Page 39 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Javi

Eight Months Before the Wedding

“?Qué es la que hay?” my old college roommate, Jeremy Slaughter III, asks, rising from his chair.

We’re meeting for lunch at Spago, a restaurant that seems more L.A.

than L.A. itself, and Jeremy’s apparent newfound facility with the Spanish language— Puerto Rican Spanish , no less—is blowing my mind.

“No me digas,” I say in reply as we meet in the middle for a handshake and hug.

“?Puedes hablar espanol? ?Desde cuando?”

He throws up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I just looked that shit up on Google. That’s all I got, dude.”

“You haven’t changed one bit,” I say on a laugh. “Still doing the least even though you were born with the most.”

“It’s a gift,” he says.

“From your daddy and his daddy.”

He gives me a shit-eating grin. An insult is a compliment in Jeremy’s world.

“Anyway, I didn’t ask you to lunch so you could break my balls,” he says, flagging a server down.

“I know, I know,” I say, looking around. “So when are the others getting here?”

“What others?” he asks, his brow knitted in confusion.

“You…you said you wanted me to meet with potential investors. Wasn’t that the point of this trip?” I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them, my jaw clenched. “Jer, tell me you didn’t bring me all the way to L.A. for nothing.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Chill, man.”

Before I can grill him, our server approaches, introduces herself, and asks if we want tap or bottled water. Jeremy asks for sparkling.

“Tap’s fine for me,” I tell her.

Once she’s gone, I lean forward. “So, what gives, Jer? You gave me names. Tanner. Rubenstein. Jones. I did research.”

Jeremy grimaces. “It’s the nature of what we do, man. People tell you they’re interested, and then poof, they’ve moved on to something else.”

“So they didn’t even want to meet with me?”

“They bailed,” he says, lifting his shoulder in a half-assed shrug. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You couldn’t tell me all this before I got on the plane? I dipped into my savings to come.”

“It didn’t matter.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I needed to get you here.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to back your musical, you dumbass!”

I let out a stunned breath. “Why would you want to do that?”

Jeremy leans forward, rests his elbows on the table, and steeples his fingers.

“That should be obvious: You’re brilliant, man.

I knew it in college, and I know it now.

The idea is gold too. But you need to finish it.

I can’t get more investors if there’s nothing to show them.

” He clears his throat, as though even he’s surprised he said that much. “So, where are you in the process?”

“It’s not done. I still need to figure out the skeleton and the compositions.”

“That’s what you said last year. And the year before that.”

“Because it’s a passion project, and I need to pay my bills in the meantime.”

“I thought you’d say that. Which is why I needed to see you face-to-face.

To tell you that I want to give you the breathing room to finish the musical.

Stay at my place here. I’m hardly around anyway.

You can write, think, take long walks on the beach, whatever the fuck you need to finish.

All I ask is that you keep me updated on your progress. ”

“I can’t just uproot my life,” I say, even though I’m already contemplating that very thing.

Jeremy laughs. “Mari predicted you’d say something along those lines.”

I frown at him. “Mari? You two talk? About me?”

“We saw each other a few weeks ago. I hired her father’s firm to look over an agreement for me.”

“And this proposal came up?”

“I mentioned in passing that I wanted to get you here. To finish the damn musical.” He takes a sip of his water, then continues: “She seemed to think it was a great idea but didn’t think you’d go for it.”

“Because she knows me so well…”

“Hey,” he says, tapping the table. “We weren’t conspiring. You’re a mutual, that’s all. And we both care about you.”

It all sounds entirely harmless, but my clothes suddenly feel like they’re cutting off my circulation. I can’t help but wonder whether they see me as a charity case. Whether they discussed lighting a fire under my ass and came up with this plan.

The server returns to take our orders, interrupting my train of thought. That’s probably for the best.

When she’s gone, I say, “I’m actually going to see her later tonight.”

“Mari?”

“Yeah. She’s dating some new guy. Going to meet up with them at a restaurant in Culver City, and then, because I’m such a good friend, I’m going over to her place to put together a bookshelf.”

“You know you can buy fully assembled bookcases these days, right?”

“Just doing what was asked of me,” I say.

Jeremy sighs. “Back to this date. That doesn’t bother you? Seeing Mari with other men?”

I draw back and tilt my head. “Why would it?”

“Oh, c’mon, Javi, this is me. That woman had you whipped from the moment you met her.”

“We’re friends.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“It’s safer that way.”

“For whom?”

“For both of us.”

“Okay. Whatever. I’m not here to analyze your friendship with Mari. Just remember that I’d better get an invitation to your wedding.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” I say, shaking my head.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

I shrug. “Not really.”

He gives me that damn shit-eating grin again. “I rest my case, then.”

“There is no case, so drop it.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Listen…just…Promise me you’ll think about my proposal?”

I blow out a breath and smile at him. Even though I’m wired to give him a hard time, Jeremy’s a good guy. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll think of much else while I’m here. Correction: I’ll be thinking about Mari as well. Because I’m wired to do that too.

***

Me: what’s this guy’s name again?

Mari: Sam

Me: got it. be there in 10.

Mari: Great. See you soon.

***

Twenty minutes into this dinner, it’s abundantly clear to me that Sam is the assholiest of assholes.

