by Annie Jocoby
I shook my head, knowing that I couldn’t talk about Nick without bawling again. “I, uh, I’ll tell you about that later. At the moment, I’m running late. I have to be at Robin’s at 4. We’re going to do shots and make each other over for the party. She happens to live within a few blocks of the restaurant, so it’s certainly convenient. If I get too hammered, I’ll probably just crash with her.”
Jack didn’t look happy. “Scotch and soda. You need to talk to me. Just because I haven’t seen you in awhile doesn’t mean that you can get out of answering my questions.”
“I will, I promise. Just not right now.”
“Ok, then,” he said. “Well, I have to get ready for work.”
“How are things going in your new play?”
“Great. I have all of three lines, but it’s a start.” Then he got up and made himself a cocktail. “Well, you take care, little one. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah. Soon.” I hated that I was keeping things from Jack, but I just couldn’t talk about my feelings about Nick. I was still too raw and hurt, and I didn’t want to breach that dam that held back my tears. I feared that once the dam broke, I wouldn’t stop crying.
And I had to stop crying. I was going to have a good time tonight, goddammit, even if it killed me.
Chapter 48
I got to Robin’s right at 4, bringing a bottle of tequila up to her apartment. She was waiting for me to arrive, apparently, and was apparently drunk already. Her apartment was cute, with hardwood floors, picture windows and festive decorations all around. She even had a little fireplace that didn’t work, or so she said, and she couldn’t use it because the fire codes had long since made it obsolete. All of her furniture was modern and new, but her kitchen was a galley kitchen with original appliances, which meant that the fridge and stove were probably 1930s models.
Still, it was a cute place and a veritable mansion by Manhattan’s standards. I wondered how she could swing a place in Midtown on a non-existent intern’s salary.
“Oh, my parents got money,” she explained. “What about you? Who foots the bills for you?”
I couldn’t explain to her that I was being paid by Nick, so I just said “student loans. Lots and lots of student loans. And a roommate, Jack. He works two jobs and has a part on Broadway, so that helps.”
“It certainly would. Jack. Do you and he, uh, have benefits?”
“No, no. He’s 100% gay. Which is good. I don’t think that I could live with a straight guy.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it would be difficult. There might be sexual tension, and I, uh, don’t really welcome that.”
“So I heard,” she said. “Let’s see now, you got tequila. I have some limes and sugar. So, two margaritas are coming up.” Then she went into the kitchen and squeezed the limes with some sugar and poured the tequila into it, then poured the whole concoction into two margarita glasses. “Here, taste this,” she said, handing me a glass.
“Mmmm, good,” I said. “Nothing wrong with having a margarita before going to a party like this.” Then I looked at her, as she motioned me on the couch next to her. “So, what have you heard about me? You said something about me not wanting sexual tension or something like that.”
“Oh, nothing much. I just heard that you don’t really want to date. Not sure who said that. Which has broken all the boys’ hearts at the firm, let me tell you.”
I felt myself blushing. “Uh, what do you mean?”
Robin said nothing, just raised her eyebrows. “And, I suppose you haven’t looked in the mirror lately. You’re stereotypically gorgeous. Hell, I’d do you if you swung that way. Or if I swung that way. Well, you know what I mean.”
I looked at my drink and said nothing. “Well, thank you. That’s very, uh, flattering. But, you’re right, I, uh, don’t really date.”
“So, why is that?”
“Well, I’m really busy. Very focused on my career and schoolwork. Boys are nothing but a distraction.”
“Uh huh,” she said. “Good story. Now tell me the truth.”
I looked around, and saw that she had curlers and makeup at the ready on a little table. “Maybe later. So, you wanted us to do makeovers. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I hope that you don’t think I’m too forward. But, if you don’t mind my saying, you have a beautiful body. But your clothes…I just don’t know. I’m not your size. I wish I were a size two with double Ds, but alas, I’m not. So, you can’t wear my clothes. But I did pick up a dress for you that I think is totally adorbs. Would you like to try it on?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I, uh, don’t really like to show a lot of skin.”
