an nineteen-year-old punk kid, so I’m thinking I can make short work of him.
Over the next few months I pursue Sarah: I get her Gucci shoes, LV purses, flowers. I write her love letters. I call her. It gets to the point where I’m on the phone with her three or four times a day. I buy her more stuff, more shoes and jewelry and anything else that I think she’ll like. A part of me wants her to have these things because I know it’ll make her happy, but another part, the competitive side, is telling this Eduardo guy: these are the shoes you couldn’t buy her…this is the bracelet you couldn’t afford. What Sarah wants, Sarah gets. She owns me. Sarah calls me all the time saying that she loves me, starts calling me Hooman instead of Nik. We’re making plans. Plotting a trip to Paris. I really don’t care where we go as long as I get to be with her. I’m done with the scene: the clubs and the bottle service and the empty sex. Sarah is the one. It’s all about her, and I’m setting up helicopters and private jets to pick her up, sending planetickets. Most of the time she doesn’t get on. Sometimes I go out to her, out to Dallas, and I just sit in a hotel room waiting for her to call me. Waiting, watching TV in the suite for hours. If I don’t hear from her after a couple days, I text her and let her know I’m going back to Scottsdale. Thousands of dollars are spent this way. It gets old. Gets to the point where she’ll only meet me in Vegas, and even that has no guarantee.
Scooby and I started calling Sarah’s boyfriend Lester Diamond because he was like the James Woods character in Casino : a piece of shit scumbag who used girls for money, did coke, cared for no one but himself, and couldn’t provide. Despite all that, and despite me, Sarah always went back to him. Didn’t matter what I did or said or bought her, she always went back.
If he was Lester Diamond, that meant that Sarah was Ginger.
Ginger tells me she broke up with Lester.
I don’t ask for a bunch of reasons why. It’s not important. She’s mine now. Lester is out of the picture, so we can finally be together. It’s good again. We make plans, plot the future. Ginger actually lets me into her apartment in Dallas. I’m happy. I’m faithful to her. If Nik Richie has to do an event, he goes to bed alone. He sends a text to Ginger saying: I miss you…I love you. Ginger doesn’t want Nik Richie. For her, I get to be Hooman Karamian. He’s the romantic one, the thoughtful one. He’s the guy that wants to take care of her.
I try to persuade her to come out to Scottsdale. Ginger’s in Dallas listening to my pitch about us living together and giving this a real shot.
I tell her, “I’ll even get you a job out here. You’ll have work—or fuck it,” I say. “Don’t work. You don’t have to do anything. Just come out.”
So we talk about that and marriage and kids. We talk about love. I’m convinced that we’re a real couple going somewhere. I finally get to be the man that I’ve always pretended didn’t exist. For Ginger, I’m something more than a persona.
Ginger and I are waiting in an airport terminal.
I’m taking her on a surprise trip to Hawaii, so I’ve spent the last few days setting up spa and dinner reservations, locking down a suite. It’s ourfirst official trip as a couple so I’m trying to make it good. Even though Ginger is still living in Dallas, going on a vacation together makes the relationship seem more real. It’s the kind of thing that real couples do.
Then Ginger tells me she can’t get on the plane.
I ask her why.
She sighs, looks at me and says, “I’m pregnant.”
At first I think she’s fucking with me, but her face is sincere, so I ask her, “How far along are you?”
She says, “Eight weeks.”
I do the math in my head, and the last time we had sex was three months ago. “It’s not mine,” I say. I want it to be mine, but it isn’t.
“I know,” she says. “It’s
Over the next few months I pursue Sarah: I get her Gucci shoes, LV purses, flowers. I write her love letters. I call her. It gets to the point where I’m on the phone with her three or four times a day. I buy her more stuff, more shoes and jewelry and anything else that I think she’ll like. A part of me wants her to have these things because I know it’ll make her happy, but another part, the competitive side, is telling this Eduardo guy: these are the shoes you couldn’t buy her…this is the bracelet you couldn’t afford. What Sarah wants, Sarah gets. She owns me. Sarah calls me all the time saying that she loves me, starts calling me Hooman instead of Nik. We’re making plans. Plotting a trip to Paris. I really don’t care where we go as long as I get to be with her. I’m done with the scene: the clubs and the bottle service and the empty sex. Sarah is the one. It’s all about her, and I’m setting up helicopters and private jets to pick her up, sending planetickets. Most of the time she doesn’t get on. Sometimes I go out to her, out to Dallas, and I just sit in a hotel room waiting for her to call me. Waiting, watching TV in the suite for hours. If I don’t hear from her after a couple days, I text her and let her know I’m going back to Scottsdale. Thousands of dollars are spent this way. It gets old. Gets to the point where she’ll only meet me in Vegas, and even that has no guarantee.
Scooby and I started calling Sarah’s boyfriend Lester Diamond because he was like the James Woods character in Casino : a piece of shit scumbag who used girls for money, did coke, cared for no one but himself, and couldn’t provide. Despite all that, and despite me, Sarah always went back to him. Didn’t matter what I did or said or bought her, she always went back.
If he was Lester Diamond, that meant that Sarah was Ginger.
Ginger tells me she broke up with Lester.
I don’t ask for a bunch of reasons why. It’s not important. She’s mine now. Lester is out of the picture, so we can finally be together. It’s good again. We make plans, plot the future. Ginger actually lets me into her apartment in Dallas. I’m happy. I’m faithful to her. If Nik Richie has to do an event, he goes to bed alone. He sends a text to Ginger saying: I miss you…I love you. Ginger doesn’t want Nik Richie. For her, I get to be Hooman Karamian. He’s the romantic one, the thoughtful one. He’s the guy that wants to take care of her.
I try to persuade her to come out to Scottsdale. Ginger’s in Dallas listening to my pitch about us living together and giving this a real shot.
I tell her, “I’ll even get you a job out here. You’ll have work—or fuck it,” I say. “Don’t work. You don’t have to do anything. Just come out.”
So we talk about that and marriage and kids. We talk about love. I’m convinced that we’re a real couple going somewhere. I finally get to be the man that I’ve always pretended didn’t exist. For Ginger, I’m something more than a persona.
Ginger and I are waiting in an airport terminal.
I’m taking her on a surprise trip to Hawaii, so I’ve spent the last few days setting up spa and dinner reservations, locking down a suite. It’s ourfirst official trip as a couple so I’m trying to make it good. Even though Ginger is still living in Dallas, going on a vacation together makes the relationship seem more real. It’s the kind of thing that real couples do.
Then Ginger tells me she can’t get on the plane.
I ask her why.
She sighs, looks at me and says, “I’m pregnant.”
At first I think she’s fucking with me, but her face is sincere, so I ask her, “How far along are you?”
She says, “Eight weeks.”
I do the math in my head, and the last time we had sex was three months ago. “It’s not mine,” I say. I want it to be mine, but it isn’t.
“I know,” she says. “It’s
Similar Books
