2: I Got A Feeling
After a long day of brainstorming and rewriting at work, Zooey returned to her modest Los Feliz home, exhausted by the day she’d had. She couldn’t wait to get inside, gorge on some Doritos, and watch the premiere of Dancing With the Stars. As a television writer, she thoroughly enjoyed that it was part of her job to watch TV, and with it being the third week of September, she was elated that she finally had more than enough to watch again.
Unfortunate for her, when she entered her house, she was met with a mess that only her sister, Emile, could be responsible for. Clothes and shoes scattered all over her living room, Zooey waded through it all to yell at her.
“Em, what the hell?!”
Her older sister, a taller and slightly less exotic but equally gorgeous version of Zooey “ with brown eyes and fairer skin “ appeared in the threshold of the room, looking at her innocently. “What’s wrong?”
“Uhh, is there a reason my house looks like your closet exploded?”
“Well, yeah.”
“…What is it?”
“I’m looking for something to wear.”
“Why were you doing it in here?”
She shrugged and strutted through the mess in only her thong, showing off one of her twelve tattoos “ this one, located on her right butt cheek “ and a pair of stilettos, where another tat on her ankle was just visible enough. “My suitcase was in here.”
“Yeah, if you could take that to your room, by the way, that would be awesome.”
Emile rolled her dark hazel eyes at her younger sister and plopped down on her new couch. “How was your day, Zo?”
“Awesome,” she returned happily, her minor New England accent bolstering through the first syllable. “Best day ever.”
“Yeah?”
“I got an agent! I got a huge segment added to the Jim and Pam baby episode! And most importantly, I got a free sandwich from Jack in the Box.”
“Oh my god, we have to celebrate!” Emile shrieked, so proud of her little sis.
“We do?”
“Of course we do!” She quickly glanced at the clock on the DVR and then down to the mess she’d made. “Come on, it’s only eight. We can go grab some dinner and then you come with me to Guys and Dolls.”
“But I wanted to watch Dancing With the Stars!”
“Zooey, no. Find something fab to wear and we’ll go get drunk.”
“I can’t get drunk, I have to work at ten tomorrow.”
“Fine, I’ll get drunk,” Em relented. “But we’re gonna have fun.”
Zooey was a fun-loving type of girl, for the most part, so it didn’t take long for her to accept her sister’s proposition. “Okay. But as a punishment for this mess, you have to wear a leotard out tonight. With a top hat.”
Emile Levin had recently become somewhat of a celebrity-blog mainstay, due to her tumultuous relationship with the one and only Kanye West. Added to that, she was always in public wearing something kind of outrageous, so Zooey’s little dare was not at all a problem for her. She enjoyed that her sister often inspired her costumes. “Like Lady GaGa?” she asked excitedly.
“Like Lady GaGa,” Zooey grinned. “By the by, have you talked to Kanye yet?”
Rolling her eyes again, she kneeled to the floor to search for an appropriate leotard for their outing. “I told you, I’m disassociating myself with him until this Taylor Smith thing blows over.”
“Taylor Swift,” she corrected with a roll of her eyes. “And you didn’t tell me that.”
“Oh. Well, I meant to.”
“So that means you’ll be staying with me for… how long?”
“Probably another week or so. We’re goin’ to Italy in October.”
“Right,” Zooey nodded, not really having a clue as to what her sister was talking about, which was the norm. “Well I’m gonna get ready, you get your Single Ladies swag on, and we’ll meet back here in twenty minutes?”
Emile agreed just as she located a yellow bodysuit. “Coo’.”
____________________
It was close to 11:00 p.m. when Justin and his eclectic group of friends decided to stop by Guys & Dolls, a hot spot for Hollywood’s most beautiful people. He was still celebrating his Emmy win and it had been decided that a Boys’ Night Out was in order, so his fiancée was at home, happy to have the house to herself.
With his good friend Rob leading the pack, Justin followed his friends into the upscale club, excited that he would be able to just chill for a few hours. They weren’t worried about work or wives, just playing the night away.
“Yo, are we gettin’ bottles or what?” his best friend, Trace, wondered once they got settled in the area that had been cleared for them. He was almost surprised that nobody had taken their order yet.
Just as Justin was about to reply, the manager, Mary, came walking towards them with a bartender in tow carrying a tray full of drinks for the four of them. “How we doin’ tonight, guys?”
Justin stood up to shake her hand, though already bored with the politics of the nightlife in Hollywood. “We’re good,” he nodded. “Thanks.”
“Good. Good to hear. Listen guys, we know you’re not in the habit of accepting drinks from randoms, but this young lady insisted that you would accept if I gave you this first…” Mary pulled several coins from the tray and offered them to Justin with a shrug.
It was fifty-five cents in nickels. He gladly accepted the money while laughing at a joke that no one else was in on. “Yeah, we’ll take the drinks.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he waved the bartender towards him, passing around the red concoctions to his friends. “What is this?”
