by Kiki Leach
“She’s a mail runner. She could come up there, maybe she even has come up there. But I wouldn’t know, because I don’t deal with the mail runners. That’s a peon’s job and then the peon brings the mail up to us.”
“You’re so classy,” she said with hinting sarcasm. “I can’t imagine why any woman wouldn’t want to spend more than one night with you.”
“Most do. I just don’t have any patience for them after that.”
She turned her entire body toward him and grinned.
“God, you are so disgusting sometimes. You realize you’re never going to be happy with yourself if you keep sleeping around like this, right? What if you meet some girl who wants to settle down and have a family? What if you meet someone who wants to get married to you and have your babies? Are you just going to blow her off and tell her she wasn’t a good enough lay to get her to leave you alone?”
He groaned. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m not asking a bunch of questions, I’m just curious. I’ve never known you to be serious about anyone.”
“I was serious about you,” he stated.
She fell back in her seat. Her eyes shifted to the floor of the car.
“Well, maybe it’s time you decided to start getting serious about someone else.”
“Maybe it’s time you forgot about Nathan and did the same.”
As they looked into one another’s eyes, what felt like a tiny current had surged between them. Vanessa had no idea what it was, but Maurice knew. He felt exactly what it was and wanted to make damn sure she did too.
When they finally arrived to the restaurant, he jumped out of the car and raced to the other side, opening her door. He offered her his hand, which she took without hesitation, and escorted her inside.
They were seated near the bar, between an open bannister and an electric piano that played on its own. A fire blazed in a fireplace across the room. Everyone was dressed to the nines, diamonds, suits, hats as high as the ceiling. It resembled a 1940s blues club more than a Thai restaurant, so much so that Vanessa nearly expected to see Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald come out from a back room at any moment and begin playing a trumpet and singing on stage, respectively.
This didn’t seem like a normal lunch date, in fact it didn’t seem like lunch at all. This place seemed more appropriate for dinner and dancing, and doing both with someone you were trying to impress, who you had planned on having lots of sex with sometime in the near future, if not later on that night.
Once they received their menu’s and were informed of their waiter’s name, Vanessa peered at the names of the food, scanning to see if what was offered was to her liking. Maurice began sweating a little. This lunch meant more to him than just spending an extra hour with his best friend during the day.
Vanessa pulled her menu closer to her face.
“I can hardly see anything. Am I going blind or is it just extremely dark in this place?”
“It’s not that bad,” he said.
“Not that bad? Mo, I feel like a seventy-five year old woman who needs her grandkids to tell her what’s on the menu.”
She reached into her purse for her glasses, placing them on her face, and then grabbed her cell phone, turning on the light located at the back.
She leaned forward in an attempt to gain Maurice’s attention.
“Why the hell is this place so dark during the day?”
“It’s just the way it is,” he said. “Just go with it.”
“I’m trying, but shouldn’t we be able to at least see our menus?”
He grew frustrated and quickly scratched the side of his head, while clutching his menu in his other hand.
“You look great in your glasses,” he said, trying to change the subject. “I forget sometimes what you look like since I don’t see you in them often.”
“Thanks… I still can’t see anything. Maybe I’m just going blind or something.”
“You’re not going blind. It’s just a little dim, that’s all.”
“A little dim? This is the kind of lighting most people would beg for in their bedroom when they don’t want their significant others to see that they’ve gained a little weight. Hell, I’m thinking of ordering it for myself!”
“Who do you plan on seeing in the dark?”
“No one but myself at the moment, which is why I need the light. Great for a bedroom, awful for a restaurant.”
“Do you want to go someplace else?”
She looked into his eyes and realized how annoyed he was becoming with her. She instantly felt bad that he had gone through so much trouble to find a place she liked and all she seemed to do was complain about it from the moment they sat down.
She smiled a little and shook her head.
“No,” she told him. “We’re here and this place was recommended. If all else fails, I can do a piece on it for the food section in the magazine or something.”
When their waiter, Chuck, finally arrived, he placed two glasses of water before them and then pulled out his notepad.
“Are you ready to order or do you need a few minutes?”
“Just give us a second,” Vanessa said.
He nodded and left them alone, vowing to return again soon.
Vanessa sighed and reopened her menu.
“Nothing on here looks especially terrible.”
“I’m glad I could accommodate your eclectic taste,” said Maurice.
“Mo, you know that I would’ve been just as fine with a bowl of soup or chicken and waffles. You’re the one who decided to get all fancy.”
“I wanted you to try something new.”
“Inside a place I can barely even see your face.”
“I see yours just as clear. And it’s beautiful.”
“Yours is too, which is why I don’t mind looking at it.”
She had said it without thinking. It was one of those moments where something you’ve always believed about someone else sort of comes out at the most inappropriate times.
She coughed a little.
“I mean… I’m just saying”
“I know what you’re saying, V.”
