Page 28 of Only Lovers in the Building

Kylie offered to host a dinner party to celebrate the launch of their new podcast. Lily saw the offer for what it was: a thinly

veiled excuse for the chef to get back into the kitchen. She did not take well to time off, and her forced vacation was wearing

her out. Lily accepted her offer just the same, with one caveat. “Dinner and book club. We’re overdue for an official first meeting.”

“Good luck herding those cats,” Kylie said.

“Food might help,” Lily said. “Thanks, Kylie. This is so nice of you.”

“I’m happy to do it,” she said. “This is exciting. It feels right to celebrate.”

Lily, who hadn’t felt excitement in a long time, mistook the sudden rush for an anxiety attack. Late last night, she’d sat

up in bed, taking deep breaths until she realized that her unease was actually giddiness.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’ll get the good champagne.”

The morning of the party, Lily joined Kylie on her excursion to a farmers market in Coconut Grove.

“I could never host a podcast,” Kylie said, as they wandered through the stalls.

“Why not?” Lily asked, her eye drawn to a crate of avocados. “Think of your friend and his cookbook deal and all that. It could work for you, too.”

“It’s not for me. I’d clam up,” she said. “Or I’d rattle on like an idiot. I could never just get to the point, you know?”

“I get it,” Lily said. “I was so nervous at the studio. I don’t think I could do it alone. Talking with Ben is so easy. It

was no different with the microphones. After a while, I forgot they were recording us.”

“Uh-huh.” Kylie lifted a hefty eggplant from a basket. “What else are you and Professor Romero up to? Anything you’d like

to share with the class?”

“I see what you did there, and it’s very cute, but I’m sorry to disappoint you. There’s nothing to share.”

“A shame.”

A damn shame, all things considered, but very necessary. Despite their love for words, she and Ben couldn’t get on the same

page. When she wanted to toss caution to the wind, he reminded her of what was at stake. A great quality in a life partner,

but they didn’t have their whole lives. They only had this summer.

“I’m halfway through the audiobook of Around Midnight ,” Kylie said. “Sorry if I’m falling behind on the book club. I won’t be ready for tonight’s discussion.”

“Never mind that,” Lily said. “Ben and I are burning through these books like it’s our job, and in a way, it is. You guys

take your time. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s hot, but there’s one thing that gets me.”

“What’s that?”

“Liz and Austin have the most amazing sex, like right out of the gate. They do and try things they’ve never done before. It’s

orgasm after mind-blowing orgasm. I mean... what the fuck? Literally!”

Lily laughed. “I got an earful from Ben.”

“I’ve done it. After a few drinks, there’s no hotter guy than the one you’ve never laid eyes on before.”

“Or will ever again,” Lily added.

“Right? It’s fun and a little dangerous, but let’s be real. It’s never all that good! Half the time, you’re playing Twister

with a man who doesn’t know what you like and can’t even ask.”

“Would we be having this conversation if we were reading a dragon-slayer novel?” Lily said. “Most likely, we’d be discussing

the logic of a magic system. How does that help us in real life?”

“You have a point,” Kylie said. “I take back the snarky things I said about romance.”

Kylie had a point, too. The story was based on the premise that when you found The One, everything flowed. Good conversation,

great sex—no effort required. What was that if not a magical system?

They moved to a stall of heirloom tomatoes. Kylie suggested a caprese salad, a favorite of Austin’s, the hero of Around Midnight . “Frederico loves it, too, but with a balsamic reduction.”

Ah... It had been a while since she’d mentioned the Italian architect.

“Most of us are Caribbean,” Lily said. “Would it kill you to fry a plantain?”

“Maybe next time,” Kylie replied, selecting tomatoes from the crate. “Let’s stay on theme tonight.”

“Do you miss him?” Lily asked after a while.

Kylie paused and closed her eyes as if she could feel the man she loved in the sunlight. “Every day.”

“I’ve been thinking about the advice I gave you, and I’d like to take it back.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was very closed-minded three weeks ago.” Lily hadn’t known Kylie well enough that first night, and her cookie-cutter advice hadn’t been helpful.

“What if we’ve been reading this whole thing all wrong?

