4: Bon Temps, Trés Innocent
“So listen,” Zooey demanded the minute Justin finally picked up his phone after four weeks of silence. “It’s come to my attention that you haven’t used my number in about a month now, and I’m starting to feel neglected.”
“Neglected?” he chuckled, happy to hear her voice. “I’m pretty sure I gave you my number too, so your argument is invalid.”
“Well I’m an old-fashioned girl, I allow the dude to call the shots.”
“Zooey, you are anything but old-fashioned.”
“True…”
“But no, I’ve just been hella busy with golf tournaments and wedding planning and whatnot.”
“Weddings,” she remarked sarcastically, involuntarily rolling her eyes at the idea. “I’m not sure how I feel being relegated to the back burner, behind a party.”
“Again,” he began, putting on his ‘flamboyant’ tone, “I’m pretty sure I haven’t heard a peep from you, girlfriend.”
“To be honest, I was thinking that maybe my friends scared you off, so I didn’t wanna be all up on you like that.”
“Nah, it takes more than that to scare me off,” he laughed. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“I’m glad you answered,” she admitted with a grin to herself. “I’ve been so excruciatingly bored without all of our sarcastic banter.”
“Is that so?”
“Well no, I’ve been pretty busy too,” she countered, just as she began to gather her keys, wallet, purse, and a Rice Krispy Treat so she could head out of the house. “Don’t you hate being a grown-up?”
“I have yet to become one, so I wouldn’t know.”
“You’re so funny,” she commented cheerfully.
“I try. Too hard sometimes,” he grinned. “What grown-up things are you up to today?”
“Well… not a whole lot, actually. I’m about to go to work and sleep at my desk, if you want the truth.”
“Oh okay, that sounds productive.”
“I have to be unproductive until I’m productive. I’m sure you know how that is.”
“I guess so,” he realized, pulling the keys out of his ignition to head into his own home. “I s’pose that means I should let you go, huh.”
“Why are you letting me go?”
“Well you said you were going to work, so I figured you can’t really talk at the moment…”
“I wouldn’t have called you if I couldn’t talk! I’m gonna put on my Bluetooth and you’re gonna talk me all the way to the office,” she shot back enthusiastically. “Let's talk.”
”All right, well tell me something.”
“I’ll tell you anything.”
“Tell me what’s gonna happen on The Office this season.”
“I can tell you that I can’t tell you anything about that,” she laughed. She heard several doors slamming within the course of a few seconds and wondered, “By the way, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m getting out of the car. Is that disturbing you?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Well I’m out now, so…”
“So is there anything else you care about, or do you just want me to lose my job?”
“Well…”
“Fuck, dude. I thought you liked me.”
“I like you for what you can potentially provide,” he nodded into the phone. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. You wouldn’t be the first, I’m sure you won’t be the last,” she sighed.
“Really, I apologize. Sometimes, I act first, think later.”
“That is dangerous. Especially for someone like you,” Zooey advised. She was kidding, but it was definitely something for him to take note of.
“I know, I know. But can you blame me?”
“I can, actually.”
“So anyway…” he trailed off, entering his empty home. With Scarlett out of town and Brennan and Buckley at the groomers, the house was much more quiet than he would have liked.
“So you haven’t come up with anything to say yet, huh?”
“Not quite,” he chuckled, feeling a bit lame as he fell into his expensive beige couch.
“Okay, tell me about 'her.'"
"Her?" He knew who she was talking about, but he thought Scarlett a subject left best uncovered by he and Zooey.
"Your future wife! Let’s talk about Scarlett. Why are you marrying her?"
"Because I love her."
"That's it?"
“Should there be something else?" he asked dryly.
“Well no, but I mean, like, why do you love her? What are you getting out of this?"
"What do you mean?” he asked louder than he intended, feeling defensive. “She makes me happy, we're happy together."
“She makes you laugh?”
“Constantly.”
“That's good.”
“Is she an interesting person?” Zooey pressed. “Does she have a cool story to tell?”
“Well she's marrying me, so obviously...”
