Summer Intern

by Carrie Karasyov

  When I returned to Alida’s office, I heard Daphne’s trademark coy giggles around the corner and was stunned to discover that the source of her mirth was none other than Matt.

  “Look who I found in the lobby!” she exclaimed, looking at me with an arched brow.

  “Surprise,” said Matt, grinning. Jane and Cecilia sat nearby, watching.

  “Oh…hi,” I managed to sputter. “Um, what are you doing here?” I inquired as Daphne ran a bejeweled hand through her mane.

  “I wanted to stop by and say hello,” he said.

  I was psyched that he came by, but I was an intern, so it wasn’t encouraged to have drop-ins upstairs in the office. We usually met in the lobby. And it also felt odd that he had never asked to stop by before. Now that he knew Daphne, is that why he wanted to come? Maybe I was being paranoid. I mean, it was probably totally accidental that he ran into Daphne before me. But then why was he sitting there chatting with her and not putting out the Amber Alert to track me down?

  “Hello,” said James, walking by piled down with files. He glanced at me and Daphne and then stuck his hand out to Matt. “James. We met the other night.”

  “Yes, good to see you,” Matt said casually, shaking his hand.

  I saw Daphne roll her eyes at Cecilia and Jane, inferring that James’s presence was unbearable. Suddenly a tsunami of tension rolled over us and we were mute for a good two seconds. Leave it to Daphne to pierce the silence with her confident chirp.

  “So, you guys, we should all really hit Melt tonight—” she said, looking only at Matt. “MK and A will be there, and it should be an A-list night.”

  “Awesome,” replied Matt. “Sounds like a plan.”

  A plan? A plan without consulting moi, his girlfriend, who was seriously considering laying down her virgin chips?

  “Matt,” I interrupted. “I thought we were going to see that motorcycle documentary at the Angelika.”

  “I heard that’s really good,” interjected James.

  “Oh, right,” Matt said, deflated. “Maybe another time—give the Olsens my best,” he joked.

  “Bummer,” said Daphne. “Well, I have to get back to work. I have soooooo much to do. Genevieve’s going to Paris next week and dining with Herr Lagerfeld. Craziness.”

  “Oh my God, you are like a workhorse,” said Jane.

  “I know. But it’s my company one day, and I want it to run smoothly,” said Daphne, turning on her heels.

  Once she was gone, Jane and Cecilia immediately took off to get manis and pedis at Bliss, leaving me alone with Matt and James.

  “Hey, Matt,” James said. “The other night, I couldn’t help but overhear you say you went to Holt Academy?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Matt said.

  “Mmm-hmm,” James replied with furrowed brow. I wondered where this was going.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. We’ve produced tons of presidents.”

  “Right,” said James. “Well, catch you later.” He walked away giving me a look that I couldn’t read.

  Later that evening, Matt, Gabe, Teagan, and I were waiting in line for tickets at the famed art house theater when Matt started nervously patting his jacket pockets.

  “Damn!” he muttered. “I left my wallet at home!”

  It wasn’t a problem, as I had just that morning taken two twenties out of my secret stash.

  “Hakuna matata,” I replied, passing the nose-pierced cashier the money. “I happen to have some Andrew Jacksons,” I said. Matt leaned in to give me a kiss. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gabe beaming, hand on heart, and Teagan, arms crossed. Maybe the reason she didn’t like Matt was because her summer didn’t spawn a New York romance like mine? Whatever the reason, her attitude was starting to bug me.

  After the movie, we all went home to our pad, and Matt and I retreated to my room. There was no air conditioner, and on this particularly hot night, sweat covered us as we rolled atop my comforter. We were breathing twice as hard, not from our burning passion, but from the humid choking haze strangling the city.

  He suddenly fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a condom from his Levi’s.

  “Kiiiira,” he whispered, as if the letters of my name were honey dripping off a spoon. “I want you.”

