Lizzy Goes Brains Over Braun Read online

  I ripped off the blindfold and saw my girls around me, the seats black leather, the Pacific on our right which meant we were heading south. Everyone was gathered around Zoe, who was searching through her photo library.

  “Ha, here it is.” She tapped the thumbnail and we all clustered closer.

  “Ho-lee sheeeeyit,” Kat drawled. “You weren’t kidding, girl.”

  She certainly had not been exaggerating. The photo showed a chest, groin area, cutting off at the knees. The dick in question was colossal. Truly, insanely colossal.

  “How is that real?” I asked, dumbfounded. “And how the hell is it supposed to fit inside a normal female vagina?”

  “Right?” Zoe was giggling. “In person, it’s even bigger. The photo doesn’t do it justice. It would have taken both hands to get all the way around it. It would be like giving a handjob to a salami, like the big ones you see hanging from the ceiling at a butcher’s.”

  “I wonder if he’s done porn,” Kat asked. “That’s what I would have asked.”

  “I did ask,” Zoe said, giggling even more breathlessly. “He said he’s trying to get into it, which is why he’s in LA in the first place. Apparently just having a six-pack and a monster cock doesn’t make you a shoo-in at high-dollar porn studios.”

  “Weird. What else would you need?” Autumn said. “It’s not like porn stars can actually act.”

  “I don’t know,” Kat said, “I’ve seen some with decent acting.”

  Zoe eyed Kat. “And how much porn are you watching, there, babe?”

  “Enough,” Kat said, her voice arch. “A girl has needs, and let me tell you, the dating pool is slim pickings, these days.”

  “Dating pool?” I said with a frustrated sigh. “It’s not even a pool, it’s a damn puddle. I swear I’ve dated every halfway attractive male between the ages of twenty-five and fifty in a hundred-and-fifty-mile radius.” I looked around as we approached the outskirts of LA. “Where the hell are we going, anyway?”

  “We are going to my favorite dive bar,” Kat said. “I know the owner, and I had him call all his single buddies and offer them dollar beer night, so we’ll have a lot of hot eye candy to party with.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “And, you never know. We might even get you lucky tonight.”

  I took another sip, stifling a laugh. “No no no, when I sleep with a man, he’s the one getting lucky. I happen to be damn good in the sack, I’ll have you know.”

  “Nobody calls it the sack anymore,” Teddy said, laughing. “Showing your age, babe.” She took the bottle from me. “And I think you better hold off until we get some food in you. You’re already getting tipsy.”

  “I told you!” I shrieked. “Tequila, beer, and no food. You guys are in trouble.” I pointed around at my friends. “Do NOT let me get naked tonight, and for sure no drunk hookups. I’m so tired of drunk hookups.”

  Kat smirked. “I make no promises.”

  At that moment, we pulled up in front of a dive bar on the outskirts of LA—a true dive. A tattoo parlor was on one side, still open, and a pawn shop on the other. The door was propped open with a big silver keg, and bodies moved inside, lights flashed, music pumped.

  I eyed Kat. “Are you sure this place is…safe? It looks kinda sketchy.”

  She cackled. “Hell no it’s not safe! But I’m buddies with the owner, Hector, and nobody fucks with Hector.” She danced in her seat as the driver of the party bus parked a few spots down from the bar. “Hector makes the most bomb margaritas I’ve ever had in my life. He promised me he’d make us a legit bucketful, and also, tacos. There’s a tiny little kitchen in the back, and if he likes you, Hector will get his wife to make tacos for you, and that woman makes tacos I would do a murder for.”

  “Do a murder for?” I slowly reached out and took the bottle of Patron away from her. “I think you’ve had enough.” I swirled the clear liquor—it was almost gone. “Holy shit! The six of us killed a fifth of Patron in less than an hour.”

  “You haven’t had Hector’s wife’s tacos, or Hector’s margaritas. They make you forget how to grammar.” She stood up. “Ladies, it’s time to celebrate our best friend and our beloved boss as she turns forty.” She took the bottle and finished it off. “We sure did kill this son of a bitch, didn’t we? Well, we’re just getting started. Let’s get naked wasted and make bad decisions.”

  “No!” I stood up and tugged my skirt down. “I’m not getting naked wasted. I almost got a ticket for public indecency last time I got tequila wasted.”