“Yeah, I suppose you do have to be pretty interesting to wanna marry a deluded person like yourself. “
“Exactly. “
“So that's cool. Is she your soulmate?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Awesommme.”
“I'm surprised you even know what a soulmate is,” he quipped, a bit unsettled by her line of questioning.
“Well that's not at all rude.”
“You're the one who scoffed at my wedding. “
“It wasn't your wedding I was scoffing at,” she defended. “Just the general concept of marriage.”
“Oh okay, that makes it better.”
“I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, the thought of marriage just makes me cringe.”
“Don’t be bitter just because you aren’t in love, Zooey. Be better.”
“I’m not bitter! I mean, no I’m not in love, and I tend to be skeptical of it, but I certainly believe in the whole prospect of spectacular, conscience-altering love, yeah.”
“You do.” It was a question, but came off as more of a disbelieving statement.
“Yeah!” she exclaimed feeling slighted. “I mean, come on, I'm one of the worst exponents of the entire Jim and Pam storyline. Of course I believe in fairytales.”
“Just because you sell it doesn't necessarily mean you buy it,” he answered smartly.
“That's true,” she allowed, “but... No, I do buy it and believe in it, and to a certain extent, I even hope for it. But I also know that it's a rare commodity, and that, like, ninety percent of the people getting married these days have absolutely not found it. They say all the right words and make it look good, but all these formulaic marriages, where you get engaged after two-point-five to three years, and married within another year? That's lazy. People settle so often when they shouldn't.”
“And you correlate settling with... failing?”
“By definition, it is, yeah. Failing to meet your own expectations, agreeing on something less than what you wanted.”
“Were your parents not right for each other or something?”
“What?” The question rattled her… much in the same way you’re rattled when someone asks how much you weigh or how much money you make. But you know that in refusing to answer, you risk looking defensive or rude. “What do you mean?”
“What's so bad about people declaring their love after spending three long years together?”
“Three years is nothing! In the grand scheme of life, that's a blip. You're saying, ‘Well we've made it this long together, now's the time where society says if we haven't tied the knot yet, we have to break up!’ It's bullshit. Utter bullshit.”
“It's not bullshit. So what if people wanna be 'normal' and subscribe to societal ideals. Why do you care?”
“How long had you and ‘her’ been together before you got engaged?”
“Ummm...” he took a moment to think of that magical day that he proposed. It wasn’t magical at all, really, compared to most engagements, he guessed, but then, those stories were seldom as interesting as couples made them seem. And Justin wasn’t about pretense, he knew that he and Scarlett’s relationship wasn’t much of a fairytale, but more or less, the two of them just existing. Sure, they had had a private relationship for much of their six-or-so years together, but even in that, they reveled in uncomplicatedness.
The proposal occurred the morning they stepped off of a red-eye from New York, and into LAX. He didn’t get down on one knee or even halt their stroll towards ground transportation. He had been carrying the ring around for months, waiting for the right moment, and he found it as they treaded the relatively vacant terminal, the early morning sunlight hitting his Scarlett in all the ways that told him she was who he wanted to wake up with for the rest of his life. It was in that moment, he decided to casually pop the question, knowing that Scarlett was as undemanding and simple as he. He asked her to marry him, pulling the ring from his backpack, and glanced at her for an answer. He knew she would be taken aback, because they had never seriously discussed the idea, but it didn’t take her more than a highly-charged ten seconds to give him a resounding yes. And then, they were engaged. Simple as that.
Recalling all this before finally answering Zooey, he said, “I proposed around the five and a half year mark…”
“That's a little better," she nodded to herself. "Honestly, I much more respect the people that get married within two weeks. Not just wasting months and months to decide if he or she is 'good enough.'"
“And your parents got married when?”
“Why are you so worried about my parents?”
“Because there’s a reason you’re so adamant about this, and I feel like it started at home,” he rationalized.
“Well they were college sweethearts “ another colossal misstep, by the way. They were together six years before they got married. And then fifteen years before they got a divorce. But that's because my mother is a conniving cunt, which is a long, sordid story for another date and time.”
“Ahh. I see.”