“Cape Cods, just cranberry juice, lime juice, and Ciroc.”
Justin took a long sip from his drink and then stood up again. “Is she over here?”
“She was right over at the bar, but I can send her over here if you want.”
“I can go,” he waved off the ridiculous notion. “I’ll be back, y’all.”
Taking his drink with him, he made his way through the packed crowd of a rather small room, searching for the beautiful stranger he’d met that morning. He couldn’t help but smile when it appeared that two of them were sitting at the bar together.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Zooey grinned when she saw him approach.
“Why are you stalking me again?” he replied with a chuckle.
“Well, I was actually here first, so…”
“Right. I was tracking you down for my money, so I’m glad you got the hint,” he nodded. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Think nothing of it,” she waved off. “Hey, this is my sister, by the way. Emile. Emile, this is Justin “ I asked him for meter money this morning.”
Emile, who had been mostly concerned with why her boyfriend wasn’t texting her back, finally looked up from her phone to see Justin Timberlake standing in front of her. “Hey, I know you.”
“This is your sister?” he asked Zooey, recognizing her as well.
“I’m her sister, really,” she noted, remembering that Emile Levin was a name and face of her own these days. “But yeah.”
“Very cool. Good to see you,” he nodded. Immediately directing his attention back to Zooey. “So… thanks for the drink?”
“I figured it was the least I could do.”
“It definitely was the least you could do, but… I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Her mouth dropped in fake shock, “Asshole!”
“So are you a cranberry juice fan or… what?”
“Oh, well I’m from Boston, so it was just a bit of an homage to the hometown.”
“That’s so interesting,” he sarcastically noted.
“Fuck you!” she laughed. “Are you this mean to your boyfriends?”
“I am, actually. That’s why I’m standing here with you, they made me leave.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” she accepted, placing her empty glass on the bar. “Are they the reason you had to disappear this morning?”
“They are not,” he admitted as he watched her stand from her seat. “But I promise that was for a valid reason.”
“Uh huh.” She turned to her sister, still completely engaged in her iPhone, and told her, “Em, I’ll be back, okay?”
“Wait a minute, bitch, where are you going? I thought we were celebrating!”
“Well. You’re on your phone and I’m having a conversation with this dude, but if you really want me to stay…”
“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, flipping her sideswept auburn bangs from her eyes. “Abandon me!”
“I’ll be back!”
“Is there a reason we’re abandoning your sister?” Justin requested as Zooey pulled him away from the bar.
“Trust me,” she instructed, leading him towards what looked like an exit.
“So yeah, where are we going exactly?”
“Just outside.”
He was definitely hesitant to be following some pretty young thing around a club like he had nothing better to do, but he had to admit that he kind of liked her “no holds barred” attitude. She didn’t wait for cues or permission, she just did what she felt. It made it really difficult to say No. Especially since she didn’t ask. “What’s outside?” he finally wondered out loud.
Once they made it to their destination “ the secluded valet lot behind the building, she answered. “Absolutely nothing.”
He smiled in reply, as he was definitely the type of guy that appreciated absolutely nothing sometimes. “Not into clubs, I take it.”
“I am. But I have to be in that mood, ya know? Tonight, I wanted to do nothing, but Em convinced me to come out.”
“You two are like polar opposites?”
“Not really. She’s just like… an extreme version of me. I wear a yellow polka dot dress with red shoes, she wears a yellow leotard with rainbow shoes,” she described their outfits as well as their personalities. “I’m slightly ridiculous, she’s ridiculously ridiculous.”
He nodded in understanding, inadvertently admiring the print of her bright cocktail dress. “A little ridiculous is necessary at times.”
“And a lot is obnoxious, I know. That’s why she’s dating someone equally as insane as she is and not the doctor she was engaged to, as our mom would have wanted.” Zooey innately rolled her eyes at the thought of her mother and then began to look through her banana-colored purse. “You wanna sit?”
“Uhh… sure,” he shrugged, looking around for a seat.
Locating her pack of cigarettes and a lighter, she dropped her bag to the ground and directed him to sit on the steps. “You smoke?”
“Uh, no. Thanks.”
She shrugged offhandedly and lit one up for herself. “I talk about Em a lot, I know. She’s my best friend.”
“That isn’t adorable at all.”
“Shut up.”
“So if you don’t mind me asking, what are you guys?”
“We’re… sisters?” she took a drag of her cigarette and looked at him as she blew the smoke the other way. “What do you mean?”
“No, I mean, like… are you white? Or…”
“Justin, you can’t just ask someone if they’re white.”
“Ha. Ha. But I mean, your sister looks… ethnic, and you don’t, really, so…”
“She looks ‘ethnic?’” Zooey cackled loudly. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Nope. Not at all.”
