Changes of Heart

by Liza Gyllenhaal

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, Fran Slick had calmly informed her that they were taking the account back to Dorn & Delaney.

  “To where?” Melina had demanded.

  “Zach and Janie,” Fran had replied. “They came by here yesterday with the most brilliant marketing plan I’ve ever seen. It might just pull us back from the brink.”

  “And what about me?” Melina had hissed. “What about the campaign you’re running—and not paying for—with me? Fran, you owe me on this. I’ve stuck by you through your bad times. You can’t let me down.” Melina had heard the pleading note in her voice but was unable to muffle it. “You just can’t. We women have got to stick together. I thought we were a team. I thought we had a relationship.”

  “Melina, I’ve been trying to tell you for months now,” Fran replied with a sigh, “that Slickers was in trouble. Deep trouble, hon. We needed more from you. I asked you several times for some alternate plans—promotional solutions, anything—to get our inventory moving a little. And what was your answer? Stick to the campaign you and Janie first gave us. A fortune in space costs that wasn’t doing us a bit of good.”

  “Consistency,” Melina had tried to explain, “is the key here. I just wanted you to run the campaign long enough to…”

  “Sink us,” Fran replied. “It was fucking sinking us. And, as Zach pointed out, it was giving off totally the wrong message to our core consumer.”

  “Don’t quote Zachary Dorn to me,” Melina had said. “You want to crawl back into the mire with that son of a bitch, that’s your choice. But I don’t want to hear about it, okay? I just want what’s coming to me, Fran, and I want it soon. Or else I take legal action. Understood?”

  “Of course,” Fran had replied. “Though I think you might be interested to know that part of Janie and Zach’s strategy is that we file for Chapter Eleven—to protect ourselves from our creditors. So, in other words, Melina, you’ll get your money eventually. I’m just not sure when.”

  That had been the last straw. Leave it to Zach to find a way to not only steal an account but to do it in a manner that could ruin Melina in the process. Because that’s what she was facing. She had media bills outstanding sixty days. She hadn’t paid suppliers in over ninety. Every day, almost every hour, Tina would take calls demanding payments for invoices past due. Her mechanical artist had quit. She had been forced to sublet Janie’s space to three free-lance artists in order to raise a little money. One of them, the youngest and least experienced, had agreed to work on the Ramona boards for the slave wages Melina was offering. But even Melina sensed his lack of skill: the type was often crooked, photos badly sized, repro buckling from too much glue. But Madame didn’t complain, so why should Melina? At least she had the old bat where she wanted her. Ramona International, her biggest account, remained the least of her worries. And these days, Melina was so busy trying to work out where the next buck was coming from that she didn’t have time to pitch new business.

  She now regretted that last night with Alain. Her small victory in proving he could never be a faithful husband was immediately followed by the major defeat of losing Janie, the Chanson account, and Alain’s financial support. She could have kept all three if her pride hadn’t gotten in the way. But it had just seemed so cruel and unfair that Janie should walk off with all the prizes. So she had let her anger and jealousy get the better of her. She’d let passion cloud her thinking. Well, she simply couldn’t afford the luxury of indulging her emotions any longer, she realized, after her talk with Fran Slick. It was then she decided that she’d do something she promised herself never to do: seduce a man she didn’t like.

  Oh, Arnold had put up a small show of resistance. He’d tried to convince her that he personally could do nothing to extend her credit, that it was in the hands of his higher-ups. But the longer Melina sat there, the more she cajoled and smiled, the less certain Arnold was of his total lack of power.

  “Well, I suppose I could maybe…” he conceded finally as he sat down in his creaky swivel chair.

  “Maybe … what?” Melina had asked breathlessly, scooting forward quickly so that her stockings grazed his pant leg. She crossed her knees, allowing her right leg to swing against his trousers.