He smiled knowingly and returned to his menu.
She squirmed a little and sat up straight.
“Anyway. What are you thinking of getting?” she asked.
“Something with noodles, rice maybe. You?”
“I’ll get the same thing. Whatever it is.”
She closed her menu and began looking around the room.
“So you’re still going to the reunion?” she asked him.
“Yeah. Why? Change your mind that fast and want to come along as my date?”
“No. I thought you planned on taking someone?”
“I planned to take whoever was available for the night.”
She rolled her eyes and gagged a little.
“Nice.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Just someone to take out and dance with a little, introduce to old friends from school… and if it came down to it, possibly sex before the night was over.”
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she said.
“What?”
“You don’t take anything seriously! Everything to you is just sex and fun, fun and sex – ‘whoo-hoo, I’m getting laid!’ And then she goes home before the night is over while you shower up and get ready for the next one. What about love and a real relationship?”
“Are you in the process of looking for one? Because I’m open if you’re available.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I, Vanessa. Why do you think I’ve never been able to settle down?”
“Because you’re a twenty-three year old statistic. You’re too good looking to be tied down to one woman, so you try to have every single one you see and sometimes all at once.”
“That was one time.” He sat back, thinking. “And it wasn’t as much fun as I’d hoped it would be.”
“That is so disgusting.”
She took a sip of water and turned away.
“You asked.”
“No, I didn’t,” she replied.
Once the waiter returned, they each ordered something with noodles with a bowl of white rice on the side.
After the food arrived, they each began picking at it with their forks. Maurice made a face of slight revulsion, while Vanessa moved things around, wondering if it would taste better or worse than what she was used to.
“How is it?” he asked, still picking at his plate.
“I don’t know yet. I’m still trying to make sure it’s dead.”
“Maybe we should’ve tried someplace else.”
“I like it here,” she told him. He arched a brow in disbelief. “Well, I’m getting used to it. Whatever. It just seems more appropriate for a dinner date.”
“In that case, maybe we can come here again tomorrow night?”
“I don’t like it that much. It’s passable. It’s decent – it’s tolerable. Maybe if you ever decide to get serious about someone, you can bring her here instead.”
He sighed heavily and grit his teeth.
“I already did,” he mumbled.
She watched him as he took a sip of his water.
Vanessa was probably one of the most frustrating women he had ever known. She complained about nearly everything and went out of her way to ignore the obvious signs being placed directly in front of her face, whether they were signs of Nathan cheating or signs of Maurice being forever hopelessly in love with her. But it didn’t matter to him. All she had to do is say yes and it wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing would have, except her, except them.
She knew what he wanted. But she wasn’t willing to compromise on their friendship to give in, no matter how tempting it may have been.
Part Seven
Once she was home, Nikki wanted to wash herself clean of the day. Not only of her audition, but of seeing Oscar with his wife in their place. Sure, it was where they worked, but it was also where they could just be together. The Bean, she felt, was the only place she didn’t have to worry about seeing his wife because she worked on an entirely different coast. And now, she didn’t even have that.
She laid on the couch in the den in nothing but shorts and an old t-shirt, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what they were doing in that very moment. She felt like a loser, and an idiot for still caring.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. She was hesitant to answer it, turning over on the couch and pressing her face against the leather, hoping like hell whoever was ringing would go away. When they wouldn’t, she mumbled something to herself and ran to the foyer.
She wasn’t happy to see who was waiting for her on the other side of that door.
“No!” she said, trying to slam the door in Oscar’s face.
He stopped it with his hand and foot. “Nikki, let me explain.”
“Explain what? That you’re still in love with your wife? That I was just someone you chose to screw when she couldn’t make it home for the weekends or holidays or your regular birthday sex?!”
She kept shoving at the door, but he finally managed to shove it back. She bounced a little and glared up at him, curling her toes against the hardwood and balling her fists. Without thinking, she ran up and began striking him in the chest.
“You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch!” she screamed. “Me hiciste creer en una mentira! You were never going to leave her!”
“I am!” he shouted.
She jumped back and shook her head. The tears began to fall and she ran back into the den. Oscar shut the door and went after her.
“You need to let me explain.”
“I don’t need to let you do anything. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid this entire time.”
“You’re not stupid, Nikki.”
“Yes I am! Yes I am, because you’re not leaving her! I saw that today with my very own two eyes. Amor puro. You touched her, and you flirted with her. She’s your wife and I’m just the girl on the side you do when she’s not around. And where do you go when she isn’t around and you’re not with me? Is there someone else that I don’t know about – that WE don’t know about? Is it some other girl at another one of your shops?”
“I know you’re angry right now and you have every right to be pissed--”
“Shut up!” she snapped back. “You don’t get to tell me anything, you don’t get to try and make me feel better by agreeing with my pain.”
