
"What do you do exactly?" Kate asked, checking to see if his story was consistent with his phone version. "You mentioned some kind of shipping on the phone."
"I run a small consulting business, out of my condo in Eagle Rock, shipping freight. I deal with trains and trucking--getting stuff back and forth across the country. It's afforded me a very nice living, with lots of free time to do what I want. I've been lucky so far." Lee sipped his tea, set it back down and looked back at her. "So, what do you do exactly? You said on the phone you're a 'creative consultant.' What's that?"
Kate was caught off guard he turned her question around. She'd spent most of the other first meetings interviewing self-absorbed guys who typically went on diatribes to address even common, polite inquiries. "I write and design print advertising. I say I'm a creative consultant because I freelance." Kate suddenly felt small, and was compelled to elaborate even to Lee to appear more than just a shill. "But painting with words, and designing everything from furniture to buildings for a living would be fairly close to topping out my list of fantasies."
"Right up there with the custom beach house, kids and a partner for life." His smile broadened again. He was relaxed, casual verging on cool. He was adorable, and he was listening. Kate couldn't help smiling too.
Someone screamed with delight and everyone clapped as rock legends Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain entered the room. The actor who played Jim looked familiar but Kate couldn't place him. Kurt Cobain looked identical to the real one--strung out on heroin and rail thin. The actor was either very good or very high because crossing the room he stumbled and almost fell in the lap of a patron before taking his seat at one of the chrome framed Formica tables by the windows along the front wall.
The volume seemed to ramp up as the restaurant got more and more crowded. Kate didn't care for crowds. There was an underlying manic quality to the masses that fundamentally frightened her.
"Let's get out of here." Lee yelled across the table above the screeching pitch in the deli. He leaned in closer. "I got some of what I brought for you. Let's go in my car and smoke a joint, see if you like it." He took a $20 bill from his wallet and dropped it on the table as he stood up and looked down at her. "Ready?"
It was why she'd come, after all. And smoking together before making a deal for the first time with a stranger was the ritual that proved you weren't a cop, though there was no doubt in her mind Lee was what he claimed to be, at least professionally. She been scoring since high school and knew the routine, always connected through suburban white boys who knew someone, who knew someone. Most L.A. natives knew by middle school to steer clear of real drug dealers unless you were looking to live on the twisted edge of society.
Sixteen dollars was a damn healthy tip for two cups of tea and Kate didn't add any more money to what Lee left on the table. She followed him out of the restaurant and they emerged from the noise and mayhem. Suddenly free the tension of the crowd, she sucked in the crisp night air. Lee had somehow managed to park right across the street from Jerry's, on the curve where no houses or businesses were. He grabbed her hand and held it across the four lanes of Ventura Blvd. guiding her to his silver Mercedes sedan, and let go as naturally as he'd taken it as he opened the passenger door for her.
She sat in the plush leather passenger seat, cupped her hands and blew into them, then rubbed them together for warmth. Lee got behind the wheel and shut the door then retrieved a pack of Marlboro Reds from his visor. He flipped it open, took out a joint, stuck it between his full red lips and lit it with a slim silver lighter. Smoke drifted off the end of the joint in a thin, dancing line as he took several quick hits. He dropped the pack on the burl medium between them, started his car to unroll the sunroof and exhaled a stream of smoke through the open top before turning the car off and handing her the joint. She looked around before taking it. On Lee's side cars whizzed along Ventura Blvd. Only someone on the sidewalk could see into his car. And no one walks in L.A.
Kate took a hit and choked, and smiled. The weed was sweet, mild, excellent bud. She blew out the smoke. It filled the car, putting haze between them then a chilling gust blew in and cleared the air. Lee retrieved the cigarette pack and pulled out a clear plastic baggie showing her buds of weed inside, then shoved it back in the box and handed her the pack. "As promised--for you." He flashed an arch of his brows and smiled.
"Thanks. It's very nice." Kate handed him the joint, took the pack and slipped it in her blazer pocket, then pulled out the two twenties she'd folded together in there.
"Not necessary," Lee insisted. "It's on me. I can afford it. It's my pleasure to turn you on." He took a long, slow draw off the joint.
She smiled at his double entendre. "Thanks for coming through." She dropped the bills into the cup holder inset into the median. "I've been looking to connect for quite some time." It was a dope deal, not a date, she reminded herself as he extended the joint to her, his eyes glassy and laughing but his expression was placid, just a hint of a smile on his deep ruby lips. No matter how cute, articulate, witty, Lee was still married and that meant he was off limits for anything but the most casual friendship.
They talked effortlessly, without hesitation or awkward silences as they exchanged the joint. The conversation flowed easily from one topic to another, mostly just general jive about current events, favorite movies, books, sports. Kate's body warmed and relaxed into the soft seat, her world slowed with the smoke and details became vivid. The car was clean, unlike hers, which was filled with paraphernalia and dog hair. The Mercedes interior was done in leather, the dash and divider polished burl that showed off its tight, twisted grain. The stereo had a CD changer in it, and was Bose. Lee sat sideways with his back against the door in an attempt to face her. He rested his left hand casually on the steering wheel. With his right he brought the joint to his mouth, pursed his lips softly in what looked like a sensual kiss, and sucked. His movement was smooth, practiced. Lee was clearly no casual user. He gave Kate a wily smile as he slowly exhaled.
"Favorite sport is definitely racquetball." His dimple appeared as he handed her the half-smoked joint. "Started playing in high school. Kind of gave it up after college but would love to get back into it. It's a great game. Quick. Focused. A lot of fun."
