You First: A Joe Goldberg Prequel (You, #0)(95)

He leaves you hanging, and this book is bad. Monotonous and depressing. I skim the next few chats. You push him about Costa Rica and karaoke and he does not Seduce. He Destroys.

And then, after all his nos, you get a yes. He agrees to be your plus fucking one at the VMAs. You made it sound like you were with friends, and no wonder you rewrote your fucking history. It appears that our enemy Dick went home with someone else.

You: Just so you know, I’m not mad. I feel sorry for you, Dick. Delete my number. Go away. I really do hope you grow up and learn that women are people too. I wasn’t trying to “lock you down.” I wanted to dance with you and during Slave 4 U…It’s a song, dick. I meant I loved the song. Not fucking you.

He respects the boundary but we all know what happened a few days later, the day the towers fell, the day Dick rose to the occasion.

Dick: I tried calling and I’m coming over to see that you’re okay are you okay?

You: Come over please I am losing it

Dick: On my way

My veins can’t hold my blood. They’re not wide enough, not strong enough. When New York got hit, I was in Mooney’s cage. Oblivious. Meanwhile, Dick was plowing through the dust, the human particles. Warring his way through the closed-off streets of the city, using the tragedy to get to you, to own you. You held on to him, and he held on to you. You told me you were lonely on the sofa with Cynthia and some guy and that’s a lie. Dick was your person. You went through that together, the haze of not knowing where the world went now. You thought Sex and the City would never shoot again. He thought about joining the marines, like his brother. (Oh, please.) You became obsessed with Giuliani and Letterman. You had Dick by the balls, and he played your hero, supporting you through an anthrax freak-out, a bomb scare by your apartment. The two of you walked on eggshells together and I have to face facts. You might never stop loving him. If some girl rescued me while I was in the cage…

Alas, Dick is Dick. I gulp and I swallow. My character is about to show up. It’s December, right after your first trip to Mooney Books, you head home to Beverly Hills to be with your family for Christmas. Dick stays in New York and after one too many nights at Passerby, he brings a girl home. And not just any girl. A teenager.

Dick: I’m sorry I am I have PTSD from losing my brother and it was just one girl

You: You’re lucky I don’t call the cops.

Dick: She wasn’t THAT young

You: I trusted you.

Dick: The girl’s dad was in Tower One so yeah

You: Right. Sure. That doesn’t sound at ALL fabricated or made up or whatever.

Dick: Sorry I’m human sorry I’m not a hero all you talk about is cops and firemen and fuckin Rudy Giuliani and David Fuckin Letterman sorry I make coffee not movies and I probably never will make movies. Never gonna get out of the coffee shop. Never gonna make a film. Sorry I’m not my dead hero brother and I’m gonna move back to Chicago or some shit. Fuckin serves me right treating you the way I did but I hope you get everything you want kid. You deserve so much better you do

I love you for ignoring that message. You really did ice him out. You slammed the freezer door and didn’t look back. He keeps trying to talk to you. You ignore him, and I like this part of the book. I won’t get ahead of myself, but it’s starting to feel good, Vail, like you—

Fuck.

You: Okay I can’t not tell you about my life lolol

Dick: Look who’s back hi sexy whats up

You: I know! Sorry I was just busy. But omg so a few weeks ago I go into this bookstore to pee.

Dick: I’m hooked

You: And this high school boy like practically comes in his pants

Dick: Ha

You: And then he puts a Missed Connection on Craigslist I mean he’s like OBSESSED with me.

No. THAT. WAS. YOU. You put the Missed Connection on Craigslist. You threw the bottle into the ocean and you were obsessed with me.

Dick: Creepy

You: Right?! And I’m no better cuz the girls at work read it and I…I might have gone to the movies with him yesterday. NO JUDGMENT.

Dick: Oh shit. You locked up in a basement right now?

You: Not yet. But if I am, I know who to call

I scramble up to my feet, but my legs barely work. I know what comes next in your trash fucking book. Dick was the ex who “dragged” you to bookstores, the reason you were on antibiotics when we first met—You should get tested—and you probably never even auditioned for The View. I puke on old newspapers and rat shit. You lied to him. You lied about us. About you. About me. I hawk a loogie, and it lands on the pile of vomit. Perfect. I could stop now. Leave it there. It was early. A lot of true love starts with a lie and I fucked up. I reached under your sofa, into your past. Maybe I was never supposed to know this, any of it.

But I do know it and I can’t write it off as a fucking origin story. You just talked to the bastard…today. Your book is a work in progress, and I go back to my character’s point of entry.

Dick: Bring the stalker in so I know who he is in case he really does kidnap you or some shit

You: I dunno. He’s awfully young and handsome. Might even make you jealous…

Dick: Haha

And then you did it. You lured me into the Beanery to meet the Dick that got away. And then you went to him to talk about me. Innocent me.

You: So?

Dick: So you’re gonna break that poor kid’s fucking heart