Trainwreck 1 (Trainwreck #1)

by Nelle L'Amour

  Ike made eye contact with me, for sure recognizing me from our earlier encounter. With an encouraging smile, he asked me to get started.

  My confidence soaring, I demonstrated each toy, one by one, complete with POW! ZING! VROOM! sound effects. Ike watched attentively, nodding his head throughout my presentation. When I was done, he thanked me, looking pleased, and returned his attention to Catherine.

  “So, Catherine, what do you think we should be developing in the boys’ market?”

  “Robots are always a safe bet. So are dinosaurs,” she said with authority and self-assuredness.

  Ike furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “But there’s such a glut of robots and dinosaurs out there. We need something new. Something different. Something that will break out from the pack.” He turned to me. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Moi? He wanted to hear from me, a lowly assistant?

  Catherine shot me a dirty look. I wasn’t intimidated.

  “Mr. Abrams, I think parents are looking for something that’s high-tech, educational, and not too violent.”

  Ike’s face brightened. “I totally agree with you, Ms.—”

  “Greene. Sarah Greene,” I said proudly.

  Catherine was smoldering, her nostrils flared. I could practically see puffs of smoke coming out of her ears.

  Ike turned to my flustered boss. “Catherine, by Thursday, I’d like to hear at least six concepts for a breakthrough boys’ toyline. Please work with the design team.”

  “Not a problem,” responded Catherine, recovering quickly. Her voice oozed with an air of faux confidence.

  Ike thanked everyone, and the meeting was adjourned. As he exited the boardroom, he shot me another smile. On cloud nine, I twitched one back at him as he left the room.

  My high was short lived. Back to fuming, Catherine marched hell-bent down the hall to her office. I trailed behind the clickety-clack of her Chanel pumps. When I got back to my cubicle outside her office, there was, to my surprise, a large gift-wrapped box sitting on my desk. I immediately recognized the violet paper and humongous white bow. It was from Bergdorf’s and I immediately knew who had sent it to me. There was no card, just a label with my name printed on it. My heart was pounding.

  Catherine’s pillowy Chanel-red lips slithered into a smile. “Oh, that must be the special order I placed at Bergdorf’s over the weekend.”

  I broke the “bad news” to her. “Um, uh, it’s for me.”

  Catherine’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. I wish I had a camera to capture the expression on her face. It was a combination of utter disbelief, disgust, and disdain.

  She scoffed at me. “You have no business shopping at Bergdorf’s. I want you to stay glued to your desk at lunch and come up with some ideas for a new boys’ toyline.” She threw the competitive analysis file at me and stomped into her office. “And don’t forget to confirm my lunch reservation at Cipriani’s for two,” she called out before slamming the door behind her.

  Despite how much I wanted to open my package from Bergdorf’s, I spent the rest of the morning studying the file. There was definitely a need for something new, something different in the boys’ toy arena. At noon, Catherine popped out of her office.

  “I’ll be out of the office for two hours. Please screen all my phone calls, and remember, do not give out my cell number to anyone.”

  After refreshing her lipstick, she stalked down the hall toward the bank of elevators. I sighed with relief. She was gone. I could finally open up my package.

  Just as I was about to unwrap it, Fernando stopped by my desk. I had totally forgotten we had made a lunch date.

  “Ooh, fancy schmancy Bergdorf’s box. Since when have they been paying you the big bucks, mí amor?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “Ooh. Mí amiga has a hot sugar daddy.”

  I felt myself flushing. “No, not exactly.”

  “Come on, mí amor. Open, open! Let me see what you got.”

  I twisted my face in frustration. I knew I wasn’t going to get rid of Fernando. He was somewhat of a leech, albeit an admittedly lovable and not hard to look at one. A dead ringer for George Chakiris—Bernardo in West Side Story. With his jet-black hair, exotic chiseled face, and tight little ass, he could have easily been a male model. Or an actor.

