Kat Fight

by Dina Silver

  I tug on my napkin. “I just wasn’t expecting him to be here that’s all.”

  “Well he is, and it’s no big thing, just try and be chill,” she reassures me. “This is a small city, and you’re bound to run in to him from time to time.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. Marc looks great, and warm, and comfortable, and it’s killing me. He’s leaning against a bar table with one hand in his pocket, wearing dark pants and a striped dress shirt, no tie. All eyes in the group are on him, and he’s clearly leading the conversation as usual.

  Brooke and Megan gather their purses while I gather my strength, and the three of us head over to where he’s standing. As soon as we’re about ten feet away, he spots me. I see him lift a finger to his group and excuse himself before walking towards us.

  “Hey there, Meg, long time,” he greets her first with a strong embrace.

  She pulls back with her hands still on his shoulders. “Nice to see you Marc,” she says. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been good, thanks. Hi, Brooke, how’s it going?” they shake hands.

  “Just fine.” She smiles at him, and then at me.

  “Hey, you,” he gives me a hug similar to the one he just gave Megan. And as expected, he smells delicious. Freshly showered and gelled.

  “Hi, Marc,” I say.

  “Looks like girl’s night out.”

  “It was, until these two began yawn-a-palooza about ten minutes ago,” I tell him.

  “Bummer, you all heading home already?” he asks.

  “I’m afraid so,” Megan says.

  “Well, why don’t you stay and hang out for a little while?” Marc turns to me and offers. “I’m here with some guys from work, and I’m sure these two big girls can find their way home.” He looks to them for support.

  Megan answers before I have a chance to respond. “Yes, of course we can, that’s totally fine, Brooke and I can jump in a cab.”

  Brooke nods.

  I interject. “Oh, no, I don’t want you two to have to do that.”

  Megan brushes me off with a wave of her hand. “It’s no big thing, we were feeling terrible about ending your night early, so why don’t you stay with Marc and have fun,” Megan says and grabs Brooke’s purse strap.

  They walk away leaving Marc and me standing there.

  He gently touches my elbow. “Will you come join us for a drink?”

  Despite my mess of nerves, being close to him still brings me a sense of contentment.

  “I probably shouldn’t,” I say. My feet feel like I’m wearing cement boots. I want to take a step, in either direction quite frankly, but my stance is frozen with uncertainty. Marc and I aren’t casual friends, we never have been, and it would be ridiculous to pretend otherwise. In fact, I can’t think of one instance where the two of us have spent time together in a bar that wasn’t immediately followed by a sleepover.

  He senses my hesitation. “Have one drink with me. I promise to behave,” he smiles.

  I follow him over to where his friends are standing and he does a round of introductions. He orders me a glass of wine, and I position myself next to him as I’ve done so many times before and listen to him engage everyone in story after story. Marc has a knack for conversation and does an exceptional job of making any topic sound interesting. I can’t help but marvel at him completely at ease in his element. Periodically he makes eye contact with me when someone else is doing the talking.

  After about an hour, it’s time for me to leave. I’ve now had two more glasses of wine since finishing dinner, and Marc is looking more and more attractive with every one of them.

  I place my glass on the highboy table in front of us. “Thanks for the wine, Marc.”

  “You heading out?” He looks surprised.

  “Yeah, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

  “Well, thanks for staying and hanging out with me.”

  “Sure, it was really nice,” I say.

  Marc leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek close enough to my lips that the corners of our mouths gently graze each other. “See you around,” he says, and then turns back to his friends, leaving me to walk away from him this time.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  So Good You Can Taste It

  Ryan has suggested we try an Italian restaurant in Lincoln Park called Rose Angelis. And after a week filled with confronting Julie, consoling Brooke, and bumping into Marc - I’m eager to be alone with Ryan again. Rose Angelis is a tiny little hole in the wall that has built a reputation for great food and large portions. We walk in and get a table near the front window. Once we’re seated I have a better opportunity to admire his face. It’s then that I notice he’s clean-shaven and looks about five years younger than he does when he sports his usual stubble. I had inhaled his cologne when I got into the cab earlier, and even now with all the garlic and olive oil in the air, I can still taste his scent in my throat.

