Read Online Nowhere but Here by Renee Carlino - Free Book Online Page A

would be like, but none of it was appropriate for impressing hot, rugged winery men. Spicing up the same black blazer was going to be a challenge, and then I remembered that I had brought a maroon camisole, something I would normally wear underneath a blouse. I went for it—my sexy silk camisole, the tightest jeans I owned, some heels, and the black blazer, for the sake of good form.
    I decided I would tell Jamie as soon as I saw him that I had broken up with my boyfriend, but Susan’s warning scared me, and I wondered if I really wanted a fling with a man who lived two thousand miles away. Yes, with this one, I most definitely do, I couldn’t help thinking.
    It was time to update Jerry, even though I had made no progress on the story. I dialed his number and it didn’t even ring. “This is Jerry.”
    “I have a problem.”
    “Well, hello to you, too.”
    “I’m serious.”
    “Congratulations. You haven’t been serious about anything in a very long time.”
    I often had these ridiculous back-and-forths with Jerry in which he would intentionally mock me or try to ruffle my feathers because he thought it inspired my writing. I was also ninety-nine percent sure that Jerry had undiagnosed ADD. Many days we ate lunch in the park together, sometimes Lincoln, sometimes Stanton. We’d eat our deli sandwiches and talk about life stuff. We would be having the most profound conversation about mortality or world hunger and Jerry would suddenly jerk his head around and say, “Oh man, look at that kite, it’s shaped like a giant squid!” I would never even attempt to take him to Millennium Park—forget about it. I know he’d just sit there and stare, mesmerized at those giant sculptures. His brain would go into overload and he would probably chant, “Big metal object, big metal object,” over and over. He did everything fast—he thought, ate, wrote, talked, even walked faster than the average person. His attention span didn’t last longer than a few seconds. His deadlines were sometimes unreasonable, and his brain rarely allowed for small talk in conversations, which made him a straight shooter.
    “Jerry, stop.”
    “Are you getting the dirt? That’s all I really want to know.”
    “Yes, dirt is exactly what I’m getting. R.J. is kind of a dick.”
    “What do you mean ‘kind of’?”
    “Well, he is a dick. He kept hitting on me throughout the interview.”
    “Did you fuck him?”
    “No.”
    “Good . . . Are you gonna fuck him?”
    “No, Jesus Christ, Jerry, who do you think I am?”
    “Well, it’s great that he’s a dick, just don’t fuck him.”
    “ Okay! And why is it great that he’s a dick?”
    “Because you need an angle, Kate. You always need an angle.”
    “But I love this place, and all of the people who work here are so nice, and the wine is phenomenal. Plus, I know he has veto power over the article.”
    In his typical superfast speech, he said, “Listen, there are always loopholes. If you would have told me that he was the most philanthropic, God-loving gift to all women and humankind, I would have said great to that, too. You just need an angle, okay? Don’t stress so much, you’re not fucking writing The Jungle . Just play up the facts. Get the dirt on how the staff feels about him. Find out why the wines are winning awards, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”
    “They’re winning awards because the wine is that fucking good.”
    “Well, why? What are they doing that’s different? That’s what you need to find out.” He suddenly paused and then continued. “By the way, I’m sorry to hear about Stephen.”
    “Oh . . . how’d you know?” I asked, somewhat alarmed.
    “Beth saw him having breakfast this morning.”
    “So? What did he say to her?”
    “Well, it wasn’t so much what he said . . .”
    “What do you mean?” And just like that, it hit me. “He was with a woman? This morning? Already? Fucking dog!”
    “Yeah, and you know how Beth is. I guess she went up to him