Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding 2.5)

He traversed the length of the dressing room, stopping in front of her. He pulled out his dark leather wallet and extracted a white-and-gold card. “When you change your mind,” he said, handing the card to her, “give me a call.”

“What makes you think I’ll change my mind?” she asked, reaching forward and taking it out of his hand.

He smirked. “Because you just took my card.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and pushed past the curtain, refusing to acknowledge his statement. She wondered if he was laughing at her as she exited the room, but she wouldn’t look over her shoulder to find out.

Frederick found her on the other side as she walked out of the dressing room, holding her old clothes. “You slut! I’m so jealous!” he cried when she approached.

“Jesus, Frederick! Will you shut up much?” she asked as eyes followed her around the room.

“Okay, my little twatwaffle,” he said, grabbing her elbow and ushering her out of the building like a high schooler desperate for the latest gossip.

“Seriously?” she asked, rolling her eyes at him. “Can we please go have sex now?”

“Threesome with Dallas? Neither of us do chicks, but you could…ya know, watch,” he said with a shrug. “Or, maybe bring another dude and make it a party?”

“You amaze me,” she said, peering into traffic before exiting onto the sidewalk.

“No, three dudes would amaze you.”

Her head was spinning. “I have to go. I can’t right now.”

“No f**king way! You were alone with Marco Moretti, the Marco Moretti, for what like twenty to thirty minutes?

Don’t think you can just pull the I-have-to- go line on me!”

“Nothing happened.”

“Well, why the f**k not? I’d bang Marco Moretti in a dirty alleyway in front of a dumpster when it was raining with a football stadium full of people watching.”

Chyna arched an eyebrow. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Not the point, whore! What happened back there?” Frederick demanded.

“He came on to me, offered to take some pictures of me, put on the charm real thick, and nothing else,” she told him, stuffing her clothing into her oversized hobo bag.

His eyes bugged out. “He wants to photograph you? And, you said no?”

“I didn’t say anything, f**ker, so calm your ass down,” she said, stopping at the intersection.

“Well, let’s turn right back around and fix that.” He grabbed her elbow again and started pulling her back in the direction from which they had come.

“No! Quit it! I’m not going to go back to him groveling!” she cried, slapping his hand.

“Grovel for the man! It’s worth it.”

“Frederick, I can’t today,” she said, swishing her long hair over to one shoulder. “I can’t…today.” She sighed heavily and glanced away from him.

“Are you alright, baby?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug.

“Just not ready for this…this thing with Adam today. I can’t concentrate on anything. I’m all over the place. I’m scattered.” She fanned her face when she pulled back from Frederick. “God, now I’m leaking.”

Frederick smiled, wiping away the tears welling in her eyes. “You’re too strong for this, sugar. Adam’s a great guy, but then again, so is that hot ass Italian fashion designer. And, he’s just as interested in you. No use worrying your pretty little head over a guy who hurt you.

If Dallas pulled half the shit that Adam’s pulled on you, I’d cut off his dick and feed it to a blender.”

Chyna cringed. “Bad, bad imagery!”

“All I’m saying,” he said over her cries of protest, “is that you can do better.

Alright? I’m only saying it once. I hate sappy.”

“Thanks,” she said, kissing his cheeks before pulling away. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. You’re a f**king goddess,” Frederick said, smacking her ass as she walked away.

She laughed as she veered through traffic to her waiting town car. Carl whisked her across town to a quaint restaurant that Adam adored. It was all Americana food, which meant she could eat hardly anything on the menu, but he loved it, so she obliged him. Dieting wasn’t really necessary, but she just hated greasy food like that. It made her feel disgusting and unhealthy. Guess her mom’s supermodel lifestyle had rubbed off on her in certain ways.

When she walked into the restaurant, the bell jingling overhead, she saw Adam sitting in their normal spot in a bright red booth in the back. His eyes found her across the room, and he almost smiled before he looked back down at his plastic menu. She frowned and crossed the tiled floor to where he was seated.

“Okay if I sit down?” she asked, hating how her voice sounded. Hadn’t she just been seduced by a multimillion-dollar fashion designer? Wasn’t she a strong desirable woman?

He put his hand out, gesturing for her to sit, but he said nothing. She plopped down into the plastic-covered seat and picked up a menu, staring at it. Her appetite evaded her now that she was sitting in front of him, and everything on the menu suddenly sounded unappetizing.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she said, biting on her bottom lip. She wished she had something else to do besides stare at the stupid menu.

He didn’t glance back up from his menu, and for a second, she thought he wasn’t going to respond. “Well, you have the most annoying best friend in the world.”

Chyna laughed and then coughed, trying to cover it up.

“She certainly doesn’t give up on the people she cares about,” he said, looking up at her then, “like ever.”

“Sounds like her,” Chyna said, holding back a smile. That sounded way too much like Alexa.

The waitress came over, wearing a red and white–striped old-fashioned dress with ruffled socks in white Keds. Her hair was pulled up into pigtails with scrunchies. She looked utterly ridiculous.

Chyna could never get over the outfits here. Just dress them in normal clothes!

“What’ll ya have?” she asked, smacking away on her bubble gum, not even looking at them as she held her notepad poised and ready.

Adam ordered a double cheeseburger with bacon and a fried egg on top with onion rings, instead of French fries, and a root beer. He burned calories like a maniac. Lucky fast metabolism . Chyna just asked for a strawberry milkshake, happily handing over her dirty menu. The waitress walked off with a grunt, flipping her pad back to the front, and slipped the menus under her arm.