Trigger Page 2

  “Great,” Dylan said. “Why don’t we meet in the bar at Schiller’s in West Hollywood? Do you know where that is? La Cienega and Wilshire.”

  “Yes, I know it.”

  “Great! Is nine p.m. good?”

  “Sure.” If he says “great” one more time, I’ll puke, I thought.

  “Great. I will see you in a few hours then. Take care until then, Nina!”

  My stomach turned, but I managed to keep down all the pasta with chicken I had devoured after my lunch shift at the restaurant. “Um, you too. See you in a few.”

  I stared at my phone after disconnecting. God, if I was going to get through the night with this dork, I’d better have a drink or two before heading to Schiller’s… But it was almost five-thirty and I needed to do laundry before heading out later; if I waited another day, I’d have absolutely nothing decent to wear when leaving the house. Besides, I should stop jumping to conclusions about people this way, a bad habit of mine. Maybe this Dylan-guy had just been nervous and was more appealing in person. A lot of people weren’t good over the phone.

  Yeah, right. I laughed. Fat chance. Good-looking lawyers like him were all the same, unbearably full of themselves, totally unsexy. I’d met enough of them to know and this one had sounded exactly like them.

  But I tried to stay positive as I gathered my laundry in a huge blue IKEA bag. At the very least, this date might give me some good material for the one-woman show I was putting together that would hopefully take my career to the next level finally—the level where I was making consistent money being an actress. A lot of the show surrounded my dating experiences and I’d already come up with forty minutes’ worth of material that seemed to work. Twenty more and I’d have enough to start performing my show at different venues. Well, try to perform it… Convincing club owners that I was good enough was easier said than done, even if I promised to promote the hell out of the show. I nodded to myself. Yes, as bad as this date would be, it was bound to give me a few more bits.

  Dylan

  I was driving toward Schiller’s. My expectations for my date with Nina weren’t high, partly because this girl, though cute as hell, wasn’t really my type, and partly because of how my previous three dates had gone.

  Having suffered from a bad conscience for days after my third eCupid date, I had decided that I would just go through the motions with the last two, get through them and be done with it. I’d learned my lesson, and I had been right all along. If the girls you found on dating sites weren’t nuts or unreliable, they lied, putting the guy in an uncomfortable position. I didn’t want to hurt anyone the way I felt sure I’d hurt that last girl. And what really annoyed me was that it hadn’t been my fault. Had I known what she’d actually looked like, I would never have gone out with her in the first place. She’d used false advertising to get me to come meet her, tricked me. Liars didn’t deserve much empathy.

  I glanced at the digital clock embedded in my car stereo to make sure I’d be arriving at Schiller’s on time. A quarter to nine. Being only a few minutes away, I had plenty of time. Exhaling, I moved my gaze back to the road before me. Yes, online dating definitely wasn’t for me, exactly like I’d tried to tell Victor the first time he brought up the subject and again, earlier today, when we’d caught up on the phone. It would be great when this stupid bet was over and I could cash in my steak dinner in Vegas.

  To minimize any additional pain and suffering, I had taken several precautions before settling on a time and place to meet this fourth girl. Not only had I spoken to her over the phone to hear her voice, but I had done a search online to see if I could dig up additional photos of her, like on Facebook and such, that she might not want the guys on eCupid to see.

  It had turned out that finding more photos had been incredibly easy since she had plenty posted on her Facebook page, which was open to the public. While she was actually hotter in her most recent photos than in the ones on her eCupid profile—especially in her cover photo, the one that had made me discover her profile in the first place—I didn’t think I’d be into her. I had never liked girls who were as… flamboyant as this girl seemed to be, judging from her Facebook photos and the fact that she was an actress. With an upcoming one-woman show, according to one of her posts. One-woman show… Surely it was as terrible as most other one-person shows I’d been forced to go to over the years, desperate attempts to get discovered. Usually, the better-looking the girl, the worse her performance was. Not that it mattered if she sucked or not. After tonight I would never see her again anyway.

  Nina

  I couldn’t spot Dylan anywhere when I reached the bar at Schiller’s. It was three minutes after nine. I found an empty barstool and sat. Figures he wouldn’t be here. Guys like him always sailed in fifteen, twenty minutes late, blaming their poor punctuality on their demanding workload when, in reality, they were just inconsiderate jerks.

  “Nina?” a soft but undeniably manly voice said behind me.

  I swiveled around. A tall, very attractive guy somewhere in his mid to late twenties with a thick head of honey-blond hair combed sideways the way professionals always did stood in front of me. As our eyes met, I felt, much to my surprise, an instant pull toward him. I couldn’t stop a big smile from spreading over my lips. Wow. He was definitely hot, as good-looking as his profile photos. Maybe this date wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  I got to my feet and extended my hand. “Yes, that’s me. You must be Dylan.”

  He smiled back, flashing a row of nice, white teeth, and took my hand. “Yes, I am. I was in the men’s room. I hope I’m not late?” He glanced at his wristwatch. I couldn’t help but notice that his wrist under his shirt cuff was a little hairy. I felt my stomach lurch pleasantly against my will. I didn’t usually like hairy guys. It was just that the hair on his arm was so… so very sexy.

