Jessica was amazed at Cat's endless energy. Long after she was dying to say, "Enough!" Cat was still sliding boxes and offering to set up the VCR, to plug in the stereo, arrange the records, unpack the stoneware, line the shelves. Jessica was exhausted just watching her.
"Hey, you have all the Chicago albums. They're great, aren't they?" Cat said, sitting down cross-legged in front of the entertainment center, sliding records onto the shelves.
"I was in Boston quite a few years ago and just happened to walk into one of their concerts with a friend. I've been hooked ever since." Boston — Elaine. Elaine was a pleasant memory but she put it aside. She had a policy when she was home to not think about other cities, or the women she made love to in those cities.
"Do you travel a lot?" Cat asked.
"Yes, I'm a consultant and speaker."
"Really? Sounds fascinating."
"It is. I do like to travel, but after a while hotels start looking the same. I have to put the local phone book out where I can see it so I'll remember what city I'm in."
"I know what you mean," Cat said, nodding. "I used to do quite a bit of modeling but all the vanity got pretty tiresome. So I finished up my Bachelor's Degree and now I'm sales manager for the Regency."
"There aren't very many women at that level, are there?" Jessica asked.
"No, I'm one of the first. A lot of women are allowed into sales, especially the pretty ones, but we don't get a chance to show what we can do."
"Do your looks work against you?" Jessica was really curious. She herself wasn't exactly plain, but she wasn't gorgeous, like Cat. Cat's flawless roses and cream complexion didn't come out of a bottle, and neither did her thick golden hair which seemed to style itself no matter how Cat moved.
"Yes," Cat sighed. "The prettier you are, the stupider they think you are. Oh well, I still got the job. And I do still travel, but I spend more time at the hotel than anywhere else, even home."
"Then you should be at home! I knew I shouldn't have let you help me," she protested, guilty about taking so much of apparently scarce free time for Cat.
"Don't be silly. I didn't want to stay home." Jessica saw Cat swallow. "But I'm getting over a relationship that went sour, and all this concentrating on someone else for a while is good therapy. I should be thanking you."
Cat smiled at Jessica, who smiled back. "And I'm so glad I got to know you, too," she went on. "I've lived in this building for two years, and I was still only on nodding terms with the couple that used to live here. It's hard to break the ice, especially when I don't work a regular nine-to-five job."
"I know what you mean." Jessica sat down on the floor alongside Cat, to help put the records away. There were nearly six hundred of them and Jessica had them strictly organized lest her coveted Christopher Parkening Bach get too close to her coveted The Beverly Hillbillies Siny. the first album she'd ever bought. They worked in companionable silence for awhile, then Cat asked if she could put on one of the albums.
"Sure. I want to knock off, anyway. I think I'm going to have to welch on the dinner offer, at least until after I get some sleep."
"Now I'm the one who's been thoughtless. Where are you back from?"
"Chicago."
"Wretched plane trip, too, I'll bet. I always hated that run. It's so boring and usually not in a bigger jet, either."
"Yeah, a Seven-thirty-seven, packed." Jessica lay back on the floor, not minding the hardness, and sighed with a mixture of tiredness and satisfaction. Though far from finished, her new home was almost bearable. "I haven't heard this album in longer than I want to remember," she said, beginning to hum "Baby I'm-a Want You."
"I wish I could say the same," Cat whispered, and she got up off the floor without the bounce and energy she'd had for the last few hours.
"Shall I turn it off?" Jessica asked.
"Please," Cat said, walking to the window. "I was stupid to put it on. I thought I could handle the memories."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was 'our' song and I was hoping it wouldn't bother me." She turned back to Jessica, her soft eyes bright with tears. "Why are the bastards so hard to get over? Paul was such a jerk, but sometimes I miss him."
"Do you miss him, or just being with someone?" Jessica asked philosophically. Paul . . . well, she wouldn't have believed for a minute Cat wasn't straight, so it was really no surprise.
