by Joachim Jean
Clint wasn’t only uncomfortable about the disparity in their income, he also had financial obligations. Although he didn’t pay alimony, he did pay child support and put money away for Cory’s college tuition. On a teacher’s salary, he didn’t have much left over, so dates with Nina had to be on the cheap. Putting his pride aside, he tapped his creativity.
Once, he had relied on his cooking experience and whipped up a picnic basket that was a culinary work of art. Inside were two small quiches Lorraine, fresh from his oven. A small covered mixing bowl held a green salad with artichoke hearts. Two lemon tarts and a small bag of chocolate almond kisses were nestled between plastic flutes and a split of champagne.
She had met him at the 83rd Street entrance to Riverside Park, and they located a cement table with a chessboard painted on it, setting up their feast.
Nina was always impressed with the time and attention the tempting meals took, as well as his skill. Each time, all the delicious food was devoured without a crumb left. After such hearty dining, they would read aloud from the play, critiquing each speech.
One warm Saturday in late October, they were in Riverside Park at their usual table. This picnic consisted of a cold steak salad, warm French rolls with European butter, and Napoleons for dessert.
They hadn’t finished the dessert, but had managed to polish off the rest, when Nina broached a new subject. She pushed garbage into a small, black plastic bag while he packed the leftovers back into the basket.
“The play is ready,” she announced, licking some butter off her finger.
“Ready? For what?”
“Ready to be read. By a professional.”
He raised his eyebrows at her.
“It’s the next step. We give it to someone in the industry to read…like an agent…maybe my agent.”
Clint gathered up the utensils. “Let Fran read the play? Uh-uh. Nope.”
“It’s ready.”
“It isn’t.”
Nina placed her hands on her hips and squared around to face him. “What are you waiting for? It’s ready to be read and critiqued.”
“It’s my play, and I don’t think so,” he said, jutting his jaw out slightly.
“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” He stood up, took the garbage bag, and dropped it in the trash receptacle nearby.
“Yes, you are. You’re afraid she won’t like it. Maybe she won’t and maybe she’ll have some changes to improve it, so she can sell it to a producer.”
“It’s too soon, Nina.” He put the basket on the ground, then sat down, then stood up again.
“It isn’t. Stop moving around. Sit down and look at me.”
He followed her orders, giving her his full attention.
“It’s time to take the play to the next level. We’ve done all we can, now we need fresh eyes. You like it…I like it, so we need someone smart and savvy to check it out and tell us what to do. Don’t you want to see it produced?”
“Sure I do. But what happens if Fran hates it?”
“Nothing. We take it somewhere else.”
“What about your friend Norman Fallon?”
“We can’t give it to Norman without Fran seeing it first. And we have to get you an agent. I’m going to call Fran. See if she would take you on.”
“This is going too fast for me, Nina.”
“Don’t you want to succeed? See your name in lights?”
“I don’t care about fame, but I want to see the play acted on a stage, any stage.”
“I’m going to send it to Fran.”
“Don’t! Wait. Let me think about it, read it over one more time, before you do that, okay?”
Nina stared at him with a frown on her face, but she gave him a slight nod. Clint stood up and offered her his hand. She pushed to her feet and walked next to him out of the park. She stood far enough away so that he couldn’t easily take her hand. They walked in silence, side-by-side until they reached Broadway and 83rd Street. Nina turned right to go downtown, and Clint turned left. He gave her a small kiss before they parted then they walked on their separate ways.
****
The phone was ringing when Nina returned to her apartment. She picked up the receiver while she opened the French doors and went out on the terrace.
“Fran, I was just talking about you.”
“To who? George Clooney looking for a new agent?”
Nina laughed. “I have a play for you.” She sat down on one of the lounge chairs and watched the shadows from the afternoon sun grow longer in Central Park.
“A play? What do I want with a play?”
“It was written by a friend of mine, and I was hoping you’d be his agent. But first, you have to read it. It has a delicious part in it for me, too.”
“Double commission if I find a producer? Sounds good to me, but I can’t represent both of you. It isn’t ethical.”
“Since when do agents have ethics?” Nina got up and padded into the kitchen.
“Ouch!”
Nina held up her hand as though Fran was there to see it. “Okay, okay. Will you read it?” “Of course. If you like it, it must be good.”
“Swell, I’ll have it delivered to you tomorrow. Halloween is around the corner. Is Calista coming here to trick or treat with me?” Nina turned on the faucet and filled the tea kettle.
“She’s counting on it. Send the play. I’ll read it first thing. Gotta scoot.”
“Hey, you called me?” She opened the cabinet and took down an Earl Grey teabag.
“Oh, yeah. Checking on Halloween. She’s going as a princess this year…type casting!”
Nina pulled out her favorite mug with a picture of a pug on it. “Fran! She’s only eight.”
“Okay, princess-in-training.”
“Takes after her mother.” Nina returned to the terrace and sat down, keeping one ear open for the whistle of the kettle.
“You would say that! See you soon.”
A cool breeze swept across the terrace, sending Nina searching for a jacket. Finding a fleece in the closet in her bedroom, she slipped it on then shoved her copy of “Happy Family” into a large envelope. The insistent whine of the tea kettle drew her into the kitchen. She turned off the flame and poured water into her mug then picked up the landline and dialed.
