Chapter 10: Why do you do what you do to me?
"Men." exclaimed Jane, sipping her very berry smoothie.
She crossed her legs and huffed loudly, as if she was sending out deathly vibes to all males in the vicinity.
"Okay, let's try to not blow this out of proportion." offered Lola, swirling the straw in her own smoothie.
"That's uncharacteristically mature of you." drawled Natasha, as she scooped her hair up into a ponytail.
The girls had got together to try out a Zumba class at the gym, catching up over pre-workout smoothies before it began. Jane looked adorable in her gear, like a ballerina. She certainly had the flexibility of one, and Lola made a mental note to introduce her to Thor.
"I am always mature." jabbed Lola, feigning offence. "I don't even know why I was so shocked. It's not like I didn't know he's a player."
"It's because he clearly likes you. But, seeing you with Steve made him jealous. Men do stupid things when they're jealous." retorted Jane wisely.
"He wants to sleep with me. There's a difference."
"So, sleep with him." said Natasha obviously, sexually sipping her straw as she maintained eye contact with the mass of muscles on the next table.
"Oh, that's a good idea!" cried Jane, eyes as wide as dinner plates. "Make love to him, so he'll fall in love with you, and BAM! He's your man!"
"Jane, sweetie, I don't think he works that way."
"Oh. Well, sleep with him anyway. He's cute. And famous."
"Okay, I think it's time for Zumba." laughed Lola, throwing her empty cup in the bin.
The three girls walked to the dance studio, where the instructor was setting up the music. Mr. Muscles whistled at Natasha, who sauntered away swaying her hips. One had to admire her no-nonsense approach to life. She was unapologetically herself and had very little regard for gender roles. Lola decided to try and be more like Natasha.
"God, what happened to us, girls?" she puffed, trying to keep up with the instructor.
"What do you mean?" inquired Jane, moving at ease, light on her feet and seemingly step-perfect with the routine.
"When did men become the centre of our conversations?"
"Since the men in your life became so interesting." giggled Natasha, giving the Zumba routine her everything.
"Well, I'm going to stop. And I'm going to focus more on me."
"How exactly do you plan on doing that?" breathed Natasha, after the Zumba class.
The instructor had really upped the ante, and even Jane had to work hard to keep up. Lola thought about it for a second, and then walked determinedly over to the community notice board, almost colliding with the girl who ran up to it.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay, dude?" she apologised, pushing her black curly hair out of her eyes.
"It's okay, I'm fine."
"You sure? Here, I'll give you the first lesson free as a kind gesture." she offered, thrusting a flyer into Lola's hands.
"Pole dancing?"
"Don't knock it 'til you tried it. I'm Darcy, by the way."
"Hi, Darcy. I'm Lola, and these are my friends; Natasha and Jane."
"You guys should totally come too! It's really good fun."
"Yeah, we'll be there." smiled Lola, and Darcy gave a thumbs up before jogging off again.
"Her boobs looked great in that shirt."
"Nat!"
The three girls parted ways that evening after agreeing to sign up for Darcy's pole dancing lessons. Natasha's question still dwelled in Lola's mind, and feeling like she needed a little guidance, headed towards the Upper East Side.
Across Madison Avenue, in a block of not-so average apartments, lived Peggy Carter. Originally from Hampstead in England, Margaret "Peggy" Carter had been Lola's high school English teacher, and now, her esteemed mentor. After her fiance, Fred Wells, had died a tragic death in the army, she had taken an early retirement. Lola remembered how devastated Peggy had been, but the Englishwoman didn't let heartbreak rule her life for too long. Peggy was a tough old bird and had dedicated her life to fundraising for war veterans, tutoring students in her spare time. God help the man who dared cross her.
Lola knocked on the door for apartment number eleven, cringing at the noises coming from the apartment across the hall. That was definitely a woman in the throes of passion. The man must be a positive beast, if he could get her to make those kind of noises. She was about to stuff her fingers in her ears, when the door opened.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the elusive Lola Stark. Hotshot journalist too busy with sports players to give her dear old mentor a call." smirked Peggy Carter, sassily putting her hands on her hips.
Lola held out a box.
"I bought Victoria Sponge."
"I'll put the kettle on."
If there was one thing the British did right, it was tea. Lola adored Peggy's vintage tea set- not that she was ever allowed to touch the teapot that had belonged to Peggy's great grandmother. There was a matching milk jug and sugar bowl; the same floral design patterned on the cups and saucers.
Peggy bustled about her grand kitchen, making the tea, while Lola dished out the cake slices on two plates. Thankfully, the sound of the radio seemed to drown out the sex noises. And Peggy was quick to explain she had complained several times already.
