Walking outside the club, Nicole surveyed the situation and talking to two of the bouncers was Charles Sloan. Walking over, she touched him lightly on the arm to get his attention.
“Hey Nicki.” Charles greeted her with a warm smile.
Nicole leaned into Charles and spoke softly in his ear. “Your friend Mia is in the first floor ladies room crying and I think she’s really stoned out of her mind. I asked if she was here with anyone and she said she didn’t know if her friends were here yet. She’s in a pretty bad way, Charles.”
Charles was on the move immediately. “I just spoke to Seth and Rory about a half an hour ago, so I know they are here.”
Nicole nodded. “I know Seth and Rory,” and immediately her eyes started to scan the crowded club for them. Pulling on Charles’ suit jacket, she pointed over to the bar where Seth and Rory were drinking.
Seth smiled as they approached, “Hey there,” but his smile faded when Charles’ demeanor remained sober.
“Nicole’s got Mia in the bathroom crying and thinks she looks pretty high.”
“Oh shit.” Seth closed his eyes shaking his head. “We saw her out on the dance floor before dirty dancing with some tall guy and we just joked “Nobody puts Mia in the corner.” Crap. Does she seem like she just smoked a joint high?” They all started moving toward the Ladies Room.
Nicole looked and him and shook her head, “This is way beyond a smoking a joint high.”
Seth looked at Rory. “I’ll bet it’s those fucking neighbors.”
All four entered the Ladies Room, to the surprise of some and no surprise to other patrons, and went over to where Mia was sitting. Huddled in a small mass, as if she were trying to make herself disappear, she was still crying inconsolably.
Charles squatted down in front of her. “Mia, what’s going on?”
Mia looked up at Charles. Fresh tears coursing down her cheeks.
“Tell me,” he urged. “That guy that you were dancing with, did he hurt you, Mia?”
“He called me Baby Girl.” A huge sob wracked her small frame.
“What?” Charles was not sure he correctly understood what she had said.
“He called me Baby Girl,” and the sobs became uncontrollable.
Charles gently stroked Mia’s hair and looked up at Seth questioningly.
Seth shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, his eyes wide with confusion. He called her Baby Girl? What the hell was she on?
Seth squatted down next to Charles. “BBC, Rory and I are going to take you home. Did you go to your neighbors’ apartment before you came here tonight.”
Mia nodded, “We had pizza.”
“I think you had a lot more than pizza, BBC.”
Charles went to the sink and wet some paper towels with cold water. Squatting down in front of her again, he blotted her face. “Are you sure that guy didn’t do anything to you. I will take care of him, if he did.”
With a new stream of tears, Mia repeated, “He called me Baby Girl.”
“I think her neighbor is more of the problem here than her Patrick Swayze partner was tonight.”
Seth took Mia’s hand and pulled her up. The effect of the motion clearly registering on Mia’s face. Seth, Rory and Charles exchanged glances.
“I think we’re going to get some nice fresh air and walk you home, BBC.”
As they exited the bathroom, Seth gave Nicole a squeeze on the shoulder and mouthed “Thank you.”
Walking through the club toward the entrance, Charles whispered into Seth’s ear, “What’s the story on the neighbor?”
“Dealer. I think he laced a joint with coke and didn’t tell her.”
Charles just nodded his head. He didn’t say a word.
“You don’t need to come up with me. I promise I’ll go right to bed.” Standing under the awning in front of Mia’s building, Seth was having none of Mia’s shit.
“Sorry, BBC, but when you are huddled in a public bathroom sobbing, you get escorted to your door.” Taking her by the arm, he led her into the building, Rory trailing behind.
Mia could feel her insides tense up as they waited for the elevator. The ride down earlier in the evening had been the stuff that nightmares were made of and now Mia found herself praying the elevator car would be empty and that only the three of them would be in it. She got her wish.