  Kat gestured out the bus windows. “Does this look like the kind of area where you’d get arrested for taking your shirt off? Knowing Hector and his buddies, they’ll cheer you on and then beat up anyone who tries to take a photo. They’ll absolutely enjoy the show, but they won’t be assholes about it.” She sashayed toward the front of the bus. “Trust me, old lady. Have I ever let you down?”

  I cackled, following her. “You’re a terrible influence and you’re going to get me in trouble. Lead the way!”

  There was laughter and clapping and cheering from my friends as we exited the bus. We had pre-partied pretty hard, and I had a feeling tonight was going to be a night to remember.

  Or, knowing how we all got on tequila…a night to forget.

  2

  “Oh god, if I eat another taco I’m gonna barf,” I said, pushing back from the table. “So good. So full.”

  “Quitter,” Teddy said, stuffing the last of a taco into her mouth. Seven? Eight? I don’t even know. These were not small tacos, either. “Best tacos I’ve ever had. I’m gonna gain ten pounds to my ass and thighs from eating so many, but fuck, so good. Worth it.”

  “I’ll just drag you to Zumba and we can dance our asses off, literally,” Kat said, polishing off another taco herself.

  Teddy made the sign of the cross. “Begone, Satan. Exercise is from El Diablo and I categorically refuse to do it.”

  “Wanna know my secret? Lots and lots of very athletic sex,” Laurel quipped. Or at least, I figured it was a quip. With Laurel, you never knew. “And walking. I walk every night. I put in my earbuds and I turn on an audiobook and I walk. And squeeze my butt cheeks a lot. Firms ‘em up.”

  “That’s exercise,” Kat said, droll.

  “No, it’s just walking. I don’t even get warm,” Laurel answers, dead serious. “I don’t like to get sweaty and out of breath unless there’s a dick inside me.”

  “Just asking for a friend here,” I said, tracing my finger through salt on the rim of my margarita glass, which had not been empty at any point in the evening, which was beginning to wane into night, “but what counts as athletic sex? I mean, I like to think I get it on like Donkey Kong, but I’m not sure what constitutes as athletic.”

  “Ever try the wheelbarrow?” Laurel smirked at me. “That’ll get ya sweaty real fast.”

  I blinked. “The…wheelbarrow.”

  “Yeah. Just what it sounds like.” Laurel took a long drink from her margarita. “He’s standing up, holding your legs, you’re face down with your hands braced on the floor, and he’s drilling you while you hold yourself up. Takes a lot of upper body strength.” She snorted, giggled. “Unless you just do like a headstand sort of move, but the angle’s better if you hold yourself up.”

  “Sounds hard,” I said. “Why would you do that? How is it any better than prone bone on a bed?”

  “Because,” Laurel answered, pointing a finger at me, and I wasn’t sure if it was her finger wavering or my eyesight, or both. “Because of geometry. He can hold your legs wider apart, for one thing, and for another, it’s just a different angle. The dick feels different. I dunno. You just have to try it to understand.”

  “Wow,” I snickered. “Just wow.”

  “What?” Laurel shrugged, her expression demure and arch. “I like fun fucking.”

  Zoe spluttered around a mouthful of margarita, caught it with a napkin, shaking with laughter. “Fun fucking?”

  “Also known as adventure sex.” Laurel handed Zoe another napkin. “Although the two are slightly different. Fun fucking is weird positions. Like pretty much ninety percent of the Kama Sutra.”

  “And what, pray tell, is adventure sex?” Autumn asked. “Inquiring minds would like to know.”

  “Anything risky,” Laurel answered. “In the bathroom of a bullet train in Japan, or under the bleachers at your nephew’s football game, or…or handjobs under a table at a black-tie gala.”

  I set my glass down slowly. “You have not.”

  “Let’s make that a game of two truths and a lie,” Laurel said. “I’ve done two of those.”

  Teddy stabbed a finger at Laurel. “I know for a fact you don’t have a nephew. And also that’s gotta be, like, illegal.”

  “How in the hell did you manage it in the bathroom of a bullet train?” Zoe asked. “Those things are not large.”

  “That was both risky and athletic.” She smirked, bit her lip with a lecherous gleam in her eye. “It required careful timing to get both of us in there at the same time without anyone noticing. And then he leaned back against the wall and I squatted on his knees and basically twerked myself to an O on him. Tricky, but worth it.”

