by Anne Connor
“Oh, you don’t know? Come inside, dear. Would you like a glass of iced tea?”
“I’d love that.” I smile and enter her apartment.
It’s a larger unit than mine - a two bedroom, and I take in the surroundings. A China cabinet boasts a collection of ornate, beautiful dishes, and she has a collection of ladybug dish towels hanging from the handle of the oven. She has a pot of red sauce cooking on the stovetop, and it’s making the apartment warm, but the late afternoon breeze coming in through the living room and the modest dining room are making the space feel like a big home.
“Here, put your bag down. I guess you haven’t seen those men around the building yet.”
“I saw them once. I’m afraid I already know why they’re here.”
She ambles over to the stove and scoops a little bit of sauce onto a plate and tears a piece of semolina bread off a large loaf.
I slip into a chair in the dining room and put my bag down on the table. It’s cluttered with bills and catalogs, and a stack of spelling exams.
“They make you grade the kids’ tests, even though you’re a sub?”
“No, I volunteer for it. I enjoy it. Plus, it gives me something to do. My granddaughter can’t get here as much as I’d like her to. She comes about once a week, and I need things to take up my time.” She sets the plate of red sauce and bread down in front of me, piping hot with steam rising off the plate. I inhale the sweet aroma of chopped garlic, tomatoes and extra virgin olive oil. “There’s only so much Wheel of Fortune and Golden Girls one old lady can watch.”
“Oh, you’re not old, Mrs. M.” I drag the bread through the sauce, blow on it, and pop into my mouth. It’s sweet and salty and just the right temperature.
“That’s great, Mrs. M.! It tastes just like the sauce my grandmother used to make.”
“Is she Italian?”
“No, actually. She’s from Alabama. Daughter of the American Revolution, or that’s what the folklore in my family says. My grandfather was from Sicily, and his mom, my great grandmother, taught my grandmother how to cook.”
“It’s so nice how the generations take care of each other. It’s a very special thing.” She gets up from the table and goes to the refrigerator, taking out a pitcher of iced tea. “You don’t really see that very much anymore. Everyone in New York seems to be from someplace else nowadays. But that’s okay. Everyone needs to plant roots down, and it’s a beautiful thing to be able to start a family somewhere else. That’s what I did.”
“And you think your grandkids will stay here in New York?”
“I think so. My Anna is thinking about going to Puerto Rico to visit her cousins for the summer, but she loves it here too much to not come back.”
She stirs the iced tea with a long wooden spoon and places it gently in the sink before reaching up into a cabinet to grab two glasses.
“It’s a shame about what they’re going to do to the building.”
She makes room on the table, moving the stacks of papers and bills, putting them into a cardboard box, and pours the iced tea into two glasses. The sun is setting and it’s the perfect evening, not very much unlike the ones I used to share with my own grandmother and parents before moving out to get my own place.
“It’s those men who are in the building. They represent some fancy real estate company. They want to buy the building and kick everyone out.” She shakes her head in disappointment and lays her hands down flat on the table.
“That happened to my family when I was younger. I hardly remember it. I guess I’m lucky.”
“They won’t kick us out right away, but I’ve heard that they are planning on converting the building to condominiums. They’ll probably offer buyouts to the tenants who stick around and don’t move right away, and the remaining tenants will have one hell of a headache when the construction starts.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen them before.”
“We’ve had other guys here before looking at the building, but this is a new group of men. It’s not really that big of a deal. Especially to young people who don’t have roots where they live. Present company excluded.” She gets up and walks over to her window, pulling back the lace white curtains and peering down at the street below. “But I remember my kids being picked up for school by the school bus right down there on the street. The ice cream truck in the summer, and the cookouts on the terraces. The fabric of the community is going to change.”
“What do you think is going to happen?”
“I know the owner of the building has turned down offers before. He’s never been interested in doing anything like that with the building. He likes having the old tenants who he knows.”
“Present company excluded?” I smile and take a sip of my tea. Even though I may be young, I’m from the neighborhood, and I can appreciate what Mrs. Martinez is going through.
“Anyway, it’s just a rumor. We get people coming through the building every few months. Big shot guys in suits, guys from the city. I hope the owner holds out, but he has to do what’s best for himself, too. It’s what we all have to do.”
Molly
“Well? How is my working woman?”
“Who? Oh, me? I’m good.”
I open the door for Jess and let her in. She’s still in her work clothes.
“That bad, huh? The boss really cracking the whip already?”
“I mean, yeah. Kind of. I like it and all, but it’s very exhausting.”
“At least you work regular hours. Nine-to-five. That’s not so bad. Wait until you move up and you have to work crazy hours. Imagine how busy you’ll be when you become Editor-In-Chief.”
She kicks her black pumps off and flops onto the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table and flipping on the TV.
“Oh! Jeopardy is about to start,” I say, sitting down next to her.
“You know, I always thought you’d be on Jeopardy someday. You’re so smart.”
Not smart enough to stay away from Drew Anderson.
