by Mary Carter
We sit toward the back, which is Kim’s idea. “You don’t want to seem eager or clingy,” she says.
“But what if he doesn’t see me at all?” I protest. “It’s dark in here. Shouldn’t we move a tad closer?” Like the first fucking row?
“Believe me, they’ll see you,” she says. “You’re with us, remember?”
Kim and Tommy chat away while I try to breathe and look sexy. Tommy is complaining about his boyfriend, Rob. “He’s suddenly into colored condoms,” he says, stirring his rum and coke.
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask, wringing my hands and willing the opening band off stage. I can’t wait to see Ray!
“Depends on the color,” Tommy says. “Green, okay. It says ‘go.’ It says horny. Black, wonderful. The black stallion. But red? It says Santa. It says stop. It’s just wrong.”
“Little Red Riding Hood,” Kim giggles.
“Exactly,” Tommy says, sucking on his straw. Then his eyes bug out and he wiggles his eyebrows at me. But I’m so intent on watching the opening band leave the stage that I don’t see him coming. As I’m draining my second White Russian, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Melanie?” he says. Keep it cool, keep it cool, keep it cool.
“Ray. Hi there.” I look into his eyes and melt.
“Well ‘hi there’ yourself. This is great.” This is great. He sounds like he really, really means it. Then Ray turns to Kim. “Hi Kim,” he says. “You look different.”
But he doesn’t mean ‘different’ in a bad way, ladies and gentlemen. In fact, I don’t like the way he’s looking at her one bit.
Please, please make her do something disgusting, I silently beg the Saint of Unexpected Bodily Noises. But no such luck. In fact, she holds out her hand to him and now they’re practically holding hands. Let go of her freaking hand. Then Kim takes her free hands and removes the heavy black band. Her long blond hair cascades down like a waterfall of beauty.
“Wish I could stay,” Ray says to her. “But we have to warm up. You’ll be here later?” he says, mesmerized by her hair. Kim takes off her glasses and sets them on the table. If he doesn’t let go of her hand, I’m smashing it. On three. Uno, dos,—thank God, he let go. Or did she pull away?
“We’ll be here,” I say, edging my hand close to his. He pats it. Kim kicks me under the table. She’s giving me a look. “Uh, maybe we’ll be here,” I add. “We’re uh—playing it by ear.”
Ray winks at me. “I gotcha. I’ll check with you on break then. Deal?” he says smiling.
I melt again. “Deal,” I say.
The minute he walks away, I tear into Kim. “Did he pull his hand away first or did you?” I demand.
“What?” she says, gazing in Ray’s general direction.
“You two were practically holding hands,” I insist.
“You’re exaggerating,” she says, playing with her hair.
I hand her the tie and the glasses. I look to Tommy for support. He picks them up and puts them back on her and then ties her hair back again, although he doesn’t wrap it quite as tight as I would have and she still looks sexy. I notice the buttons on her blouse have mysteriously popped open too.
“Now tell me,” I grill. “Did it feel like he was trying to be polite, or did it feel like he was trying to hold your hand?”
“Melanie, get a grip,” Kim says. “You sound like a crazy person.”
Notice she didn’t really answer the question, but I let it drop.
“So, what do you think?” I say when several minutes have gone by and she still hasn’t said a word.
“I can see why you fell for him so hard,” she says.
My head snaps in her direction. She has a dreamy look on her face. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with him now,” I say. I know how insanely jealous I sound and I don’t care. My worst fear has always been that Kim was the one who had been meant to fall in love with Ray and I had interceded with fate’s grand plan.
“I just mean—he’s really cute,” she says, avoiding my eyes.
“You think he’s out of my league,” I say, reading her mind.
“She didn’t say that,” Tommy says quickly.
I wait but she still doesn’t look at me. “Fine, it’s on the record. She didn’t say it. I’m asking her. Kim, do you think he’s out of my league?”
Kim shifts in her chair and looks at the air above my head. “Of course not,” she says.
“Really?” I beg.