As they ascended to the sixteenth floor, Mia paced the small space, glad that she could move around this time. She could feel her heart racing. Her apartment seemed like it was a million miles away.
The elevator doors opened and Mia stepped out, Seth and Rory right behind her. He was sitting outside her door, leaning against the wall. Knees up to his chest, arms crossed over his knees, with his head resting in his arms.
As he heard them approach, he lifted his head from his arms. Mia gasped and Seth put a hand on her arm to stop her. She turned to Seth, “It’s ok,” and continued toward her apartment.
Nick’s face was all bruised, his lip cut and swollen. His knuckles were swollen and bloody. Mia could only imagine what Lyle looked like.
“Mia,” there was alarm in Seth’s voice, but she extended a hand to Nick and he took it, stiffly rising to his feet.
Turning to Seth, “I’m ok. Really it’s ok,” and she unlocked her apartment door. Ushering Nick in, she turned back to Seth. “Don’t worry. I’m ok,” and she walked through the door closing it behind her.
There was no way Seth Shapiro was not going to worry and not for one minute did he believe Mia Silver was ok.
Chapter Twenty-nine
In silence, Mia gently washed the cuts on Nick’s face and hands. He winced from the pain, but she tried hard not to hurt him. When she completed the process, she again took him by the hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom.
In her bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth before changing into an oversized tee-shirt. She emerged from the bathroom and handed him a washcloth and a toothbrush as she made her way to her bed. Nick went into the bathroom and Mia got under the covers and turned off the light.
He got into bed behind her and pulled her close to him. Within minutes they were both asleep. Not a single word had been exchanged between them.
Nick was gone when she woke up on Sunday afternoon, her head splitting from the drug hangover.
On Monday morning, Mia left a message for Seth saying she would be late to work. She called her gynecologist’s office and told them that it was an emergency and that she needed to speak to the doctor directly. An hour later, a nurse was showing her back to an exam room.
Dr. Gary Cohen was someone that she could be totally honest with and Mia Silver needed two things from Gary Cohen that Monday morning — an exam that included STD testing and the name of a good therapist, preferably one that dealt with victims of sexual abuse.
It was time to get Mia back and it was also time to strip those two pieces of shit that had raped her freshman year of any, and all, control that they still wielded over her.
Mia wasn’t willing to lose any more.
Chapter Thirty
Seth poked his head into Mia’s office. “I’ve got Kami on line one, do you want to talk to her?”
Mia looked up from the campaign she was reviewing, “What is wrong with her? She’s on vacation.”
Grabbing the phone on her desk, “What does the word vacation mean to you?”
“It means I can’t wait to come home.” Kami sounded exasperated.
“Having trouble disconnecting?” Mia knew that Kami put in crazy hours and really needed to get away and enjoy herself.
“I think my problem is that I’m having a problem connecting. Coming out to LA to visit Shelby was probably not the wisest vacation choice. I just don’t connect with this whole scene. I want to come home.” Mia liked listening to Kami describe New York as home. When they met, five years earlier, Kami had one foot on a plane back to Birmingham, Alabama.
“I’m sure it’s good to see Shelby though.” Shelby Lee, a la
wyer for Universal Studios was one of Kami’s Tri-Delta sorority sisters at Vanderbilt University. Shelby had been great about putting them in touch with the studio’s marketing team for New York premiere events and special projects.
“Please. I’m standing outside her gym right now waiting for her to finish up and she is taking forever. She’s hoping some guy shows up that she has a huge crush on and I just want to go eat. But nobody eats in this city. And I’m the only chick without boobs.” Kami was standing in front of the doorway dodging people who were going in and out of the busy health club.
“I’m not a big LA fan either. Come home. We’ll eat.” Mia laughed.
“Excuse me,” Kami heard a man say, but didn’t look up from the sidewalk and the overwhelming smelling eucalyptus plantings on which she was focused.