  He’s staring back at me. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, so do you,” I say.

  “I mean it Kat, you look really beautiful tonight.”

  “Thanks,” I blush. “Candlelight is my best accessory.”

  He cocks his head and looks puzzled. “Why can’t you take the compliment?”

  “What do you mean? I said thank you.”

  “But you made a joke. You’re uncomfortable with me telling you how beautiful you are?”

  I twist the ends of my hair. “No, it’s just, I don’t know how to answer.”

  “It’s not a question,” he says and lowers his chin.

  “I guess I’m uncomfortable with hearing it from someone like you.”

  He furrows his brow. “What on earth does that mean?”

  “It’s just that you personify the word with little or no effort on a daily basis. I see you walk in a room and heads turn. Everything about you is beautiful. Your face, your shoulders, the back of your hands,” I pause. “And so much effort goes into me looking the way I do right now, you have no idea.”

  “Okay, okay.” He throws his hands up. “I should’ve known you’d turn it around somehow.”

  He seems content to change the subject and move on. Obviously I’m elated that he feels that way about me. The mere fact that he’s sitting across from me, focusing on my face alone is enough of a treat.

  “Shall we get some wine?” he asks.

  “I’d love some.”

  He waves our waitress over and orders a bottle of Chianti from the wine list. My neck relaxes, my shoulders loosen and I’d be perfectly happy sitting here drinking wine and cologne for the next four hours.

  He glances down at his menu for the first time. “So what do you feel like eating?”

  “I feel like pasta,” I say.

  “Sounds good. Dave told me the veal is fantastic, though, so I may have to go with that.”

  “Dave is typically right about everything, so that sounds like a smart call,” I note.

  “How is Brooke doing?” he asks and places his menu down on the table.

  I had confided in him about what had transpired on Monday after my little meeting in Brooke’s office. I trust Ryan to keep her secret, and I’m glad to see him so concerned for her.

  “She hasn’t mentioned much in the past few days, and I’m afraid to ask. I’m guessing things aren’t good. I know she asked him to leave, but he refused.”

  Ryan shakes his head. “That’s a real shame. I don’t know her that well, but I’m sure she deserves better.”

  “That’s what I’m always telling her,” I say. “Do you think Dave knows what’s going on?” I wonder.

  “Not unless you’ve told Adam.”

  I snicker. “I haven’t,” I say proudly. “I have some sense of decorum.”

  We order our food and settle into our bottle of wine. He’s leaning all the way back into his chair with his mile-long legs stretched out, and even in this position he easily reaches for my hand across the table. I take a slow sip of wine and then tell him
about my email to Julie.

  “I wanted to let you know that I reached out to Julie again.”

  “Oh?”

  “I sent her an email the other day, but haven’t heard back from her.”

  “She’ll come around,” he says with certainty.

  “I hope so.”

  I purposely neglect to tell him about Marc’s email, however. I can’t think of any reason he’d be eager to learn about that subject. And despite this wonderful dinner at Rose Angelis with an unbelievable man who has just said I’m beautiful, Marc is still weighing heavily on my mind.

  We finish our dinner and take a cab back to Ryan’s place. He stops me in the poorly lit foyer and gives me a garlic-infused kiss outside the elevators. My eyelids are heavy from the wine, so I lie down on his couch as soon as we enter his apartment. Ryan parks himself next to me and lifts my feet so that he can sit down under my legs before grabbing the remote. I curl up slightly and close my eyes for a minute.

  “Good night, beautiful,” is the last thing I remember hearing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY:

  The Mother Load

  I know I drank my fair share of two bottles of wine last night, but I’m still surprised by the horrible ringing that’s going on in my head. It takes me a second to realize that it’s Ryan’s phone and not my hangover that’s jarring me awake this morning. He becomes equally startled as I yank the covers over my face, and makes his best effort to answer it quickly without disturbing me.

