The Game and Rules of the Game by Neil Strauss

Author:Neil Strauss
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780857863874
Publisher: Canongate Books
Published: 2011-09-28T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter

I walked out of Papa’s room and left the house. I had a headache. It had been a long day.

As I started down the hill to grab a burrito at Poquito Mas, a black Mercedes convertible whipped around the corner and began climbing the hill. Inside were two blondes.

The car screeched to a halt in front of me, and a voice yelled my name from the driver’s seat. It was Lisa. My heart skipped a beat.

She wore a red Diesel jacket with a wide rainbow collar that made her look like a cross between a supermodel and a racecar driver. I was unshaven, wearing sweatpants, and frazzled from debating with my roommates all day. I felt so many emotions at once: embarrassment, excitement, resentment, fear, joy. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again.

“We’re going to get a drink,” Lisa yelled. “Do you want to join us?”

“What are you doing here?” I tried to keep my cool and appear unfazed by her sudden reappearance.

“Going to the Whiskey Bar.”

“Didn’t you just pass it?”

“Yeah. I came by to ask you to go with us. Do you have a problem with that?”

A touch of attitude. I still liked her. She was a challenge. She didn’t let any sarcasm, neg, or cocky funny get past her without a verbal smackdown.

“Let me change,” I said, “and I’ll meet you there.”

I slipped on a pair of Levi’s Red jeans with fake cat scratches down the front and a military-collared button-down shirt I’d bought in Australia, and ran down the hill to join them.

I was anxious to talk to Lisa and find out why she’d disappeared after Atlanta. But when I arrived, Lisa and Sam were at a table with two stocky, heavily tattooed rockers. They were the type of guys I had imagined Lisa dating. I sat between them, dwarfed by ink and hair dye.

As they gossiped about local rock scenesters I neither knew nor cared about, an overwhelming anxiety took hold of my body. I didn’t want to make small talk or pretend to enjoy it. I wanted to be alone with Lisa. I wanted to connect with her.

When the first drip of sweat rolled down my forehead, I jumped up. I couldn’t take it.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. I needed to sarge—not because I wanted to pick up women, but because I wanted to get into a positive state and talkative mood. Otherwise I was going to just crack sitting there so awkwardly.

As I ordered a drink at the bar, I smelled lilacs behind me. I turned around to see two women in black evening dresses. “Hey guys, let me get your opinion on something,” I began, with a little less enthusiasm than usual.

“Let me guess,” one of the women said. “You have a friend whose girlfriend is jealous because he still talks to his ex from college.”

“Like, every guy keeps asking us that,” her friend said. “What’s the deal?”

I grabbed my Jack and Coke and shuffled out to the smoking patio—the site of my pickup battle with Heidi Fleiss.

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