“I’m not smart. And anyway, it’s all trivia. I don’t know all the little details about presidents and 18th Century poets, and all that.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Anyway, I like Wheel of Fortune better now. I used to like Jeopardy, but now I’m a wheel watcher.”
“That’s a sign you’re getting old. I remember always sitting down with my grandma for Jeopardy and Wheel. The younger people always like Jeopardy, and the older people always like Wheel.”
“Old? Because I like Wheel of Fortune? That’s a new one.”
“Think about it.”
I get up and start into the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine. I still can’t believe that Drew got me to drink beer - and do other things.
But I’m not about to go out and buy beer now. That would be too drastic a change for me.
I’m already doing things I know I shouldn’t be doing.
“How’s the man?”
My face flushes and I turned to the sink to wash my hands, an attempt to divert my attention away from Jess.
“Huh? Can’t hear you over the running water.”
“You’re so full of crap. Drew. How is Drew doing?”
“He’s fine, I guess. I wouldn’t really know.”
I pad back over to the couch with my after-work libations and pour two generous glasses for me and Jess.
Jess’s eyes light up and she tucks her legs under her, taking a glass of wine eagerly from the table.
“Something happened. Did you have sex with him?”
“God, no!” I reply, but I know that I’m incapable of lying to my best friend even if I want to.
Jess sips her wine coyly and looks up at me through thick, dark eyelashes.
“Oh, okay.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe a little.”
“How do you have sex with someone a little? You either did it, or you didn’t. And I can tell that you definitely did. Go ahead and deny it. It’s fine. Just make sure to Skype me from the penthouse when you mov
e in with him.”
“Okay, first of all, no one is moving in with anyone. Second of all, it isn’t going to happen again. And third of all, you don’t even know what happened.”
She tosses her hair behind her shoulder and inspects her fingernails.
“Then what is it, exactly, that isn’t going to happen again?”
“Okay. Fine. Something did happen.”
“Tell me! What did you mean when you said that you had sex with him a little? Does that mean you didn’t do it in a bed? Where’d you do it? His office? Bent over his desk?”
“No!”
“Your office?”
“Shush!”
“It’s not like anyone can hear us. It’s just us girls. You think your boss is hiding in the bathroom and he’s going to pop out and say, surprise! You’re fired because you fucked the hottest guy this side of the Mississippi in your new office?”
“I didn’t.” I take a large sip of my wine. “Okay, fine! I did. We had sex. Not sort of, not a little, not kind of. We did it, okay?”
“This is exactly what I told you to do, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I have to say that I did do what you told me to do this time.” I grab the remote from the table and turn up the volume. “Shh, Alex is on.”
“Your man Trebek is going to be there after we talk. Turn that off. We have important things to talk about. Right now.”
She grabs the remote from me, mutes the TV and puts the remote behind her back.
“You know, in the old days, I would have been able to get up and turn the volume up. I don’t even know how to do that on this TV.”
“You’re too nostalgic, you know that, Molly?”
“Yeah. I’ve been accused of that before. By you.”
“So where is he now? Why isn’t he taking you out to a fancy restaurant tonight? A gala? A ball? Isn't that what those Anderson types do every night?”
“I don’t know what he does every night.”
“But you know what he did at least one night, no?”
“Yes. And I also know it’s not going to happen again.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. It was a fling. He is going to be gone soon, and as much fun as it was, I can’t afford to get hurt again.”
“Why not take a chance, Molly? He obviously likes you. And I don’t think I should have to remind you that you should really get back out there.”
“So what? So, he likes me. I don’t know why that has anything to do with it. Guys like anything with boobs and a vagina.”
“That’s so romantic.”
“I mean, you know who he is. This,” I say, gesturing around the small, stuffy apartment, “is not for Drew Anderson. He might like me now, but remember that this is not his real life. He is going to go away, and go back to work and his real life. Maybe he’ll even go back to his fiancee.”
I take a long sip of my wine and feel the cool calmness of the alcohol steady my nerves.
“You’re acting like he lives a million miles away. He doesn’t. It seems to me that you’re just looking for reasons why it won’t work between you, when it’s obvious that it’s at least worth a shot.”
“So, what, we date for a little while? Six months? A year? It’s not like we are going to be together, so why not just skip all the pain and get to the inevitable?”
“I understand that you don’t want to get hurt again. But you have to take a chance. This isn’t like you. What happened to the tough-as-nails bitch that I know? Think about it. You got this awesome job, you got this apartment, you graduated with honors from one of the best journalism schools in the country.”
“But what if I’ve been wrong all along about what I want?”
Maybe Drew is right. Maybe I don’t know what I want. My whole life, I’ve ushered myself into a narrow path. Go to the right schools, get into the right college, the right grad school, the right job. I even had the right boyfriend, but now that seems like so long ago.
“What do you mean? You have it all, Molly. Every single thing you’ve set your sights on, you’ve been able to achieve. It’s actually pretty infuriating.”