  “Not at all,” I replied. “I just sat down. I didn’t even have time to get a drink yet.”

  That smile on his face was still there. “What would you like?”

  “A dirty martini. Can you please make sure the bartender makes it very dirty…?” I gave him an innocent look, pretending like I had no idea how suggestive my request had sounded. I hadn’t intended for it to come out that way, it just happened. The smile on Dylan’s face froze and his turquoise eyes widened a touch. He cleared his voice before saying, “Sure. Any particular vodka?”

  “Kettle One, please.”

  Dylan nodded and turned to get the bartender’s attention. As Dylan was giving the bartender our drink orders, I stifled a giggle. Oh, this was going to be fun. I unnerved him so easily! Imagine what I could do if I wanted to…

  He turned back to me and handed me the drink. Judging from the way he was looking at me, he had recovered from my words. He held up his beer glass in a toast.

  Without saying a word, I brought my martini glass against his beer and then had a sip, holding his gaze all the while. The liquid burned the insides of my mouth in a delicious way, tasting salty and spicy at the same time, just the way I liked it.

  Maintaining our eye contact, Dylan had a large swig of his beer. He swallowed and a small smile spread over his broad mouth. “Dirty enough for you?”

  Not bad. Better comeback than I had expected. I gave him a mischievous smile. “Uh-huh. Not that it can ever be too dirty.”

  He took a gulp of beer.

  I let a beat pass before continuing. “So, you’re a lawyer? What firm do you work for?”

  “Greenberg and Glusker. You know of them?”

  “I don’t think so. What kind of law do they handle?”

  “The boring kind. Corporate law.”

  I nodded. “Oh. That explains it. Being an actress, I’ve really only kept up with entertainment law firms.”

  “Right. You’re an actress. How’s that going?”

  “Great. I was in a national commercial a few months ago and I did a few parts in some independent movies this year. I was also in a sketch comedy group until recently. You know, impr
ov.”

  “You do improv? That’s brave. I can’t imagine how tough it must be to stand in front of an audience trying to be funny on the spot. It must be terrifying.”

  “I sure do improve, and stand-up comedy, too. It is absolutely terrifying to stand up there, but also absolutely incredible. There’s nothing better than when you really hit the mark and the audience doesn’t want you to leave the stage. It’s even better than having multiple orgasms. Way better.”

  Dylan coughed, just barely managing to swallow his beer.

  I acted like I had no idea what had set him off and, with a concerned look on my face, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Dylan cleared his voice again, his face a shade redder. “I’m fine, thank you. I just swallowed a little too fast.”

  Dylan

  I had a sip of the ice water the bartender had brought us to regain my bearings, pissed at myself for letting this girl get to me so easily. I knew just her type. Girls who hated all guys because some dude had done a number on them and subsequently had devoted their love lives to ensure every guy they dated would be reminded of what asses they really were, as if all guys were one and the same. I conveniently pushed away the fact that, pre-Emma, I myself used to be one of the guys who treated girls poorly. Well, I could play this game, too. I turned to face her. I had to admit that, although annoying as hell, I found her incredibly sexy. She was pretty in an unconventional way with that long dark hair and the sassy face with the hazel eyes that were a touch slanted, as though she was part Asian. They glittered with mischief one minute, sensuality the next.

  “Do you typically have multiple orgasms?” I said evenly, as if this was something I discussed on a regular basis with girls I had recently met.

  She raised her chin, looking straight into my eyes, blinking slowly. “That depends on the man. If he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Her eyes flashed with interest.

  I laughed. Well, if this was the way she insisted our date should go—straight into the sexual realm—who was I to object? I wouldn’t mind ending this date with some sex. It had been several months since I’d gotten laid. By Emma. The day before she sent me a text, telling me it was over. My stomach twisted. I immediately pushed away the uncomfortable memory by focusing on the girl in front of me, who was looking at me expectantly. Yes, I would definitely take this one to bed tonight. She would hopefully be as good a lay as her demeanor implied she was.

  “I think I can hold my own,” I said. “But ultimately, it depends on the girl.” Should I add what I was thinking—if I found her hot enough in bed—or would that be too much too soon, even for this chick? Before I had made up my mind, Nina said, “Why’s that?”

  “Well, the more she turns me on, the more inspired I become. Meaning, I’ll try harder to please her.”

  “I’m sure with me you’d feel plenty inspired…” She gave me a long, lusty gaze and licked her pouty, nude-painted lips slowly.

  I stared at her. Was this girl for real? I didn’t think I had ever met any girl who was this forward. She was obviously looking for us to have sex sometime soon, like in the next hour in the restaurant’s bathroom, the way she was acting. Or was she kidding? I couldn’t be sure. After all, she was an actress and I didn’t know her at all. I had another large swig of beer while pondering this.

  She threw her head back, letting out a loud laugh. I watched her, thoroughly confused. When she was done laughing, she wiped her eyes with the back of both her hands.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “You should have seen yourself! Your eyes were, like, this big.”

