Prey

            by Lindsay Rotblatt

 

When Spencer first moved to Santa Monica, California in 2005 he was nothing more than a lost son of a wealthy New York psychologist. Spending most of his childhood and teen life hopped up on Prozac, Spencer felt the need to escape his father’s pill pushing ways and moved to California. To Spencer, the move was kind of like his own gold rush. Boy runs away to California in hopes of hitting it rich, except the only kind of wealth Spencer sought was to be received in his newfound freedom. With two duffle bags worth of clothing and sundries, he kissed his mother goodbye, cursed at his father, and stormed out of their upper East-side New York Apartment and ran straight for JFK. Once at JFK Spencer bought a one-way ticket to LAX and kissed the big apple adieu.

Spencer had a hard time adjusting to the Los Angeles lifestyle at first, but after a month or so of apartment hopping, he found his perfect fit. It was at Ocean Palms, a somewhat funky 70s style apartment that had been recently gentrified, located on 4^th between Montana and Wilshire. In an upscale area of northern Santa Monica, Spencer found that Montana Avenue was a perfect place for people watching and catching a nice cup of coffee. While studying sociology at Vassar, Spencer spent much of his spare time observing others, taking field notes, and compiling ethnographies on various social groups on campus.  While most of his professors admired his eagerness to get out into the field, many of his subjects found it utterly bizarre that he enjoyed taking notes on people’s behavior instead of socializing like the rest of the students. It was at Peet’s Coffee and Tea, where Spencer would write down field notes on his observations of people and their interactions to others. In this new world, Spencer was fascinated with the material culture of Los Angeles, so much to the point that Spencer wanted to become Los Angeles, and to this conviction he was faithful.

After two months of field notes, Spencer was able to transform himself into the stereotypical male Los Angeles native quite easily. Through his observations he concluded that women in L.A. dated men who looked slightly unpolished, arrogant, and extremely trendy. Spencer was lonely and decided that morphing him into one of the many “metrosexuals” as he heard them referenced, would be the smart thing to do if he was to meet any real friends in the big city. His father had warned him that the friends he’d meet in L.A. would never be real, but he didn’t care much for his father and said fuck you, politely of course, and moved on. He wasn’t quite sure if it was the meds that his father had kept him on for most of his life or just his natural disposition, but Spencer never really had any close relationships with people and decided that the overly zealous southern Californians would be the perfect people to aid in his re-socialization.

*                      *                      *

Her name was Gabriella. She was known as being quite a promiscuous woman among the inhabitants of Ocean Palms, but Spencer really never paid much attention to gossip or hearsay. All she knew was that her lengthy slender legs always looked as if butter had been massaged into them and that her chocolate brown hair always looked as if she had just had the most amazing sex. Her eyes were bright blue and Spencer couldn’t help but think they were flirting with him every time she glanced over. Ga-bree-elle-ah. With the slide of the tongue over “elle” and the sensuous motion Spencer would end with the “ah”, he found himself whispering her name often when things seemed a bit lonely. Gorgeous Gabriella he’d think to himself, as he imagined her on all fours whimpering his name. She had looks that could kill and Spencer never thought he could land such a woman. Instead, he settled for second best.

His second best was a young woman named Lydia, and while he thought her name wasn’t quite as beautiful as Gabriella’s her svelte waistline and soft blonde hair made her doll-like, a look that Spencer found quite attractive. It had been over a month since he and Lydia had been together and things seemed to be looking pretty good. Last week they had gone to The Troubadour to see Jet and on Monday they had had a lunch date at The Ivy. Today however was Wednesday and Spencer had nothing planned for the two of them. Instead, he lay sick in bed, staring blankly at his bare white ceiling. “I’m so bored,” he said all melancholy, “I am so utterly bored.” Slowly tossing about underneath his fluffy white comforter, the phone rang loudly in his ear.

“Hello, love its me!” Lydia said in her usual uppity voice.

“Hey, I feel awful. My head is killing me, but how’re you doing?” Spencer responded.

“Love, I am so sorry. How about I get you out of bed? Maybe if you get active your headache will go away? How about we go to Robertson Boulevard and go walk around?”

“I’d love too, but…” Spencer tried to reply, but was quickly interrupted.

“Alright, that’s wonderful! I’ll pick you up at three and we’ll go get something to munch on. You’re probably just hungry, that’s why you have a headache.”

Spencer still lay in bed staring straight up at his ceiling. He glanced over at his alarm clock and saw that it was already 2:20pm. “Fuck,” he said and rolled over to begin the slow process of moving his muscular, but lethargic body out of bed. Stumbling over piles of boxer shorts and designer jeans he finally found the one pair of clean Calvin’s laying on the floor and slipped them on over his bare body. His torso was sweaty from lying under his covers for hours in the warm Los Angeles afternoon and his honey brown hair was disheveled. He walked over to his window to move aside the shades to let some light into his dark room and as it became illuminated with bright sunlight he saw Gabriella, her hair glossed by the afternoon glow. Gabriella he muttered as he stared at her thin calves. She seemed to be walking up toward his apartment. The thought of her being near him made his stomach drop. Suddenly his headache was gone, but his palms were now clammy and his heart was pumping fast. Knock. There was a single pat on the door.