“Harley’s messenger service? Nina Wells. I have a package I need delivered.”
****
The response arrived early on Saturday morning, three days before Halloween. Nina ripped open the thick envelope and pulled out the play. Paper-clipped to the front cover was a note from Fran.
Nina-
Play is rough in a few spots. Some dialogue is too long and it needs more humor. Otherwise, it’s a thumbs up for me. I marked the places that need work. I called Ashley Pierson, and she’s interested in repping your BF. I can’t do it. Hope you understand. Still, he’s on his way. Have you called Norman Fallon yet, or should Ashley? Thanks for sending this my way.
Love,
Fran
P.S. Yes, of course, you’d be perfect for the mom.
Nina clapped her hands and jumped up from her chair. Where’s Clint? She picked up the phone and punched in his number. She was greeted by a sleepy voice.
“Clint! Clint! Wake up!”
“What’s the matter?” She could hear a stifled yawn through her cell.
“I got the play back from Fran, and she loved it! She’s getting you an agent of your own! I’m so excited. We’ve got work to do, so come over.”
She ended the call and thumbed through the script, stopping briefly to glance at the notes written in red from Fran.
Before she could even put her cell down on the coffee table, it rang. It was Clint.
“What, who, whoa…Nina?” Clint’s foggy voice cleared.
“Fran loved the play. But we’ve got to make some changes. Get dressed and get over here.”
“I asked you not to show it to her.”
“I did i
t anyway.”
“Against my wishes?”
“You were being a baby. She loves it. Please forgive me and let’s get to work.”
“Being a baby? Dammit. It’s my play, and I’ll say who reads it and when.”
Nina bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. No harm. I know it’s yours. I just want you to have the success you deserve.”
“Why? So I can measure up to Henry? I’ll never equal him, Nina. Don’t push it. I’m not Henry. I’m just a school teacher, with a school teacher’s salary.”
Nina’s words caught in her chest as her eyes filled. She took a deep breath, trying to control the quiver in her voice. “I never said you were Henry. Never expected you to be him. No way. How can you say that to me?”
“I wish I could. Wish I could give you what he did. But I never will. If you’re expecting that, then you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Boy, you’re not much of a listener, are you? I thought you knew that you’ve given me something Henry never had and never could.”
“And what’s that?”
“The theater. I gave it up because he wanted me home nights. I’ve regretted it. Missed it. And I thought you could bring that back to me. I guess I was wrong.”
“Nina, I didn’t know. I—”
“Keep your damn play, Clint. I hope you’re a success. See you around.”
She pressed the button to end the call. Not a minute too soon, as tears cascaded down her cheeks. The cell rang again. She knew it was him and let it go to voicemail. Of all the ungrateful, puffed up… Stupid man. Stupid writer.
Nina turned off her phone and went shopping, hitting the toniest Fifth Avenue shops. When she returned, a bouquet of red roses, and a man hiding behind them, was waiting for her at the entrance. She gave him a steely look.
“I’m sorry. You were right. I shouldn’t have said…what I said.” Clint glanced at the doorman, who shuffled his newspaper, trying to look like he wasn’t listening. “Can I come upstairs and apologize in private?”
She gave a curt nod and took the vase. They rode in silence to the eighth floor.
As they walked down the hall, Clint cleared his throat. “Did you mean that? About me bringing you the theater?”
“Are you calling me a liar?” She squared off.
“No, no, of course not. It’s just. Well, with my ex. She thought it was stupid, and I was stupid, to waste my time writing. Then, she met this rich guy, started having an affair. You can guess the rest.”
“Sounds like a bad movie from the thirties.” Nina put the flowers on the dining room table and began rearranging them to avoid looking at Clint.
He straightened up. “It was my life.”
“I’m sorry. That was mean.” She put her hand on his arm.
“I’ve never met anyone like you, Nina. If I put my foot in it or get defensive, I hope you’ll give me another chance. You’re the most positive, loving person I know.”
She stopped fussing with the flowers.
“I hope you know that I love you and feel lucky to have you in my life. Maybe being jealous of Henry is dumb. But I am. I can’t help it.”
“Why?”
“You’ve given me so much. I wish I could give you what he did. But I can’t.”
“I’ve told you. You don’t have to. You’re giving me the theater.”
“I hope so. Are we okay now?”
She kissed his cheek. “You’re forgiven. Let’s forget it.”
“Come on. Let me take you to my favorite Chinese place for dinner.”
“The one you take Cory to?”
“Yep. It’s great. And reasonable.”
She smiled at him and picked up her purse. “I’d love to.”
****
Two days later, on Friday afternoon, Nina dressed in a tight, low-cut, aqua sweater and her snuggest jeans before she left to meet Clint for dinner. Knowing he had been mad at her for sharing his play with Fran, she figured she’d have a tough time convincing him to take Fran’s comments to heart, let alone make changes.
She walked west. It was quicker for her to take the number one subway line though it was two blocks away, and the B and C lines ran right underneath her building. She pulled her chocolate brown, suede jacket tighter around herself and cinched the sash.