“Melanie, you’re a beautiful woman. You’re funny—”
I stop her. Funny is not what you want to hear when the man you’re in love with is as beautiful as Ray. “I’m funny?” I say disgustedly.
“And smart,” Kim continues. “I mean you could use a little more self-confidence, but other than that you’re great.”
I finish my third drink in a single swallow.
“What about beautiful? Am I beautiful?” I demand.
She puts her hands on mine and smiles. “You’re very attractive,” she says.
“Very attractive,” Tommy echoes.
Very attractive? Bloody word dodgers, I think to myself.
“I think I’m going to need help,” I admit at last.
“Then that’s what you’re going to get,” she says.
Kim’s plan is simple. All I have to do is dance with as many good-looking men as I can while the man of my dreams stands feet away watching. Piece of cake. Except nobody wants to dance with me, they want to dance with Kim. My plan to dull her up isn’t fooling anyone. In fact it is backfiring—igniting the Librarian Turns Into Raving Slut fantasy most men harbor.
“You should have brought Charles. He’s supposed to be madly in love with me, remember?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kim whispers back when I whine this to her during our third dance. Once again, she has the good-looking partner and I have the leftover. “It’s working anyway. Don’t you dare look, but I swear Ray hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
This makes me so happy that I actually smile at the pale, hairy-armed man I am dancing with. He takes it as an invitation to move in closer and puts his hand on the small of my back. Just as his hairy knuckles inch toward my ass, the song ends so I don’t have to stomp on his foot with my boot after all. I drag Kim away from her leech and steer us to the bar. It is just the two of us now since Tommy has left us for a hipper, metrosexual bar in Chelsea.
“Tell me everything. Was he really looking at me? Really, really?”
“I swear, Mel,” Kim yells across the music. “He’s watching you like a hawk. This is going to be easier than I thought.”
I squeal. “You are the best friend ever,” I say. My tongue is starting to feel heavy. I can’t remember being happier than this ever. “I love him, Kim. I really, really love him.”
“I know you do,” Kim says. “That’s why we’re leaving.”
I didn’t think anything could sober me up, but that sure did. What does she mean, we’re leaving? I wasn’t going anywhere. Really, she’d have to kill me and drag me out of here by my hair. I am drunk, happy, and minutes away from sucking face with the love of my life. “No way,” I say. “Go if you’d like, but I’m staying.” She tries to argue with me but the band is on break and I am already making my way toward him. It’s crowded and I’m forced to push giggling girls and drunks out of the way so I can get a clear view of Ray.
I notice with some irritation that he seems to be singing to a gaggle of girls to my left. They’re playing one of my favorites, “Only For You.” Ray had helped write the song and he sang the lead on it. So of course it’s normal that a ton of women are drooling on him—he’s gorgeous and he has an amazing voice. But it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a show. It’s like if I were in a play and my character had to kiss another guy or have stage sex with another guy. It’s an act. If only he weren’t so good at it. He finally catches my eye during the second refrain, and one smile from him is enough to melt me. I smile back. He plays his heart out and, like that, my wor
ld is back in balance. Ray is mine. I dance.
Jason is the first to approach me on the break. I smile at him and to my shock he smiles back and gives me a hug. “We’ve missed you around here,” he says.
“Me too,” I say, stunned he’s talking to me let alone touching me. Then Trent is by my side lifting me in another hug. “Hey there, handsome!” I shout. He blushes.
Tim slaps me on the ass and brings his beer breath next to my ear. “So which of these babes want a little Tim action tonight?” he says.
I laugh and scan the crowd. “That one,” I say, pointing to a woman in the corner sucking on her straw. “Definitely that one.” And then there is Ray.
