<\/p>\n
Lainey turned off Hollywood Boulevard onto North Edgemont. There were no parking spots in front of her apartment, so she drove around the block and found a space on Franklin. She got out of the car and opened the trunk. Inside was her latest creation: a neon sculpture the size of a boom box. Cursive glass spelled \u201cHome Motel.\u201d Lainey carried the artwork as if it were a cake. Her Russian neighbor, Boris, was sitting on a three-legged sofa that had been dumped on the curb over a month ago. Boris sipped his beer as he watched Sergey, his son, run back and forth swiping an oversized candy cane across a metal fence.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoris,\u201d Lainey said, \u201ckak dyela?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot bad.\u201d He adjusted his raincoat. \u201cDry for now.\u201d He looked at her tall boots and her skirt, then at her face. \u201cYou seem good. Happy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shrugged.<\/p>\n
\u201cMerry Christmas,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cSame. Poka.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey continued toward a peach stucco building, where Felicia stood smoking. Her cigarette clashed with her youthful presentation.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen are you going to give that up?\u201d Lainey asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen you quit eating meat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow many dolphins did you save today?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIan and I are only four hundred dollars away from our trip to Japan.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCount me in for fifty.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSeriously?\u201d Felicia tamped the cigarette against the stucco and put the butt in her pocket. \u201cPositive you can afford that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPositive I can\u2019t. But I like you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAwesome.\u201d Felicia opened the door for Lainey and followed her up the single flight of stairs. \u201cIs that neon a Christmas present?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnniversary. It\u2019s tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey and Felicia reached the landing and walked down the hall.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yeah,\u201d Felicia said, \u201cyou two met at that holiday party in\u2014\u201d She stopped when she saw the potted orchid on Lainey\u2019s doormat. \u201cJesus. We better call the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou say that every time. LAPD can\u2019t do anything. The keys are in my left pocket.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t make sense.\u201d She retrieved Lainey\u2019s keys and unlocked the door. \u201cSome creep keeps sending you flowers and they can\u2019t do anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you go in and ask Monica to stay out of the living room? Wait. Take the orchid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not touching that thing. It\u2019s coated in negative energy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on, Felicia.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat crackpot psychopath is dangerous and anything he touches is equally dangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe didn\u2019t touch it. The florist did.\u201d<\/p>\n
Felicia took a step back from the orchid.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine,\u201d Lainey said. \u201cLeave it. Just make sure Monica isn\u2019t around.\u201d<\/p>\n
Felicia went into the apartment. She returned. \u201cSounds like she\u2019s showering.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey put the neon in the closet.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou guys free tonight?\u201d Felicia asked. \u201cThere\u2019s an opening celebration for a new vegan restaurant. It\u2019s right next to Jumbo\u2019s. Come.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you can\u2019t wear those leather boots. Or carry that purse.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll wear my sexiest burlap sack.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerfect. See you there.\u201d Felicia started to leave. \u201cLainey, I\u2019m serious about the flower.
\nDon\u2019t bring it inside. And bolt the door when I leave.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBye, crazy.\u201d Lainey closed the door and locked it.<\/p>\n
Monica came into the living room. She was wearing a bathrobe. Her long, dark hair was wet.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi, Bunny,\u201d she said. She kissed Lainey on the cheek. \u201cThirsty?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
They went into the kitchen. Monica took two glasses from the dishwasher and began opening a bottle of wine. \u201cHow was the studio?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI lost another commission.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBrent. That director who wanted a neon above his fireplace.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember. You showed me the sketches. Those waves.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight. This morning Brent\u2019s wife\u2014the wife whose hair is platinum and who\u2019s always smacking gum\u2014that wife decided neon art is tacky.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, no. I\u2019m sorry. Well. Two of your pieces are still in the LACMA, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo another commission will come along.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHopefully.\u201d<\/p>\n
