People You Follow by Hayley Gene Penner

Author:Hayley Gene Penner [Penner, Hayley Gene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Personal Memoirs
ISBN: 9781459747166
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2020-08-14T00:00:00+00:00

daniel

the standard hotel-room 911

One of the pleasures of being a late bloomer with low self-esteem is the willingness to try anything with anyone, anytime. So terrified that every first shot will be the only shot, we dive in headfirst to whatever is presented to us.

And we dive in even harder and faster when we are trying to forget about our recent abortion.

“You wanna hog-tie me till I pass out?” Sure, why not?

“You wanna roll me up in a carpet in an abandoned house?” Sounds cool.

“You wanna fuck in the back of this movie theatre?” Of course. Let me put the popcorn on the floor.

One of the pleasures of living in L.A. is the pool of celebrities you find yourself in. Rich, notable men who are more than interested in taking a break from their supermodels and actresses. Perhaps to remind themselves how far they’ve come or just to flex and dazzle a passably beautiful commoner.

I am a perfect subject for such men, and such men are the perfect subjects for me. Growing up with a famous father and being surrounded by fame all my life gave me a unique sense of normalcy around the whole celebrity thing. I can both be dazzled and feel totally at home while simultaneously recognizing that they are just men. Just dudes groping in the dark, like everyone else. Men who cry and shit and shower. Men who fuck up relationships and don’t call their mothers enough.

I met Daniel on a hilarious celebrity dating app. It’s possible it’s like Fight Club and even mentioning it here will get me kicked off.

He was staying at the Standard downtown. I waited in the lobby in my black I’m-sure-to-get-fucked-in-this jumper, a leather jacket, and a new MAC lipstick shade called Vendetta. The elevator dinged and he came limping around the corner, wearing a boot from a recent injury. Like a big, sexy bear with a broken leg, just busted up enough to make me feel incrementally less intimidated.

I immediately made a joke about the boot.

A joke he missed.

A joke I had to awkwardly explain.

Something like, “I love your style. That boot is so edgy.”

We crossed the street and sat down at a hip little restaurant. He ate chicken. I ordered some sort of rice vegetable situation. He does not drink. So I did not drink.

Then he sealed the deal by doing the things that always seal the deal. He made me laugh and he made me talk about myself. He asked me questions about my family, then used my siblings’ names in follow-up questions. He gave insights into my parents’ divorce, into my dad’s new marriage, into my shitty five-year affair with Tal. And he did it all with relentless eye contact.

So when the check came and he casually tossed his metal credit card on the table and said, “What do you want to do now, Hayley?” I smirked, started chewing on my thumbnail, and said, “I mean, you know what I want to do.”

“You wanna come to my room?”

I bit my lip, nodded my head, and said, “Yes.

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