Touch Me When We're Dancing

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I’m taking you to that dance hall we went to,” Randy said. “We don’t even have to change our clothes.”

  “That’s my kind of place,” she said. “Laura, you should come, too.”

  “No, you two go. I’m ready to get into bed with a book and a bag of chips. It’ll be my last chance.”

  Helping Pam with her coat, Randy sensed she was holding back. She’d let him know how disappointed she was that he’d changed his mind about leaving again, but had left it at that. The only thing he could do to make it better was not go, and that wasn’t going to happen now.

  Chapter 16

  Two Bridges is a neighborhood nestled at the southern end of the Lower East Side on the East River waterfront, near the footings of the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan Bridge. Richard O’Dell had bought six historic brownstone buildings with the hopes that listings on the National Register of Historic Places would be reversed in a court case instituted by a group of homeowners in the area.

  Last year, Richard had heard Peter Romney give a talk on converting former residential spaces that were designated historical buildings into commercial spaces by fortifying the facades and gutting the interiors. He envisioned a playground for adults with gaming, theater, dining, dancing and high-end hotel rooms, set up so the guests never had to leave the building, like a cruise ship. The proximity to the water made that idea even more compelling.

  When O’Dell had made the appointment to discuss the project with Peter, he was turned off by his acerbic manners but found Sandra charming. Today, he’d discovered Sandra Benson had split from the company and gone out on her own. Like the contractor at the Dutch house, he only wanted to deal with Sandra.

  After Sandra left Adele Romaine at the office, she met Richard at his makeshift office set up on the third floor of the brownstone that was in the best shape of the six. With coffee and donuts ready, he had blueprints and sheaves of paper laid out for her.

  “Well, Richard, this looks just wonderful. I’ll take all of this to the historic commission, and we’ll get the ball rolling. Don’t allow one nail to be removed, however. The inspector is no-nonsense, and he won’t miss a trick.”

  “Okay, not a nail. I hope you don’t mind, Sandra. I have a friend who’s a producer over at WZYX who heard about you doing the Dutch house show, and he wants to interview us.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. “I’d better check with the producer from Video Solutions. When do they want to do the interview?”

  “He’s on his way over now,” he said apologetically. “I told him you were going to be here, and he said he would beg you himself.”

  “I’ll make the call now if you don’t mind.”

  She scrolled through her telephone calls, found George Crier’s number, and pressed call. A female voice answered the phone with a tired hello.

  “Hi, this is Sandra Benson calling George about the Dutch house project.”

  “Sure, hold on, Miss Benson,” she said.

  “Hey, Sandra, I was just going over the contracts,” George answered. “Tell me where to send them, and I’ll get a messenger over right away.”

  She told him to have the contracts delivered to Michael’s after six.

  “Richard, a producer at some TV station wants to interview me with the developer of a Two Bridges property today. He’s interested in the Dutch house show. Do you have any reservations about me talking to him?”

  “Go for it. The more publicity, the better,” he said. “Make sure to get the time and date it will be aired so we can tape it.”

  “Of course. Thanks, George.”

  She hung up and looked at Richard. “We don’t want to say a word about this project. I can’t do anything to jeopardize your application. It will fall like dominos. Your liquor license, your gaming application. We have to be very discreet about the information we give until after I have the first meeting with the commission.”

  “This is strictly about you,” Richard said. “I’m making nice now so our project will get the treatment when we’re under way. I’m going to have a lot of opposition from the community, and with you on board and being a savior of the old places, it will help me.”

  “I wasn’t associated with Video Solutions or the program when you hired me. Why did you insist on working with me?”

  “Sit down, please. Coffee?” He held out the cardboard cup to her. “Cream and extra sugar.”

  “That’s what I like. So keep going.”

  “I didn’t like Peter. It really is as simple as that. You had all the credentials and the references—the guys over at Manhattan Skyline, they’re doing the Dutch house, act like you walk on water. That was good enough for me. When my partners met you, they were all in agreement. You got the job.”

  A buzz and a bell meant the elevator had arrived. A medium-height guy wearing a huge quilted, ankle-length coat got off with a cameraman, and a woman, the production assistant Carolyn Davis, carrying a briefcase, followed. Richard introduced everyone. Sandra excused herself to freshen her makeup and hair. When she came out, the woman handed her a piece of paper and talked to her about what they were interested in, and it wasn’t anything about the Two Bridges project, just like Richard had said.

  For the interview, they stood in front of a grimy window overlooking the bridge. The producer was Jeffery Goldman. He went out of his way to make Sandra comfortable, and she responded by doing the same for him.

  “If you stand to the left of the window, I can angle it just right so that the light won’t shine on the glass and the bridge will be in the background,” the cameraman said. “It’ll hint at what’s in the future.”

  Sandra was completely enamored with the camera. And when they were done, the cameraman said, “Boy, the camera loves you, and you love the camera. You’re a natural.”

  “I might barf,” Carolyn said, and Sandra laughed. “But you are good.”

  “Very good,” Jeffery said, watching her. “You’ve done this before.”