  She spread her eyes wide by placing her thumbs under them and her index fingers on her eyebrows. “I was just screwing with you! You actually thought I was serious, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t know what to say. This girl was beyond annoying. I wanted to ask the bartender for the check, pay and leave, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself do this. I suspected part of it had to do with the fact that such an act would make this girl crack up even louder, laugh her ass off at my expense. I also suspected that she was right—she would make me feel plenty inspired in bed. And I was pretty sure she would like what I did to her there as much as I’d like doing it…

  I had a feeling I would get the chance to test out my theory fairly soon.

  Nina

  I wondered if Dylan had any clue how unnerved he’d looked when I said those last words, topping it off by looking at him like I wanted to do him right then and there, licking my lips like a seasoned hooker. He had actually thought I was serious! He obviously had no sense of humor, just like I had thought.

  “Well, I have to admit that I wasn’t sure there at first,” he said, clearing his voice. “You’re definitely a good actress.”

  “Well, let’s hope I am since it’s what I do for a living.” I contemplated him for a moment. I couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him then. It wasn’t his fault he was so uptight and boring. I better be a little nicer or he might break. “So, where did you go to college?”

  “Princeton undergrad and Harvard law.”

  I hadn’t expected any less. “Impressive.”

  “Thank you. I’m very fortunate. What about you? Where did you go to college?”

  “Santa Monica College.” I watched him carefully, sure I’d see him flinch at hearing I’d gone to a community college, just like every other guy of his kind did. To his credit, he kept a straight face.

  “What was your major?” he asked.

  “Communication. But I never finished.”

  “You dropped out?”

  “Yeah. After two and a half years. I didn’t see the point in having a college education when I knew I wanted to become an actress. Entertainment is a young field, so I figured I’d give it my all while I’m still young. I definitely made the right decision. For a twenty-three-year-old, I’m doing great.” I blinked, annoyed with myself for having sounded so defensive. So I could be doing better than I was—a lot better—and maybe dropping my classes hadn’t been my smartest move, but that didn’t make me a loser. I was definitely not a loser.

  “So you’re making enough money acting to support yourself then?”

  I could tell from the tone of his voice he didn’t think this was the case. And he was right. Damn. But for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t make myself lie to set him straight. Well, I shouldn’t be ashamed of the truth anyway, I thought. Clearing my voice, I raised my chin. “Not quite. The national commercial I did was a buyout unfortunately, which means I just got a one-time fee for doing it. And parts in independent movies don’t pay that well. So I also wait tables to cover some bills.”

  “Makes sense. Where do you wait tables?”

  “McCormick and Schmick’s. The one at the end of Rodeo Drive.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve gone there for lunch a few times. I don’t remember seeing you there.”

  “Must have been on my days off. I only work two lunches a week, and two dinners.”

  “Got it.”

  A tense silence followed that Dylan filled by asking me if I wanted another drink. I knew if I had another martini, I’d get drunk, but I didn’t care. I could use getting buzzed to forget how I’d completely screwed up yesterday, reading for a part that seemed to have been tailor made for me. Forget that maybe I’d always be a waitress if I didn’t get a better agent soon, got a role that made a difference in my career. I’d sip my martini while doing some more boring small talk with Dylan, slowly turning the conversation back to more exciting topics, flirt with him until it became clear to him what I had in mind—to get him in bed. And this time it would be for real. I didn’t doubt he’d be a willing participant the way he was staring at me.

  By the end of my second martini, I was buzzed just like I had thought, and in the mood to really put the moves on Dylan. Alcohol always made me more confident. The second beer had managed to loosen him up a bit, too, making him
more easy-going. He was definitely even more good-looking now as seen through my alcohol-soaked brain. Looking at him was like looking at a model out of a Ralph Lauren ad, his face was that perfect.

  “You should have become a model instead of a lawyer,” I said, putting my hand on his knee and leaning into him.

  Dylan laughed. “I’d rather leave that kind of a job to the wussy, brain-dead boys.”

  “I definitely think being a model would suit you.” I put my free hand on his stomach and traced it from his ribcage down to right below his navel, exploring his muscles there. His mouth dropped open and he pulled in a faint breath. I smiled. “Aha! Just like I’d hoped—you do have that six-pack. Feels exactly like I imagined from your profile photo…” I eyed his wide shoulders and the strong arms and defined chest, body parts that were all obvious through his white dress shirt. My gaze moved down to his crotch covered by his dark slacks. It bulged in a way that told me that Dylan was likely not going to reject me if I leaned in to kiss him right now. But I was not about to do that. I wanted to build the tension between us a little more, go for a bigger payoff. I looked into his beautiful blue eyes again, which had darkened considerably. His wide mouth remained open and I could tell he was breathing faster.

  “You know, with a body like yours,” I said slowly, “you should’ve gone into underwear modeling. I bet you look great in a pair of Calvin’s.”

  It seemed Dylan had no idea what to say to that because he was just staring at me.