. . .
I have never respected that phrase, “I love hard.” In my opinion, when a woman claimed to “love hard,” it usually meant she was incapable of conducting a healthy relationship because she was stuck on the image of herself as a person who somehow loved more strongly and better than almost everybody else—which, when you think about it, is pretty dang arrogant. So when problems came up, and they almost always did, the woman who “loved hard” just couldn’t see herself as anything other than the victim, the perfect lover who had been wronged by the man who didn’t appreciate her.
Still, even I had to admit that Chloe loved hard. Two months after joining the staff, she fell for our next new hire, a twenty-three-year-old actor named Michael Barker who had moved here from the East Coast. This was a common story: Almost all the handsome actors in Los Angeles moved here from someplace else. They were the prettiest, most popular people in their classes, and when they arrived they slowly but surely found out that their backstory was so common, it was worse than boring—it was sad and embarrassing for them and everyone involved.
However, Michael “call me Mike” Barker was different from the rest of those pitiable actors. He had that certain thing about him—I could tell as soon as I clapped eyes on him—that glow that all celebrities seem to have even before they become celebrities.
I had just finished rehearsing with the band, and Chloe was setting up the tables with a couple of other waiters. We both looked up when he walked through the door. He was tall with a smooth complexion and perfectly straight teeth. He gave us a little smile and a wave as he made his way through the club and into Nicky’s office. He reminded me of James in the school hallway when he did that.
As soon as she was done with her part of the setting up, Chloe came over to me. “Did you see that guy earlier?”
Her eyes were pinned to Nicky’s door like she was afraid the guy would come out at any second, and she’d somehow miss him.
“Yeah, I saw him,” I answered. “He was cute.” Though in the back of my mind I was thinking, Not as cute as James.
“He’s more than cute, he’s fine. Really fine.” She clasped her hands together. “Do you think he’s interviewing for a job?”
“I think he’s getting a job if he’s been in there that long.” Nicky wasn’t the type to keep on talking if he wasn’t fixing to hire you. Over the years, I had seen a lot of waitstaff applicants go into Nicky’s office and come right back out thirty seconds later. Nicky didn’t waste time.
Chloe leaned against the stage and kept her eyes on Nicky’s door.
. . .
After two weeks of dating, Chloe moved Mike Barker and his dreams into her small one-bedroom apartment in Koreatown.
“Do you really think that’s wise?” I asked when she told me they were moving in. Even with my limited experience, I could see that this was a bad idea. “Maybe ya’ll should do some more canoodling first. Kick the tires some more.”
“I am sure,” she said. “I have never been so excited about a person. He is so amazing in every way, you just don’t know what he’s capable of.”
She was wrong. I so suspected what a guy like Mike Barker was capable of, and it all came to pass a few months later.