  “Just a thought,” Arnold replied quickly, breathing rapidly through his mouth. “I can’t promise a thing, but I imagine that for a day or two … three on the outside … I could sort of sit on the paperwork for a while…”

  “Oh, Arnold,” Melina said, sighing and licking her lips, “that would be so, so wonderful if you could!” Well, it would be a start, anyway, she had consoled herself. And once she had gotten him to bend the rules for her a little, she was convinced she could get him to go as far as she wanted. Though, of course, she’d need some sort of hold over him. She glanced quickly at the photo of his wife and baby, and then added in her throatiest voice, “Is there anything you’d like me to sit on … for you?”

  His face had flushed such a deep shade of red that for a second Melina was afraid he was going to come right there at his desk. But he somehow recovered himself, arranged to meet her after work that night, and escorted her with a semblance of formality to the receptionist’s desk.

  Melina had managed to coast through the evening on a sea of scotch and self-pity. She listened with half an ear to Arnold’s earnest career talk. In the end, it took very little finesse or energy to get him into her bed. Arnold’s impassioned thrashing lasted less than a minute.

  “Are you always that … fast?” Melina asked, pulling herself free of his awkward, knobby limbs.

  “Well…” Arnold breathed heavily, “I guess you could say I’m not very experienced.”

  Melina tried to imagine what pleasure his wife could possibly derive from the marital bed.

  “Even the second time?”

  “I’m sorry?” Arnold asked, clearly puzzled. “What do you mean by second time?”

  “How about if I show you instead?” Melina replied, turning to him in the darkness. She knew that their lovemaking would have to be memorable to insure that he kept his promise to her. The scotch helped to blur Arnold’s features and clumsiness, but even then Melina was unable to bestir much passion within herself. Arnold, however, was another story. He was a fast learner, and a grateful one. He mounted her twice more before the night was out, besides eagerly practicing the oral exercises Melina, as experienced teacher, had given her new pupil. Even as Melina drifted off to sleep, she could feel Arnold snuggling up against her, his erection at nearly full mast.

  It must have been aloft all night, Melina thought, as Arnold rolled against her that morning.

  “I’ve got to get up,” Melina protested as he started to fiddle with her breasts. “And I’d imagine you should, too. You’ve got my paperwork to, uh … take care of, remember.”

  “Sure,” Arnold replied, smiling. “I remember. Don’t worry, it’ll get lost under something for a day or two.”

  Melina climbed out of bed and pulled on a silk bathrobe. Turning toward him, she said, “I’ll tell you the truth, Arnold, I need more than a couple of days on this thing.”

  “But I can’t stall any longer than that,” Arnold objected, sitting up on one elbow.

  “You’ll just have to,” Melina retorted, flipping her hair back and smiling down at him. “You’re just going to have to put your thinking cap on, honey.”

  “I’m sorry,” Arnold replied, “I thought I made it really clear to you. There’s not a whole lot I can do except stall for forty-eight hours or so. It’s not up to me, Melina. Those are just the rules.”

  “Then break the fucking rules. I need at least a week.”

  “Impossible,” Arnold replied, his face starting to redden. “It’s not that I wouldn’t like to help, it’s just that I can’t.”

  “Is that right?” Melina hissed, pulling her robe tighter at the waist. It was time to play her trump card. “Is that what you’ve been saying to your wife every night when she begs yo
u not to break the world’s record for orgasm again? You say, ‘Gee, baby, I’d like to help, I just can’t’?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arnold replied, his face now beet red. He sat up in bed, and for the first time Melina noticed that he had acne on his chest and upper arms. “I’m not married.”

  “Not married?” she retorted. “Don’t hand me that. I saw that photo of your wife and baby on your desk.”

  “That’s my sister Julie,” Arnold replied coldly, “and my nephew Dudley.” Arnold sat up and slowly pulled on his boxer shorts. He stood and faced Melina, saying, “You know what I think, Ms. Bliss? I think I just found your account record. And I think I’m going to see the credit manager first thing this morning and tell him I think we should cut you off right now. Today. Dead.”