"I love racquetball! It's the only sport I've ever been any good at." Kate took a quick hit off the joint. "It's a great workout if you keep the ball moving and don't break for serves." She hit the joint again. "But lately I've been stuck playing guys with some primal need to win. And it gets dangerous on the court when they don't." Kate blew smoke out the sunroof as she handed Lee the joint. "Finding reliable partners who aren't out for blood is like trying to find a good connection."
The tips of his fingers brushed hers as he plucked the end of joint from her hand. "I'll play you. Anytime. As much as you like. And we can keep the ball moving. We don't have to play for points. Good rallies are like good sex--hot, and ramp to exhaustion." For the first time that evening Kate felt anxious, wanting to avoid sexual innuendos with him. He must have picked up on her tension because he continued talking in an easy, rambling sort of way. "There are courts in Studio City on Ventura near Vineland. It's a private club but you can rent court time. And the courts are all regulation, great floors. We can play tomorrow. I'm off by 3:00 most every afternoon."
It was tempting. Racquetball was her only healthy fix over starving herself chasing thin. Playing ball several days a week for over a decade had replaced bouts with bulimia and speed, and had kept her body lean. The last couple of years she'd played mostly with Jon, two, three times a week, but since August he'd become flaky, obsessed with his summer romance. They were down to only a few games a month. Kate put ads up for a partner, and fasted several days a week to avoid the calories she was no longer burning on the courts, but her willpower was waning. Even her dreams revolved around food lately. "Okay. I'll play ball with you tomorrow. I know the courts you're talking about. I can meet you there at 4:00." It was only racquetball after all.
Lee smiled his ear-to-ear Cheshire grin again. "Great! I'll be there." He sucked on the end of the joint, inhaled deeply. Again Kate had the sense he was passionately kissing a lover, and right then she knew--he was a chronic user, a stoner, most likely addicted. He handed the last of the joint to her, a hint of the grinning cat lingering in his soft smile.
"No thanks." Disappointment clouded her buzz and took away its lightness. No matter how cute or easy to be with, Lee was not who she was looking for. Even if he wasn't married, Kate had been holding out for a man to spirit her away from the rubble, not joined her in the mire right out of the gate. Lee was not only a conspirator in her corruption, but culpable for his own--a fun playmate maybe, but unacceptable to date. Suddenly dizzy, nauseous, she flushed from her head to her toes and broke out in a sweat. "I really should get going." The weed was hitting her like a ton of bricks, her tolerance shot after not smoking for so long. "I've got to take off." She needed air, had to get out of there.
He stared at her with glassy eyes and frowned. "If you feel you must." He took a final deep draw off the roach then dropped it in the ashtray. "It's Halloween. It's L.A. The Santa Ana's are up." His hair hung in his eyes and got caught up in his long lashes. "The Lunatic Fringe is out tonight. Can I drive you to your car?"
"Thanks, but I'm over in the business lot. It'll be a lot quicker if I walk."
"I'll walk you, then."
"Not necessary." Kate unlatched the passenger door, opened it an inch. A gust of wind chilled her sweaty skin. She really just wanted to get home and crawl into bed. "It was nice meeting you. Thank you for the bud. It was fun tonight. You've really been quite charming." She meant it, though she realized her words may have sounded condescending.
His soft smile took on an amused grin. "Good to meet you. Look forward to playing you. Be ready to get it on." The Cheshire cat was back.
"I will." She ignored his double speak. "And thanks again." She pushed the car door open and cool, fresh air rushed in. "Goodnight."
"Be careful out there." Lee said as she got out. "I'll see you tomorrow on the courts at 4:00."
She leaned back down to see him. His glassy eyes seemed to sparkle with delight. A shallow dimple in his left cheek appeared, like he had a secret. His thick hair surrounded his face in soft dark waves with golden highlights. He looked 17. He really was adorably cute. "I'll be there." Another gust of wind iced her again and she slammed his car door, moved to the back of Lee's car and waited behind his Mercedes for three approaching cars to pass before running across the street.
Lee honked twice, quick and friendly. Kate glanced back and saw him wave out of his sunroof as he took off down Ventura. She was in the middle of the road before she noticed the dark blue BMW in the slow lane on the other side of the street speed up and come straight for her. Kate stared wide-eyed at the approaching car, its headlights suddenly blinding and she froze not sure where to go. Brakes squeal and she every part of her tightened, then heard laughing and taunting before her eyes cleared and she saw their dark faces and white smiles poking out from inside the car behind half-down tinted windows.
The BMW was crammed with black guys, probably in their mid to late teens, and several glared at her from the back seat as their car crossed her path. The driver stuck his red tongue out and waggled it then licked his teeth and sucked his tongue back in his mouth before turning away, his attention diverted toward the restaurant and the people on the sidewalk milling about. Kate waited for the car of bangers to pass before continuing across the street onto the sidewalk.
She ran past the fray at the crowded entrance and into Jerry's packed parking lot, and continued running until she was in the business lot only a few rows from her car. That's when she came upon the couple making it a few cars away, on the long hood of a white Datsun Z. The guy was standing at the front of the car, brown, fringed cowboy shirt still on, his jeans gathered around his calves, his bare white ass pumping in and out as he humped the woman under him. She lay splayed on the hood of the car panting and moaning, her sparkly blue party dress gathered up past her hips, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Neither seemed to notice Kate as she took off running again, disappeared between the next row of parked cars, and passed the one after that, finally stopping when she got to her Honda. She breathlessly fumbled in her blazer pocket for her keys, retrieved them with shaking hand and managed to open her car door without dropping them. Face whined happily and wagged her tail wildly, and though Kate knew her dog to be a big woose, everyone else saw an imposing Sheperd, which was why she brought Face with her, especially lately. L.A. was getting weirder by the day.
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