“And you’re right, she's definitely the reason I'm like this, so don't blame me for my fucked up ideals. She molded them. “
“I think it's smart to be smart about love,” he offered diplomatically, “but cynicism is just sad. It basically means that your walls are already up before you've even met anyone. He could be absolutely perfect for you and you'd still find a million ways to fuck it all up and make him run. You'd still make him crazy with your paranoia and your closed-mindedness. You would never let the relationship work because, according to you, you already know exactly where it's going and how it's going to end."
Zooey fell silent for a moment because she felt everything he said and then some. Sometimes, she did feel like it was her fate to run every good man away, even though that was never her actual intent.
"And I understand that your mom could've completely fucked you up - that happens, because parents suck sometimes “ but the absolute last thing you should do is let that define you and your relationships for the rest of your life. Learn from her mistakes."
"Whenever I write a Jim and Pam storyline, I think of my mom and then have them do everything exactly the opposite,” she laughed playfully. “But no, like I said, I honestly believe I'm a dreamer and believer in love at the heart of it all. I just talk a lot of shit about it."
"That's those walls you're already trying to build."
"Okay, that’s enough, Doctor J.” She had had more than enough of exploring her psyche for one morning. “Fuck, I thought my mom was bad with all the psychoanalyses. Do you have degrees in this shit?"
"I don't have any degrees in anything! I just observe and report."
"You're good at it. I bet your friends come to you for advice all the time."
"My female friends do. My guy friends don't know they're fucked up, or they don't care, I guess. But Scarlett's friends? They call me before they call her if they need advice."
“That's awesome," Zooey smiled brightly into her phone. "You are absolutely my new advisor."
"Looking forward to it."
"If you fuck me up, I will sue you, though."
"Looking forward to that as well."
"You're silly," she laughed lightly, then immediately dreading that work was in such close proximity to her house. "Hey dude, I gotta get on in to work, but would it be all right if I called you tomorrow?"
"If you don't, then I'll certainly call you."
"Ho shit, is that a promise?"
"I'd say it's like eighty percent promise, fifteen percent hopeful, and six percent bullshit."
"That's a hundred and one, Justin."
"There's a one percent margin of error, so..."
"Gotchaaa."
"So we'll talk tomorrow."
"That's the plan."
"All right then, buddy. 'Til it be morrow."
"Hey," she stopped him before he could leave.
"Yeah?"
"Are you busy tonight?"
"I have a couple of things to do, but nothing pressing. Why?"
"You wanna go bowling?"
"Bowling?"
"Yeah, one of my friends is having a get together at Lucky Strike and I have no partner..."
Truth be told, Justin definitely needed to be packing for his imminent trip to New York, but he had no idea how to say No to Zooey, it seemed. "Umm, okay. Yeah, sure."
"You sure?"
“Wait, it’s not Andrew who’s throwing this little shindig, is it?” Last thing he wanted was to show up at any function that son of a bitch was hosting.
“No,” she snorted, still amused by how Justin handled himself. “I actually just met this chick like a week ago, but she invited me and said to bring along my crew, so...”
"Well okay, yeah. That sounds fun. You mind if I bring a couple of friends?"
"Not at all."
"And what time is this going down?"
"From ten-ish until... whenever."
"All right then, I'll see you tonight," he croaked out, already knowing that his relationship with Zooey was leaning towards inappropriate. But it's not like they'd spent much time alone together. They were in groups with friends and nothing inappropriate at all, when he thought about it. It was very innocent.
"Aight then, I'll holla at cha."
"Later," he chuckled before finally ending the call.
When he hung up, he saw that he had two texts from Scarlett that he hadn't at all noticed coming in, he found himself her just to apologize.
"Hey you," she answered happily.
"Sorry, I just got your texts; I was on the phone."
"This is becoming a bad habit," she noted jokingly. "You didn't have to call though, I just wanted to know what time you got in tomorrow."
"My flight lands at five-ish."
"Oookay, good so you'll be in the city by seven. Did you wanna go see In the Heights or no?"
"Umm, yeah. We can do that. Whatever you want."
"Well I'm asking what you want."
"I want whatever you want."
"I… want you to make a decision."