“Hello?” Spencer inquired. He knew it wasn’t Lydia because he’d have to buzz her in. “Can I help you?”

“It’s me,” Gabriella said, assuming that Spencer should have known. “Gabriella, your neighbor. Open up for a sec?”

“Uh, sure one moment.” Spencer grabbed a wrinkled white shirt, buttoned it up quickly, slipped on some sandals and opened the squeaky door.  “Hello again.” He stuttered. There she was, the woman of his fascination, right within touching distance. Her eyes were brighter than he’d imagined and the small white dress that her body was poured into clung to all the right places.

“I was just wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar?” Gabriella spoke softly. “Is that alright? Do you have sugar?”

“Oh, of course you can, one moment. Let me go find it?”

“Thanks. What’s your name? I’ve noticed you’ve lived here for a few months now and we’ve never met.”

“Oh, it’s Spencer. Spencer Hurst. One second let me go get you your sugar.” Spencer closed the door to hide his messy apartment and scrambled around looking for the sugar. All he could find was a cup of old white sugar that was hidden in one of the many cabinets that Spencer never used. “Sorry it’s only a cup,” he said, “but will it do?”

“Well I like my cakes sweet, but I guess one cup will have to suffice, thank you and maybe I’ll see you sometime soon? Dinner perhaps?” Gabriella winked at him and pranced off with her sugar.

Did she actually ask me to dinner? Spencer thought. No way did he hear what she truly said. Dinner with Gabriella? He knew he shouldn’t, that if Lydia found out she’d be devastated, but if it was only dinner. Would Lydia really mind that much?

As soon as Gabriella had left, Lydia phoned to tell say she was to be in front of the building in five minutes. Spencer grabbed his thick wallet, shoved it in the back of his pants and walked outside to meet up with Lydia. “Hey pretty girl,” Spencer shouted out at the white Mercedes convertible that Lydia was driving. The “girl” he was referring to wasn’t so much Lydia, but her car. Lydia’s face wasn’t particularly that pretty so she needed a sexy car to make up for it.

“Hey, you look pretty good. How’s the headache?”

“What headache?” Spencer said, “Oh it’s been gone for about twenty minutes, I’m feeling pretty good.” As Spencer opened the car door he noticed that Gabriella was mounting her red Vespa, and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Spencer…” Lydia whined, “hello? What are you staring at?” Silence.

“Oh, nothing. Just spacing out for a second. Sorry love, what’d you say?” Spencer’s mind wasn’t quite there. He entered the car, put on his sunglasses, placed the case in the cup holder, and stared off into space again.

“See that woman over there Spence? You stay away from her, she’s no good.” Lydia said in a very cautious tone. “I’ve known her since college. We both went to UC San Diego together and she’s really up to no good. It was rumored that she had slept with over 60 men and every man she’s ever dated left UCSD like a month after they broke up.”

“What? What woman? Stop gossiping Lydia, you know I don’t listen to gossip.”

“It’s not gossip, I’m just warning you. She’s bad news. Why do you even care so much anyway? Do you even know her?”

“Don’t worry about it, okay, fine. I get it. I’ll be sure to stay away from her. Alright?”

“Thank you love.” Lydia said in the sweetest tone she could as she pushed the gas peddle and sped off toward north Robertson.

Spencer and Lydia managed to have a pretty usual afternoon. Spencer bought Lydia a new bag from Kitson and they ended up getting a vegan dinner at Urth Café. Spencer spent most of the time though daydreaming about dinner with Gabriella. He was still in shock that a woman of her beauty wanted him. He had never felt such a rush as he did when she knocked on his door. Lydia decided that she was tired so she dropped Spencer off at his apartment. “So Spence, I’ll see you tomorrow morning? Let’s do breakfast?” Lydia asked as Spencer got out of the car.

“Sure, that sounds nice” He said reluctantly, “see you then” and walked away.

He could hear the vrooooom of Lydia’s engine speed off and smelled the fragrant air. Burning rubber and smog he thought. Oh, how he loved Los Angeles: the people, the opulence, and the excessiveness of it all. It made him feel. Gabriella made him feel, Lydia did not.

Spencer began to ascend the steps to his apartment when he saw Gabriella walking to hers. “Gabi!” Spencer shouted. Did I actually just call her Gabi? He thought.

“Hey, Spence!” Gabriella said in a mocking voice. “So are we still on for dinner?”

“Excuse me? We had plans?” Spencer responded, shocked by her brash statement.

“Of course we did, I said let’s do dinner. You never said no.”

“Right.” He said, “So where are we eating? Did we discuss this too?”

“Of course we did, we’re going to The Hyde Lounge. You ever been there?”

“No. I couldn’t get last time I tried. How on earth can you get us in?” Spencer was skeptical. Only movie stars and debutants were able to get in at Hyde.

