Bliss, Inc. (Indigo Love Spectrum)

by Chamein Canton

“No, I’m good.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I can’t believe this is how the rich eat. Or maybe it’s the way they keep their money. Paige giggled at the thought. Matthew came back with another hot dog sans sauerkraut.

  “What happened to your topping?” she asked.

  “My limit for everything dogs is two.”

  “So a plain hot dog is sort of an intermezzo for you?”

  He laughed. “That’s a good one, Paige.”

  She sipped her Coke.

  “You don’t want to sample their papaya drink?”

  “At my age you do well to consider how things might sit on your stomach.”

  “At your age. You make it sound like you’re old.”

  “I’m no spring chicken, Matthew.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t be older than thirty-two.”

  If he’s fishing to get back into my pants, that was a good one. I have to give the teacher an A for effort. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m forty-two.”

  “That’s not old. You’re only nine years older than me.”

  “Only, he said. I’ll be forty-three this summer.”

  “Age is just a number.”

  “So they keep telling me,” Paige answered.

  “You should believe it.”

  He wiped his mouth. “You have children, right?”

  “I have one child. My son Max.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s seventeen. He turns eighteen this May.”

  “Wow. So you’re divorced?”

  “Yes. We split when Max was six years old.”

  “Divorce can be rough on kids.”

  “I know, but we lucked out with Max. He’s handled it fairly well.”

  “It sounds like you had an amicable divorce.”

  “That does sound like an oxymoron, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth.”

  “That’s good for your son.”

  “Your parents seem like lovebirds. How long have they been married?”

  “They’ve been married almost forty-one years. By the time my brother and I came along they’d given up on having children.”

  “So you two were happy little surprises.” Paige smiled as she sipped her soda.

  “Yeah, I guess we were. I have to say we’ve been lucky to have parents like them. A lot of the kids we went to prep school with were always amazed that Mom and Dad shared the same bedroom. Most of our friends’ parents had either gotten divorced or started living separate lives by the time we were teenagers.”

  “So your parents are an oddity?”

  “Less the big top and circus master.”

  Paige laughed.

  “So you’re single? As in not taken?” he asked.

  “Very.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Considering what transpired between us, I have to say I agree.” She paused, then said, “So let me turn this around on you a little. You live in Harlem?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “That’s about a million miles away from where you grew up. I know Harlem is experiencing another Renaissance but it’s just not the address I would have imagined for you.”

  “President Clinton has an office in Harlem.”

  “I know, but truthfully he’s more black than some black people I know.”

  He laughed. “I live in Harlem because I teach there.”

  “You’re a teacher?”

  “A high school history teacher.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “More impressed than if I ran a division of my family’s communications company?”

  “Sure. You deal with more than two teenagers a day. I give you credit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So tell me, how do your parents feel about you living in Harlem?” Paige said, leaning in.

  “Overall they’ve been pretty supportive of my decisions.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes, but they think things would be better if I settled down with a nice woman.”

  “That’s not a terrible thing. They want you to be happy.”

  “I know they do, but they’re thinking about a nice white woman and I don’t believe in limiting myself.”

  “By limiting yourself, you mean women of color?”

  “Absolutely,” he grinned.

  “Wouldn’t your parents have something to say about that?”

  “Maybe, but it’s my life.” He winked, then looked at his watch. “So are you ready for your surprise?”

  “I don’t know. Am I?”

  “I hope so. I’m taking you to Lincoln Center to see the Philharmonic.”

  “Wow. Are they having an open rehearsal?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you score those tickets?”

  “I didn’t score any tickets.”

  “Then how are we going to get in to see them?” She was perplexed.

  “Trust me.”

  “You want me to trust you?”

  “Can you do that?”

  She thought about it. “What the heck?”

  “Cool. Let’s go.”

  They headed to the station to catch the train to the Sixty-sixth Street station. Although the train wasn’t crowded, they quietly sat next to each other and watched the subway lights. Once they reached their stop, they practically ran up the street to get there in time.

  The Philharmonic was performing an open rehearsal of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. Paige expected to wait to get in but they breezed right by the ticket person, who seemed to know Matthew. Once they were in someone led them to their seats.

  Paige leaned over. “How did you do this?” she whispered.

  “It pays to have a family endowment.”

  She shook her head. No wonder he wasn’t worried about a couple of tickets. Who is this guy? He’s a blue blood who enjoys Tchaikovsky and Gray Papaya’s hotdogs, and he lives in Harlem. It’ll take more than a couple of afternoons to figure him out. Paige quieted her thoughts and let the music engulf her.

  Once it was over, they walked out together into the nippy air.

  “You can almost forget the weather while you’re in there.” Paige buttoned up again.

  “I know. Did you enjoy that?”

  “It’s certainly a whole new take on lunch.”

  “The dogs were good.”

  “The finest in the city. Really, Matthew, thank you for everything.”

