Tony grins.
“Once you’ve had the best . . .”
“Oh my God, you are still such a narcissist,” I say. “No wonder your wife and kid left you.”
“That’s not nice,” he says, pretending to be hurt. “And by the way, while we’re on the subject of rejection . . . thanks for all those form rejections throughout the years.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Had to bring it up, didn’t ya?”
He drinks more coffee, then sits back in his chair, crosses his arms over his chest.
“Bet you didn’t even read the manuscripts,” he says. “Maybe you thought you might show up in one or two of them.”
“Crossed my mind, I must admit,” I say. “But full disclosure, ex-lover and bestseller, did you really expect me to take on one of your books when my heart was still broken in all the wrong places?”
Nodding slowly.
“I get it,” he says. “But I think deep down, I’d always hoped we could at least work together.”
I drink more coffee, set the cup back down.
“Well, now it doesn’t matter anymore,” I say. “The days of big publishing are caput.”
“And here we sit, Tanya,” he says.
Reaching out over the table, he takes hold of my hand, squeezes it.
“I’ve really missed you,” he says, his eyes gazing intently into my eyes. “I mean that with all my heart.”
Talk about getting hit with a bombshell. I feel my hand in his, and the last thing I want to do is remove it. If it were to remain glued to his hand forever, that would be fine by me. But what am I supposed to do? Just melt back into him like twenty some odd years haven’t gone by? My eyes fill up. Damn, if I’m not already embarrassed, now I’m really feeling mortified. Making matters worse, the hand he’s holding is shaking. Now’s the time to take the hand back, which I do.
“Sorry, Tanya,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Wiping both eyes with the back of my hand.
“I really wanted to make it look like I no longer cared, Tony,” I say, after a beat. “Like twenty years has enabled me to build a solid concrete wall between us. But for some reason, I think all twenty-plus years has managed to do is make me miss you all the more.”
He exhales. “Would it help if I said the same thing, Tan? That I’ve spent a lot of that time missing you, too?”
“You got married for God’s sakes.”
“I got married. I thought I could move on. Turns out, I couldn’t.”
We just sit there, staring not at one another’s faces, but into each other.
“So, what now?” I ask. “We just pick up where we left off as kids?”
He runs his hand over his short hair, like it somehow helps him come up with the perfect response.
“That’s not quite realistic, I guess,” he says. “People change and we really don’t know one another anymore.”
“Yeah,” I say, “for all you know, I’ve had a sex change. That would be a surprise, now wouldn’t it?”
“Tanya with a big Johnson,” he says. “Now, there’s some instant shrinkage for you.”
We both laugh out loud, and it helps to relieve the tension. I drink some more coffee. It’s getting cold now. I see him then, out of the corner of my eye. A tall, solid man dressed in black pants and a black t-shirt. He’s got dark aviator sunglasses masking his eyes. I’m pretty sure he’s the same man who caught up with me while I was jogging in the State campus. My stomach tightens and my pulse noticeably picks up.
“Earth to Tanya,” Tony says. “You look like you just saw your own ghost.”
The man in black is standing in the lot, his gaze locked on me. It’s giving me a real case of the chills. What’s his name again? Matt with two Ts?
“Don’t look now, Tony,” I say, “but there’s a man staring at me.”
“Can’t say I blame him. You’re looking mighty hot these days, Tan.”
Shaking my head. “No, I don’t mean he’s staring at me like that. He’s someone I’ve met already.”
“How?”
“I met him when I was jogging this morning. He seemed to be waiting for me. He started asking me all sorts of questions. If I jogged the same route every day, stuff like that.”
“Ok, you’re creeping me out. You want I should have a little talk with him?” He starts getting up and out of his chair.
“No, no,” I say. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Tony. He works for the Everest Corp.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“But I get the feeling he’s like a corporate guy, like your ex’s new husband. He works in the New York State Everest Corp. headquarters.”