He grabs my belt buckle from behind and pulls me in toward him, wrapping his strong arms around me. I’m the envy of every woman in the place and I love it. I turn and throw my arms around him—inhaling him. He’s wearing a dark blue T-shirt that makes his eyes sparkle. He smells incredible. His face has a tiny bit of stubble, which drives me wild. I reach up and touch his face. “I forgot,” he says with a deep laugh. “Stubble drives you wild, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm hmm,” I say, going in for a kiss. Pre-Ray I was anti-PDA. I thought couples who made out in public were disgusting. I dig my fingers into his curly dark hair and press myself against him. We kiss shamelessly, passionately. He pulls back first and grins.
“Missed me?” he asks boyishly.
“Maybe,” I say mysteriously.
“Want to come back to my place tonight?” he asks.
“Try and stop me,” I answer. Okay, okay, I know. Believe me I know. I’m supposed to play hard to get. I’m supposed to be happy and aloof. I’m supposed to jog with lipstick or some shit. I don’t know. I don’t care. You try kissing that man and then not going home with him. You try playing hard to get when you can’t get enough.
Jason and Trent wedge between Ray and me just as I’m going in for another kiss. “Who’s your friend?” Jason asks, pointing to Kim who is making a beeline for me.
“What, her?” I reply like I’m surprised.
Tim grins ear to ear. “She’s hot,” he says.
“Yeah,” Jason says. “You practically shot your load on stage.”
I fume silently. Oh well. They could have her. As long as Ray was mine, they could all have her. “She’s a lesbian,” I say and watch as Jason and Trent fall over themselves to get next to her. “And a librarian!” I shout after them.
Kim is trying to get my attention but I ignore her. There is no way she’s getting me to leave so she might as well stop gesturing like that. I shamelessly throw myself back in Ray’s arms. I step back to gaze lovingly into his eyes. But instead of gazing lovingly back at me, he’s looking over my shoulder. I feel a chill run down my spine.
“Happy birthday Ray,” a voice from behind me sings. Ding dong the witch isn’t really dead. Turns out she’s just been biding her time, waiting for the sequel.
Chapter 17
She’s holding a glittering silver package adorned with a red bow. Ray has to take his hands off me in order to accept it. “Trina,” I say, turning to face her. “Ray’s birthday is in July.”
“No, it’s not. It’s today. Isn’t it, baby?” Baby? Baby? Did she just call my man baby?
“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Ray says to her. Well that’s a little more like it.
“Ray,” I say, “your birthday is in July, right?”
I know he told me it was in July because I’m a big birthday person. I already had a half dozen ideas in mind for it. He said he wasn’t happy about turning 35 so I was going to do something crazy like take him on a hot air balloon ride or fly us to Paris. Okay, maybe not Paris, but the point is I was thinking big.
“Okay, it’s today,” Ray admits.
“Ray,” I say. “I wish you would have told me,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
“Aren’t you going to open your gift?” Trina flirts.
“Later, okay?” Ray answers. “I have to get back on stage.”
Kim comes to my side. “I tried to warn you,” she whispers.
“Kimberly,” Trina says. “It’s so good to see you. I was just going to tell Melanie not to feel so bad. Only Ray’s closest friends know when his real birthday is.”
“Will you excuse us for a minute?” Kim says. She drags me away before I have time to claw Trina’s eyes out. She pulls me into a corner. “Melanie,” she says. “Do you trust me?”
I glance at her before answering. “Yes?” I ask.
“Good. Listen to me. We have to leave right now. Do you understand me? Right now.”
“But it’s his birthday,” I argue.
“Even better,” Kim says. “You have to play this cool.”
“But I already told him I’d go home with him.” Kim clocks me on top of the head. “Ow.”
“Trust me. Let’s go.”
“I should at least say good-bye—” But Kim is pulling me out the door, leaving Trina all alone with her prey. I argue with Kim in the cab all the way back, but she insists that Ray is going to be so obsessed with where I went that he wasn’t going to pay any attention to Trina. I highly doubted it, but I had to admit that Kim was much better at playing these kinds of games. Still, I was bummed. I didn’t even get a chance to try out my belly map let alone see Ray in his birthday suit. If Kim was wrong about this I was going to have to kill her.