He likes your cooking, maybe he likes you, too.

But it’s tricky, you know? As your lawyer, I should remind you that the handsome, caprese salad–loving architect is your boss. He may not want to risk getting sued.”

“I’d never sue,” Kylie said.

“Why?”

“Frederico hasn’t done anything wrong. If anything, he might have a case against me.”

“Okay, but if he gets out of line, please take him for all he’s got.”

She shook her head. This morning, her short hair was tucked behind her ears, the edges of which were pink, like prawns in

the heat. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “Word travels fast in my industry. No one would ever hire me.”

Lily had heard this argument several times over. If it wasn’t the service industry, it was the arts. Either way, she wasn’t

swayed. “With the right lawyer, you may not need to work again.”

“Who knew you were such a shark?” Kylie said. “By the way, did you ever get a chance to speak with Jeremy?”

“Not yet. I ran into him a couple times, but we haven’t spoken.” Lily averted her eyes, recalling those brief encounters in

the hallway at the most inopportune times.

They bought sweet basil for the salad and fresh flowers for a centerpiece.

“I hate to say it, but your advice was spot-on,” Kylie admitted when they stopped to sample vegan brownies. “I’ve got to pull

myself together or find a new job. Those are my choices. By the time he gets back, I’ll have to sort it out.”

“Or you could talk to him,” Lily suggested. “Tell him how you feel. You might be pleasantly surprised. Maybe he’s waiting

for a sign from you. Maybe he’s shy.”

“That man is not shy,” Kylie shot back. “I’ve seen the way he operates.”

“Now I’m intrigued. How does he operate?”

“He’s a classic love bomber,” Kylie said.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Kylie said. “He meets a woman, showers her with attention, takes her out, calls, texts, and buys her gifts. Next

thing you know, I’m making their favorite matcha and stocking the fridge for two. A few weeks go by, and he’s over it. He

gets bored and moves on to the next woman.”

The love bomber... Lily knew the type. She’d been a victim once or twice and hadn’t yet fully recovered. These were dangerous

individuals who ought to be on the FBI’s radar.

“Knowing all this, why do you want him?” Lily asked.

Kylie deflated. “I don’t know.”

“Have another brownie. It’s on me.” Looking to the future, Lily asked, “What’s the plan for July Fourth?”

“Usually, we hang out on the roof, get drunk, and watch fireworks.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

When they were done at the market, they parted ways. Kylie had a few more errands to run. Drained, Lily returned to the building.

She crossed the lobby, a dozen white roses wrapped in newspaper tucked under one arm and a tote bag full of fresh citrus on

the other. At the elevators, she encountered Jeremy.

For the urban apartment-dweller, bumping into a neighbor, specifically at the elevators, was a peculiar form of agony. She

and Jeremy hadn’t exchanged more than two words, yet he’d seen her in her pajamas, and she’d seen him stumble home tipsy.

She was determined not to make it weird.

“Hey, you!” Lily said, smiling and immediately regretting it. Who even smiles anymore? she wondered.

“Oh, hey,” he replied, flat.

The elevator arrived, and Jeremy stepped aside to let her enter first—a gentleman in ripped denim and a Nirvana concert T-shirt.

They rode toward their floor in silence, the elevator making a smooth ascent only to stop abruptly somewhere between the third and fourth floors.

The lights dimmed in the car, and the hazard lights flashed on.

Lily dropped the bag of citrus. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry,” Jeremy said. “This happens all the time.”

“All the time?”

“You mean you haven’t gotten stuck in the elevator yet?”

“I can’t say I have.”

He pressed a big red button. A robotic voice assured them that the matter would be resolved shortly. Lily was not at all assured.

“I’m not claustrophobic,” she said, “but God, I hate this. Once, I was stuck in an elevator for two hours.”

“That’s rough,” he said.

“If you live in a city long enough, it’s bound to happen.”

“I grew up in a small town. This is all new to me.”

She considered Jeremy more closely. He was much younger than she’d thought. Twenty-two or twenty-three, maybe.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“New York.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Cold Spring, New York,” he specified. “Trust me. It’s Small Town, USA.”

“Well, you seem to be getting along just fine in the big city.”