As I say this, the man in black starts across the road toward the coffee shop.
“His name is Matt, with two Ts,” I say, “and here he fucking comes now.”
He stands against the decorative metal fencing that separates the exterior terrace with the road and the parking lot beyond it. Removing his sunglasses, he smiles, but it’s not like a real smile. How, as a writer, should I describe it? More like the kind of smile a fake Chuckie ventriloquist’s doll might make. It’s an evil smile. Or perhaps that’s just the defensive me being on guard.
“So, what are the chances of my running into you twice on the same Sunday?” he says. Then, gazing at Tony. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, buddy.”
I make a point of not saying hello to him. Instead, I politely offer, “Tony this is Matt. Matt meet Tony Smart.”
Matt holds his hand out like, Put ‘er there.
“Pleased to meet you, Tony Smart,” he says. “You look somewhat familiar to me.”
“Tony is a number one, bestselling Cradle author,” I point out. “Before that, he was a New York Times and a USA Today bestseller. Before Everest procured the papers.”
Matt pretends to be impressed.
“I’m never short of amazed at the success, freedom, and control our authors have enjoyed in the CDP program,” he says. “So, that must be where I know you from.”
“Matt is an Everest executive,” I explain to Tony, even though I’ve already volunteered this information in private.
“Guess that makes you my boss, sort of,” Tony says.
Matt issues a fake laugh to go with the fake smile.
“Not at all, friend,” he says. “The point is that you are your own boss, Tony. We’re just here to help you succeed at creating a passive income empire while offering a more than satisfactory, worry-free, consumer-centric online shopping experience for our customers. And if you, like Tanya here, has joined the Everest Primary Program, then your Everest credit income potential can know no bounds. Just make sure to shop for goods and services only with Everest and you can enjoy a carefree lifestyle humankind has never before experienced. Consider it nirvana on earth.”
Is this guy for real? I stare into his beady gray eyes, his black stubble-covered long face, his receding closely cropped hair, and I want to punch his lights out. It’s not that there’s something about him I just don’t like. It’s more like I just don’t trust him. He’s like a man who will be nice to you one minute, then wait in the shadows for you the next and physically go berserk on you when you least expect it. A real pathological case. Of course, I could be wrong. But Albany isn’t all that small, so why does he give me the feeling he’s following me?
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Tanya,” he says. “Maybe I’ll see you hitting the bricks tomorrow. I’m gonna head over to the bookstore and see if I can’t find a couple of your books, Tony Smart.”
“Gee, thanks,” Tony says.
“Don’t mention it,” he says.
Turning, he gives me another quick look over his shoulder that makes my stomach queasy. It’s a look that says, I’m watching you.
“Jesus,” Tony says. “What the hell was that all about?”
“You mind if we get out of here?” I say.
“Not at all,” he says. “Why don’t we head to my apartment
? I can fix us some lunch and we can talk more there.”
For long beat, we stare into one another’s eyes. The two of us alone in his apartment. Now, that can’t lead anywhere, can it?
I clear the major frog from my throat.
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” I say.
Following Tony out to the parking lot, I suddenly realize I might need Mom’s car all day and all night after all.
I follow Tony out of the Pine Hills district all the way to North Albany to an old brick apartment complex that looks more like the dorms at Harvard or Brown University. My grandmother kept a semi-studio apartment here before she died. By semi-studio, I mean, she had a bedroom, a living room, and a small galley kitchen. The old brick buildings surround a large quad with an immaculate lawn, or green, accented with old oak trees. My mother used to drop me off here for the day, and I’d play on the lawn while Gram would make us a picnic lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches which we munched on while sitting on an old cotton blanket. Simple times, long before Everest took everything over.
Tony parks in the small lot in front of building number eight. I pull up beside him in an empty space. We both get out.
“I haven’t been here in years,” I say, gazing upon the four-story old brick structure, some of which is covered in ivy.