  He smiled and flipped his hair back.

  “You got a haircut?”

  “You noticed? It was just a trim.”

  “It looks good. I just remembered how it got in your eyes before.”

  “I got it cut because it got in the way of seeing you that night.”

  Something stirred inside Paige. “I see.”

  Back down into the veins of the city, they waited for the subway. Although underground, it wasn’t immune to the cold. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm. Paige was a little disappointed when the train arrived within a few minutes.

  They got a couple of seats together. “You know, I wanted to tell you a little something about Jennifer and her mom.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I really think they are just feeling the pressure of trying to fit in with the society world.”

  Paige was stumped. “Why would they have to try to fit in? I’ve read about the Kleins in the society section as well as the business section.”

  “You have to know this whole society world isn’t exactly picture-perfect. Sure, everyone looks and sounds politically correct but there’s always a little undercurrent.”

  “What do you mean? The Kleins could buy and sell most of names on the social register several times over.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Everyone pretends it’s not about bloodlines, but in actuality that’s exactly what it’s about. I don’t think Hiram or Isabelle paid much attention to it before because people can’t afford to alienate them if they want contributions for charity even
ts and political causes. All that changed when Jennifer caught my brother’s eye.”

  “In other words, if she married another Jewish guy that was okay.”

  “It’s implied but never said. The Kleins support a lot of the same charities as my family and that’s how Jennifer and Michael met and started spending time together.”

  “Then it was meant to be. Still, something tells me that isn’t how people looked at it.”

  “It didn’t sit well with a lot of people. Many a society matron and dowager had Michael on their most wanted husband list for their daughters and granddaughters.”

  “What did your parents have to say about it?”

  “My parents were happy. All that matters to them is Michael’s happiness. We Smythes are bleeding-heart liberals. Unfortunately, they are in the minority. All they know is Michael loves Jennifer and that’s enough for them.”

  “He’s lucky.”

  “I know.” He reflected for a minute. “You know that night we met at the Marriott?”

  “How could I forget?”

  Her answer pleased him so much he nearly forgot his thought. “That was the night of their engagement party. My mother and father had to browbeat some people to get them to come. People they’ve known for years suddenly had something else to do.”

  “Oh, that’s awful. Did the Kleins know about this?”

  “I think so, but they won’t admit it.”

  “So on top of being a normal mother and daughter they’ve had to deal with this backbiting, and the only way they can express their frustration is by picking at one another.”

  “Right. Isabelle can’t challenge Fay Harrington to a duel, so the feelings have nowhere to go.”

  “So instead she has to plan the biggest wedding event of the season to show up these people.”

  “That’s it in a nutshell, Paige. This society stuff is a lot more brutal then people think.”

  “Why didn’t any of these WASP goddesses go after you?” She was puzzled.

  “I’m the black sheep of the family. Michael is a vice president of a major communications company. I’m a history teacher in Harlem. See the difference?”

  “Not really. I’d say you’re a stellar addition to the family pedigree.”

  Before she could say another word Matthew kissed her.

  He pulled away and softy touched her face. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

  Paige blushed.

  The train arrived in Penn Station and Matthew and Paige went upstairs to the LIRR waiting room. Paige looked up at the train schedule. “It looks like my train is boarding. I’d better get going if I don’t want to stand all the way back to town.”

  “I’ll walk with you.” Matthew took her hand in his as they walked to Gate 16. Paige finally saw a seat in one of the smaller cars. “That looks good.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll see you again for dinner. Maybe tomorrow night?”

  “That sounds good. I’m working a wedding Saturday night.”

  “I see. So, you’re a hands-on boss.”

  “Guilty. Okay. I’d better go.” She stopped and handed him a card. “Here’s my phone number. Call me about Friday.”

  “You can bet on it.” He kissed her again. Then she got on the train.

  They watched each other as the train left. Once he was out of sight a lighthearted Paige settled in for the ride home.

  CHAPTER 9

  By the time Paige got back to the office it looked like everyone had gone home for the day. She went in the back and checked the wedding bulletin board to see how many events Bliss had booked for the weekend.

  “We have four weddings this weekend.”

  Paige jumped. “Good grief, Adriana, you startled me. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

  “I decided to finish up some paperwork.”

  Paige checked her watch. “Isn’t it a little late for you?”

  “Joseph has the kids covered this evening.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  Adriana nudged Paige in the ribs. “You little sneak, were you ever going to tell me about the other night with Matthew Smythe?”

  Paige sighed deeply. “Remind me to tape my sister’s mouth shut.”

  “Oh, no, don’t you try to wiggle out of this.”

  “I’m not doing any such thing.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. So spill it already.”

  “What else do you need to know? Siobhan gave you the scoop.”

  “Maybe so, but I want to hear it from you.”

  Paige looked at the clock. “Are you sure you Joe isn’t expecting you?”