  “Hello,” he whispers. “Hi…no…because I can’t…no. Some other time,” he sighs then rubs his eyes. “Because I said so…yes… yes…no. Fine, what time? Goodbye.”

  As a result of only hearing his side of the conversation, I’m now wide-awake and extremely curious, so I roll over and give him an inquisitive look.

  A silly grin forms beneath his tired eyes. “My mom wants us to meet her for breakfast.”

  My body jolts into an upright position. “Shut up!”

  “She doesn’t like to take no for an answer, as I’m sure you just heard.”

  “Did you tell her I was here?” I ask in horror.

  “She sort of figured it out. She doesn’t care, she wants to meet you,” he says, and then releases a huge yawn.

  “I cannot meet your mother this way! First of all, I only have last night’s outfit with me,” I say and point to the back of his desk chair. “Not to mention last night’s make-up, hair, and breath - and now she thinks I’m Raggedy Tramp.”

  He stretches and laughs simultaneously. “You look perfect and she doesn’t care. And more importantly neither do I,” he says as he leans over and kisses me. “I’ll call her back and say no then.” He reaches for the phone. “It makes no difference to me.”

  “No!” I swat his arm. “Then she’ll think I’m the horrible woman she imagined when you were six years old. The unappreciative floozy who stole your heart and won’t let you visit your mother,” I yell in a panic.

  Ryan remains perfectly content through all my ranting and even attempts to close his eyes again while trying to repress his amusement. “Kat, we can do whatever you want. I really don’t care. Just don’t worry about any of it, okay?”

  I scrape the sleep sand out of my eyes. “We should go,” I say, focusing.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” I tell him and jump out of bed. I grab my clothes off his chair, scoop my purse up under my arm and head for the bathroom. “You don’t have any concealer do you?”

  We both get ready and I beg Ryan to wear something a little dressier than usual to offset my eveningwear. His parents live five blocks from his apartment in a gorgeous high-rise overlooking Navy Pier. When we reach the thirty-second floor, his mother immediately bursts through their front door and greets us at the elevator.

  “Good morning!” she says and gives both Ryan and me a hug.

  “Mom, this is Kat,” Ryan says.

  “Hi, Mrs. Sullivan.”

  She wags her hands at me. “Please call me Judy. Come in, come in.”

  We follow her into the condo and take a seat on her white leather couch. In front of us, on the white marble coffee table, is a white laminate tray filled with bagels and cream cheese. Next to the tray, is a white ceramic plate with lox, cucumber slices, red onion and chives.

  “What can I get you to drink, Kat?” Judy asks me.

  “Coffee would be great.”

  “Me too, mom,” Ryan adds.

  “Sorry to force this delicious breakfast on you both this morning,” she says. “But you see, Kat, my son has not called me in over a week and I’ve just about had it with hearing how busy he is at work.”

  Ryan looks at me.

  “Don’t be silly, thank you for having me. It’s not often I get to enjoy a bagel that doesn’t require defrosting first,” I tell her.

  “Well, then it’s a treat for all of us…HARVEY!” she yells over her shoulder. “THE KIDS ARE HERE!” She turns back to face us. “He’ll be out in a second. So Kat, what do you do?”

  I squirm as she begins her interrogation. “I work at Lambert & Miller, with Ryan.”

  “Really? Well isn’t that lovely. I apologize, had Ryan called me recently I might have known that already,” she smiles at him. “And how are you, my darling boy?”

  “Good, mom.” His smile is forced, yet endearing.

  “Good, good, I bought the salmon spread you like. You’ll take it home with you,” she says to Ryan. “HARVEY!”

  Ryan’s father finally emerges from the bedroom buttoning the sleeves on his dress shirt. “For Pete’s sake, Judy, the fire escape is in the hall so you know I couldn’t have gone anywhere without you noticing. Hi, kids.”