“Remember when your grandmother lived here in building one?” he asks. “She was a hoot.”
Back in the day, Tony and I loved to visit gram when we were dating. She loved beer, and she would allow us to have a couple during our visit. If only my parents knew.
“Brings back a lot of memories, Tony,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says, while grabbing his laptop shoulder bag. “It’s memory lane day.”
He heads for the door on the left, and I follow with my own leather bag clung over my shoulder. He uses his key to let us in, and he heads down one flight of stairs to a terrace level apartment. Opening the door, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that it’s the exact layout of Gram’s. Makes me feel at home and at peace.
“Just like your old Gram’s place, right?” Tony says. “Mi casa, su casa.”
He heads into his bedroom where he’s no doubt depositing his laptop. I head into the living room and laugh out loud at the set up. Typical Tony Smart. Sure, there’s a couch and TV mounted to the opposite wall, but the rest of the space is filled with gym equipment. A weight bench takes up the majority of the space. It’s set on top of rubber mat flooring. A rack of free weights has been placed under the TV, and another tree of iron plates is positioned opposite the weight bench. A chin-up bar has been installed in the opening between the living room and the galley kitchen, and the couch, instead of being a place to sit and relax, has become a storage space for all varieties of chains, leather belts, rubber resistance bands, wrist and knee wraps, and other torture devices.
“Tony,” I say, as he comes back in, “are you sure you’re not hosting BDSM parties in this apartment?”
“BDSM is so twenty-teens, Tan,” he says. “Get with the program. This is the late twenties. I can date a robot that’s hotter than you if I want. She also cleans the place, doesn’t drink my beer, and never a complaint about my sexual performance.”
“Oh my God,” I say, “you’ve got one in the closet, don’t you?”
“You never know,” he says with a grin and a wink.
He takes my hand for the second time, and for the second time, I feel dizzy.
“You wanna meet her?” he says with a wink. “Her name is Rosie.”
“Ha, Rosie the robot maid from the Jetsons. Perfect.”
He holds up his right hand.
“I was talking about Rosie Palm,” he says.
We enjoy a good laugh together, until the laughter suddenly subsides, and we once more find our eyes locked together. He slowly gravitates toward me and me to him. Our lips embrace. For the first time in decades, I find myself passionately kissing the one man I have ever truly loved with all my heart. The one man I will love forever. His lips feel soft, and our tongues play. If only I could somehow physically get inside Tony and curl up beside his heart, then everything would be perfect with the world.
When we come up for air, he holds me close with a tight hug that makes me feel entirely secure . . . entirely wanted and loved. I am doing the same to him, but just feeling his still solid muscles wrapped around me gives me the sensation that this very moment in time is what I have been waiting for all my adult life.
“I still love you, Tanya,” he whispers into my ear.
It is a statement that is neither forced nor faked. I know it to be true. Not because I can hear it, but because I can feel it. God, how I’ve been longing for this day for a very long time, whether I’ve been conscious of it or not. We release our hold on one another, but somehow, we’re still holding on. Or perhaps that’s just what I want to believe.
Silence surrounds us. But it’s not really silence. It’s the birds chirping outside the open windows and the cicadas humming. It’s an industrial sized pilotless lawnmower cutting the grass and two squirrels racing up one of the big oaks just outside the apartment. It’s the beating of our hearts and the breathing of our lungs and the blood racing through our veins.
Do I risk being shattered again if I tell him I love him in return?
You know the answer to that one, Tanya . . .
I do my best to work up a smile and get my head in gear.
“So what’s for lunch, Chef Boyardee?” I ask to change the subject.
His brown eyes say he wants me to say I love him in return, but they also tell me he knows he’s not going to get it right now. Maybe not for a while.
“Let me see what I can rustle up, Maw,” he says in his faux Texas Ranger drawl.