Monica put down the corkscrew and hooked her finger in Lainey\u2019s skirt pocket. She pulled her close. \u201cNot hopefully. Definitely.\u201d Monica kissed her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou smell good,\u201d Lainey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cNew shampoo. Cucumber mango.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI like cucumber mango.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cVery much.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey untied Monica\u2019s robe. She was wearing a pale pink bra and matching panties. They looked expensive. \u201cPink,\u201d Lainey said. She ran her finger down one of the straps. The chiaroscuro of the light fabric against Monica\u2019s olive skin was incredible. \u201cYou never buy pink.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t buy these. Alex did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlex?\u201d<\/p>\n
Monica untucked Lainey\u2019s blouse. \u201cHe signed a three-picture deal today.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d Lainey let go of Monica. \u201cDid the contract require him to buy you fancy lingerie?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was as surprised as you are.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHas he ever bought you lingerie?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. But he\u2019s also never closed a deal that huge.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey went to the pantry.<\/p>\n
\u201cBunny,\u201d Monica said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWant some minestrone?\u201d Lainey opened the can and poured the soup in a pot.<\/p>\n
Monica pulled a dead leaf off the ivy. \u201cI have dinner plans.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, you didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m going out with Alex. He\u2019s leaving tomorrow. Skiing with his family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy are you upset?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not. I\u2019m hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll be home by ten-thirty. You know he always brings me home by ten-thirty. Afterward, you and I can go for a drink. All right?\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey didn\u2019t say anything. She rinsed the can and threw it away. Monica poured herself some wine and left the kitchen. Lainey stirred the soup as she listened to the sound of the blow dryer. After a few minutes, she turned off the burner and dumped the minestrone in the sink. She went to the bedroom, sat on the floor, and unzipped her boots.<\/p>\n
Monica came in. \u201cLainey.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs he taking you back to the Four Seasons?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe mentioned the Fairmont.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLovely.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand why you\u2019re so annoyed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho\u2019s annoyed?\u201d Lainey looked toward the plastic garment bag that hung on the bureau door.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he buy that too?\u201d<\/p>\n
Monica removed the plastic and held up two dresses. One black, one red. \u201cDo you like them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho wouldn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHere.\u201d Monica extended the red toward Lainey. \u201cI want you to have it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey put her boots in the closet then unbuttoned her blouse. \u201cNo thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll look great on you. You never wear anything low-cut.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey went to the bathroom. She tucked her hair in a shower cap, turned on the water and stepped in. Monica\u2019s voice came from the other side of the curtain. \u201cBunny?\u201d Lainey didn\u2019t answer. Monica moved the curtain aside a little. \u201cLainey, please.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe loves you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWrong. He loves having sex with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s going to leave his wife for you. He left his first wife for this wife and he\u2019s going
\nto leave this wife for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen we met, you said you\u2019d quit seeing him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought I could find another job. Lainey, your life is better because of Alex. Do you think every producer pays his assistant seventy-five grand? Even if you don\u2019t receive another commission for a year, I\u2019ll be able to cover our rent. And groceries. And still have enough to take us to the spa.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know I don\u2019t care about spas.\u201d Lainey turned her back to Monica. She stared at the tile where a long, dark hair clung. \u201cAnd I don\u2019t care about your statistics. A man that\u2019s going to leave his wife does so within the first three months of the affair. Bullshit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey wiped the hair away and turned to Monica. \u201cPeople aren\u2019t statistics. They\u2019re goddamn human beings who work and eat and crap.\u201d<\/p>\n
Monica closed her robe. \u201cA refined girl shouldn\u2019t use such unrefined language.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck language. Do you guys fuck before dinner or do you fuck after?\u201d
\nMonica left the bathroom. Lainey pulled the cap over her ears and leaned her head under the water.<\/p>\n
She finished showering. She put on a sweatshirt and went into the living room. Monica was sitting on the sofa wearing the new black dress. The closet door was open and the neon\u2014which Monica had plugged in\u2014was on the coffee table. The letters glowed the color of the Pacific.<\/p>\n
\u201cHome Motel,\u201d Monica said. \u201cOur song.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this my Christmas present?\u201d Monica asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. It\u2019s for\u2014Sure. Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI love it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat time is he picking you up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAny minute.\u201d Monica fastened the ankle straps on her stilettos. \u201cIf you\u2019d only meet him, you\u2019d feel better. You\u2019d understand that it just is what it is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey lit a match and watched the flame climb down the stick. \u201cDo you love him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey shook out the match and lit another. Monica switched the neon off then put on her coat.<\/p>\n
