Down & Dirty (Lightning 1)

“And you think that’s enough?” He rolls his eyes. “Have you been serially single so long you’ve forgotten how it’s done?”

“I guess so, since I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You like her, true?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want her to think she means more than all those one-night stands of yours the gossip rags like to harp on, right?”

I think back to how Emerson kept reiterating her low expectations, and how much it pissed me off that she felt she had to. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“So what are you going to do to prove it to her?”

“I…don’t know?”

“Seriously, man?” He punches me again. “Do I got to do all the work around here?”

“It appears you do. So hit me, Ladykiller.” I use the nickname the press gave him years ago. “What do I need to do?”

He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “You need to woo her, obviously.”

“Woo her? Is that even a thing anymore?”

“Yeah, it’s a fucking thing. And you need to do it. W

omen like to be wooed.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean a shoulder against the closest wall and say, “And how do you suggest I do that, oh wise one?”

“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes. “How the hell do the magazines think you’re the one with all the game in this friendship?”

“It was one article, three years ago. Are you ever going to stop bitching about it?”

“They said I was the Christian to your Cyrano. It’s not like I can just forget that.”

“We’ve been over this a million times. Christian was the good-looking guy. It’s a compliment.”

“He was an idiot. Cyrano was the one with all the smooth moves. I’m definitely Cyrano.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got the nose for it, don’t you?”

“Fuck off, man. I don’t even know why I’m trying to help you.” He starts to muscle his way past me and out the door.

“No, wait.” I grab his arm. “Seriously. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole wooing thing. How do I woo a woman who doesn’t take any of my shit?”

“Are you fucking kidding me here? You’re loaded, dude. Spend some money on the girl, show her that she matters.”

I think back to Emerson’s beat-up Corolla. “I’m pretty sure she’d kick me in the balls if I bought her a car.”

Now he looks at me like I’m absolutely nuts. “You know, we could solve that problem. You could buy me a car. I promise not to kick you in the balls.”

“Screw you.”

“I’m just saying, man. You’re an amateur. Buy the girl flowers. A pretty pair of earrings.” He snaps his fingers. “Shoes. You should buy her shoes. Chicks dig shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“Yeah. You know, some of those red-soled ones. The ladies love their Loubis.”