"Oh, I tell myself I'm just lonely, but I miss the way he shaved in the morning, you know, little stuff like that."
Jessica didn't know. She'd never had the time to live with anyone, but if she told Cat that, Cat would think she was some kind of prude. She didn't want to alienate her neighbor. Besides, knowing someone in the building would mean her plants wouldn't die when she was out of town. She thought for a moment, then said, "Changes are hard on the body and soul, but I've always believed when a door closes, another opens." Herself begged Jessica not to burst into song — particularly not "Look to the Rainbow" or "Climb Every Mountain." I'm just sensible, she told Herself. What about the little black book, Herself asked, smirking. Shut up, she told Herself.
"What kind of consultant are you?" Cat asked, summoning up a smile.
"Assertiveness, self-image, particularly for women in' management positions. I got into it early, and now I'm an old-timer in the field."
"You? An old-timer?"
"I hardly believe it myself. I'm thirty-four, but five years ago assertiveness was a new field. And there were only a few women in management positions. Now there are more women and the field keeps growing. I was in the right place at the right time."
"So how's my self-image?" Cat asked, laughing as she wiped dust off her nose and smoothed her tousled blonde hair.
"For a volunteer mover, you are pure executive material."
"Thanks. My ego needs all the boosting it can get."
"Any time," Jessica said, then yawned before she could stop.
"I'm going, you don't have to be rude." Cat grinned and grabbed her keys.
Suddenly Jessica couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She locked the door behind Cat and tumbled into bed.
FOUR
Awakenings
Fortune smiled on Jessica. All the work, all the waiting, all the persistent following up on consulting and speaking leads paid off all at once.
A new computer software company gave her carte blanche to design and implement an overall in-service training program for sales personnel: presentation styles, client relations, clothing, the works. The experience was a heady one. Likening it to playing God, Jessica spent a lot of time with the salespeople and less time on the road.
She conducted two one-day workshops, one in Los Angeles and one in San Jose, each paying handsome fees. Repeat sessions were being scheduled for Sacramento and San Diego.
The sun came out and stayed out for almost two weeks, a very unusual event for the San Francisco spring. She took the good weather as an omen for her positive future.
She was completely absorbed in her work, as she had been for the last ten years. Each day she watered her plants and did just enough housework to keep her place looking as it had when she moved in. Falling asleep at night she reminded herself that life had never been better, that everything she had worked for was finally paying off, and that in a month or so she would be heading for San Antonio, and she would see Marilyn again.
Marilyn was special. Meeting her, Jessica had been a bee drawn to sweet southern honey. The women in her little black book were just bed partners, except Marilyn. They talked on the phone often to keep up on each other's life. If there was anyone she wanted to spend more time with, it was Marilyn. As president of The Place Corporation, Marilyn had become a role model for Jessica's classes, a stellar example of a woman succeeding on her own terms.
"I can hardly wait, love," Marilyn said when Jessica called to confirm when she would be arriving. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you again. I knew you'd be back, but it has been a long time."
"I'm excited
too, in more ways than one, if you know what I mean," she said, the smile in her voice carrying across the line to Marilyn.
"Minx."
"Did you know nobody talks like you?"
"Like what?"
"I know lots of southern belles, and none of them calls anyone else a minx. I think you cultivate that accent."
"Now whay would Ah do that?" Marilyn asked innocently.
Jessica could hear the Scarlett O'Hara coming out. "So people will think you're stupid. Then they underestimate you. Then you walk away with all the winnings."
"Really, Jess, Ah don't know where you get such ideas," Marilyn protested.
Jessica giggled. Even over long distance, she could picture Marilyn batting her eyelashes.
"You got the plans for your hotel past the city's no-growth stance, didn't you? In front of several chains with expensive lawyers."
"Well, I guess I must have made them an offer they couldn't refuse."
"Um-hmmm. I'll just bet."
"What does that mean?" Marilyn's voice was suddenly a lot cooler, a lot less honeyed.