“You’re Lily, right? Ben’s new girlfriend.”

“Yes and no,” she said. “I’m Lily, but not Ben’s girlfriend. We’re neighbors and friends and, well, you get it.”

He nodded, knowingly. “Yep.”

“And you’re an artist,” Lily said, steering the conversation away from Ben.

“Yeah, I paint murals and do some digital stuff.”

“Kylie mentioned you might need a lawyer to look over a contract.”

At the mention of their friend, Jeremy’s whole demeanor changed. He was suddenly brighter and taller. “Kylie... She’s a real one.”

“I’m available to help as much as I can.”

Jeremy reached for his phone and, with a few taps, pulled up an email. “It’s not a contract,” he said. “Just an offer.”

Lily skimmed it. From what she could gather, it was a solicitation for original artwork, what he’d described as digital stuff . The client was a privately owned art museum. The winning artist would be awarded two thousand dollars. However, the museum

reserved the right to use any submitted art in any format, on any platform, in perpetuity.

“What do you think?” he asked. “The deadline is coming up soon.”

“Whenever you see the word perpetuity , you should back away slowly,” Lily replied.

“That means forever , right?”

“Forever and ever, amen.”

“Gotcha.”

“Mostly, this is a clever way to collect original art for free. Maybe you’ll win and walk away two grand richer. If you lose,

you also lose the rights to your work. Obviously, I can’t tell you what to do. We’ve all got to start somewhere. Going forward,

though, it’s a good idea to vet your business partners, make sure they’re operating in good faith.”

“I had a gut feeling,” he said, pocketing the phone. “Is this the type of law that you do?”

“In a way,” she said. “I’m in corporate law, so I know my way around the four corners of a contract.”

“Thanks for the free advice,” he said. “It’s free, right?”

“Aw, that’s so cute!” She tapped him on the arm. “I’ll slide my invoice under your door.”

Just then, the elevator bounced and continued its ascent. Lily held her breath until the doors slid open on their floor. “Good

God,” Lily cried. “I’m so relieved.”

“Told you,” he said. “This happens at least once a month. If you’re ever alone, don’t stress out. Just press the button, and they’ll get it working in ten to fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, but I’ll stress out anyway, if that’s all right with you.”

Jeremy carried her bag to her door. Then he handed her a card with his number. “Here,” he said. “In case you’re stuck in there,

stressing out, just call me, and I’ll get the building manager to get off his ass.”

“Thanks.” He was halfway down the hall when she called out to him. “What are you up to later tonight?”

“Nothing much. What do you got going on?”

“Ben and I are celebrating our new podcast. Kylie is cooking. If anything, you’ll get a free dinner.”

“Sounds good. What time?”

“Seven, at Noah’s apartment.”

“I know the place. See you then.”

Inside, Lily washed and stored the fruit, set the roses in a jar of water, and sent a quick text to Kylie alerting her that

there would be one more for dinner. Then she sat with a cup of tea and her journal to jot down a few lines.

Love Bomber

The landscape of modern love has changed since the nineties, a time when women sat by their phones on Friday nights. The only

thing to worry about was whether Mr. Big would commit. Lately, a new crop of genetically engineered men has invaded the dating

field. Let’s discuss the tactics of the Love Bomber.

This man isn’t afraid to give you his number or make weekend plans.

He reserves the best table at your favorite restaurant, books flights for weekend getaways.

He’s into whatever you’re into: art shows, the opera, whatever.

He’ll send you flowers and gifts just because.

He acknowledges Valentine’s Day as a legitimate holiday and knows which chocolates you prefer.

This goes on for weeks, and it doesn’t take long before you’re hooked.

The group chat is buzzing. I think he’s the one and OMG!

!!! I love this for you, babe! You’re giddy.

You think he might propose. You leave a ring out just in case.

Then the missile hits its target. The sky is

aglow: for a split second, you believe it’s the Fourth of July. By the time you recover from the blast, you’re coated in ash

and regret. He’s fled the scene and narrowly avoids the atrocious aftermath, the sight of you on the ground, your heart bleeding

out.

I’m writing from experience. It took a while to recover. I swore I’d never fall victim again, but, of course, I did.