  I stand to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Kat.”

  “Nice to meet you Kat.”

  “So, honey,” Judy addresses Ryan, “your grandmother and I are going to be in Las Vegas next week when you’re there. Can we all meet up for dinner one night?”

  “I don’t meet you out for dinner here in Chicago, Mom, why would I meet you for dinner in Las Vegas?” he taunts her.

  “You’re a little shit. You’ll meet us for dinner when we’re all there,” she says, attempting to seal the deal with her tone.

  “Mom, it’s a work trip, have your own dinner please.”

  “How about breakfast one morning then?” she asks.

  Ryan acts as though he’s considering it. “It would be interesting to see you order pancakes and then send them back. I’ll think about it.”

  Judy shoots him a dirty look, and Harvey cracks up.

  I turn to Ryan. “I didn’t know you had to go back to Vegas.”

  “Yeah, next week for Bellagio again.”

  I take the bagel that Judy is waving in front of me and place it on my plate. “You creatives get to have all the fun,” I say.

  “Try the cream cheese, dear, it’s from Kaufman’s,” she says, assuming I should know that makes it better than regular cream cheese. “Do you get to travel much, Kat?” Judy asks me. “Do your parents live around here?”

  “My parents are divorced,” I alert the media. “My mom lives in Gurnee, and my dad moved to Grand Rapids about ten years ago.”

  “I see,” Judy says. “How about for vacations? Where do you like to go?” she asks, thankfully glossing over my family drama.

  “I have a cousin who lives in Miami and I’ve gone there a couple times to stay with her. Although it’s been a while.”

  “Oh, we love Florida! My mother has a condo in Aventura, and Ryan spent most of his school breaks down there. We also love to visit the Bahamas. Have you been to the Bahamas, Kat?”

  Ryan quickly changes the subject before I can respond and maybe before his mom can invite me to the Bahamas for the holidays or something. “What’s new with you, Mom?” he asks.

  “Nothing much. Your father and I are taking Grandma to Vegas like I said, and then we’re going to California to visit his cousin Margaret in Palm Desert. You remember daddy’s cousin Margaret, right? He
r son Michael is your age and you used to go fishing together when we’d visit there.”

  Ryan nods. Judy then proceeds to tell me story after story about old family vacations and various places she used to take Ryan when he was younger. Most of them seem to involve some sort of gambling, everything from casinos to Jai Lai to horses. I like her more and more with every tale.

  After an hour and a half of reminiscing, Ryan gets to his feet and announces our departure. I can sense he has a great deal of love and respect for his parents, but that he can only take them in small doses.

  Judy gives me a big hug as we head out the door and I tell her how much I enjoyed the breakfast.

  “It’s been wonderful to meet you Kat; come by anytime and I’ll feed you whatever you like, with or without this one,” she adds, poking Ryan in the ribs.

  “Thank you so much, it really was a treat and your home is beautiful,” I say.

  “Thank you darling.”

  “Bye, Mom,” Ryan kisses her on the cheek.

  “Goodbye, my angel,” she says with a wave of her hand.

  As we get in the elevator, Ryan apologizes for the unannounced change in plans this morning. “Thanks for being a good sport, I know she enjoyed meeting you.”

  “She’s terrific and you guys have a great relationship. Have you ever cooked for her?” I ask.

  “No,” he says.

  “Why not?”

  “I could never cook for her,” he chuckles. “It’s always too much oil, something on the side, too salty, undercooked…you get the idea.”

  I smile at him and he grabs my hand as we exit the building.

  Ryan walks me back to my car around one o’clock, and I have a moment of weakness. “Would I be entirely pathetic if I ask what you’re doing later?”

  He takes a step closer to me and puts both hands around my waist. “I would love to see you later,” he says. “But I need to get a couple things done first. How about I come by around six o’clock and we can order dinner?”

  “I would love that,” I say and elevate my body onto my tiptoes.

  “Okay, see ya later.” He bends to give me a kiss and heads home.