“I don’t get to try and make you feel better?”
“No.”
He quickly moved forward and took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. She tried fighting it, she tried shoving him back again, but she couldn’t. It was as if her hands had turned into putty or sand. Shoving against him became impossible. His hands slid down to her ass, squeezing each cheek tight. She moaned between his lips and reached down for his pants, trying as fast as she could to unbuckle them.
And then she realized what was happening, and where she was. And she recognized what he was doing and pulled away from him. She spun around and pressed her fingers to her lips. She felt like crying again but kept the tears inside this time.
“I was never an emotional person until I met you,” she said.
“Nik--”
“I never cared much about anything except for acting, and my friends. Then you came along and changed all of that and I started to have dreams of what we could be. And yet, you treat me like a common whore. You don’t want to talk about this, or argue, so you try to use sex to shut me up because you know it works, it always works, but I can’t do that anymore. I’m either going to be yours completely, or nothing at all.”
It was the first time he not only heard what she was saying, but actually listened to her words, and how she felt. He stepped back a few feet and fell back on the ottoman that sat across the room. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, saying nothing, only pondering what was next.
Back at her office, Vanessa sat at her desk, contemplating what Maurice had told her over lunch. Maybe it really was finally time for her to move on from it all. Not that wallowing in misery was some sort of picnic, but she had become so accustomed to it that she wasn’t sure if she would ever know how to function without it.
He had called three times since dropping her off. He thought he had made her feel uneasy with his suggestions and constant innuendos. He was used to flirting with her, but he wasn’t used to her semi-reciprocation to it. Or finally acknowledging what he always knew. He was sitting at his desk, the same as her, just on the other side of town. He had ads that he needed to finish, deadlines that needed to be approved by the end of the day, but all he could do was think about Vanessa. If he were Superman, she was definitely his kryptonite.
“Vanessa?” Samantha walked into her office holding a pen and notepad and placed them on the edge of her desk. “There’s someone here to see you. She said you two had an appointment for later this afternoon, but she thought she would stop by now to see if you were available, given that she was in the area?”
“Who is it?”
“Melanie, from CBS films.”
“Oh, right! Yeah, sure, bring her inside. And then call my mother to let her know she’s here as well.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
Vanessa got up from her desk and moved to the center of the room.
Melanie breezed inside, appearing more professional than she had this morning at the coffee shop, now wearing a striped black pantsuit and matching heels, and flipped her hair over her shoulder as if she were on a California beach instead of an office building.
She extended her hand.
“It is so nice to finally meet you face to face!” she squealed.
“Likewise.” Vanessa took a step back to get a good look at her. When she noticed Melanie staring, she smiled. “Um, why don’t we have a seat?”
She went back around to the other side of her desk and did the same.
“I heard your mo
ther just got back from Paris?” asked Melanie, placing her purse and jacket on the chair next to her.
“She did, this morning in fact. She’ll be down soon so that we can make this official. But I wanted you to know from me first thing before she arrived, that given your position within the company as president, we’d like to discuss putting you on the cover. We’ll have other women scattered throughout, doctors, attorneys, various women in media featured, but you’re going to be the main focus of the article, in part because I don’t think many people know that you’re a woman.”
Melanie tilted her head a little and laughed. “It’s a well-kept secret.”
“And why is that, if you don’t mind my asking? Frankly, I had no idea until your assistant called me with the details of your career. I thought I knew everyone, but I don’t know you.”
“Perhaps you should visit Los Angeles a little more often,” she said with a smile.
“Maybe I should. God knows I could use the vacation and time out of New York just might be right I need right now.” She grinned. “So, as my mother is taking her sweet time in making her way down to my office –“
“Which is amazing by the way.” She looked around in awe. “I love seeing how open it is. If I weren’t so private, I’d do the same thing.”
“Thank you. My mother hates it, which I have to admit motivated me a bit more in keeping it this way.” They both laughed. “So, why don’t you tell me more about yourself? All the bits and pieces your assistant never informed me of?”
Vanessa grabbed the pen and notepad from the other side of her desk to begin taking quick notes of the conversation.
“Okay. For starters, I grew up in the Midwest and was the oldest of five girls. I’ve always been business driven. I worked as my father’s assistant at his oil rig company, but I could also make a mean casserole with mashed potatoes and gravy whenever my mother was sick or too tired to cook from taking care of people all day. She was a nurse. Aside from those few things, my life was pretty boring growing up. I was practically invisible in high school, but grew out of my shell in college when I attended USC. But I never thought about marriage, or kids. I was just really determined to be successful. And then I did become successful. And I finally realized I wanted to share that success with someone else. I dated a few guys here and there that I had met online or through friends, but none of them really caught me in the way my current husband did. We had been around to all of the same parties, knew some of the same people. But he was a fashion model and so I thought he was pretentious, and stupid.”