"Well I said yes, so..."
"But you appended that your yes was with regard to what I wanted."
"Babe. I wanna go," he chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mounting unnecessary tension. “Can we let this one go?”
Scarlett seemed frustrated all of a sudden, but she relented. "Okay, I’m sorry. Yeah."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," she sighed.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." She sighed again, a bit less exasperated this time. "I'm just really stressed out, between this play and this wedding, I need sleep, I haven't eaten today. I'm a mess."
"Well we don't have to go see anything, babe. We can just stay home, order in, talk... I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."
"Really?"
"I mean, I meant it when I said whatever you want. I just wanna be with you."
"You just can’t help yourself, can you?"
“What’d I do?”
“You’re perfect and I just don’t understand how or why.”
He blushed and winced at the mere notion that he was perfect. He was far from it, as far as he was concerned. "I don't know, it's in my blood, apparently."
"I love you," she grinned into the phone with a much happier exhale.
"I love you, too."
"See you tomorrow?"
"You will see me tomorrow."
____________________
The day seemed to end on a good note, as Justin, along with Rob and Trace, had joined Zooey and her troop for a rousing two hours of bowling, where Justin was averaging about 270 per game. On top of that, the food left nothing to be desired, as they were stuffed with everything from spinach dip appetizers to fresh baked pizza, and an endless supply of any drinks they wanted, so he was definitely in a happy place by half past midnight.
And as their group dwindled, Zooey took it upon herself to finally approach him, seeing how they hadn’t said more than ten words to one another all evening. As it turned out, Trace ended up being her bowling buddy. “Did you have fun?” she wondered, walking up to Justin as he was removing his rental shoes.
“Yeah,” he smiled politely. “It was a good night. I think your friends are getting used to me.”
“Well they didn’t all hate you, you know.”
“That makes me feel sooo good,” he chuckled. He moved over so that she could fit on the leather loveseat with him. “Did you have fun?”
“Well my game wasn’t quite as ‘on’ as yours was, but yeah,” she sighed, falling back into the seat tiredly. “I’m glad you came.”
“You are refreshingly honest,” he announced, suddenly realizing what a rarity that was in a city that was full of so much bullshit. People in Los Angeles never showed their hands, always putting up a front for one reason or another, but Zooey had no poker face. She conveyed everything she felt or didn’t feel, whether you liked it or not. “I like that.”
“I get that a lot,” she nodded. “But it means a little bit more coming from you. I don’t take you to be full of shit like the rest of Hollywood.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Join me outside?”
He also kind of liked that she preferred to be outside a lot “ not confined to spaces or… anything really “ even if it was primarily so she could smoke a cigarette. “Sure.”
He followed her to the shoe rental area, dropping off their unattractive bowling shoes, trading them for his retro Jordans and her Balenciaga flats. From there, they traced outside, near the valet stand, where Zooey lit up her cancer stick and stared giddily at her new friend.
“How long will you be in New York?” she asked him, as she just had to know how long she would be forced to live without his company.
“Not sure,” he answered vaguely. “I usually play it by ear, but… probably about ten days, give or take a day.”
“Autumn in New York is so fucking badass,” she commented enviously.
“It is,” he agreed quietly. “Except my apartment is right by the river and it is fucking freezing over there anytime between October and April.”
“That sounds about right,” she recalled the days when she briefly lived in New York, where her apartment, as well, was situated along the East River and she wanted to kill herself. Even after growing up in Boston, the chill was biting to her some days.
“Did I tell you I’m hosting SNL next week?”
“Well, I kind of knew that, probably before you did,” she reminded him that her job was exactly zero degrees of separation from Saturday Night Live.
“Right,” he grinned knowingly.
“That doesn’t make me any less jealous, though. That’s one thing I’d love to be able to do.”
“What? Host SNL?”
“Yes!”
“Really?”
“Or head writer. Hell, I’d clean the toilets if it meant I got to roam those halls once in a while.”
“You’d be good as either one,” he noted earnestly, thinking of how much she made him laugh, seemingly effortlessly.
“I like to think so, but… I don’t know. I look at people like you and Jon Hamm and wonder if I could ever compare.”