  “I had no idea you were so kinky,” Autumn said.

  Laurel held up a finger. “It’s not kinky. Kink is, like, bondage and S and M, and foot fetishes and furries. I just like fun positions in fun places.”

  “‘Like the back of a Volkswagen?’” I quoted.

  “‘It’s not a schooner, it’s a SAILBOAT!’” Kat answered.

  Everyone else was just staring at us.

  “Mall Rats?” Kat said. “No? None of you have seen it?”

  “How can we be friends with them now?” I asked. “It should be mandatory viewing at Six Chicks Realty.”


  “Along with Chasing Amy and Clerks,” Kat added.

  “I’ve seen Clerks,” Zoe said. “It was funny.”

  “Didn’t that same guy do…what’s the one with Alanis Morrisette and Professor Snape?” This was Autumn.

  “Dogma,” I answered.

  “Why are we talking about this?” Teddy asked. “I’m confused.”

  “Because Laurel was talking about sex in fun places, and in Mall Rats, there’s a running joke about having sex in a very uncomfortable place, like the back of a Volkswagen.” I sighed. “It’s only funny if you’ve seen the movie.”

  “Still, the point of all this,” I said, “is that I had no idea Laurel was so adventurous sexually.”

  “Neither did I,” Kat said. “You’re so buttoned up and posh and proper.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘queen on the streets, freak in the sheets?’” Laurel said.

  I threw a blue corn chip at her. “Girl, you nasty.”

  “I’m single, I’m at the peak of my sexual powers, I’m beautiful, I’ve got money…why not enjoy myself?” She preened, patting her chignon and stroking back pretend wayward strands—which there never were, because she would never allow anything so pedestrian as flyaways.

  “Do you ever…” Teddy trailed off, sighed, took a long pull off of her margarita. “Do any of you girls ever want, like, something…long term?”

  There was a moment of silence as we took in the enormity and seriousness of Teddy’s question.

  “What, like a…boyfriend?” Zoe asked.

  “Or…the ‘M’ word?” Autumn hissing "M" in a stage whisper.

  Teddy shrugged. “I dunno. Either one.”

  “I’m good with hooking up,” Laurel said. “Keeps it neat. No breakups, no hurt feelings, no cheaters pissing me off and making me do things I then regret. Like breaking irreplaceable antique pottery over his dumb skull.”

  “No assholes breaking your nose in two places because you’re sick of his shit and finally summon the courage to say so,” Teddy said, lifting her now-empty glass in a toast of one.

  “No assholes mooching off of you, thinking you’re gonna be his sugar mama and wanting you to drop everything every afternoon for mediocre sex in his cheap West Hollywood loft.” Kat picked up the pitcher of margaritas, poured the last of it into our glasses, and then turned around in her seat and half lifted to catch Hector’s eye for more.

  “No endless parade of same-faced douche canoes slutting their shitty screenplays around Hollywood pretending to be producers and writers when all they really are is bartenders and baristas and CPAs,” I said. “No lawyers and hoity-toity execs wearing overpriced suits thinking you’re looking for a Tiffany ring and a place on his shelf as a trophy wife with no career and no goals and no identity. No dead-end quasi-relationships predicated on lackluster half-drunk sex and zero emotional connection.” Suddenly, it was a flood rushing out of me, a rant, and I couldn’t stop it. “No more sitting in a booth alone for two hours waiting for him to no-show, and getting slowly wasted on hundred-dollar bottles of wine. No more thinking finally, maybe this guy is it, maybe this guy actually has a soul that goes deeper than his ball sac and a mind that can function beyond his own career. No more wondering if you’re going to wake up one day and be sixty and still pimping overpriced houses in Malibu, living alone, still trolling Tinder for the next mindless fuck at one in the morning after a night of shouted conversations in a bar full of putzy, over-cologned children.”

  When my diatribe finally ran out of gas, everyone was staring at me.

  “What?” I asked, stuffing a chip into my mouth.

  “Tell us how you really feel, why don’t you,” Kat said.

  “I just did.” I took a sip, eyeing them. “What? You’re all staring at me.”

  “What brought that on?” Teddy asked.