  Talk about the heat of the moment. Truth be told, I wanted him, too. I felt ready, I think. Maybe it was the charge of testosterone or his impatience with me, but I suddenly got a wave of fear. Me. Miss bold and brassy was terrified. Not here. Not in this cot. Not with the thermometer mercury at equatorial levels. I was uncomfortable. So I stopped him.

  “Oh, come on!” he said, rolling over in a huff.

  “Matt—”

  “Forget it, I’m tired.”

  The next morning he slept in as I tiptoed out to meet Gabe and Teagan to go to work. I sat mute on the train, heart pounding.

  “What’s up, buttercup?” Gabe asked, moving a piece of hair that was matted to my face. “You look like you just got shat out of a camel’s ass.”

  Gee, thanks.

  “I don’t know…” I replied nervously, looking at Teagan, not wanting to fuel her fire. “I just…Matt and I almost did it last night and I just couldn’t.”

  “Thank God,” Teagan said, slurping her iced black coffee.

  “Why do you have it in for him?” I blurted, annoyed.

  “You told me you didn’t want to hear my two cents,” said Teagan.

  “Do you actually have something to say, or are you just jealous that I have found someone and you haven’t?”

  Gabe’s eyes moved back and forth between us as if he were at Wimbledon, but instead of a yellow ball, he was following harsh words between roommates.

  “I knew you’d think that,” said Teagan. “And that’s really lame. I’m just looking out for your best interests.”

  “Oh? And what are my best interests?” I said, crossing my arms fiercely.

  Teagan took a deep breath. “Kira, I am your friend, and I’m not trying to sabotage your relationship. Matt is sketchy. He’s easy on the eyes, I’ll admit that. But do not think for one second that he is worthy. Not of you. That first night we met him, I could have sworn I saw him take a twenty off the table when we were leaving. We had left the cash for the bar tab right under our drinks, remember? And as we were walking out, he slid the glass aside and took it.”

  “Why didn’t you say something then?” I challenged.

  “Because I wasn’t sure.”

  “And now you are? I don’t think he would have done that,” I stated.

  “Kira, haven’t you noticed his wallet is always ‘missing’? How you reach for your money constantly?”

  “He pays for stuff all the time!” I responded, my brain immediately thinking of all the times I had to pay.

  “Please. He crashes in our apartment, he eats our food, he networks with Daphne. The guy is a louse!”

  I had it with her patronizing tone. Like she is Miss Relationship Queen.

  “Whatever. I am so not dealing with this assault.”

  “You guys, stoooop!” Gabe pleaded in a singsongy voice, but it was too late. When the subway hit our stop and the double doors slid open, I stormed off and hoofed it past them to work, leaving them both in the wake of my anger and confusion.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Hey, Kira, can I talk to you?”

  I looked up from my perch on the floor, where I was reorganizing the new batch of male model cards from Elite, to see James towering over me.

  “Sure.”

  “Um, maybe not here,” he said, glancing around the buzzing office. The Trumpettes were within earshot, so clearly whatever he wanted to say was for my ears only.

  I followed him into Richard’s office (he was in Brazil for the week, shooting Gisele) and James closed the door. I stared outside the windows—I had been trapped in the maze all morning and didn’t even notice that it had started to drizzle. Suddenly the freezing air-conditioning, compounded with the wet view, gave me a chill.
I regretted wearing my thin lilac blouse and short Milly skirt.

  “Are you cold? Here,” said James, taking off his sweatshirt and gallantly handing it to me.

  “That’s okay.”

  “No, come on. I insist.”

  I supposed I should say no and go borrow something from the closet (the new furs had arrived for the winter issue; shall I don a mink?), but I knew that lately every time I entered the closet it was under Daphne’s watchful eyes. So I semireluctantly put on the sweatshirt, noticing that it smelled like James. I couldn’t place the smell; it was more like soap and manliness, not cologne or anything like that.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something, as a friend,” began James, his eyes carefully locking on mine. I noticed that his hair had grown out a bit and it looked good the way it flopped around his ears.

  “Sure,” I said, suddenly nervous. Did he want to tell me that I had BO? That I was doing a sucky job? I normally wasn’t paranoid, but he seemed so grave that I knew something major was up.