“Oh, god.” He could feel himself turning a shy shade of pink.
She chuckled to herself, thinking of Justin playing Shelby Hastings. “There are few things sexier than a man who doesn’t take himself seriously.”
“I couldn’t disagree less,” he granted in jest.
“See? Sexy.”
“One that thing is sexier, though, is a woman who doesn’t take herself seriously.”
“My only worry is that I don’t take myself seriously enough,” she revealed, letting smoke billow from her mouth.
“By the way, this portion of our conversation has seriously overused the word, ‘seriously,’” he remarked.
Half joking, she concurred. “Seriously.”
Noticing that Trace had come outside, presumably searching for Justin, he deduced that it was time to finally say goodbye. “Well, I guess I should head on out,” he sighed, not quite ready to put the cap on his good night.
Zooey nodded and stared out to the parking lot scene before them, finally putting out her cigarette altogether. “When do I get to meet your better half, mister?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged, not sure whether he wanted to take Scarlett down that awkward road. Or Zooey, for that matter. “You want to?”
“I would love to meet the woman that snatched you up.”
He smiled bashfully and leaned against the building behind them. He always felt like the lucky one in their relationship, being the guy that managed to swoop up Scarlett Johansson. “One day,” he promised, not really intending to keep that one.
“All right, leave me, dude,” she motioned to give him a hug, feeling a slight butterfly effect in her stomach when his hand accidentally slipped underneath her leather jacket and grazed the small of her back. “Have fun in New York.”
“Have fun in Los Angeles,” he returned. “I’ll call you.”
She smirked, hoping that he actually would. “You better.”
Just as he disappeared back toward the entrance, Zooey realized that some guy with a video camera was approaching, and she knew he was headed straight for her. Thanks to Emile, she had had her share of run-ins with the paparazzi, but never one-on-one, and never having to defer them herself. “Shit,” she whispered to herself, yet still thankful there was only one guy.
She immediately turned to the valet stand, wanting to get her car as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there before her night was fucked up.
“Hi,” the sloppily dressed camera dude came up to her, his recorder clearly focused on her.
She didn’t say anything, but didn’t want to go back inside, figuring things would only be worse when she came back out.
“How do you know Justin?” he asked her nosily.
She pulled out her phone, hoping to warn Justin before he could make it back outside, but just as she did so, he and his two friends appeared in the doorway, ready to leave as well. Maybe it was the several drinks she had consumed that were making her inwardly overreact to it all, but she was definitely freaking out.
“Zooey,” Rob called out to her, oblivious to the cameraman in front of her.
“Hey, dude.”
“You have a good time?”
“I did.” She hated sharing any part of her life with the stranger in front of them, but she knew that the weirder she acted, the more suspicious it would all seem. And in reality, all of it was very innocent. “Did you?”
“I did.” He offered her a hug as well, apparently extra friendly when tipsy, while Trace gave up their valet ticket.
“You gonna be okay getting home?” Trace asked, being that he was he designated driver for his own crew that night.
“I live, like, literally, around the corner,” she waved him off, just as her car approached. “I’ll be fine.”
“Justin,” the camera guy eventually interjected into their exchange, “did you have a good time tonight?”
Justin, as usual, ignored the unwelcome company and bid his friend Zooey a good evening. “Bye, Zo.”
She smiled in reply, allowing the valet driver to help her into her white SUV. “Bye, you guys.”
“Bye, Zooey!” Rob and Traced called back, almost simultaneously.
Once in her car, she let out a long, exasperated sigh of relief and vowed to never hang out with Justin in public again. She knew from experience how quickly pictures and videos circulated and how rumors got started “ and the last thing she wanted was for something that trivial to be the reason she couldn’t be friends with Justin anymore. Even if it was all very innocent.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Don't you hate when you're busy ALL weekend? I meant to post this earlier, but hey, better late than never, right? I added a link to the cast photo to the story notes, but you can ch-ch-check it out here, too: (Copy & Paste) http://i28.tinypic.com/33uxv6p.jpg
Enjoy! - Ash
Enjoy! - Ash
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