"I was just teasing," Jessica protested.
"I certainly hope so. I didn't put out to get my development plan approved."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you did. I just meant you have considerable charm, of which I'm only too aware."
"Hmph. I offered the City Council something no one else could. The Place brings the city a new reputation, a convention area that's safe and appealing to women — not just businesswomen, but the wives of all those businessmen who come to San Antonio, too. We have the highest volume food service for walk-in business on the Riverwalk."
"Okay, okay, I'm convinced you're special," she said with a laugh. "I didn't mean to impugn the honor of your establishment."
"We are unique." Marilyn's voice grew warmer again. "Like you're unique."
"How am I unique?"
"You know the answers to people's questions."
"Is that why you bought me a drink after my session ended? To answer questions?"
"Well, the way you're shaped had something to do with my interest. I find it hard to keep — What?" Marilyn's voice faded as she spoke to someone else in the room. "Yes, I'll talk to him. Jess, honey, I have to go. I've been trying to reach this fella all week. I think he may be able to put me in touch with the capital I need to expand."
"How exciting! If you get any definite word, call me, I'd love to hear about your plans."
"You'll be almost the first to know. Bye-bye."
She leaned back in her desk chair. Marilyn was energetic and insightful, and Jessica had been stunned when a few drinks and a generally serious discussion about business had ended with them in bed. But there was more than sex between them. Today she had been feeling an urge to share what was happening in her life, and she had wanted to spend the entire afternoon talking to Marilyn, and hear about someone else's life.
At sunset she turned off the word processor and went to sit in the living room. From her window she could see the sun setting behind the building-covered hills. On impulse she put on Chuck Mangione's "Feels So Good." She pulled her knees up to her chin and rocked slowly, noting Venus as it emerged in the darkening sky.
What next, Herself wanted to know. She told Herself to go away. What next, Herself persisted. I don't know, she answered. I don't know what comes next. I worked so long, so single-mindedly to be at peace, to have this place, to be free from immediate financial worries. I don't know what comes next.
Herself wasn't satisfied with not knowing and promptly tormented her with memories: how much fun it had been to go out with Alice, how good it was to talk to Marilyn, how wonderful life might be if Marilyn and Alice and Roberta and all the other women were always at her fingertips, each being exactly what she needed, when she needed, without demanding anything in return.
Dream on, she told Herself. That's the most idiotic, unrealistic, selfish reality a person could have, she told Herself. Herself laughed and muttered something about Jessica not having looked in a mirror lately. She shut off the music, turned on all the lights and watched M*A*S*H. Herself decided not to compete with the TV. Jessica was very glad.
She heard the door across the hall close and remembered she owed Cat dinner. Fresh air would be good for her. She hustled across the hall and knocked on Cat's door.
"Hi, I owe you dinner, remember? I know it's late, but how about tonight?"
"I was just thinking I couldn't stand another frozen dinner." Cat grinned, and pushed her curls back away from her face with a tired gesture. "Been on my feet all day. A fire fighters' convention. They started two fires and two fights and several groups were beginning elevator races just as I left."
"Why don't you change and then tell me what elevator races are over dinner," Jessica said.
She felt a hell of a lot better. She went home again and found her credit cards. Soon there was a bang on the door.
"I hope we're not going any place fancy," Cat announced. She had changed into a well-washed pair of blue jeans and a big shirt. Cat looked fashionable and comfortable and Jessica felt a surge of envy. She hadn't felt comfortable for a week now.
"I don't know if it's fancy or not. You pick the place. Sky's the limit." Jessica indicated her own neatly pressed slacks and walking shoes. "I'm not dressed for haute cuisine either, though."
"There's a terrific, and I mean terrific, Italian place not too far away. We can walk. We'll need the walk coining back to keep from being sick from stuffing ourselves in an undignified fashion."
"That good? I love Italian food."
"Especially garlic bread."
"White sauces," Jessica said as she locked her door and they walked down the hall. "I'll even eat liver with a white sauce on it."