  “It’s about Matt.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know it’s not my place, but I feel like you and I have become friendly, and friends look out for each other,” he said, glancing down at the floor.

  Friends look out for each other. Uh huh. I didn’t say anything, so he continued.

  “I don’t know how to put this without sounding like an ass, but I think you should…watch out for him. Where did you meet him?”

  “I met him at Melt,” I said, slowly registering his words. “What do you mean ‘watch out for him?’”

  “Listen, I’m just gonna lay it on the line. I think the guy is, I don’t want to say a con artist, because it’s not Vegas or anything, but I don’t trust him. I think he’s a liar.”

  I felt my face begin to burn. “Why?”

  “It sounds petty, but he said a few things to me that don’t add up. He told me—and you heard it, I asked him again in front of you on purpose—that he went to Holt Academy. Thing is, it’s called Holt School. Anyone who went there would know that.”

  “That seems kind of minor, James,” I said defensively. So I was supposed to watch out for the guy over one little word choice?

  “That’s not all. He said other things. He told me his dad is Cal Rubin…”

  “That’s his stepfather,” I interrupted.

  “Right. But I know Cal Rubin. He doesn’t have a son, or a stepson; he has a daughter, Alisa, who lives in London.”

  “Could be a different Cal Rubin.”

  “Look, Kira, I’m not trying to nail the guy. I just have this weird feeling. Have you ever met his parents?”

  “No…”

  “Been to his apartment?”

  “No,” I confessed. Suddenly it was like pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle were coming together.

  “Have you met his friends? Who was he with when you met him at Melt?”

  “He was alone,” I said quietly. “And I’ve never met his friends.”

  James nodded fiercely. “See, something doesn’t add up. He name-drops all these schools and clubs and vacation places, but something seems a little off, like he read about them but never actually went there.”

  My mind started racing. I remembered that Matt had told Gabe that he went to La Coyote Resort in Mexico for spring break, but even Gabe knew that it had closed down a year ago. I hadn’t thought twice about it and had shrugged it off, thinking he meant the year before. Now the fact that Matt almost always wore the same black clothes seemed suddenly important. And that he never had money on him. I was always paying for him, and now that I realized it, he never paid me back, even though he said he would. The only time he’d footed the bill was our first date…and that was a signature to his “stepdad’s” account. Holy. Shit. But what did he think he could get from me? I wasn’t rich, and he had to have figured that out by now.

  James could tell I looked nauseous and put his arms on my shoulders. “Look, don’t worry. You weren’t really serious with this guy, were you?”

  I could only respond in the smallest voice. “No, not really.”

  But when I looked up at James, a single tear slid down my cheek. I was mortified. How could I have been so stupid? James pulled me close and gave me a hug.

  “Don’t worry, Kira. Look, the guy had everyone fooled. Look at Daphne; she’s drooling after him now.”

  God, Daphne. That’s why Matt was still hanging around. He knew he could use me to get to bigger prey. Matt must have set his sights on her because she had more money than me. Ugh. They deserved each other. Even though it was nice and cozy in James’s embrace, I was still so super embarrassed that I wanted to get the hell out of there.

  “Uh, thanks for the info, James, but I should bolt.”

  James gave me a strange look. I wiped the tear from my cheek and pulled myself together.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, fine, thanks so much.”

  I turned and left the office. How humiliating! Of course it would work out that my first crush was the one to reveal that my boyfriend was a scam artist. Lovely. And to think I almost had sex with him! I wanted to puke. And loofah my body. My parents always said to be careful, be on guard with strangers, don’t be so trusting—I had totally disregarded them and gotten sucked in.

  I told CeCe that I thought I was getting the stomach bug, and although she made me stand there for an additional twenty minutes on hold with the restaurant where she wanted to get a reservation, she finally released me. I took the subway home, getting drenched in the rain, climbed into my bed, and pulled up the covers.