“Oh, please. Please. If I looked like you, I’d show up everywhere naked. Including work. But, the dress isn’t too low-cut or anything. I just think that it would look beautiful on you.”
I was suspicious. “I don’t understand. Why would you go through all that trouble?”
“It was no trouble. I like to shop. And it was on clearance at Nordstrom’s. And, well, uh, I’m kinda like…did you ever see the movie Clueless?”
“Yes, of course. What self-respecting woman hasn’t seen that movie?”
“Right? Well, anyhow, I’m Cher. I like to help people out when I think that they need it. Some call it intrusive. Others think I’m like a fairy godsister. I hope that you think the latter. I just think that you need to get out there a live a little, and stop hiding your light under a bushel, as my grandmother used to say.”
I was kinda taken aback. I hardly knew this girl, and she was shopping at Nordstrom’s for me. “I, I, I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, don’t say anything until you’ve seen the dress.”
She brought it out, and I literally gasped. It was the most beautiful dress that I had ever seen. It was strapless and red, and the top was heart-shaped and bejeweled. The bottom of the dress was shaped like roses, and the dress was apparently made of satin. It looked like it would be form-fitting, but I wondered how I could fit into it. My body type was always a problem – because I was so thin everywhere but one place, actually two if you count my rear-end - dresses didn’t tend to fit very well.
I blinked. “Do you think it will fit?”
“Well, it might be kinda tight in one place, but try it on and see.”
“This is so very nice. I mean, I brought a dress with me, but this is so much prettier.” I was referring to my dress which was yet another of my thrift-store finds. It was a basic black dress that had no embellishments and kinda hung on me like a potato sack.
“Go and try it on.”
So, I went into her bedroom and tried the dress on. I was right – it didn’t quite fit in the bust, but it fit better than most dresses did in that area, as the dress was apparently made for women with bodies like mine, and it fit like a glove everywhere else. I wasn’t quite sure how Robin was able to find a dress that would fit me so well, but I had to admit that I felt like a princess in it.
I walked out, and Robin let out a low whistle. “You look beautiful,” she said. “Just like Cinderella at the ball.”
“I feel more like Jessica Rabbit,” I said, but smiled to let her know that I was just joking. “Um, thank you for this. I’d like to repay you, because I know that this dress was expensive.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Please. I told you, my parents got money. I got this. It’s repayment enough to see you looking so pretty.”
I still felt suspicious of her motives, then felt bad about being suspicious. Perhaps she was really like Cher on Clueless. She saw that I was a fashion disaster, despite my hoping that I looked good because I found designer clothes in the thrift shops I went to, and she decided to remedy that for the one night.
“Now,” she said. “For your hair.”
“Uh, what about my hair?”
“Well, you know. You kinda look matronly a lot of times because you wear your hair in such tight buns and chignons. So, I booked us both an appointment at
Les Ciseaux, which is French for ‘scissors,’ and, lucky you, the salon is two blocks away.”
“Oh, thanks for that, but, I can’t afford-“
Robin just rolled her eyes, and brought out a Black credit card. “Do you see this?”
I nodded my head.
“Do you know what this is?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a Black MasterCard. Given to me by my parents. Only wealthy people get this type of card. I could buy a loft on the Upper West Side with this card. A small loft, mind you, but, still…you get the point. So, please, taking you to get a $200 haircut is not going to break me.”
And, just like that, I suddenly understood this girl. She was trying to buy my friendship. It made me sad that she felt that she had to do that. I was never somebody who was friends with people because of what they could give me. I just liked Robin because she was always nice to me.
So, I sighed. “Uh, ok, but, from now on, Robin, just know that I’d like to be friends with you, but you don’t have to be extravagant with me. I’m pretty simple, really. I’m kinda a Big Mac on a Saturday night kinda gal. There’s really no need to buy me stuff for me to like you.”