On the ride down to Greenwich Village, where Clint’s school was, she made up her mind that honesty was the best way. She had always been open with him. Well, maybe not when she had sent the play to Fran, but otherwise.
She sat back, her body swaying with the rhythm of the train. As she passed Forty-Second Street, memories of Broadway plays from her past crowded her mind. Recollections of difficult directors and handsome leading men made her smile as she anticipated getting back into that most exciting and unpredictable life.
The brakes screeched, slowing the engine down until it came to an abrupt stop in the Christopher Street station. Nina lurched against the metal pole when she stood to exit.
As she climbed up the steps from the subway station, she checked her watch. It was already five thirty. Clint would be waiting for her and be impatient, perhaps even steamed, because she was late. She hurried down the wide avenue until she reached Hudson Street. She turned left and continued onto Barrow, a small cobblestoned street, a throwback to more than a hundred years ago, when there were no traffic lights, a street too narrow for a coach and four, let alone today’s SUVs.
Halfway down, she spied their special place, Snooky’s Café. The teal blue exterior had white stars painted on it and two big picture windows framing the recessed door, which was also painted blue to replicate the sky after sunset. Entering, she spied Clint at their favorite table in the back left corner. He stood up as she approached.
Nina shrugged her jacket off and placed it on the back of a chair. Then, she got on tiptoe and kissed him hello. He smiled at her warmly and sat down again.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“The usual. Did you bring the play?”
“Of course. This is a working dinner, isn’t it?” She cast him a flirtatious look.
He got straight to the point. “So, give it to me gently—how much did Fran hate?” He took a sip of his beer.
“I told you—she loved it, but she had some suggestions.”
“And do you agree with those suggestions?”
“I’m not sure. I want to discuss them with you and see what you think. Anything that makes the play the best it can be would be okay with me, but this is your play. It has to be okay with you.”
“What do you think?”
“I’ll put in my two cents as we go along.”
“Let’s order first. By the way, you look very sexy today.”
“You always say that when we’ve been apart for a few days.”
“Can I help it if seeing you turns me on?”
Nina colored a little and smiled at him.
“Later, we’ll finish the changes in bed, after I make a few changes in your heart rate.” His lips curled into a sexy grin.
A shiver rocketed up Nina’s spine. You do that to me with only a few words and your incredible smile. Amazing. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Good. So, what do you want?” he asked, handing her a menu.
“Nothing that takes too long to cook,” she responded, stealing a glance at him.
His gaze met hers. “You read my mind.”
****
They entered Nina’s apartment, tossed their jackets on the chair in the front entryway, and headed for the bedroom.
“You had to wear something so sexy. I couldn’t keep my eyes on my food,” he said.
“You’re complaining?”
“Did I say that?” He pulled her into his arms when they crossed the threshold.
His mouth descended on hers as he drew her closer, kissing her with abandon. Nina’s senses came alive, and every nerve in her body jumped. Her pulse climbed, and her arms tightened around his waist. She needed him.
Without warni
ng, Clint picked her up. He strode over to the bed, tossed her gently on the mattress, and kicked off his shoes. Climbing toward her on all fours, he approached like a hungry lion, with lust in his heart. Nina smiled as she watched him slink closer.
“I want you. Now!” he barked, his eyes blazing. His hands took hold of the hem of her sweater and pulled it quickly up and over her head. “That’s better,” he said, eyeing her.
She unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it over his broad shoulders. He shrugged it the rest of the way off. “Hmmm. An undershirt?” she asked, tugging it up.
“November,” he replied, helping her by ripping the tee over his head and tossing it on the floor. “Now you,” he said, reaching around behind her to snap her bra open. His caramel eyes glowed in the soft light from beside the bed.
Nina shed the undergarment and reached for the button on his jeans. Once they were both unbuttoned and unzipped, each one removed their pants and put them on the wing chair in the corner.
Clint pushed down his boxers and stepped out of them. “Allow me,” he said, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her black bikini panties and slipping them down to her knees.
“Let me help.” She pushed them the rest of the way and flung them toward the growing pile of discarded clothes.
“Wow.” He watched them soar. “Good aim.”
Nina fell back on the bed, dissolving into laughter. Clint moved closer, leaning over, and she flattened her hand against him. His tongue caressed the tender flesh below her ear. He planted small kisses down her neck as his hand found her breast, his thumb her peak.
“God, you feel good,” he murmured. “Smell good, too.”
Nina closed her eyes and ran her hands up his pecs and over his shoulders. When he lifted his head, her lips closed over his. As she pushed her breasts up against his chest, he bore down on her, his tongue stroking hers, his big hands trapping her small ones, pushing them above her head and into the pillowy softness. Nina felt desire rise in her body, coursing through her veins, landing in her core, pooling between her legs.
“I love you.” His words were raspy and breathy.
Clint shifted his weight to his side, freeing up his hand to glide down Nina’s body. He started at her shoulder, stopped to squeeze her breast gently, then continued down her hip to her thigh. Nina opened her legs. He moved his hand to her inner thigh then up into her slick heat and closed his eyes.