  Chapter 47

  Janie didn’t get back to her apartment until after ten that night. She’d worked late at the office and then walked home, picking up dinner from a deli in the neighborhood. She was spending as little time as possible in the apartment, she realized, avoiding the wedding gifts that were piling up on the dining room table, the dozens of letters of congratulations, the seemingly endless phone messages that waited for her on the machine each night. She couldn’t tell anyone that all the good wishes, the planning, the beautifully wrapped white and silver packages were a mistake. She could hardly even admit it to herself: just when she had finally become socially acceptable, Jane Millicent Penrod had made the most ridiculous and public of social gaffes: she’d fallen out of love with the man she was supposed to marry. It simply wasn’t done in Penrod circles, certainly not after the invitations had been mailed, not after the relatives had rearranged their social calendars to attend the ceremony.

  She wandered into the living room, collapsed onto the couch, kicked off her shoes, and listened to the messages on her answering machine: Faith with a question about airplane tickets, Alain calling from Paris, and then someone who made Janie sit up, rewind the tape, and listen again.

  “It’s me, honey,” sang the sweet, throaty Southern voice, “with a rather urgent question. Give me a call when you get in, okay? But I think you’d better make it tonight.”

  They hadn’t spoken since that fateful last night Janie had gone back to the studio and found Alain there, and yet Janie had almost obsessively followed Melina’s decline. She had, after all, helped orchestrate it. Why did Janie feel such need for revenge? Looking back on it now, she had to admit that it wasn’t simply due to Alain. It was because Janie had always believed—right up until that night in the studio—that Melina had valued her for herself. Nothing had hurt Janie as much in her life than the realization that Melina had been using her. Even more than the knowledge that Melina had seduced Alain, Janie was crushed by the fact that Melina had so easily manipulated her. She had twisted Janie around her little finger. In response, Janie had turned on Melina with all the hurt and anger of the fat, unloved girl she had once been. It was for the shy, misunderstood child within her—bullied by pretty, thoughtless tormentors like Melina—that Janie had fought during the last grueling weeks. In Janie’s mind, it was her old overweight self who grimly picked up the phone.

  “Melina,” Janie said, her knuckles white around the receiver, “what do you want?”

  “Oh, it’s you,” Melina replied. “Thanks for getting back to me. How have you been, honey? Things going well?”

  “What do you want?” Janie demanded again, her voice a monotone.

  “Just a little chat is all,” Melina purred. “Don’t get all New England iron maiden on me now.”

  “You said it was urgent,” Janie retorted, “or I never would have returned this call. I’ll ask you one more time, then I hang up. What do you want?”

  “Okay, if you’re going to be like that. I just want you to know that I’m perfectly aware of what you and Zach are doing. Going around stealing my accounts.”

  “Taking back what’s ours.”

  “That’s your opinion,” Melina replied smoothly, “and I’m entitled to mine. You’re on my turf. You’re playing dirty. You stole City Slickers. And this afternoon I got a call from Madame Ramona who says she wants to see me tomorrow afternoon with you and fucking Zachary. What’s up?”

  “Is that all you want to know?” Janie laughed. “What the meeting’s about? Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come and find out for yourself.”

  “I can imagine,” Melina replied. “You think you’ve found a way to coerce Madame back, Janie? Well, let me tell you something—I wouldn’t try it.”

  “That sounds like some kind of a threat.”

  “I’m just giving you fair warning,” Melina told her. “You try to take back Ramona, and everybody gets hurt.”

  “I don’t see how you can hurt Madame,” Janie said, wondering if Melina really believed her blackmail tactics would hold up.

  “It’s not Madame I’d worry about if I were you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Janie demanded.

  “You know, for the longest time I thought you were Miss Innocence,” Melina retorted. “Fat and dumb and oh so gullible. I saw how you gushed around men, and I always figured it was just your naivete. Your inexperience. But, you know, Janie, I really underestimated you. I can tell you that now. You can’t be as stupid as you look. I mean, it had to take a lot of careful planning, a lot of thought to land someone like Alain Chanson.”

  “I wish I could take some credit,” Janie replied coldly. “But I can’t. Alain and I simply fell in love.”