  After crying my eyes out, I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After passing out in a shivering damp mass under my blanket, I finally came to a few hours later, feeling crushed by not only my blindness but also my acute guilt for freaking on Teagan. Here I had defended Matt tooth and nail only to discover that he was, in fact, a bona-fide scumbag. When I heard the door open, I staggered out, looking like a street urchin, to find Gabe and Teagan with Chinese takeout.

  “Teagan,” I said, gulping. “I owe you a mega-apology.”

  Even she looked surprised. “How come?”

  My eyes started to well up. “Matt’s a grifter.”

  I told them how James had shined the light on the narrow wormhole I’d been living in with my crush on Matt.

  “Knock me over with a feather boa!” Gabe exclaimed, hand on heart. “I am in clinical shock! Somebody book me a suite at that Girl, Interrupted place! I am freaking out!”

  “I’m sure you feel vindicated,” I said to Teagan.

  “Kira, I don’t feel good about this. I’m sorry that it worked out this way. I really want you to have a nice boyfriend and be happy,” she proclaimed, hugging me. Teagan, the self-professed hater of physical contact, actually initiated an embrace.

  “Sorry I doubted you—” I said, hugging her back.

  Gabe just stood there, still reeling.

  “Gabe? Gaaabe!” Teagan teased. “Earth to you! What, a hot guy can’t be a raging jerk-off?”

  “No, I just, I just—”

  “He’s charming, right?” I asked him, wanting backup. Clearly I wasn’t the only one sucked in by his alluring wiles.

  “He’s goooood,” Gabe said, nodding slowly, still in space. “He’s really good.”

  “So,” Teagan said, putting a strong hand on my shoulder. “What are we gonna do about it?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my eyes twinkling with thoughts of him being cuffed and collared. “Like, as in revenge?”

  “As in, I say we take you out and cheer you up after we scarf this lo mein. We’ll hatch our plan on the town!”

  Two hours later, the three of us were full of MSG and dancing our hearts out at a hole-in-the-wall East Village club called Saint. Gabe was in heaven, as the room was packed with the most gorgeous gay guys I had ever seen.

  “A far cry from East Jesus, Texas, or wherever it is you hail from,�
�� Teagan teased, winking at him as, mouth agape, he stared at the shirtless hotties.

  We had finally collapsed into a corner booth and were refueling on Cokes and peanuts.

  “I don’t ever want to go home,” Gabe said.

  While I just had my own experience of how the big city can wake up the naive with a smack, Gabe had a wake-up call of his own: that this hot-blooded, electric Gotham was the first place that had made him feel whole. All summer he had seemed so happy and in his element, but I could tell of late he was getting progressively stressed about the end-of-summer discussion that he planned to have with his parents.

  “Guys, my parents are coming next week. I have to tell them everything!” said Gabe.

  “Do you think they’ll freak?” I asked. Gabe was so sweet, I couldn’t imagine that his parents were the type of people who would disown him or anything like that.

  “I have no idea what they’ll think.”

  “Are you more worried about telling them that you’re gay or that you’re not going to college back home?” I asked.

  “Well, first off my dad will definitely have a hissy if I don’t go to U of W. It’s gonna be like dropping a bomb on them. My dad and his dad both played ball there and all that dumb crap. But helloooo? That’s clearly not happening,” he said, flexing a nonexistent bicep.

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Teagan laughed. “The only balls flying at your face come in pairs!”

  “As for the gay thing…I don’t know. I’m hoping they have some inkling and it’s not a total shock attack.”

  “Gabe, with those electric blue leg warmers and leopard shirts you don, I’m sure that they have some idea,” said Teagan.

  “You’re right! But I’m scared. I need help!” said Gabe, his eyes pleading.

  For the next hour we plotted how Gabe could break the news to his family. After deciding honesty was always the best policy and that he should just rip the proverbial Band-Aid off when they arrived, we focused our group’s attention on the other dilemma du jour: Matt. Between shifts on the dance floor, we caucused and emerged at three A.M. with spirits high, ears still buzzing, and an ace up my sleeve.