“Never doubt the power of a pretty smile.”

And with that Spencer changed into a nice pair of slacks, a less wrinkled shirt, and nice shoes. They couple met in front of the stucco apartment building at 8:30pm and headed off in Spencer’s BMW.

“Nice ride.” Gabriella said, “Can you make her purr?” Spencer wasn’t used to a woman with her kind of mouth. The whole night Gabi, as he know called her, kept talking about the dirtiest things. From ordering a “Sex on the Beach” cocktail, to the salacious way she described working in a law office as a secretary, Spencer was in awe. He wondered why he had ever settled for Lydia, with her boring blonde hair and skeletal body. Gabi wasn’t like every other girl in L.A. she had substance, mystery. She smoked French cigarettes, had dark red nails, and wasn’t blonde.

The night began to spin around Spencer. The dark interior of the lounge began to look fuzzy and the women that surrounded Spencer all seemed to blend into background. The place smelled of booze, butter, and expensive perfume. “So you like these drinks?” Gabi inquired.

“They’re amazing. You’re amazing.” Spencer responded. The second sentence slipping off the tip of his tongue before he could come to enough consciousness to realize what he said was wrong.

“Well thank you.” Gabi licked her lips, “lets get out of here?”

After three Sex on the Beach cocktails and two mojitos between the two of them, they headed off to the valet to retrieve the car. “Maybe I should drive,” Gabi asked as she took the keys from the valet.

“Sure, whatever you want. Anything you want.” Spencer grumbled and Gabi speeded off.

It was two in the morning when they arrived at Spencer’s apartment. Gabi decided to make herself comfortable by undressing.

“Wait, you shouldn’t be here,” Spencer stammered, “I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh so what? Besides, I don’t like walking to my room alone at this hour and you are in no condition to walk me, are you now?” Gabi replied coyly. “Let’s just snuggle. You like snuggling don’t you?”

Before Spencer could even respond Gabi had hopped into bed and began playing with his shaggy hair. Unsure of what to do, Spencer thought about the proverbial tree in the forest. If no one hears it fall, it didn’t fall, right? He thought. He believed this philosophy could be used for cheating as well: if know one knows, it didn’t happen.

“No one will find out right?” Spencer asked.

“Not unless you want them to,” Gabi replied, “whatever you want.”

*                      *                      *

It was 8:00pm when Spencer woke up. Covered in sweat from the night before, his sheets were beside the bed, along with the rest of his clothing. He lay there naked, in a state of torpor, unsure of what exactly happened the night before. “Gabi?” He whispered as he began to open his eyes, “you still here?”

“I’m here,” she said, “by the way your girlfriend came by. I didn’t know that you went out with Lydia. Why on earth would you do that?”

“Wait, fuck. Lydia came by?”

“Yes, what’re you so worried about?” Gabi responded.

“Are you kidding?” Spencer was frantic, he wasn’t sure of what to do, where to begin asking questions. “Did she know that you were with me?”

“Yes, of course. But don’t worry about it. She’s fine now.”

“Excuse me? Why would she be fine?”

“Just don’t worry about her. All right? If you’re so goddam worried I’ll drive you over to her apartment and you’ll see. She’s happy right now. She’s not in pain.”

“Ok,” Spencer spoke hesitantly, “take me to her place?”

“Fine.” The two of them drove off, Spencer thoroughly nervous. He should have listened to his father. He should have never trusted Gabriella. He should have never cheated on Lydia. All these thoughts rushed through his mind. In New York he would have never done what he did, but something inside of him was almost proud that he had the guts to even cheat on his girlfriend in the first place. To Spencer it was almost empowering.

“So how do you feel?” Gabi asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you were telling me last night that you moved to L.A. so you could experience life, so you could feel. So, how do you feel? Anything?” Spencer sat in silence. He did feel, a lot. “Here we are. Go up and check on her? Since I know you are so worried!” Gabi said to Spencer, giggling under her breathe.

“Thanks,” Spencer said, almost genuinely. As Spencer waited in front of Lydia’s door for her to answer he glanced over to Gabi only to see her on her cell phone. Can’t people ever not be socializing in this damn city? He thought. Spencer waited in front of Lydia’s door for another couple of minutes before attempting to open her door. It was open and the moment he opened the door, Gabi drove off. He looked at her speeding away on her Vespa. “Fuck her,” he said under his breath, “she just left me!” Spencer then turned toward the open door and saw Lydia lying on her pink bed. A small trickle of red, her favorite color, was dripping from her neck. “Wake up Lydia!” Spencer shouted, feeling her wrist for a pulse. Nothing.  Spencer was speechless. Under Lydia’s body lie a small note that read, “Feel anything yet?”

“That bitch.” Spencer shouted. “She screwed me over!” As Spencer attempted calm himself, he couldn’t help but notice that he could indeed feel. As the seconds passed he heard the sound of police sirens become louder and sharper. He had never felt anything more real in his life.