  My heart hammering with anticipation, I carefully tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box. My eyes grew wide. Inside, under layers of tissue paper was a breathtaking hot pink strapless dress with a thigh-high slit extending from the hem. A pair of strappy silver stilettos accompanied the dress.

  “Ooh! Alexander Wang. I love him!” exclaimed Fernando.

  The raving fashionista made me stand up and hold the dress against my body.

  Another “hay caramba.” “That is so fucking hot. Bebé, you are going to get some major action.”

  My cheeks heated further. I could always count on Fernando for brutal honestly. And that’s why I loved him from the day I met him. He had become my best friend and confidant at Ike’s Tikes. I knew everything about him, including his longtime relationship with one of the city’s top window display designers, who he hoped one day to marry. I, in turn, could tell him anything and everything. He was one of the few people in the world who knew about my ambitions, financial woes, mother’s illness, and my bitch of a boss. I, however, wasn’t going to tell him anything about Ari. I couldn’t jeopardize my relationship with him or his cherished privacy. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to get away with it with my tell-me-everything amigo. Fortunately, luck was on my side.

  “Fernando’s tight tummy is screaming, ‘Tengo hambre.’”

  I told Fernando that Catherine had ordered me to stay at my desk at lunch. I couldn’t leave in case she came back early even though that was unlikely. No problema. Fernando offered to go to the commissary and bring back lunch for both of us. We could eat and talk at my desk.

  Over chicken tortillas, we gossiped mostly about Catherine. Fernando lived for gossip and had collected a lot of dirt about my tyrannical boss. Her background was a little sketchy. She lived in Europe for a while, worked at a major European fashion house, and then was recruited by an up and coming toy company to develop a girls’ lifestyle brand. The Angelina Jolie look-alike Poutz dolls she created took off immediately, knocking Barbie off her throne. Rumor had it that she stole the idea for Poutz from a rival designer, but it could never be proven. Ike Abrams hired her with the hope she could work her magic, developing a breakout boys’ toyline for his company. Supposedly, to lure her away from the other toy manufacturer, he had to give her the title of President, Boys’ Toys and all the perks that came along with that title—including a driver, an unlimited expense account, and a three-year one million dollar a year contract with bonuses. Boy, I wish that would happen to me one day. I just had to work hard. And be patient. Good things happen to those who wait, my mother always said. Given her precarious health condition and my dire straits, I hoped sooner than later.

  As we came close to finishing lunch, the phone rang. “Boys’ toys,” I answered.

  “Saarah, do you like your dress?”

  I could feel my face reddening. “It’s lovely.”

  Know-it-all Fernando knew right away who was on the other line. “It’s him, sí?” he mouthed, pointing to the box still on my desk.

  I nodded like one of those bobble-head dolls, putting a finger to my lips to shush him.

  “I thought you could use a little more color,” said the voice on the phone.

  If Ari could see my face now, he might think differently.

  “I look forward to seeing you in it.” CLICK.

  With a shaking hand, I hung up the phone.

  “Okay, chica, spill the beans,” said Fernando, eager to hear the dirt.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, I met someone. He’s very rich and very nice.”

  “And muy bueno in bed?”

  My silent blush gave away the answer.

  “Fantástico!” Fernand
o clapped his hands with the glee of a child getting a sweet. He was genuinely thrilled for me. That’s what I loved about him.

  “What is going on here?”

  Gah! It was Catherine. She was back unexpectedly early. I quickly hid the box with the dress and shoes under my desk.

  Venom poured from her eyes. “Sarah, I thought I told you to work over lunch.”

  Words were trapped in my throat, but fortunately, Fernando came to my rescue.

  “We were brainstorming. We have some really good ideas for the next big boys’ toy.”

  “Very well. I look forward to hearing them.”

  She marched into her office and slammed the door behind her. Shortly afterward, Fernando went back to his cubicle, and I spent the rest of the uneventful afternoon finishing Catherine’s expense report and thinking about my date with Ari. She spent it behind a closed door. I had no idea what she did all day although I imagined she spent most of her time online browsing Chanel.com.