"Ravioli, so fresh the spinach in the filling isn't completely limp."
"There's this place in Chicago with the most spectacular rigatoni —"
"Ricci's!" Cat exclaimed. They walked up a couple of blocks, each describing in complete detail their most orgiastic Italian food experiences. By the time they got to the restaurant, Jessica was starving too.
"A large basket of garlic bread," Cat ordered when the waitress came over.
"And a bottle of wine. What's the house label?" Jessica discussed the wine briefly with the waitress.
"You know wines?" Cat asked, sipping her water.
"A little. I've been collecting some reds and whites for a few years now. It's just a hobby."
"My taste is very unlearned," Cat admitted freely. "Isn't rose" a mix of white and red?"
Jessica tried to keep her face expressionless. "No, actually, it's not," she said seriously. Cat burst out laughing and Jessica realized she was being teased. Where was her sense of humor?
"You should have seen your face," Cat said. "It was as if you were saying to yourself, Is this woman an idiot? and trying not to show it."
Jessica smiled. "You really had me going —" She broke off as the waitress delivered the garlic bread. It was at least a half a loaf, pungently grilled with garlic butter and liberally sprinkled with fresh Parmesan cheese and chili powder.
"Isn't San Francisco a wonderful place?" Cat asked with her mouth full of bread. "The best of everything."
"That's why I chose to live here. The weather in New York is terrible most of the time and the atmosphere is too hard."
"I know what you mean. I lived in New York for exactly three months. I understand why New Yorkers love it. But I was raised in California, so I really found it hard to adapt. So I came back. Politics are better here, too."
"I agree with you," Jessica said earnestly. Usually she avoided talking politics with acquaintances, but something told her she and Cat wouldn't disagree. "I can't say I care much for Jerry Brown as a person, but he has tried to make California more liberal."
"I meant San Francisco politics, actually. I like the Board of Supervisors being elected from local districts. Hey, I read they're going to overhaul the Cable Cars," Cat volunt
eered. "I don't know how it might affect tourism income, but apparently they'll be shut down for over two years."
"Does the Regency rely a lot on tourists?"
"Not people off the street. We can handle convention tourists, like the damn firefighters. Oh yeah, elevator races are where two people get on at the same floor and then they race to see who can get to the top floor, chug-a-lug a beer and get back to the starting floor again first. If it's the convention championship at stake, it can take all night."
"But what about the people trying to use the elevators?" Jessica asked. She'd never heard of elevator races. Maybe her childhood was just too sheltered, she told Herself.
"That's the element of chance, I guess. Did I mention that they started two fires?"
"Yes. How?"
"Apparently they were trying to see how long it would take someone else to spot it. They put the fires out, very efficiently. We only lost two tablecloths and singed one small piece of carpeting." Cat grimaced. "The problem with most conventions is they're mostly male. You cannot believe the games men alone can get up to."
"I think I can imagine." She knew she wouldn't last a day in Cat's job. She couldn't handle it when people were childish. She had been an adult all her life, the result of having elderly parents. Everything she did in her life was rational.
Keeping a woman in every port for example, Herself said snidely.
Certainly. Sex is in the proper perspective, she informed Herself firmly. Herself just laughed and laughed.
She and Cat chatted on about a variety of topics and only disagreed on one.
"But how can you judge a movie you haven't seen?" Cat persisted.
"I don't have to see a movie to know what it's about," Jessica said.
"Yes you do. How else do you experience popular culture? I'll warn you now, I studied popular culture in college. I was popular culture in college. I have definite prejudices," Cat emphasized, her eyes dancing. "I prefer things made in this century, so I love movies and rock 'n' roll and Andy Warhol. Not necessarily in that order."
Jessica laughed and agreed to go to the movies on the weekend. Despite Cat's modern tastes, Jessica decided she was a very interesting person. I would be better off to take a little more interest in the world around me and rely a little less on books, she said to Herself.
In Every Port Page 3