He was blushing, clearly embarrassed by his question. “Nevermind.”
“No, I’m fucking with you,” she softened, placing her hand on his arm. “You’re right, we don’t look that much alike.”
“You have a lot of similarities actually,” he recalled their identically shaped faces, long brown hair, the full lips and same wide, happy smiles. But Emile actually resembled the late Aaliyah from a certain angle, whereas Zooey… didn’t. “There are the obvious differences, but it’s very apparent that you’re sisters.”
“Em is basically she spitting image of our mom, who’s black “ they have the brown eyes, the richer skin, the dimples; and then I got most of my features from our dad, who’s Jewish, so that makes us… Indian, I think.”
“That makes sense,” he nodded seriously.
“Right?”
“It does.”
“I like to identify myself as Pacific Islander, though,” she joked. “Then when people ask where I’m from, I get to say some cool shit like Tahiti or Samoa.”
“I think that’s where most ethnic people originate,” he deduced.
“I think you’re right.” She took another inhale and then stared at him. “So that’s my story. Or at least, the first page of it. What’s yours?”
“My story,” he chuckled, thinking of how it could possibly begin. “My story is pretty boring, honestly.”
“Oh, like mine was so riveting. Tell me something good.”
“My name is Justin. I’m from Memphis, Tennessee. I’ve been in show business, essentially, since I was eleven. I’ve lived here since I was twenty-two. And now, here I am, sitting next to you.”
“Motherfucker, I didn’t ask for the Cliff Notes version!”
“I’m sorry, I thought you probably knew the long version already since you were stalking me and all.”
“See, now I feel bad that I do know,” she giggled.
“Uh huh.”
“What’s Memphis like?”
“It’s an awesome place. It’s small, but I think it’s interesting. It has a certain charm about it, the people are happy and Southern, the girls are sweet,” he realized as he spoke. “And we have a rich history with, not only the music aspect with the blues and Elvis, but there’s all this American history, as well, with the civil rights movement.”
“Oh god, Elvis is terrible.”
His eyes widened in offense at her announcement. “Say what?”
“Yeah, I said it!”
“Oh no, I can’t talk to you anymore.”
“No, no one with legitimate taste in music actually likes Elvis,” she smirked, taking one last puff from her cigarette before putting it out on the ground beneath her. “I refuse to believe that you like him.”
“I do, though! And I’m offended by your statement.”
“I’m offended by yours!”
“Then we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”
“I absolutely will not. I can’t forget this,” she deadpanned. “God, and I thought you were cool.”
“Please, you’re from Boston. What the fuck do you know about interesting music.”
“Well, I went to Berklee, so… a lot.”
“Did you really?” he asked, genuinely interested now.
“No, I went to Harvard.”
He chuckled, but still wondered, “Did you really?” He liked that he couldn’t tell whether she was serious.
“I really did. It’s where I learned to be a snob “ music and otherwise, and also how to be cripplingly self-aware.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her admission. “And how old are you?”
“Well I won’t answer that explicitly, but I’ll ballpark it for you by revealing that I was born in the first half of the eighties.”
“What? Me too! What are the odds!”
“Being that we’re at a club in LA at midnight on a Monday night, the odds are pretty good, I think?”
“Oh god, don’t get all Harvard smart on me. I didn’t go to college. Or high school, actually, so you could become really intimidating really fast.”
“Yet you’re the millionaire,” she noted jokingly. “What a world.”
“You can have your fifty-five cents back if that’ll help,” he offered.
“It won’t.”
____________________
An hour and a half later, Zooey and Justin were sitting in the exact same spot, having run the gamut of “getting to know you” questions, both of them admittedly enjoying every minute of it.
"Greatest TV sitcom of all time?" she found another probing question to unleash on him.
"Of all time?"
"And if you don't say something that's at least in my top five, I'm losing all respect for you."
"That's a tough one."
"It's not easy," she agreed.
Justin appeared to be thinking over an answer for a long time, until finally, he reached a consensus with himself. "Man. I think I gotta go with Seinfeld."
Zooey was pleased with his choice, even though it wasn't what she would have said. "Respectable answer."
"Well wait, what’s yours?"
"Hands down, I Love Lucy."
"I could get with that," he nodded thoughtfully. "Definitely a strong contender."
"I'm just really glad you didn't say Friends."
"Not even top ten," he waved off. "Hell no."
"I like you," she stated factually.
"Tell me your top five."
"In no particular order..."
"Certainly."
"I Love Lucy is absolutely number one, though. But Seinfeld is definitely up there, Golden Girls is up there, the Cosby Show, and I gotta say… Cheers. And honorable mention to the first few seasons of The Fresh Prince."
"How convenient that five of your six picks are NBC shows."
"Well hey, I can't help it if NBC has pioneered some of the greatest sitcoms in television history."