\u201cI love nice things,\u201d Monica said. \u201cYou know that. I love linen napkins.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe have linen napkins.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI love hotel lobbies with piano players. I love vintage champagne. I love being shown off
\nin exquisite places.\u201d Monica walked over to Lainey and blew out the match. \u201cBut I do not love Alex.\u201d She put her hand on Lainey\u2019s hip.<\/p>\n
The phone rang.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour ride,\u201d Lainey said.<\/p>\n
\u201cCould we install the neon when I get home?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhatever you want.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you.\u201d Monica kissed Lainey\u2019s forehead. \u201cIt\u2019s beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lainey set the matches on a bookshelf and walked down the hall.<\/p>\n
\u201cBunny,\u201d she heard Monica say.<\/p>\n
Lainey went back to the living room. Monica was standing in the doorway holding the orchid.<\/p>\n
\u201cDumpster?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou decide.\u201d Lainey headed toward the bedroom. She heard the front door close then the bolt lock. She lay on the bed and stared at the red dress hanging on the bureau. The shadows cast through the blinds by the setting sun made the dress look as though it were striped. Lainey closed her eyes. She could hear the faint dragging of Sergey\u2019s candy cane; he was still running it back and forth across the fence. It sounded like bursts from some sort of machine gun. Fire. Pause for reload. Fire. Pause for reload. The longer Lainey listened, the more she appreciated the kid\u2019s metronomic rhythm.<\/p>\n
When she finally opened her eyes, the machine gun had been silenced. The clock read nine. She got out of bed, stepped into a pair of heels and took the dress off the hanger.<\/p>\n
Monica had been right; the cut did flatter Lainey\u2019s figure. As she brushed her teeth, she looked inside the medicine cabinet at a stack of hotel soaps. The one on top was jojoba-scented. She didn\u2019t know what jojoba was. What she knew was that Monica liked collecting those tiny soaps. Maybe jojoba was some sort of berry or seed or bush. Lainey applied mascara and left the apartment.<\/p>\n
North Edgemont was wet; it must have rained while she napped. She walked to the end of the street, turned right, and headed up Hollywood Boulevard. The traffic noise blotted out the holiday music coming from the Chicken House. Lainey looked across the street toward the lighting store. The last time she was in the place was eight months ago \u2013 back when she met Jeremiah. She was moving in with Monica and they needed a new floor lamp. Just a simple lamp.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look confused,\u201d Jeremiah had said after he paid for his fancy light bulb.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m a neon artist,\u201d Lainey said. Then she clicked a lamp on and off.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d he said. \u201cNow I\u2019m confused.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLight is my medium.\u201d She flipped the switch of another lamp. \u201cHow is it that I deal in light, yet I can\u2019t tell one lamp from the other?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I deal in taxes. Discernment is my specialty.\u201d Jeremiah chose a lamp for her then carried it back to the peach stucco apartment. She didn\u2019t think much of the fifteen minutes they spent together. He was just some man. Some kind man buying a light bulb during his lunch break. And she was just some girl. Some girl floating on the idea of memorizing her new lover\u2019s body.<\/p>\n
Lainey looked away from the light store and kept walking. She passed a pay phone whose receiver was dangling. Someone had draped a banana peel over the mouthpiece. Three blocks up, she crossed Winona Street and faced the banner hanging above a restaurant: Vegan Bully. Lainey watched the people inside. They were drinking wine and eating whatever it was the waiters held on their trays. Felicia sat on Ian\u2019s lap and removed a piece of lint from his shoulder. Lainey pictured herself feigning enthusiasm over tofurkey and egg substitute. Then she walked two doors down to Jumbo\u2019s Clown Room. There were no windows. Just a brick wall painted red and a black door. The sign\u2019s font and blinking lights resembled those of a circus marquee.<\/p>\n
Lainey went in and sat at the bar.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwenty-one?\u201d the bartender said as he cleaned a beer nozzle.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwenty-seven,\u201d she said. \u201cMartini on the rocks.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gave her the drink as the music started. It wasn\u2019t the heavy rock that often accompanies strip teases. The tune was something impossible to define, something playful. There was a guitar. Then some bells. Some synthesized piano and, low in the background, some whistles.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust in time for Blue,\u201d the bartender said.<\/p>\n
\u201cBlue?\u201d<\/p>\n
He lifted his chin, gesturing behind Lainey. \u201cOur main attraction.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned and faced the stage. The place wasn\u2019t what she\u2019d imagined. The velvet clown paintings, sure. And the stale smell of 1970, of course. But the performance area was smaller than she\u2019d expected. Only one pole. Also, the dancer wasn\u2019t topless. Her black lingerie seemed as much a part of her skin as the tattoos. Colored ribbons streamed from her hips. Her red thigh-highs echoed the red lights overhead. Everything was unnaturally saturated. Lainey felt as though she\u2019d stepped into a photographer\u2019s darkroom.<\/p>\n
