Lizzie looks stunned. “Who does that?”
“Nathan did. And these rules. What the hell? Okay, get this—” Kelsey holds up a finger and begins to read. “‘Pick a girl, any girl. Go ahead and pick out a hot one—if you learn my system properly, you can have her. Get everyone laughing, but ignore the hot girl.’” She looks up. “Remember how he was all friendly and funny to all of you and ignoring me? It’s a little technique called reverse-chasing.”
“No,” I say. Nathan broke her heart into pieces and stomped on it. It was all Max’s book? My throat feels thick.
“Okay, now I hate him on three levels,” Lizzie says.
Kelsey continues to read. “‘Act annoyed if she tries to get your attention.’” She looks up. “Remember? Nathan was totally doing that! His story was funny and sweet, and then I asked him a question, just joining in on the fun, and I touched his arm because it seemed like he wasn’t hearing me and he’s like, ‘hey, stop pawing the goods.’”
“Stop pawing the goods?” Lizzie says.
“And we thought it was funny,” I say, stunned. “Men flock to you like rabid magpies, and this guy was all, ‘stop hitting on me.’”
“It’s a technique right from Max’s book. That worked on me.”
I shake my head, remembering how Nathan seemed to defy the laws of dating physics—he was obviously straight and single and open to a hookup, but not interested in Kelsey.
“Reverse-chasing,” she reads, “‘Act like you think she’s hitting on you. Rebuff her imaginary advances, but be playful about it.’”
“And you ask him to dance, and he goes, ‘You think I’m easy? Just a piece of meat for you to parade around the dance floor?’ And then you’re staring at him in shock and he goes, ‘are you mentally undressing me?’”
Through gritted teeth, she says, “A script.”
Suddenly we’re all three reading the book. “He used a lot of these techniques to pick up the other women he was sleeping with, too,” Kelsey says. “This book was Nathan’s bible.”
My face feels hot.
“No way,” Lizzie says at one point, grabbing it from Kelsey. “This jungle kiss—I think somebody did it on Jada Herberger.” Jada’s an actress friend from the first floor of the building.
Lizzie’s on the phone with Jada. “Tell me if this sounds familiar.” She begins to read instructions from Max’s book.
Basically, the man is supposed to tell the woman that her perfume is intriguing, and then act surprised when she says the name of it, like he can’t quite believe it. He’s then supposed to gently brush the woman’s hair off her shoulder, taking another whiff, just to be sure.
Lizzie continues to read, “‘Now memorize this line—There’s something about it. The way it mixes with your body chemistry that’s…hard to describe. Now pull away. Take your time. You’re not the pursuer here—she is. Say, scent is such an afterthought in our society—people don’t understand how deeply and intimately it links to the most primal part of our brain. That’s why you’ll see animals scenting each other before mating…’”
Screaming on the other end.
Lizzie winces and pulls the phone away from her ear until it stops. “No, I’m reading it in a book!” she says. “The Hilton Playbook. Get this—” She reads another passage where the man is to talk about how wild animals gently bite the scruffs of the animals they’re mating with, that this, too connects to the primal brain. Max’s instructions go on to instruct the man to run his hand up the back of her neck and pull gently on her hair and say, see?
More screaming from the other end.
Lizzie pulls the phone away from her ear. “Jada’s coming up.”
“Tell her to bring beers,” Kelsey says.
“Bring beers!” Lizzie says.
Jada’s up with a six-pack of beer a few minutes later. She has bright blonde hair and pouty lips that are vampiric in a pretty way. She also has a love for bright patterns and all things shiny and sparkly. She’s a walking color explosion tonight, right down to her silver sparkle combat boots. “You’re telling me the guy was following a script?” she demands. “Is that the book?”
“You want to hear the rest?” Lizzie asks.
“No!” Jada hands over the beer and folds her arms in a huff. Then, “Yes.”
Kelsey sets her up with a frosty glass as Lizzie reads on, this whole sexy thing about mammals and being hardwired to respond to being smelled and having their hair gently pulled…and even more, being lightly bitten on the neck.
“Noooo.” Jada presses her palms to her forehead. “That was all the Hilton Playbook?”
“More?” Lizzie says.
“We’ve gone this far,” Jada says.
Lizzie reads on. “‘She’ll be ready to kiss you, but don’t give her what she wants. Say, that’s why it’s such an intense sensation to be bitten on the neck. The lightest pressure with the teeth, right on the side of the neck, stimulates the basest of instincts. Not a lot of people understand this. Now touch the side of your own neck, showing her where you want her to bite you. Look into her eyes and say, It’s okay, you can. Act as if she’s been dying to do it. If you’ve been doing my system right, she’ll reach around and take the back of your hair and gently bite your neck.’”
“This is so messed up,” I say. “Did you bite him, Jada?”
“I feel so stupid,” Jada says, mortified.
“Nothing to feel mortified about.” I sling an arm around her. “How were you supposed to know?”
“Get this—Nathan, my ex? He was following this book,” Kelsey tells Jada. “And I lived with him for a year. While he cheated on me with techniques from it!”
“Oh my god,” Jada says.
I grit my teeth. I can’t believe Max’s book played such a hug role in Kelsey’s disaster of a relationship. And now Jada?
Lizzie raises a finger in the air. “‘If she does not take the bait, do not smile. She needs a negative consequence. Find something more interesting to look at. Then turn back to her. Now she’s ready for your command. Look into her eyes. Go on. Bite me here.’”