Un pendejo to rival all pendejos. Worse, with the runny nose he keeps wiping, he is either allergic to all organic matter or has a cocaine problem.

In the short time we’ve been here, he’s snapped his fingers at the waitstaff, answered his phone at the table, and placed his hand on Mari’s thigh.

What are we even doing? Why is Mari entertaining someone like him? Doesn’t she see that she deserves a person a thousand times better than this one?

He’s attractive enough, I suppose, but when he isn’t being rude, he’s so damn bland. I’m hard-pressed to understand what Mari sees in him. It’s…infuriating.

I stare at my friend, willing her to look at me, but she’s taken a sudden and single-minded interest in the menu.

Now Mari , on the other hand, is exquisite. She’s wearing a fitted, low-cut top that shows off her gorgeous collarbones, and her tousled hair makes her appear carefree. She keeps nibbling on her glossy bottom lip, which is maddening for some reason.

“So, Javi,” Sam says, flipping back his wavy blond locks as if he’s posing for a photo, “Mari tells me you’re a jack of all trades.”

Mari finally lifts her gaze from the menu and meets mine, her lips flattened into a thin line.

“Did she?” I say, still peering at her.

“Well, yeah. She said you act, you bartend, you write.” He turns to Mari. “What was it again? A play or something?”

“All accurate. She could have just sent you my résumé.”

Mari slams the menu closed. Now her nostrils are flaring.

Good. Why the hell is this guy in my business? And why the hell is she talking with Jeremy about me?

“Where’s our server anyway?” she asks, swiveling her head to scan the cavernous dining area.

I lean forward and place my clasped hands on the table. “Probably hiding in the kitchen considering Sam here snapped his fingers at her.”

“Are you okay?” she asks me.

“I’m fine,” I say, leaning back in my chair.

Sam looks between Mari and me, then swallows thickly. Even he can tell this evening isn’t going well.

He straightens in his seat when our server arrives, his eyes locked on her as if she’s a lifeline he sorely needs. “Ah, here she is!”

Our server—Amanda, according to her name tag—wisely regards Sam with suspicion. “Does anyone have questions about the menu?”

Not surprisingly, Sam has numerous questions, and as he runs through them, I cock my head at Mari, my eyebrows drawn together.

This dinner is a waste of everyone’s time.

I’d rather be alone with my friend. I’d rather catch up with her.

Ask her how things are going with the firm, her mom, the aloe vera plant she’s trying to nurse back to health.

Okay, maybe I’m also pissed that the potential investors I’d expected to meet with bailed on The Mailroom before I could tell them all about it.

So now I’m annoyed that I don’t have good news to share.

And yeah, I’m a little hurt that Mari never mentioned that she and Jeremy talked about me.

There’s just a cyclone of thoughts whirling in my head, and I’m not likely to be good company until it dissipates.

Sam orders a crabcake entrée. Mari orders salmon.

“And you, sir?” Amanda asks me.

“Can I just skip to dessert? Move this along, perhaps?”

Amanda snorts, and I smile at her in return.

Mari clears her throat. “He’ll have the skirt steak—medium—garlic mash, and the asparagus tips.”

“That sounds perfect, actually,” I say, handing my menu to Amanda. “Just what I would have ordered.”

“I know,” Mari says flatly. “That’s why I ordered it.”

Okay, so now we’re both annoyed. This is a shit day, and I’m over it.

Amanda scurries away, leaving our disastrous trio to brood on our own.

If someone dropped us on a deserted island and tasked us with working together to survive, we’d perish, no question.

I look over at Mari, who’s uncharacteristically quiet and wearing a scowl.

Damn, I’m the person responsible for her mood.

Not Sam, me. Maybe I’m the asshole. But I can salvage this. For Mari’s sake.

“So, Sam, what keeps you busy?”

It’s how I usually phrase questions aimed at getting to know someone. Ever since my mother told me that asking someone what they “do for a living” is rude.

“I’m a finance guy,” he says, settling into his chair as if he’s preparing to recite a dissertation on the topic.

I humor him. “What does that mean exactly?”

“So, I’m a venture capitalist. That’s how Mari and I met.

She was a speaker on a panel about the legal implications of investing in startups.

” A corner of his mouth lifts as he meets Mari’s gaze.

“I also do some investing of my own. Side projects. Mostly in the entertainment industry. Not a musical or anything like that, but I can’t say it’s out of the question. ”

My gaze snaps to Mari. Is that what this evening is really about? She’s engaging in matchmaking for my career? It would explain why she’s giving this guy even a minute of her time. Oh hell no. I am absolutely ending this now.

“Well, it won’t be mine,” I tell him. “Someone else has expressed interest.”

Mari’s eyes grow wide, and her shoulders rise. “Who?”

“Jeremy.”

“That’s fantastic news,” she says, beaming at me.

“Not sure I’ll accept. It’s something to think about, though.”

Mari squints. “But—”

“Here we are, friends,” Amanda says, placing my meal in front of me. Another server handles Mari’s and Sam’s plates.

I give Mari a pointed look. “We’ll talk about it later.” Meaning, she and I will talk about it when we’re alone. Sam can go somewhere and invest in a personality for all I care. “Let’s dig in.”

She forces a smile, then nods.

The conversation won’t be pretty, but it’s obviously necessary—and long overdue.