  “Never.”

  “But you’re doing the pilot for Video Solutions.”

  “That’s right. I’m the liaison for the project,” she said.

  “Wait, you’re the partner at Lang, Smith and Romney?”

  “I was. I left and the Dutch house came with me,” she said, not able to keep the grin off her face. “George Crier hired me to host the show, but I’m not an actress.”

  “Wow, if you don’t mind me saying, I can see why. He must have picked up on this”—he made a swirling motion between Sandra and the camera—“right off the bat.”

  A confusing mix of hubris and disgust rose inside her head. Who was this guy trying to kid?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said dismissively.

  Digging a card out of his pocket, Jeffery had an idea, but he’d clearly insulted her and was going to play it down a little. She evidently didn’t like a lot of praise; he mistook her embarrassment for disdain.

  “We’ve taken up enough of your time. I have an idea, and I’d like to talk to you about it as soon as possible. When you’re free today, please give me a call.”

  “Okay, thank you. Thank you for the press about the Dutch house, too. I’m sure the medical center will be happy with the positive news about it.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s wonderful seeing these old buildings saved.”

  They made a little small talk, and then Richard walked with Jeffery and his crew out to the elevator, giving Sandra the opportunity to look over the blueprints again. She’d work tirelessly getting the paperwork together for her meeting with the historical commission, which she’d be able to set up now that she had the blueprints in hand.

  When Richard returned, she was ready to leave.

  “Thank you for the blueprints. I’ll get the application together, and then I can make the appointment to see them. If I need anything else, I’ll call you.”

  “When will you send the first invoice?”

  “As a matter of fact,” she said, pull
ing a legal-sized envelope out of her briefcase. “That’s the payment schedule. I’ll need the first payment before I take a meeting with the historical commission.”

  “I’ll write you a check right now,” he said.

  “Please send it,” Sandra said. “I could get robbed on the way back to my office, which, I’m happy to say, is only a few blocks from here.”

  “I’ll walk down with you.”

  “No need. I have a car waiting. I’ll be in touch.”

  He lagged back, sensing she wouldn’t appreciate him hovering. But he did watch her, and he had to admit to himself later that he was attracted to her big time. He might even call it a crush.

  As soon as Sandra got into the car, she called Michael again to tell him about the meeting and interview. With Michael, she felt like she could say things to him that other people might interpret as being braggadocio. But Michael was such a nice guy; he would celebrate all her achievements right along with her.

  “I couldn’t wait to tell you,” she said, looking in her compact mirror to fix her lipstick.

  “I’m so proud of you! We’ll celebrate tonight.”

  “I can’t wait. I’ll have to work tonight, but we can celebrate in,” she said.

  “That’s even better.”

  After she hung up, she called Jeffery Goldman, as he’d requested.

  “Hi, it’s Sandra Benson. Is this soon enough?” she said, laughing. “I’m working tonight, so it was now or never.”

  “Yes, thank you!” he said, excited. “We have a project in place, a hybrid of the show about the Dutch house. It’s the talk of the town right now, all the blog posts about old New York, saving the old buildings, trying to get some of the glamour back that has been lost.”

  He paused, and Sandra shook her head. What was with this guy? “Okay.”

  “We’ve been digging through head shots of women to host the show. Other stations have shows with similar premises, but the hosts are men. We want a woman. Preferably one who isn’t a household name, someone mysterious—”

  “Mr. Goldman, I’m assuming you’re interested in me to host. As you know, I’ve already been asked to be the host for the public station’s show.”

  “I know that,” he said. “But this would start long before the Dutch house is ever completed. I know George, so I happen to know you haven’t signed a contract yet, so there would be no conflict. I’m not trying to strong-arm you.”

  She laughed, but didn’t reply.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think I’d better get an agent,” she said, smiling.

  ***

  It was really a roadhouse, an old-fashioned dance hall with sawdust on the wooden floor. They held each other, swaying back and forth, as “Lady in Red” played while Randy sang it in a whispered nasal voice in Pam’s ear.

  “I love you so much,” she said, stretching her arms over his shoulders. “I’m sorry I’m being so childish. I just remembered our first weekend together you told me you never wanted to leave me. It feels so final, like you’re going off with Laura and I’ll never see either of you again.”

  “My love, I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten I said that to you, and how much it meant to you after Charlie took off.”

  “It’s okay. In a way, it’ll give me a chance to get in my daughter’s good graces again. She’s been angry with me. I can feel that she thinks I’m not being a good mother or a good grandmother. So I’ll make it up to her while you’re gone.”

  “I bet she’ll tell you that there’s nothing wrong. You’re paranoid.”

  Resting her head on Randy’s chest while they danced, she could hear his heart beat. She loved him, but the last few weeks had been so stressful. Why did he think he could go in and take over Jack’s company, use his money to control people, and not have it blow up in his face? She didn’t realize how passive-aggressive he was until just that moment. Loaning Dan money to buy that house across the street so he’d be close to his boys, now that was the coup de grace. He was trying to make everything right for her and Lisa.