Jess smiles and puts a sympathetic hand on mine.
“And if you aren’t sure this is what you want, why don’t you start reevaluating exactly what it is that you’re going for?”
She doesn’t have to say anything else. I know what she means. She means that I should be figuring out what I want, starting with Drew Anderson.
“Not every guy,” she adds, “is going to be like Thomas.”
There it is. The unspoken name, the elephant in the room, the guy who said that he would be with me but who unceremoniously broke up with me after college to go do his own thing in California.
He told me he didn’t like New York anymore. That after a lifetime of subway rats and greasy pizza, he wanted to move to California where the sun shines all year and there isn’t the perpetual threat of a blizzard around the corner.
I reminded him that the summers in New York are as hot as the winters are cold, but that wasn’t enough for him.
He didn’t want to listen to me. He packed up his Volkswagen and drove away.
He didn’t even really do anything wrong. He never treated me badly. He never cheated on me. But I took it harder than I should have, because he was my first boyfriend, and I never got those relationship mistakes and heartaches out of the way when I was in high school.
It was like I dove right into the deep end and never went through the water-wings stage.
“I'm just not so sure that the first guy I need to jump into a relationship with is Drew Anderson.”
“Why not? It seems like he has a lot of great qualities. Even though they may not be what you think you want, maybe you should examine what you want a little bit closer.”
“That's what he said to me a few days ago. He asked what I really wanted. And I didn't know how to answer.”
“And don't you think that's a little bit funny?”
“What do you mean by funny?”
“Not funny ha-ha, but ironic.”
Jess reaches behind her back and unmutes the TV just in time for Alex to read the Double Jeopardy categories.
Drew Anderson doesn't want a girl like me. He wants a girl like Clarissa. A girl who is going to look good next to him, a girl that his dad will love, a girl who can keep up with him and his lifestyle. It's a lifestyle I’ve never been introduced to.
I know it isn’t acceptable for me to be giving myself over to him, at least not for anything more than a hushed fling.
It doesn’t fit in with my plan. Even a thorough reevaluation of my plan would never reveal that I should be with Drew.
And I know, deep down, he probably feels the same way.
Drew
I cannot get Molly out of my mind. Since sleeping with her, all I can think about is her soft lips, her soft pussy, and her perfect ass.
I cannot deny what she does to my cock. When we had our first kiss, I wanted to push her shirt up her body and pin her hands over her head and screw her right against the wall of the empty dining room at the open house.
I showed more gentlemanly restraint with her than I ever have with a woman.
But that might partly be because Molly wasn’t throwing herself at me like most women do.
I want to be with Molly in her apartment, cooking her a proper meal and feeding it to her in bed, but instead, I’m in my pajamas, on the couch in Rich’s apartment, fielding emails and responding to my brother’s many texts when I realize I don’t even have Molly’s number.
In all of the craziness that’s gone down over the past few days, I never even got her number.
At least I know where she lives.
The emails about the headache of a lawsuit seem standard. There are emails between O’Malley and Lee that all of the partners at the two firms are copied on. O’Malley gave me and Eric strict instructions not to engage the other side, not to involve ourselves in the talks with the other firm or with their attorneys
and strategists.
Leave the lawyering to the lawyers, he said.
But I know Eric wants to get in the mud with the guys. He wants to be a shot-caller, even though he’s really just the numbers guy.
Not merely the numbers guy, but you know what I mean. I want him to stick to what he knows best.
Identifying opportunities. Leveraging our assets.
My phone rings, and of course it’s him.
“Hey, man. What’s up? I’m still not working hard enough for you?”
“Drew, you might have to come back to the city tonight. I think the other side wants to have a meeting.”
I toss my laptop on the couch beside me and flip on the TV. I’m not trying to be cavalier about the whole thing, and I admit I was nervous about it at the beginning, but we have this in the bag.
And I’m not shy about telling my brother that.
“You think they want a meeting?” I laugh as I talk calmly into the phone.
“Yeah. I mean, they said they would be in touch about a possible compromise.”
“I told you, Eric. No compromises. Don’t you remember how they acted like a bunch of pussies when Lee called O’Malley? With them trying to put on that faux-aggressive posturing shit with the agreement? I should go to his office right now and tell him where he can shove the agreement.”
“Just get back here, okay? How fucking weak would it look if O’Malley and I were there and you weren’t?”
“No, man.” I hit mute on the TV when I get to some early-evening psycho-babble talk show. “Think about how cool that would look. Like, I’m so sure we are going to win that I don’t even show up for the meeting.”
“And whose purposes would that be serving? The firm’s, or would that be for your own personal gain?”
“I just think it would look badass.”
“It would look cocky, and that’s the kind of antics that garnered the reputation you have.”
I can feel through the phone that my brother is a little pissed off at me.
“Hey, if you want a reputation like mine, maybe you should start blowing off some important meetings.”
“Blowing them off? Is going on a bender in Miami with a couple of lingerie models your idea of blowing off a meeting?”