She gets to live. Kim gets to live! Ray called me the very next day and made a date with me for next Saturday. Before you say “big whoop” let me give you the date. February 14th. That’s right. Ray and I have a date on Valentine’s Day. The thought keeps me sailing through Monday. Greg Parks was going to be out for the week, and Margaret was going around whispering that it was because he got the commentator position. “They’re going through test runs as we speak,” she says. “You know, just to get him comfortable in front of the camera.”
“His girlfriend must be thrilled,” I say casually.
“His girlfriend?” Margaret says.
“Doesn’t he have one?” I ask with a crack in my voice.
“Oh, he dates” she says. “A handsome man like that. But there hasn’t been anyone serious since he broke up with—oh, what was her name? The Miller Lite girl.”
“The Miller Lite girl?” I squeak.
“Yes,” Margaret says. “You know the one who was plastered all over Times Square in her little white bikini. But they broke up about six months ago. Why do you ask? You don’t have a little crush on him do you?”
“No,” I say defensively. “I have an incredible boyfriend. He’s in a band.”
Margaret gives me a look, and I slink off to the file room. But I find myself thinking about Greg at odd times of the day, and I’m seized by this unreasonable urge to break into his apartment and check his fridge for Miller Lites. Not that I begrudged him a girlfriend. He should be dating someone. Everyone should be as happy as I am with Ray.
CONTRACT WITH SELF
I, Melanie Zeitgar, being of sound mind and body (minus five and a half pounds), do solemnly swear:
1. I will never steal from a mom and pop store.
2. I will never steal items worth over $100.
3. I will never steal from the same place twice.
*No Exceptions!
Contracts are guidelines. Everyone knows rules are meant to be broken. And I have good reasons for breaking mine. First of all, next Saturday is Valentine’s Day. Second of all, since I missed Ray’s birthday, he deserves something really nice. He deserves something he really wants. He deserves the watch on page four of the catalog underneath my pillow. He saw it in the window of a jewelry store we passed by on our second date and stopped to admire it. He’s going to be gobsmacked that I remembered.
The small store is just around the corner from Grand Central Station. I’ve been passing by it quite frequently the past week and I’ve just happened to notice that on most days there is only one woman manning the st
ore. It would probably be easy to slip in and out of there with the plan I’ve come up with. But the watch is worth way more than the hundred dollar limit I’ve set for myself. Try eighteen-hundred dollars. Which explains why I’ve spent all morning shaking and pacing and bargaining with the Saints. I am a woman who follows the rules, and so far my rules have kept me safe.
I’ll just go to the jewelry store have a little look. That’s all. I’ll just look and that will be that. Maybe I’ll put it on layaway. I could give it to him in July—as a joke. Not that the watch would be a joke, but the fact that from now on we will celebrate his birthday in July. It will become one of our favorite in-jokes. And this watch will mark the occasion.
It sits in the center of a glass case reflecting silver rays of light like a metallic starfish. Rays, I think. For Ray. I’m simple like that sometimes. I press up against the counter, tilt my head down, and allow my long black hair to fall all around me on the glass. I twirl a strand of it around my index finger and wiggle my bright blue fingernails. “I’d like to see this,” I say, tapping on the space directly above the watch. The sales woman behind the counter throws me a tight smile and holds up her index finger. She is in the middle of a phone call. Perfect. I clear my throat and tap again. Click, click, click, click, click. I predict it will only take a few seconds to annoy her, but she doesn’t even look up.
“I’m in a hurry,” I say finally in a haughty voice.
“I’ll be right with you,” she answers through clenched teeth.
“Could you just—” I point to the watch and then to the phone. “At the same time?” She sighs and purses her lips. “Could you hold a moment please?” she says into the phone. She sets the phone down and approaches with a set of keys. “Which one?” she says in a belittling tone.
“The Omega Seamaster. In the center.”
Another sigh, a tiny click, and the lock is sprung. She sets the box in front of me and glares. “Anything else?” she threatens.
“No,” I say pleasantly, “I need to find his wrist measurements. It’s in here somewhere.”