“Sorry,” she apologized to the man, without a glance, and continued her conversation with Mia. “Do you want me to stop in and call on Scott Morgan while I’m here?” As Kami stepped out of the way for him to pass, he seemed to pause for a moment before resuming his long strides and heading through the door.
“No. You are on vacation. Scott Morgan is the last person you should be calling. Anyway, he’s a douche. Don’t fuck up your vacation anymore.”
Kami laughed. “He is a douche. I can’t believe you went to college with him.”
“Did you see him? Did you see him?” Shelby was practically dancing in front of Kami.
“Shelby’s done, so am going to head off. I’ll see you and Seth on Monday.”
“Travel safely and go eat something.” Both women laughed.
Kami closed her Motorola flip phone. “What are you talking about?”
“You just spoke to him on his way in. Oh my God, isn’t he the most perfect specimen you have ever seen?”
Kami shook her head. “Sorry, I was talking to Mia and I didn’t notice.”
“Oh my God, how could you not notice?” Shelby flung her long blonde hair over her shoulder, totally disgusted with her friend, but so happy she had gotten to say hello to him. He’d even greeted her by name.
The man had been mere inches from Kami. His only words to her had been, “excuse me.” If she had handed him her cell phone and said the words, “Excuse me. It’s for you,” Schooner Moore and Mia Silver would have been reunited.
Chapter Thirty-one
Mia grabbed for the ringing cell phone on her desk and looked to see who was calling. With a smile, she hit the call accept button, “Chazicle.”
“Meezie.”
“How are you? That was a great event the other night.”
“The Toy Story franchise is just golden.”
“I loved that everyone brought their kids so it wasn’t just the whole movie premiere deal that we usually see, but a fun family night. And the catering with all the kids’ specialty food was a huge hit.” Mia laughed, “Our biggest problem was keeping the adults away from the kids’ food. I had to slap a lot of hands. It was kind of fun.”
“Sounds kinky.” Charles laughed.
“I said hands, not asses.” Mia put her feet up on her bottom file drawer that was pulled out. Charles Sloan had turned into a great friend and business colleague. Mia secretly was thrilled that he hadn’t been scared off by some of her off the rails behavior, but he stayed there by her side and was genuinely happy to see her happier and healthier than she’d been in a long time.
“So, I have an idea,” he began.
“Hit me with it.” Mia was intrigued.
“How about you and I throw a joint Millennium New Year’s Eve Party at my brownstone. You invite all of your friends and colleagues and I’ll do the same and we’ll just do a blow out New Years.”
“You don’t have to work?” Mia was surprised. Charles’ team was known to be involved in a lot of high profile New Year’s events around town from Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve to posh private parties.
“My team’s working and I’ll check on everything earlier in the evening — but for the changing of a century, I’m enjoying this one.”
“Excellent. Let’s do it.” Mia’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t we let Seth pull this together for us. You know he will create something magical.”
Charles laughed. “I was hoping you’d offer him up.”
“Set up like a bowling pin, wasn’t I?”
“Absolutely, Meezie, and you just walked right into it.”
Seth Shapiro, a millennium party and a large budget. Combinations like that only come along on rare occasions.
“What time do you want me over at Charles’ to help you?” Walking around Jefferson Market, Mia continued to pick out an assortment of gourmet cheeses, pates, prosciutto, soppressata, olives, roasted peppers and other cold antipasti.
“If you’re here by six to help, it’ll be fine.”
“Ok, just call me if you need me to pick up anything else on my way.”
Mia emerged onto Sixth Avenue. The sky was overcast and it felt like snow. Everyone was buzzing with Y2K fever and that shift in energy was palpable. It was tangible. Everything about the day felt different. The air was crackling with all the energy people were giving off. The end of a century. The start of a new millennia.
Mia could feel the sense of melancholy as if it were seeping into her bones. Intellectually she knew there was so much to be thankful for — her business was successful, she was surrounded by friends and family who loved her, and with the help of her therapist who specialized in PTSD related to rape and sexual assaults, Mia was making healthier choices and finally understanding what were her behavioral triggers. But on this day, December 31, 1999, Mia found herself talking aloud to the universe as she walked up Sixth Avenue toward her apartment.