She just stared at me and said “please don’t tell me that you can look like that and still eat Big Macs. I think I’d have to kill you if that were the case.”
I just shook my head. In one ear and out the other.
We ended up at the salon about a half hour later, and both of us got a haircut and style. When it was done, I had to say that I was digging my new look. It was a short and sleek bob with bangs, angled from the back.
“Wow, you look totally different,” Robin said, looking at me in my new sassy haircut. “I love the new look! Now, let’s go back to my loft and we’ll give each other makeovers. It has to be quick, though, because we’re running out of time. It’ll take us about 20 minutes to walk to the restaurant.”
So, we went back to Robin’s place and she made me over. Once again, I felt a little like a tarted-up drag queen, but she insisted that the makeup was subtle and brought out my “best features.” Still, any makeup felt foreign to me, but I was pleased that she didn’t overdo it.
I felt nervous giving her a makeover. She seemed to know what she was doing. I, on the other hand, had no idea what I was doing in that department. I guess I have never been high maintenance or a “girly-girl.” Mainly because I never could afford the extra luxuries that being a “girly-girl” entailed. The mani-pedis, the facials, the monthly haircuts, and the high-dollar makeup from the department store makeup counters were always beyond my reach. So, I relied upon home manicures that never lasted more than three days, the one exception being when I first started working at the firm, and I splurged on a gel manicure that lasted three weeks. I ended up peeling off the color after my nails started growing, and went back to biting my nails off after that manicure was gone. I went for months and months without a haircut, and as for makeup – I just didn’t buy it.
I hoped that I did Robin justice with my makeover. After I was finished, she brought out a mirror and looked into it. “Very nice,” she said. “You do a good job.” Then she gave me a hug.
I realized that I had been holding my breath as I waited for her to approve or disapprove of my makeover for her. I let my breath out all at once, so it came out as a big sigh.
“Ok, now, for accessories. Fortunately, you do look like you might have the same shoe-size as me, so, come with me and pick something out that will look cute with that dress. And, let me find you some earrings, a necklace and a bracelet that will go with the outfit, too. Mind you, these are only borrows, but you can keep the dress, of course.”
I went into her closet, which was actually an entire bedroom that was converted into a closet. I was astounded at the amount of clothes, shoes and accessories I saw in there. She was like Carrie Bradshaw, as she must have had 1,000 pairs of designer shoes in that room. Christian Leboutin, Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik, Hermés, Chanel, Kate Spade, Louis Vitton, Prada, Walter Steiger, Alexander McQueen, Gucci – they all were represented in that closet. And they probably were all this season, too. I wondered what she did with her shoes when the new season hit – probably take them to Goodwill, to be snatched up by people like me.
“Pick a shoe, any shoe,” she said, sweeping her hand around the room.
I tentatively walked over to a beautiful pair of Blahnik stilettoes, which were satiny red with bejeweled enormous buttons on the toes. I shyly picked them up and presented them to Robin, who nodded her head in approval. “Good choice,” she said. “Now, you can borrow this diamond necklace with matching earrings and bracelet,” she said, presenting these items to me. “Here, let me put that necklace on you.” She got behind me and clasped the diamond choker.
“Now, I have to get dressed too. You can go in the other bedroom. There’s a full-length mirror in there. I’ll be right out.”
I went into the other bedroom and looked in her full-length mirror, which was antique with a brass frame and on a swivel. I marveled at the way that I looked. I didn’t recognize myself, really. But I felt like a princess. And Robin really did seem like a fairy-godmother right at that moment. No, a fairy godsister, which is what she called herself. She couldn’t be a fairy-godmother, as I think she was my same age, if not a little younger.
Now, if only my handsome prince would talk to me tonight. Just talk to me. Acknowledge my presence without biting my head off or calling me Ms. James. That’s all I asked for.