  At three p.m. Catherine emerged from her office, all spruced up. She stopped at my desk.

  “I’m off to my colorist. I do hope you let Ike know that I can’t make the staff meeting…discreetly.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “I did as you asked.” The skanky bitch liar…some doctor’s appointment.

  “And then I have cocktails and dinner tonight.” Her venomous eyes locked on me. “Can I assume before you leave you will get all your work done?”

  I flashed a fleeting smile at her. “Yes. Your expense report is all done, and I’ve set up your waxing appointment for Friday. I’m working now on your files.”

  “Good.” Again, there was no thank you as she stomped off.

  Good on my end too. She was gone for the day. I could get ready for my Trainman, who would be picking me up soon. My heart fluttered.

  Ari

  Dr. Harold Zimmer’s office was what you would expect of a top Manhattan psychiatrist. Located in a venerable building on upper Fifth Avenue, it overlooked Central Park and that in and out of itself was calming. The spacious office was likewise soothing, decorated in muted shades of beige with sleek furnishings that included a large mid-century teak desk. His numerous degrees and awards dotted the walls along with framed photos of his family. In practice for almost forty years, he had been a classmate of my father’s at Penn State and had remained good friends with him until his untimely death. Having grown up with him my entire life, he was like a surrogate father. After the Cassandra incident, I’d been seeing him regularly to deal with my issues—my overbearing need to protect Ben and my fear of commitment. He knew everything about my life, including my business dealings, meaningless hook-ups, and the love-hate relationship with my sister. He did not, however, know about the new force in my life: Sarah.

  Sitting in a club chair angled toward me while I sat on the cushy couch, the good doctor adjusted his steel frame eyeglasses and eased into our weekly session. After some small talk about the weather and our families, he asked me what I wanted to talk about.

  I shifted in my spot and fidgeted my fingers. “I met someone.”

  Dr. Zimmer cocked a brow. “A woman?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s about time. What’s her name?”

  “Sarah.”

  My shrink smiled. “A beautiful name. The same as one of my granddaughters.”

  Dr. Zimmer had three grown daughters and ten grandchildren he adored. Sometimes I envied the fact that he and his wife Leah had so much nachas—good fortune—in their lives while my parents had been gypped. Ben was my mother’s only grandchild and would likely remain so as my career-driven sister and her husband didn’t want to have children.

  “How did you meet?” he continued.

  “On the train…on the way home from Philly.” I hesitated to tell him more and then I just blurted it out. “I fucked her.”

  Regrettably, I should have said “seduced her,” but it was too late. If Dr. Zimmer was shocked, he didn’t show it. Instead he chuckled.

  “Sounds like you had to have her.”

  I flashed a diffident half-smile. “Yeah. That’s a good way of putting it.”

  “And you’ve seen her again?”

  I told him yes and that I’d invited her to my apartment for Ben’s birthday.

  “That’s quite a breakthrough…bringing a woman to your home and introducing her to your son and your family.”

  Feeling comfortable and proud of my breakthrough, I then told him about our weekend in the Hamptons, leaving out the sexual details.

  “So, did you have sex with her again?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t technically slept with her.”

  “You mean spent the night with her.”

  “Yes.”

  My shrink was well aware of the major problem I had sharing my bed with a woman. Since my divorce, not one had been allowed in it. Dr. Zimmer continued to interrogate me, his voice calm and non-judgmental.

  “And how does Ben feel about her?”

  “He really seems to like her. And the feeling is mutual. Sarah is really comfortable around him.”

  Dr. Zimmer clasped his hands, his face brightening. “That’s excellent.”

  I squirmed again and felt my chest tightening. A wave of anxiety washed over me. “Doc, I’m freaking out.”

  “Why? Because you like her?”

  “I more than like her. I fantasize about her all day. And when I see her, I’m happy. She’s smart, easy to talk to, and she makes me laugh. And the sex is great.” Off the charts great.

  “So what’s wrong with that?”

  “She’s not my type.”