  “Hubby has the kids for the night, which means I am good to go.”

  “Fine, I’ll put on a pot of decaf.”

  Paige filled Adriana in on all the details over coffee.

  “Wow, Paige, that’s wild but it’s romantic.”

  “I guess,” she admitted weakly.

  “Come on, Paige, what are the chances? You meet a man, spend a passionate night together and then you find out you’re planning his brother’s wedding. Frankly, I think you should play the dates for the lottery.”

  “That’s a thought.”

  “So he took you to lunch today.”

  “Yes, I was treated to a Gray’s Papaya hot dog with a Coke.”

  “Considering how late you got in, that was some lunch.”

  “If you must know, he took me to Lincoln Center for a little musical interlude.”

  “Now that sounds romantic.”

  “It was.” Paige had a sparkle in her eyes.

  “So when is the official date?” Adriana grinned.

  “Tomorrow night.” She sighed. “Still, there is this one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I’m nearly a decade older than him. Isn’t that robbing the cradle?”

  “That’s nonsense. You are only forty-two. What’s the big deal?”

  “You don’t think I’m a cradle robber?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “I just don’t want this to interfere with work. I am planning his brother’s wedding.”

  “Yes, you are planning his brother’s wedding. You’re not planning his wedding. That’s a big difference.”

  “True. But there is another difference. He’s white.”

  “So?”

  “That’s easy for you to say, you’re a Latina.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Adriana asked with her hand on her hip.

  “Latinas are a little more acceptable because you seem white.”

  Adriana looked in the mirror. “Where do you see white?”

  “Your hair, for one thing.”

  “Don’t even try it, Paige. Even without a relaxer I seem to recall someone with straight hair. Not to mention race has never been an issue with you.”

  “All right, you got me there,” she conceded.

  “So why worry about him being white? Besides, how could you turn down the chance to date someone who doesn’t talk about his last prostate exam?” she laughed.

  “That is a big plus.”

  Adriana jumped up. “I knew there was something I was forgetting.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Adriana ran down the hall and was back in two seconds. “Guess what came in today?” She waved an envelope in front of Paige.

  “I’ll bite. What came in?”

  “The photos from Petra’s wedding arrived this afternoon.”

  Bliss inherited Petra and Ferdinand when another planner dropped out a month before the wedding. They had money and spent it with abandon. Petra ran the three gowns she’d purchased by Paige. All three had different levels of décolletage: J-Lo, streetwalker, and “someone call her gynecologist.” Naturally she went with the gynecologist gown. Paige washed her hands of the whole dress thing.

  “Oh, dear. Have you looked at them yet?”

  “Believe me, all of us looked at them.” She handed Paige the envelope.

  “Should there be a drumro
ll or something?”

  “Or something is more like it.”

  Paige took the photos out and laughed. “Oh, my God!”

  “I told you.”

  “I went on record against this dress, but she insisted.”

  “I know. She wanted to be the belle of the ball.” Adriana sighed.

  “Instead she’s the Queen of Quadra-Tit. I told her that neckline would be a disaster.” Paige examined a few more photos. “If she could have added maybe ten or twenty more breasts she could have looked like the Artemis Ephesia statue. You know, the one with all the breasts for the goddess of fertility.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Adriana laughed. “What can you say about it? Those things still had the price tags on them and she wanted to show them off.”

  “It’s obvious she’s a newbie booby chick. Experienced chicks with boobs know how to handle this awesome responsibility.” Paige put the pictures down and pointed to her chest.

  Adriana could barely speak she was laughing so hard.

  “You see, our girls know we’ll do them right. Not too covered up but not exposed either. Unless, of course, the situation calls for exposure. We do have children.”

  “What was it Max used to say?”

  “Tits on parade.” Paige glanced at the photos again and shook her head. “I guess double bubble isn’t just a chewing gum.”

  Adriana fell out laughing. “Paige, you have to stop or I’m going to need Poise pads.”

  “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” She put the photos back in the envelope. “So did you call her to get the proofs?”

  “I did. She came in earlier.”

  “Did Edwin send over two envelopes with proofs?”

  “No. She and Ferdinand came in today. Turns out they loved the pictures so much they had them duplicated and they brought these shots back for us. I guess we have to start a Pamela Anderson or Playboy portfolio.”

  “Bite your tongue! File it away somewhere. Get some black tape and it will be our very own ‘don’t’ file.”

  * * *

  Coffee mug in hand, Paige stopped to enjoy the quiet of the morning. She looked outside her window and waved to Bill Sheraton, who was on his way to work. She could hear her not-so-little boy as he rummaged through his closet for sneakers. Paige laughed to herself. Max wore size 17 sneakers. How he managed to lose anything that big in his closet was beyond her She sipped her coffee. Four, three, two, one.

  “Mom!”

  Right on cue. “Yes. Max?” she called.