  “I dunno. You and Laurel started it, and you can’t tell me you were joking. Teddy, you came to my house after Thomas hit you. You and I watched as my former friends-with-benefits ex-policeman PI worked him over and dragged him out of your house. We got drunk on gin and Lacroix afterward and watched Practical Magic. So don’t tell me it was a joke. And you, Kat—your history of getting suckered into being a sugar mama for douchebags way too young for you simply because they have nice abs and a short refractory period is a well-known thing, and not just to me. Zoe, Autumn, neither of you are any better. We’re all hookup artists and serial daters and cougars and sugar mamas.”

  Hector came by with two more pitchers and a fresh bowl of salsa and a new basket of chips, efficiently gathering our empty pitchers and plates and dirty napkins. When he was gone, I continued.

  “So yeah, my little rant just now was something that’s been building up inside me for a while.” I sighed. “I’m forty and still single, never been married, never even been engaged. Shit, I’ve never been in a relationship that’s lasted more than a year and a half, and that was only because he traveled for work three weeks out of every month. It’s bugging me. I think Teddy’s question just unearthed a whole bag of shit I’ve been ignoring for a long time.”

  “So…what?” Kat said. “You’re suddenly going to…what? Join Match dot-com? Troll Tinder and tell prospective dates you’re looking for something serious, not just a hookup?”

  “I don’t know, Kat,” I snarked, “I’m not saying I have any answers. I’m just saying, I’m wondering the same thing as Teddy. Have any of you ever thought, even like in the back of your head at two in the morning as you fall asleep, about wanting a relationship that means something? Or…or kids?”

  Teddy was shredding a paper napkin and feeding the pieces into a sweating glass of melted ice water. “I have—thought about having kids, at least. After Thomas, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to trust a man again. I thought I loved him, the fuckhead. I did things with him that I’d normally never do—”

  “Like what?” Laurel asked—the perennial horndog of the group. “Do tell, darling,” she drawled in a fake-posh British accent.

  Teddy blushed furiously—she was the more introverted of us, the least likely to share salacious details. “You know, just…stuff.”

  “Like what?” Laurel grabbed her arm and shook her back and forth playfully. “I NEED TO KNOW YOUR KINK.”

  “It’s not kink, you weird-ass woman,” Teddy half snapped, half laughed. “Until Thomas, I was a vanilla sex sort of chick. The craziest thing I ever did in bed was doggy style and the occasional cowgirl ride. Thomas was…more adventurous. He wanted…anal. And…um, other stuff.”

  “Anal isn’t that weird,” Laurel said. “You just have to be smart about it. Ease into it.”

  “Okay you know what, Laurel? I really don’t need or want to know about your exploits in anal sex.” Teddy shuddered. “We tried it once, just a little exploratory thing, and it was…nope. Nope nope nope, that’s output only for this chica.” She laughed. “He asked me to peg him once, and that was fun. He wanted me to suck him off, like, all the damn time. It got tiring. Like, I don’t mind doing that, truly. It’s not my favorite thing, but if it makes him happy and he’ll return the favor, hey, I’m down. Like, hey buddy, I’m not gonna gag myself on your dick—I’ll let you my fuck my face for a minute or two, but you just damn well better be ready to go downtown and eat me out afterward, or we’re gonna be saying goodbye real fast.”

  There was a concentrated silence, and then we all cracked up, shrieking half-drunk laughter. Teddy was baffled.

  “What?” she demanded. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re just normally so quiet and reserved about that stuff,” Kat said. “It’s amazing to hear you talk like that. I honestly had always imagined you being kind of a starfish.”

  Teddy blinked, confused. “A starfish?” She tilted her head. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Laurel slumped in her chair, flung her arms out, splayed her legs apart, closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and let out a monotone, robotic groan—kind of a polar opposite version of the Meg Ryan fake orgasm scene. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, right there, yeah.”

  Teddy’s jaw dropped open, and then her expression contorted into a glare. “Excuse me, but that’s insulting. I happen to fantastic in bed. Just because I don’t generally want to do stupid shit like the Butter Churner and like, the Flying Dutchman with an Upside Down Half Twist or whatever the fuck doesn’t mean I don’t like sex and don’t passionately and energetically get into it.” She huffed. “I like sex. I love sex. I want lots and lots of really good sex. I just…I want it…to mean something.” She ducked her head as if preparing for a barrage of castigation from us. “I don’t mind a hookup now and then to take care of my needs, but…I want more, I guess. I do. And it’s hard, because after Thomas I’m scared of men, of relationships, of trusting like, anyone. But I want to.”