Page 115 of Brooklyn Cupid

Lu left earlier to meet up with Becky, and Roey takes his time studying my clothes like I’m auditioning for a GQ cover.

“Jace, it’s black, and you look good in it.”

“I don’t want to overdress.”

“It’s called style. And you want to impress Lu.”

“Do I really?”

“Maybe not her but her friends. Becky is a friend-whisperer, and trust me, if you want to get the girl, you have to do a good job with her friends.”

“Becky likes me.”

“I doubt she likes anyone very much except herself.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah? How is it going so far?”

“Good.”

“On Jace Reed’s scale? That means it might take half a year until you kiss Lu again?”

“Fuck off.”

“I have some Ambien on me to chill you down.”

I stare at Roey. “Da fuck? Dude, no!”

“You need to relax and finally make a bold move on her. Even women don’t have as much patience in the sex department as you do.”

“I’m not taking your shit.”

Ambien pills are Roey’s way out of occasional panic attacks. It has nothing to do with his confidence. Roey is a stud by any woman’s definition. Red silk shirt, unbuttoned way too low, gold chain peeking over his dog tag, jeans, and sneakers.

“You are obviously dressed to impress,” I comment.

“Hoping to rope in that feisty thing.”

“Becky?”

“She reminds me of a black widow spider.” Roey puts an unlit cigarette between his lips and pauses his gaze on me.

“Don’t they kill the male after mating?”

“They’re horny and initiate the mating.” He chuckles. “Becky is a user, just like me. She’s wild. When her mouth is preoccupied with something besides her snappy blabbering, I’ll like her much better and make sure afterward that she likes me even more.”

Roey is in one of his darker moods. I know all of them by now. His sleepless eyes are reddish and way too sparkly. He’s taken a shower, dressed and cologned too meticulously. That’s meant to disguise a two-day binge and the smell of booze. I can tell he’s had a few today already. The fact that he has Ambien on him is a shitty sign.

This doesn’t happen often. Usually, this means he’s going through a phase, which normally ends on a light binge, sleepless nights, sometimes light drugs, always girls, more than one, who disappear as quickly as they appear. After a week or so, as if by miracle, Roey is back to normal, clean, straight-headed, a workaholic, and a recreational drinker who has a grip on his issues.

I love when Roey is happy. But I’ve seen him in his lowest lows. PTSD is a bitch and can bring even the strongest men to their knees.

Women, though, really like Roey in his dark phase. He’s loose, confident, playful, sharp-tongue, and hard-wired.Hard, period, splurging and willing to please.

And that’s what he’s like when we walk into the gallery in northern Brooklyn, eyes turning toward us, mainly at Roey.

I might say thank you to Roey, because Lu’s eyes widen, taking me in when we approach.

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