  Dr. Zimmer furrowed his bushy brows. “Your type? Can you please elaborate?”

  “You know, supermodel blonde. Sophisticated. Glamorous.”

  My therapist lifted his glasses atop his balding head and looked straight at me with his penetrating steel gray eyes. “Ari, what you described is not your type. It’s your poison.”

  I didn’t respond. He was right. I was describing Cassandra, my psycho bitch ex. Taking a deep breath, I continued.

  “Doc, she does crazy things to me. Makes me do things I’ve never done with another woman.” I refrained from telling him all the kinky things. “Over the weekend, I was at a party and I saw another guy hitting on her and I…punched him out. I may have knocked out a few teeth.”

  Dr. Zimmer grinned. “A jealous streak?”

  “Yeah, I was fucking jealous. I swear that if he comes near her again, I’m going to rip his head off. And that’s just for starters.”

  “You wouldn’t really kill him, but I do believe you might do some serious damage.” He paused. “Do you know what’s wrong with you, Ari?”

  Majorly fucked up? I shook my head, my stomach twisting into a giant knot.

  Grinning, he raised a knowing finger. “It’s simple. You’ve fallen in love.”

  Love? The four-letter word echoed in my head. “B-but I’ve known her for less than a week.”

  His grin broadened. “Have you ever heard of love at first sight?”

  “If that’s what I had with Cassandra, I don’t want anything more to do with Sarah.”

  Dr. Zimmer knitted his brows again, a look of frustration washing over his face. “Ari, that’s not what you had with Cassandra. We’ve been over this. What you had was lust. You were young and infatuated with her. You had the need to conquer her…possess her. Make her yours. What you’re describing with Sarah sounds different. You have feelings for her that go beyond the sexual. You enjoy and respect her as a person.”

  Silently, I digested what he was saying as he continued.

  “Ari, I will be honest with you…Ben needs a mother. You can’t shelter him from other women for the rest of his life. The fact that he has embraced Sarah and enjoys being with the both of you is fantastic. You can’t live a life of just meaningless hook ups. It’s unhealthy for you and for Ben. That’s not what being a good role model entails. It’s a well-known fact that sons of fathers, who enjoyed hea
lthy, stable, passionate relationships with their wives, go on to live much happier, more productive lives and are better husbands and fathers themselves. The upbringing you had with your loving parents has made you a fantastic father.”

  “But I failed as a husband.” I bowed my head, casting my eyes downward in shame.

  “No, Ari. Cassandra failed you as a wife. And as a mother. She was mentally ill.”

  That horrific last night together flashed in my head—the white-hot pain, Ben’s wails, Cassandra’s shrieks, the blaring sirens—and sent a tremor through me.

  “Look at me,” I heard Dr. Zimmer order, his voice soft but authoritative.

  Slowly, I lifted my head and met his compassionate gaze.

  “Let go of the past, Ari.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid of getting hurt. Gwen thinks Sarah’s all wrong for me. That she’s too young and inexperienced…that’s she’s incapable of taking on the duties that come with being my wife and a mother to Ben. She’s positive Sarah is after my money and wants me to stop seeing her.”

  Dr. Zimmer narrowed his eyes. He knew my controlling, opinionated sister well as one of his daughters had gone to Wellesley with her and was still one of her best friends.

  “Since when does your sister rule your life?”

  I laughed despite myself. “Since forever. I should have listened to her when it came to Cassandra. She always thought she was bad news.”

  “Well, let me tell you something, young man. Maybe you made one mistake, but you’ve done just fine on your own. You single-handedly built an empire and have given back to those in need. And no matter what she thinks or you think, she can’t rule your heart.”

  I processed his words as he glanced down at his vintage leather-band watch. “Our time is almost up for today, Ari. Is there anything else you want to ask me?”

  I pondered his question and then replied. “Should I ask Sarah to the Meds Without Borders gala?”

  Dr. Zimmer laughed. “You needn’t have asked that question. Of course! My wife and I look forward to seeing you both there. And I’ll see you here next week.”