  “Thank you for everything you’re trying to do for us,” she said.

  “I know I made a mess of it. Getting rid of Sandra was okay, but putting Ryan in her place, not so much. Now he’s there forever.”

  “The baby, well, it will be interesting to see how that pans out,” Pam said. “I just have to remember that it’s not my business. Lisa’s an adult woman. She’s pretty independent.”

  “I get involved because I didn’t have a family. I have all this money, and unless I give it away, it doesn’t help anyone. At least I’m trying to help you.”

  “I know. And now you have Laura and her mother to help. It sounds like her mother could use a hand.”

  “You’ll have to tell me what was said because she’s pretty quiet about what their life is like. She won’t say anything negative.”

  “I’ll tell you about it someday. Tonight you’re all mine.”

  The next morning, Pam got up early and walked the dogs so she’d have time to spend with Randy. They were leaving for the airport at noon, flying in a commercial jet that the producer had chartered. When she got home, she could hear water running. He was awake, in the shower. While she made coffee, there was an air of unreality about it. She couldn’t believe he was leaving. The night before, she had been resigned, and she thought she had accepted it.

  But in the morning light, the pain of having to say goodbye to him made the grief cycle start up again, and she was hurt and angry. She’d hoped to deal with it before she saw him, but a run on the beach with the dogs just made her sweaty.

  “Coffee,” he growled, coming in behind her to kiss the back of her neck.

  “Watch it, I stink. I ran with the dogs.”

  “You couldn’t stink if you tried,” he said when she pushed him away.

  “Randy, I’m grumpy. I’m sorry. I just can’t pretend I’m happy you’re going. I’m sad and miserable.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sad and miserable, too. You should come.”

  “No. Sorry. You know why. Anyway, you need this time with your daughter. It’s the reason you’re going. Just promise me this trip won’t turn into a yearlong project.”

  “It won’t, and if it does, I won’t stay. I promise.”

  “I’ll change the subject. I’m dying to know who was at Marian’s last night!”

  When they’d closed the bar and arrived home, the Town Car that Frank drove Randy around in was parked in the driveway of the house next door.

  “We know it was either Clint or Frank,” Randy said. “As soon as I get in the car, I’ll ask and text you right away. That’s going to make for a strange trip.”

  “I can’t wait to find out, so don’t forget to text me. How will you ask them if she’s in the car with you?”

  “That’s true. I’ll take the man aside. It’s a little creepy if you ask me. I don’t want to know that about those two.”

  “Randy, they barely have lives of their own. They’re at your beck and call twenty-four seven.”

  “Trust me, they’re paid twice the going salary. They’d leave if they didn’t like it.”

  “Well, I for one don’t care to have Marian Cooper in the family, so discourage that if you can while you’re in paradise.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Soon it was time for them to leave. The luggage was stacked high in the foyer. Marian didn’t show up like they expected her to, but walked over with Frank carrying her suitcases.

  “Well! I guess you don’t have to ask!” Pam said, grimacing. “All he did was move his car from there to here.”

  “I really don’t like her,” Laura said. “Now I have to watch those two flirting with each other?”

  “Jesus, I hope not,” Randy said. “I’ll lose my breakfast.”

  The goodbyes were not as morose as they could have been, thanks to the image of a Marian and Frank romance.

  Pam watched the car drive away. She had a little headache from
all the wine she’d had the night before. The dogs were sitting together, watching her.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” she said. Wagging their tails, they followed Pam back to the master bedroom.

  She felt horrible, depressed and empty. Even though it was the middle of the day, she washed her face, got into sweatpants and climbed into bed. The dogs were already waiting, curious about their changed routine, but happy.

  Nelda came out of the children’s wing looking for her and found a note Pam had written. I’m taking a nap. Looking at the writing, she sensed Pam was having a crisis, but good manners wouldn’t allow her to express her true feelings. Randy had picked up and left, just like the others had done. Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered what it was about her daughter that she looked so appealing and had such a lovely personality, and men just didn’t want to be around her for more than a few hours at a time. Crumpling up the note, she shook her head. Pam was just boring.

  Chapter 17

  Even though Lisa and Steve managed to survive not seeing each other for four days, by Friday, Lisa especially felt like a caged animal. Dan picked up the boys after school, and Alison once again begged her to allow Megan to come for a sleepover—Miranda was already there, and the three girls could play under the watchful eye of Nanny Fredericka.

  Lisa luxuriated in the tub, shaving her legs and making sure all her crevices were pristine, just in case. It had been a week since their first date for coffee, so it wasn’t too soon for lovemaking in her opinion. It was certainly longer than she’d ever waited before, cringing at the speed with which she’d hopped into bed in the past. And, scary thought, she’d had a baby with each of the men she’d slept with. There were no other skeletons in her closet. She’d conveniently forgotten about her dalliance with Cara.

  Before Steve left the office, he called her. “I have an idea. How about we go dancing tonight? The place out on the highway has the best barbeque, and they have a disc jockey on Friday night, which means we don’t have to listen to their usual rock-and-roll band.”