“Where are you? Am I supposed to go through this lifetime without you? Were we just not meant to be together in this lifetime? Would I even recognize you if we were to meet?” As tears streamed down her cheeks, “Or did I already lose you?” You’re my go-to, Schooner, she thought.
Wiping her tears, Mia decided it was just all the heightened energy around her that she was picking up on and that was what had brought on the melancholia. She ached for something. Someone. And it just seemed ever so slightly out of her reach. And that beautiful blonde boy was hanging around on the edge of her consciousness today and she couldn’t shake him. There was a tugging at her heart and she had the sneaking suspicion it was him.
“You do show up at the oddest times, Mr. Moore.” And another gush of unexpected tears stormed down her cheeks. “My therapist tells me I should forgive. I should forgive the creeps who attacked me. I should forgive you. I should forgive Tom and most of all, I should forgive myself. But I don’t know how good I am at forgiveness. I don’t think it’s my strong suit. I don’t hate you though. It’s been so long that I just remember the fun times.” Mia continued up Sixth Avenue, talking to herself aloud with tears streaming down her face, but now she was smiling. “I remember the campus cops taking you away in cuffs when you tried to protect me during the mini-riot I started in the cafeteria, I remember dying for you to kiss me on a mountain top and laughing, I remember my face hurting from laughing so much with you. And now, you’re probably some successful businessman or a tennis pro at some chic club in Palm Springs, with two perfect blonde children. And I don’t hate you. I just want to find that person for me, that soul mate, that connection that I thought I had found with you. And I just fear that I am going to go through this lifetime and not find it.”
Mia’s phone was ringing as she entered her apartment. Putting the bags from Jefferson Market down on her dining room table, she grabbed the phone on its last ring before the answering machine picked up.
“Hello.”
“Happy almost New Year, Gorgeous,” said a voice she had not heard in a very long time and she was actually surprised at not only the smile on her face, but the good feelings in her heart.
“Well, Happy almost New Year to you, too.” Mia started to pu
ll out the items that needed refrigeration and brought them into the kitchen.
“So, how have you been? I’ve seen you on Page Six at some of the events for your clients.”
“I cannot complain about the business, it has been doing well. How are you doing?”
“I’m good. Happy to be on break.”
There was an awkward silence.
“I miss you, Mia. I miss what we had.”
“Am I correct in assuming there is no one in your life?” What did he want, she wondered. A New Year’s Eve date? Or had he too tapped into the odd melancholia that was buzzing on a new found clear channel frequency.
“No one important,” he laughed.
“I wasn’t important.” The melancholia was starting to seep back in.
“You were very important. I’m just an ass.”
“So, did you call just to wish me a Happy New Year?” Mia sat down at the dining room table. She sat down in his chair.
“I did.”
“I miss you too, Tom.” Mia could picture his smile on the other end of the phone and she continued, “You were a really big part of my life and it’s hard when a door shuts.”
“More like slammed, Mia.”
She laughed, “Well yeah and I was actually hoping it hit you on the way out.”
It was good to hear his laugh, “Well at least I had clothes on when you threw my ass out.”
“Consider yourself one lucky motherfucker.”
“Oh I do, trust me, I do. So, can we be friends again?”
Mia sighed. The tears were starting to burn and she did not want to cry. “I think that would be really healthy.”
“Me too. We’re good as friends, you and I.”
“Yeah, we are.”
Hanging up the phone on the last day of the century, Mia wondered, maybe, just maybe she hadn’t given herself enough credit for her capacity to forgive. Maybe therapy was actually working. It was a lot of work and maybe, just maybe, it really was paying off — and it would be very nice to have an old friend back in her world without any feelings of malice.
Moore to Lose Page 15