"You definitely left out some good ones, though."
"Like what?"
"Like... All in the Family, The Jeffersons, Dick Van Dyke, Everybody Loves Raymond, Roseanne..."
"I'll give you Dick Van Dyke and Roseanne, but my partisanship is definitely with NBC. Like, if 30 Rock gets a few more years, it'll be right up there with the rest of mine."
"Not The Office?"
"You're not gonna catch me sounding like an asshole," she chuckled. "No, sir."
"Fair enough."
"I honestly believe that 30 Rock is the best show on TV right now, though."
"You mean comedy, right?"
"Well yeah, everyone knows the best drama on right now is ““
"Mad Men," Justin confidently injected, as there was no way he would allow her to say anything else. Zooey just looked at him. "How could you possibly think otherwise?" he argued with her silence.
"Mad Men is really good," she conceded.
"Mad Men is superb," he corrected her. "The writing is genius. The acting is seamless."
"I'm sorry, there is nothing seamless about January Jones' acting. What could be a five-star show is downgraded to a four-point-five solely because of her."
"Bullshit!"
"Hate to break it to you, but yes."
"She's fantastic. She's so deliciously awkward and dissonant. I think she plays that role perfectly."
"Different strokes..."
"So what's your pick?"
"Breaking Bad. No question."
"What's that?"
"What's that?" Zooey exclaimed. "Are you kidding me?"
"I don't watch a whole lot of TV, so..."
"I don't care, you need to watch it. It comes on the same channel as Mad Men!"
"Never seen it. Mad Men is all that's on my TiVo and I fast forward through all the ads."
"Ironic."
"Right?"
"At any rate, you have to buy the first season of Breaking Bad. You'll love it."
"How do you know?"
"Because... you have good taste."
"Well all right. But if I don't like it, I'm gonna hate you."
"You will like it. And you'll probably hate me for introducing it to you when there are only two seasons because you'll definitely want more."
"You are so arrogant about your TV, Zooey Levin."
"Well hey, if there's one thing I know, it's television."
“Asshole.”
She laughed heartily at his assessment, deliriously happy at the fact that they got along so well in all their lighthearted sarcasm. “Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?” she asked quietly after a comfortable lull in the conversation.
“Probably because I feel the same way,” he replied softly, taking note of how the moonlight illuminated her freckles. “Like… we met this morning and I get along with you better than I do with some of my best friends.”
“You’re probably a shitty best friend then?”
“Well I did leave them to talk to a stranger for two hours, so… yeah.”
“Well that’s disappointing!”
He chuckled about it for a second, but he quickly realized he had something else to reveal. “I’m engaged,” he blurted out finally, after debating with himself for two hours on how to let those words come out of his mouth.
“What?” she snickered.
“I’m getting married.”
“Oh wow, me too! But I really feel like we should call it off, then you and I can marry each other.”
“No, I’m serious, Zooey. In two months.”
“What?”
“We’ve been together six years. We’re happy.”
“…Oh.”
“So…”
“Well congratulations!” she perked up, sensing that an awkwardness was about to take over what had been a great conversation prior to that. “That’s… fantastic.”
“You’re fantastic,” he offered sincerely. “But… I should really go.”
Zooey hung her head a bit sadly, watching him rise from their comfortable little spot outside with absolutely nothing. She already knew it was a long shot that someone like him would be available, but she didn’t fathom that he’d be engaged. That was a whole other plateau in the arena of Unavailable. “Yeah, I should get back to Em before she sets some shit on fire.” She stood as well, wiping any residual dirt from her busy little dress. “So maybe I’ll see you at William Morris sometime.”
“Maybe.”
Reluctantly, Justin watched her head back inside, confused by his not wanting to let her go. He’d met tons of women in the time he’d been with Scarlett, plenty of them better looking than Zooey, but somehow, she seemed to be the only one that turned his head, held his attention for more than a few minutes. He didn’t know why, but he decided to follow her back inside, where she had already found her sister and they were dancing to the Black Eyed Peas.
“Hey,” he called out to her. This time, he was pulling her away.
Confused by who would be grabbing her, she resisted at first, but when she saw it was Justin’s silhouette in front of her, she immediately relented. “Hey, stranger!”
“Hey,” he repeated, loud enough to be heard over the music this time. “Can I have your number?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea!” she answered teasingly.
“I know it’s not, but I want it anyway!”
She gladly took his phone from him, adding her mobile number to his address book under a special alias. She leaned in close to him so that she could speak into his ear, “I’m ‘Samantha Baker.’”
He laughed at her idea and then offered the same as he waited for her to hand over her phone. “Then I guess I’m Jake Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise.”
“Call me sometime.”
“I will,” he promised.
With that, he left to finally return to his friends while she went back to her sister, both of them pleased with their ending. The night had been a good, good night.
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