Cathy Yardley - L.a. Woman

“Benjamin Slater.”

“Jam, it’s me. Sarah.”

“Sarah.” She thought she could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey there. How are things going in L.A.? I was going to call you Saturday.”

“I figured I’d jump the gun,” she said. “Guess what? I got a job!”

“I knew you would,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m an assistant account executive at Salamanca Advertising Agency. That’s where Judith works, but I’m not working with Judith—she’s in production. I’m on the account management side.”

“That’s great, honey.”

“I’ve been really busy, and it’s only been the first few days…”

“I’ve been swamped, myself,” he said, with a heavy sigh.

She paused. “Any luck with Richardson? I’m not trying to push.”

“None. I have to make the assumption that Andrew—the V.P., you know?—that he’s making good on his promise to get me out of there. So Cal could use somebody like me. That’s what he said.”

“That’s great, Jam.”

“So just a few more months, and then I’ll be able to move down,” he said. “I just have to make it up here in the meantime.”

“I’m sure you will,” she said warmly.

“Actually, I can’t talk long,” he said. “Paul Jacobs and, well, some people from the L.A. office are up for a visit—I promised I’d go out for a few beers with them. You know, blow off some steam.”

She bit her lip. “Um, okay.”

“It’s just a few beers, Sarah.” He sighed again, this time a little more irritably. “It’s not like I’m going out and boinking a bunch of coeds.”

“I know that!” she replied. What, did she expect him to stay in every night, just because she wasn’t up there with him?

Still, a little more pining would be comforting, she thought, then brushed the thought aside.

“Sarah! Saaa-rah…” Martika called from the frame of Sarah’s bedroom door. “You wanna come out with us? We’re drinks.”

Sarah frowned, then motioned to the phone that she held to her ear. Martika huffed irritably, then retreated to the living room.

“Sorry,” Sarah muttered.

“Who the hell was that? I thought you were at home.”

“I am,” Sarah replied. “That was…well, I couldn’t quite make rent just on my salary. So I took on a roommate.”

There was a pause as Benjamin digested that fact.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Sarah assured him hastily. “Besides, Martika knows that it’s month-to-month…”

“Martika? What the hell sort of name is that?”

“I don’t know. Danish, I think.” Okay, that was a shot in the dark.

“I told you that I’d make it down to Los Angeles as soon as Richardson gives me a goddamn chance, Sarah. I didn’t tell you to get a roommate.”

Sarah frowned. “What you told me was that I had to cover rent on this apartment—this considerably more expensive apartment, I might add—by myself. Since you’re not living here yet. Really, realistically, what would you have had me do, Jam?”

“Dammit, Sarah, I didn’t…don’t get all touchy on me, okay? I really don’t need this right now.”

Like I do?

She sighed. “I’m just saying I didn’t have a lot of options.”

“I see.” He made a low grumbling sort of sound. “Well, you’re right, of course. It’s better that you got a roommate. Just… Did you do a thorough search?”

Sarah crossed her fingers—childish, granted. “Sure I did. She’s a friend of a friend of mine, so it wasn’t like getting a complete stranger.”

“Huh. What’s she like?”

She thought about Martika’s late night sex-a-thons. “Um, she’s very social.”

“Social?”

“Yes,” Sarah said hastily, “but responsible. I mean, she’s kicked in for half of the bills already, on time, and she’s a graphic designer.”

“I see.” He didn’t, obviously—his tone said that much. “Did she just say something about drinking?”

Sarah shrugged. “I think she wants me to go out with…them.” She was going to say her and Taylor, but she suddenly didn’t want to explain Taylor. That whole incident was something Benjamin would definitely frown upon.

Too late. “Well, I think you might want to consider before you go out.”

“Consider what?” Sarah felt a little burn of anger. “You’re going out for beers with the guys. I’d just have, I don’t know, a drink or two with Martika.”

“L.A. isn’t Fairfield, you know. It’s a more dangerous city.”

Sarah thought of Martika and Taylor, the imposing duo. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“You’re so naive sometimes,” he said. “Fine. Do whatever you think is best. I have to go.”

“I’ll be sure not to boink any coeds,” she replied, wanting to lighten the conversation a little.

He laughed, as she hoped he would. “I’ll talk to you next week.”

“Love you,” she said quickly.

“You, too,” he said. He clicked off.

What was that all about? Sarah hung up the phone, pensive. She wanted to believe he was just being protective—but part of her felt like he was just maintaining some sort of double standard.

He’s going out and having beers with the guys. Why shouldn’t I go out?

After all, he was the one who said that she just clung to him like a vine. If anything, this would be…asserting her independence, she thought.

She went out to the living room. Martika was in the labor-intensive process of lacing up her knee-length black leather boots. “Martika?”

“Mmm?”

“Is that invitation still open?”

Martika looked up from her boots. “Really? You’ll really go?”

“Just for a little bit,” Sarah hedged. “I’ve got a big day at work tomorrow.”

“It’s Friday. Who does much on Fridays?”

Sarah bit her lip. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“You don’t do anything much your first week,” Martika said, as if countering Sarah’s resistance. Then she flashed her a quick, mischievous grin. “Besides, I told Taylor you weren’t going to come anyway. You’d probably just curl up with a book and be asleep by ten or whatever.”

Martika was doing everything but calling her chicken. She really didn’t… “What, do I have ‘Shirley Temple’ written across my forehead or something?”

“You don’t need it,” Martika answered with a wink. “You practically introduce yourself that way. So, out to 5140 with me and Taylor? Just a few drinks, and I promise we’ll get you home early since it’s a school night.”

“All right,” Sarah said, ignoring the tail end of Martika’s statement. “Just let me get my coat.”

“This is historic,” Martika said from the living room. “Next thing you know, I’ll have you dancing with male strippers.”

Sarah came back, tugging on her coat and then clutching her purse. “Just a few drinks,” Sarah hastily added. She didn’t want to do anything that would make Benjamin right about her being naive. “No strippers, nothing like that.”

“Careful, Shirley,” Martika said with a wicked smile. “You’re backsliding.”

“Maybe 5140 wasn’t the best place to take her for her first time out,” Taylor said with a note of concern.

Martika leaned back against the slick red vinyl cushion of the booth they were sitting in. The lights were dim enough to cause your pupils to dilate like dinner plates. Sarah sat huddled against one corner, trying as hard as she could to blend into the scenery.

Martika sighed…5140 was a fairly rough-and-tumble bar, nice and seedy, with none of the Hollywood club kids or the college pricks from West L.A. and Santa Monica. As good a testing ground as any.

“So, can I get you another drink?” Martika asked as politely as she could, considering she needed to yell to get over the blasting jukebox.