"I'm sorry I haven't been round sooner."
"Nonsense! I was only teasing you, dear. Here, let me pour the tea."
"How have you been, Peggy?"
"You ask that with such concern."
"I do care about you, you know."
"I've been perfectly well, thank you. And as it turns out, you are not the only one who cares about me."
Lola choked on her tea, and Peggy gave her a look of disgust, before continuing with a growing smile.
"Well, if you must know. I visited my niece Sharon for lunch last week, and I met one of her superiors. Daniel. He's very lovely."
"I'll bet he is."
"Oh, hush! We are merely enjoying each other's company."
"Is that what the grown-ups call it these days?"
"Hold your tongue, young lady. Daniel is a perfect gentleman. Besides, I'm no longer as young as I used to be."
"Oh, now you hush, Peggy! You're beautiful!"
"Yes, well, that's enough about me." blushed Peggy, putting down her teacup. "You have a lot to catch me up on. Especially now that you're covering Sports for The Daily Marvel."
"I didn't know you read the Sports pages."
"I don't. I abhorre the way you Americans call it 'soccer'. It's football."
"Technicalities."
"You seem less than thrilled."
"Do I? I'm not. I mean, I'm happy. It's better than just writing cafe reviews."
"Then what seems to be the problem, dear?"
Lola sighed and put down her teacup too. Peggy refilled it immediately.
"For ages, it felt like nothing was happening in my life. And now, all of a sudden, so much is happening at once. I'm grateful that Clint's giving me this chance, but I always thought I would end up writing hard-hitting pieces, or end up in the Editorial department of a cultural magazine."
"Yes, I remember the kind of articles you used to write for the school paper. They were very good."
"This is the part where you share your wisdom, Peggy."
"My wisdom. Ah yes." chuckled the old woman. "The world has become incredibly competitive, dear. Of course, it's become easier for a woman to pursue a career, but that's not to say it's a jolly walk in the park."
"What do I do, oh wise sensai?"
"Compromise where you can. And where you can't, don't."
"Okay. That made no sense."
"There is no harm in writing about football, if it helps you on your journey to your dream job. It's all very well having an end goal, but it's highly useful mapping your path. Even if you have to take the long, scenic route."
Lola nodded and sipped at her tea, mulling over Peggy's words. It was true, the job market was a nightmare these days. It was hard enough finding a job as it was, and she considered herself lucky she wasn't stuck in a Baskin & Robbins job like that poor guy, Scott Lang. He was a very chatty man, who had reeled off his life story when Tony last took her for ice cream (it was a tradition of theirs).
Although, she supposed her parentage did play some role. Not that she ever let it give her a free pass. In fact, she often felt like she needed to work harder, to prove that this wasn't just a way to pass the time. Despite the billions in the bank, Lola never expected anything, she knew she had to work hard for it.
"I get the feeling your career isn't the only thing on your mind." prompted Peggy, and Lola looked at her tea guiltily.
"I can't." she groaned. "I said I was going to stop talking about men."
"Trouble in paradise?"
"More like fifty shades of shit."
"You have piqued my interest."
Lola sighed, and before she could help herself, everything came spilling out. From Pietro's promiscuity, to reigniting an old flame with Steve, and finally, a certain James Buchanan Barnes. Peggy stared back at her.
"You were right. That is fifty shades of shit." she blinked.
"It's sounds so much elegant when you say it."
"Occupational hazard of an English accent. Linguistics aside, I think this Barnes chap is a right and proper plonker."
"So am I, for thinking I stood a chance."
"Oh no, Lola Maria Stark. You had better put a stop to that dreary attitude."
"Think about it, Peggy. He's a self-proclaimed bachelor. He told me so himself."
"That doesn't mean you can't change his mind."
"I've got a better chance of marrying Prince Harry."
"Well, if you do I insist on being invited to the wedding. And a job tutoring William and Kate's children." she joked. "But, I digress. I think Barnes is jealous, if you ask me."
"Jealous? The man can get any woman he wants!"
"Yes, but not you. You have repeatedly rejected the fellow, so naturally it's hard for him to believe you now fancy him. Especially as he likes to play the field. He has trust issues."
"You're a relationship guru now?"
"Think about it, you daft banana. If he's reluctant to maintain any relationship, there must be a reason why."
"Steve said he's 'been through a lot'."
"Steve might have a point."
"I can't do this. I refuse to fall for an emotionally unavailable guy."
