Nicky, who grew up in Los Angeles, used to give me a hard time if I even tried to go to the grocery store with him looking like this. When we had been together, he had considered me a reflection of him whenever we went out, and we had had more than one Wardrobe Choices argument. But James just took my hand and walked us toward the stairs. “What are you in the mood for? We could go back to Café Stella.”
I took my hair out of the lopsided ball, and finger-combed it into a no-frills Afro. Not because it was more attractive out, but because having it tied up in an Afro puff was starting to give me a headache. Still, James watched as it came out.
“I like your hair,” he said. “It’s different. Big.”
I took my hand back from him. It still tingled from the thrill of being in his. “I know a place where we can go eat,” I said.
. . .
Just as I got to the last few steps coming down the stairs, I saw a classic 1984 red Porsche 944 sitting in the club’s parking lot. Luckily I wasn’t trying to be cool that night, because I sure enough tripped over the last two steps when I saw that car.
James caught me before I could eat the pavement, just like any movie hero would. “Are you okay?”
His arms wrapped around my waist to steady me and then lingered there. I picked up the cinnamon on his breath, and the musky amber scent of his cologne. He even smelled beautiful.
I stood up straight, pulling myself out of his embrace. “Is that your car?” I asked.
I already knew the answer, though. It was the same car that Jake Ryan had driven in Sixteen Candles. Of course it was his car.
“One of them. I have a thing for cars from the eighties.” He walked ahead of me to unlock and open the passenger door. “No keyless entry, though. So I’m opening your door all evening.”
My teenage heart gave a lurch. I could almost hear the opening strains of the Thompson Twins’ “If You Were Here” playing as I got in.
“Thank you very much,” I said. No matter how I was raised, I was still Southern, and my manners were automatic.
But I was determined. This thing with James had to end. Tonight.
SIXTEEN
“You’ve never been to House of Pies, right?” I asked as we pulled out of the club’s parking lot.
“Not yet,” he said. “But I know where it is. I live right by there.”
“In the Los Feliz Hills?”
“Yeah, good guess.”
I shrugged. “That’s where all the cool rich kids live these days.”
He downshifted to make a right onto Sunset. “So you don’t like me because I’ve got money.” It was a statement, not a question. And he didn’t look at me when he made the accusation.
“No, I’ve got plenty of reasons besides that.”
James’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Care to share them with me?”
I turned to stare out the window. “No need. You’ll get bored soon enough and it won’t even be an issue.”
“You think I’ll get bored?” There was a hint of bravado in his voice, like he thought I was double-dog daring him to find me interesting.
“James, I’m not who you think I am,” I explained with more patience than I actually felt at that moment. “The bunny thing and the singing, that’s just something I do for a paycheck. In real life, I read a lot, and I watch movies on my laptop. Sometimes I go for walks, but that’s about as fun as I get.”
“I like walks.”
“I also have a psychology degree that I’m still paying for but don’t use. And that’s because I like my life just the way it is. You think I’m this intriguing mystery woman, but I’m so boring. I really am.”
That was a huge speech, especially for me, and for a second James looked like he was taking my words under serious consideration. But then he said, “I want to believe you, I really do.” He stepped on the clutch and went into first to stop at a red light. “But the thing is, you’re already the least boring woman I’ve met in L.A., so I don’t think I can trust you about that.”
I stared. He would have the perfect comeback.
As analytical as I was, I could not understand this situation. It was like we were on two different dates. I was sick with dread and almost having to restrain myself from jumping out of his moving Jake Ryan car. But James seemed to be having the time of his life.