  “Oh, excuse me,” Melina replied snidely, “how could I be so crude? How could I forget? Alain told me the same thing: you fell in love. How lovely for you both. How tender. But tell me this, Janie, because I really am curious. Just how do you keep Zach on the line as well? What’s your secret there?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit,” Melina cried. “You’ve been carrying Zach Dorn around in your hip pocket since before I ever came on the scene. Don’t play dumb with me, Janie. Oh, he pretends otherwise, I know, but he’s yours. Lock, stock, and barrel. What I want to know is—how in hell do you manage it? What’s your fucking secret?”

  “This is nuts, Melina,” Janie protested. “Zach doesn’t care about me. You’ve obviously misconstrued something he said or…”

  “Cut the bull,” Melina interrupted with a sigh. “I don’t want to hear any of your phony explanations, okay? It’s not that it matters, but Zach Dorn happens to be the only man in the world I ever really gave a damn about. And it makes me sick to see him pissing away his life over someone like you. So, let me lay it on the line, Janie: you screw up my deal with Madame Ramona and I’m going to do everything I can to make your marriage miserable.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?” Janie asked.

  “Oh, I have my ways.” Melina laughed. “I know men, Janie, never forget that. I’ve made a career out of knowing men. I’ve gone to school on the gender my entire adult life. I can size most of them up in half a second: which ones are loyal and true, which ones will cheat. Let me tell you something, Janie, Alain may say he’s going to be faithful, he may even believe he’s going to be. But he won’t be. The right woman, the right business trip, the right lonely moment, and that man’s cock is going to take over his brain…” Melina laughed and waited for some response from Janie, but when it didn’t come, she continued.

  “It’s not that he’ll want it necessarily, honey, because you’ll be doing your marital duty for him every night, I know. He’ll just simply need it. A different woman, a new challenge. For years now his excitement, his thrill, has been hidden between the legs of whomever he wants to screw next. There’s nothing you can do about it, honey. But there’s something I can. I’m going to be there, Janie, on those nights he wants to stray. I’ll track him down. I’ll find him. I’ll be the one, Janie, who turns your little fairy tale marriage into a sham.”

  “I
s that a threat?” Janie demanded. “Zach and I take back Ramona Cosmetics … and you take back Alain? Is that what you’re telling me, Melina? I just want to get this straight.”

  “That’s about it,” Melina said, for the first time sounding a little unsure of herself. “I just thought you should have some warning,” she went on. “You can fuck up your life if you want to, it’s up to you.”

  “That’s one thing you’re right about,” Janie replied thoughtfully before hanging up the phone. “It’s up to me.”

  Chapter 48

  “You okay?” Zach asked Janie as they rode up together in the elevator to Madame’s penthouse office.

  “Never been better,” Janie replied, glancing across at him. He’d obviously made an effort to look halfway presentable for the meeting: his unruly hair was combed back, a striped tie, too thin to be at all stylish, was more or less centered below his collar. The suit was too dark for late summer, and it hung a bit long at the wrists, but none of that mattered. Zach could be wearing a burlap bag and people would still wonder, as Janie heard one woman ask another as they stepped off the elevator together, “Who was that man?”

  He made you look, then look again. Janie realized now that people, especially women, were first drawn to Zach because they thought the attraction was harmless. Initially he was just someone you liked. He made you laugh. He was smart, and before long you began to realize that he saw through things, through people. He saw through you. And then, before you knew it, you began to think he had the most amazing eyes in the world: amused, knowing. Then you began to see that he was far more complicated, more interesting, more everything than you had initially thought. And by then, of course, you were over your head. Oh yes, Janie could see why women fell for Zach. And why some women, like Melina, never really recovered from that fall. Because Zach’s flip side was ruthless with a biting ambition that fueled his energy, kept him going after everyone else had tired. If you failed him, he simply left you behind. He would drop you cold after a day, or after five years, the way he had dropped Janie. Or had he dropped her? Was Melina right?