He heads into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator. I stand in the opening between the living room and the galley kitchen, both my hands now grasping the pull-up bar. My eyes gravitate to a public school-produced photo of a pre-teen girl mounted to the side of the fridge with a magnet. She’s got Tony’s eyes, his pronounced cheek bones, the same thick dark hair he had as a teenager, and of course, his sweet smile.
“That Claudia?” I say, already knowing the answer.
“My pride and joy,” he says. “Wish she was happier with me.” He says it with genuine sadness.
“A child that adorable can’t hold out for long,” I say. “She’s a pre-teen. She’s going through some weird emotions right now. Her body is changing physically. Give her time, Tony. Don’t pressure her.”
He nods, bites down on his lip.
“That’s exactly what her mom says.”
For a time, everything goes still and heavy, until he resumes his search inside the refrigerator.
“Pickings are slim, Tan,” he says. “That’s the problem when you live the bachelor lifestyle.”
About-facing, he opens up the cabinets above the sink.
“Hmmm,” he says. “Looks like I gotta place an Everest Garden-Fresh Market order for some foodstuffs. In the meantime, we’ve got two choices. Tuna sandwiches or bacon, eggs, and toast.”
“How about Gus’s Hotdogs,” I say, enthusiastically.
His eyes light up.
“Oh my God,” he says. “They were our absolute favorites, Tan.”
“The place is still there, Tone?”
“Far as I know,” he says. “I know they are about to close now that everyone is becoming a Primary Member.”
“It’s illegal for us to go there, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Tanya,” comes a voice from out of the blue. A voice I recognize as much as my own mother’s voice. Jacquie. “It is indeed illegal for an Everest Primary Member to visit Gus’s Hotdog Stand, or any other private business, service, and/or enterprise not currently associated with Everest dot com either as a direct seller, vender, fulfillment associate, or affiliate associate. I hope this satisfactorily answers your question.”
Tony gives me a look.
“Well then,” he says, his eyes wide. �
��Bacon and egg sandwiches it is.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting outside on the lawn in the bright light of the mid-day, eating breakfast for lunch and washing it down with a bottle of red wine. Pinot Noir to be exact. A very good pinot I must say, from the same vineyard that Mom’s wine came from the night before. The bacon and egg sandwiches taste delicious, and the wine is giving me a nice, happy buzz. It’s the perfect way to spend a late summer Sunday afternoon.
“Do you worry about Everest sometimes, Tony?” I ask after a while.
“Whaddaya mean worry, Tan?” he asks. Like the Tony I knew from the past who could eat an entire double cheeseburger in about three bites, his egg sandwich is now history.
“Rumors, I guess,” I say, still nibbling on the corner of my sandwich half.
“Such as?”
I find myself gazing over both shoulders, as if Jacquie were standing on the lawn in range of our voices.
“That anyone who goes against the Primary membership pays dearly,” I say, my voice hardly more than a whisper.
He also looks one way, then the other.
“Listen, Tan,” he says, his voice also low. “There’s better things to talk about.” He looks up at the sun while squinting his eyes. “I’d rather talk about us than discuss silly rumors.”
Why do I get the feeling he’s not only trying to change the subject, he’s trying to shut me up about it? He takes hold of my hand again, squeezes. I drink some wine and so does he. He then leans in for another kiss, and I swear my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest.
“Eat faster,” he says not without a laugh.
That’s it then . . . You know what he wants, Tanya. So how are you going to play this one?
“Maybe I’m just nervous about the whole thing, Tony,” I say. “Being dependent on Everest for my life. I guess I’m not feeling the whole stress-free nirvana thing yet. They’re literally taking over the world, every aspect of our lives. It’s a bit unnerving.”
I finish one half of my sandwich. It’s about all I can stomach right now while Tony starts running his finger up my bare leg. Not that I’m trying to stop him. I drink more wine and feel my insides convulse. I also feel something else responding. It’s between my legs, and it’s been a while since it’s awakened like this. That enough of a hint for you?
Primary Termination Page 8