The older man sitting next to Lainey swirled his bourbon. He ran his hand over his horseshoe of hair and leaned forward so his elbows met his knees. He watched with intent.<\/p>\n
Blue circled the pole, holding it with both hands. Then she leaped off the stage, dropped her head back, and cocked her legs like a carousel mare frozen in mid-prance. She rotated in slow motion. How did she maintain such control? Such suspension? It was like blowing glass. Too much air and the tube shatters; not enough and it\u2019ll collapse.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy unicorn,\u201d the man said without looking at Lainey. \u201cMy impossibility.\u201d<\/p>\n
Blue melted up and down the pole, then hooked it with both knees. She extended her torso and arms so that they were parallel to the floor. She began to wave like a flag. It was as if the music dictated the amount of imaginary wind. When the song picked up, Blue flapped with great speed. And when it slowed, Blue let her body sag toward the floor.<\/p>\n
Some type of cymbal percussion came into the song. It reminded Lainey of Monica\u2019s laugh: full and honest, but brief.<\/p>\n
Blue spiraled her legs and turned upside down on the pole. Hand over hand, she climbed higher. As she approached the mirrored ceiling, her legs unfurled. She held them in a perfect split. Then she began to turn a circle; she became a windmill. Turning. Turning. Lainey thought of that field, of Jeremiah. Had he really dumped that girl in the weeds the way the prosecution said he had?<\/p>\n
The audience cheered as Blue continued to whirl. Dollars floated onto the stage and the song ended. Blue collected the money. The man left his seat, set down some bills, and returned. \u201cOne more?\u201d he asked as he looked at Lainey\u2019s empty glass.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know what time it is?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTen.\u201d<\/p>\n
Monica would be home in half an hour. \u201cAll right,\u201d Lainey said. \u201cOne more.\u201d
\nThe bartended fixed another round. Lainey and the man sat drinking and not talking, their backs to the stage. The man put his hand on the folded newspaper before him and faced Lainey. \u201cDid you know major league umpires are required to wear black underwear?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWow,\u201d she said. \u201cI wasn\u2019t aware.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight here.\u201d He tapped the paper. \u201cIn print.\u201d<\/p>\n
The first time Jeremiah sent an orchid, he hadn\u2019t included a card. Felicia had called the florist, who gave her Jeremiah\u2019s name. Felicia then dug around. She discovered Jeremiah\u2019s conviction, his appeal and the reversal. His record was clean.<\/p>\n
Lainey set her glass on the bar. The ice cubes\u2019 formation resembled that of a sculpture by Giacometti. The cubist piece\u2014the one in the Pompidou. The fragmented configuration was how Lainey viewed Jeremiah. A green tie and a bald spot. No wedding ring, an easy voice. Use of the word gravitas. Why had he said that word? What had they been discussing as they walked toward her place? Grav-i-tas.<\/p>\n
The man next to Lainey pulled some change out of his pocket. \u201cHungry?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? No. No, thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
He rose and walked to a vending machine that was next to the stage. He deposited some coins. As the bag of pretzels pushed forward and fell, Lainey set a twenty on the bar. Then she left.<\/p>\n
Hollywood Boulevard seemed louder than before.<\/p>\n
Lainey reached the peach building and went upstairs.<\/p>\n
The apartment was quiet. No Monica.<\/p>\n
Lainey took a hammer and nails from the utility closet. When she\u2019d designed the neon, she
\nknew exactly where it would hang.<\/p>\n
The spot she\u2019d chosen was perfect. She clicked off the floor lamp and sat on the sofa. The room\u2019s blue glow was nice. So was the soft buzz of electricity humming through the neon-filled tubes. She picked up Monica\u2019s wine glass and took a sip. Then she looked at the clock: eleven-fifteen.<\/p>\n
On the chair beneath the window sat the orchid. She went over and opened the card. Familiar handwriting read, \u201cThe Burgundy Room.\u201d Once, Jeremiah had written \u201cShort Stop.\u201d And another time, \u201cThe Fifth.\u201d Lainey looked outside. A streetlamp illuminated a hydrant, which cast a long, black shadow. She imagined the scene as a Hopper painting\u2014blurred but on the verge of climax. Everything was still. Lainey decided she wouldn\u2019t move until something else did.<\/p>\n
Finally, a spotted cat walked into the frame and paused. A moment later, it darted behind a car and disappeared.<\/p>\n
Lainey looked again at the clock. Eleven-thirty.<\/p>\n
She walked to the end table and picked up the phone book. She opened it. B. Bai\u2013Bak. Bro\u2013Bru. Then, the right page: Bur\u2013Bus. She ran her finger down a column. After she found what she wanted, she picked up her purse and walked toward the door.<\/p>\n
The Burgundy Room Lainey turned off Hollywood Boulevard onto North Edgemont. There were no parking spots in front of her apartment, so she drove around the block and found a space on Franklin. She got out of the car and opened the trunk. Inside was her latest creation: a neon sculpture the size of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":8422,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1309"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/8422"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1309"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1309\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1323,"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1309\/revisions\/1323"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bu.edu\/236magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1309"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}