The finality of her tone ended the conversation, and Peggy pushed no further. Truth be told, she wasn't worried about Lola. She had a good head screwed on her shoulders, and she had faith that things would work out for her. Being a mentor was important, but their bond felt a little deeper than that. Although it had never been openly admitted, it was spoken in the way Peggy always made sure Lola never left hungry and how Lola always turned to Peggy for advice.
True to her habits, Peggy wouldn't let Lola leave until she agreed to come over for a traditional roast dinner one Sunday.
"Bring your father with you! It's been quite a while since I saw Anthony."
"He hates it when you call him that."
"Why else do you think I call him that?" winked Peggy, as the door across the hall rattled. "I'm going to disappear now, I daresay I can't face that woman after that racket. Goodbye, dear."
Peggy promptly shut her front door, and Lola, ready to sneak away found herself rooted to the spot as Bucky emerged from the apartment across the hall. He froze, his jacket half shrugged on as Dottie lit a cigarette, her silk robe undone. And just like that, Lola was back to square one, where things were messy and uncertain. She felt a stab of jealousy, followed by a wave of nausea; realising that he was the reason behind Dottie's pornographic profanities.
But, good God did he look hot with the post-sex glow and tousled hair; his t-shirt rumpled and his blue eyes a sea of content. Clearing her throat, Lola banished the awkward tension and raised a hand.
"Hey." she smiled, keeping her voice steady.
She was not going to let Bucky, and especially not Dottie, know she was crumbling inside.
"Hey." echoed Bucky.
He pulled his jacket on and ran a hand through his hair. Dottie peered out into the hallway, her beady eyes narrowed into slits.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded suspiciously.
"Visiting an old friend." she answered, jabbing at door eleven. Keep calm. Don't punch her in her stupid face.
"Oh, Peggy." snickered Dottie. "She's old alright."
"At least she's not a slut." muttered Lola under her breath.
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing, I, at least she's got a lot. She keeps busy. Just not in the same way we all do. Anyway, it was nice bumping into you both."
Lola bounded off. Or rather, hurriedly sauntered away, trying to act cool and mature beyond the situation. Jane was drastically wrong. There was no way sleeping with him was going to make him fall head over heels for her. Although… no. No, no, no. She wasn't meant to be thinking about him. Or men. She was supposed to focus on her career and herself, she'd let love find her. But, maybe it had found her. Maybe she just needed to give it a little nudge?
"Lola! Wait up, doll!"
"Oh, hey!" she exclaimed, keeping her hand raised for a taxi.
"What's the rush, sugar?" asked Bucky, shoving his hands in his pockets and raising his eyebrows.
"You dodgin' me or somethin'?"
"Well, for all I know, Fury might be hiding behind that motorbike." She teased, and he chuckled.
"It's mine. Come on, I'll give you a ride." He offered, and Lola blinked at him. He sighed and held a helmet out. "Not like that, sugar. Think Steve might kill me if I made a pass at his girl." He added, peering under her chin as he buckled up the helmet.
Steve's girl, huh?
"You're cute." Grinned Lola cheekily.
"Sure am, sugar."
"For thinking making a pass is all it takes for Steve's girl."
She ran a hand along the handlebars, and then swung a leg over the motorbike, straddling it and gripping the handlebars.
"You coming?"
"Just might be at this rate." He mumbled under his breath, climbing on to the bike behind her. "You expect me to trust you with my bike?"
"What's life without a little risk?" She dared, as the bike roared. "Better hold on, soccer star."
Bucky was in shock. He had never let anyone ride his motorbike, at least, not like this. He was always the one in charge- in all respects of the word. Yet, here he was, his arms wrapped around Lola's waist, who giggled delightedly as she wove the bike through New York's busy streets. Her laughter was infectious, and Bucky smiled into her hair. She was still a little sweaty and her clothes clung to her, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. He hated those dames that were so high-maintenance, the kind that always wore a full face of make-up and ordered complicated drinks at Starbucks. But, not her. Sure, she looked incredible when she dressed up. But what struck him was how she had no qualms about being around him without a scrap of make-up on her face, and riding his motorbike with pure ease. What was so addictive about this one girl?
"When'd you learn to bike?" Bucky shouted over the noisy streets.
"The summer before college! Steve and I took a road trip across the country!"
"The little shit!" he exclaimed, as the bike came to a slow halt in front of Lola's building.
She switched the ignition off and swivelled round to face him.
"What?"
"Steve! He told me he was with a girl. I thought he was jokin'!"
"You're not the only one who gets lucky with the ladies, soccer star." She hummed, standing up and stepping on to the sidewalk.
"You really are Steve's girl, huh?" He said to himself more than her, and she leant her face dangerously close to his.
Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled back st him, and he could feel the rising tension.
"I'm not anybody's girl."