12 noon.
Phone ringing.
Roll over.
Grab it.
This time it’s more complicated, because I’m mid-argument with Scout.
“Hey!” says The Seeker. “You’ll never guess what just happened.”
“Uh, neither will you,” I shoot.
“Oh, is this a bad time?”
“Pretty much.”
“Like, awkward?”
“Like, exactly.”
“Okay, well…” but he doesn’t hang up. Instead, he gives a five minute monologue on his night, a long raid of bars, bistros, and The Dandy Warhols at random spots in Paris. It’s amusing, and exciting, and halfway through, I give up and put The Seeker on speaker phone for Scout to hear.
We crash on his bed, making funny faces as The Seeker talks – and talks – about herding models and artists and designers and Courtney Taylor, and bringing them back to his hotel. The Seeker has Amy Sacco on speed dial and sometimes, like now, I think she should be taking notes. Sometimes I also think I should book a plane ticket and disappear to France until September.
Scout is dead silent, but suddenly The Seeker stops.
“Wait,” he asks, suddenly self-aware. “Are you with a guy?”
I laugh.
“Do you want me to call you back?”
I laugh more. My phone snaps shut.
“Okay,” says Scout, “he sounds awesome. And definitely not gay.”
I nod.
“So,” continues Scout. “Have you guys ever made out?”
“Nope.” I smile. “Why, do you think we should?”
Scout hits me with his pillow. We sit on his couch and eat Ben & Jerry’s out of the carton, with the blinds pulled tight and the clocks turned off.
[DAISY LOWE - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]
[...] rom the Edge To: am.i@imaginarysocialite.com From: The Seeker last night made Friday look like a tea party. missed my flight. tan pis. Good news: The Se [...]