Chapter 49
Nick
I was getting dressed in my suit and tie, as I prepared to go to the Christmas Party with Ava. The attire was semi-formal, so she was wearing a black cocktail dress that showed off her fit figure, and her hair was swooped up on her head. She was wearing a shit-ton of makeup, too much for my taste, and, to me, it just masked her natural beauty. But that apparently was how she liked it, so I was not going to say a word. Saying things that women take as criticism had always ended poorly for me in the past, and I was not in the mood for a fight.
I wasn’t really enthusiastic about going to the party. I wasn’t in the mood for small-talk, and seeing Scotty in a social situation could prove to be difficult, to say the least. I could possibly see her with a date, which would rip my heart out, or even watching her flirting with other guys would make me see red. Not that Scotty flirted. I didn’t know if she even knew how to flirt.
I have heard that any kind of romantic entanglement with Scotty and Shane had gone to the wayside, but it still stung that she was willing to give him a chance, but not me. It was humiliating, loving a woman who didn’t want me, and I never thought that I would be put into such a situation. I supposed I deserved a comeuppance, though, after the way that I had led my life, and the way that I had always treated women. To me, women were always fungible and randos. Now, here was Scotty, posing as some kind of karmic payback for the way that I had lived my life.
I decided to have some scotch before getting into the limo with Ava. Ava was eye-candy, and would certainly draw attention at the party tonight. This was something that I usually welcomed, as I always had a hot woman on my arm. But, for some reason, having eye-candy on my arm didn’t appeal to me as much as it usually did.
I really just wanted Scotty. Beautiful-without-trying, down-to-earth, sweet, natural Scotty.
“I can’t wait,” Ava was saying. “I’m going to meet your people tonight. This is kinda a big step for us, really.”
Ava had been saying things like that a lot. Hinting around that she felt that she and I were serious because we were spending so much time together, and now I was taking her to the office Christmas party. I wasn’t feeling the same way, of course. It occurred to me that I was hanging out with Ava because I was trying to force myself to be a good boy and try to commit to somebody, and Ava was perfect on paper. I felt very little for her, though.
But maybe I can try to go through the motions with her and hope that some kind of real affection occurred with time.
Stranger things had happened.
So, we got into our limo and made our way to the restaurant. I wanted to arrive at least a little bit early so that getting a good table wouldn’t be a problem.
We got to the restaurant and took a seat. I got up and got us a couple of drinks, tipping the bartender $100. The bartender looked more than appreciative of this, and I knew that we would be getting good service that night.
George was already there with his wife, and he motioned Ava and me over to the table. We walked over, and George greeted us. “Hey, Nick. You going to introduce me to your date?”
“Ava, this is George. George, Ava,” I said, taking a sip of my scotch. “Ava is a concert flautist.”
Ava held out her hand, and George kissed it. Then he looked at me approvingly and nodded his head. Ava just smiled at George’s little non-verbal cues. I’m quite sure that she’s used to the attention.
The two of us sat down, me sipping my scotch, and Ava sipping her glass of wine that I brought her. We sat and talked and ate our hors d’oeuvres, which consisted of various kinds of cheese, fruits and crackers. I was famished, really, so I dug into these tasty treats like they were New York Strip. Which also was on the menu for the night, incidentally.
I looked around the room. People were pouring into the room. I held my breath, waiting for Scotty to arrive. Would she have a date? I prayed that she wouldn’t. That would completely ruin my evening, to tell the truth.
At some point, I saw her….and I couldn’t hide my excitement. It was apparent, I knew that. But she was so amazingly…beautiful, sexy, and exciting. I couldn’t hide it. She was dressed in a strapless red dress with the bottom composed in rose-shaped tulle and a diamond choker and bracelet. Matching earrings. She also got a haircut that framed her beautiful face and eyes. I momentarily lost my breath.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only man in the room who couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Every man in the restaurant, it seemed, collectively lost their breath when she walked into the room. I heard many men whispering “who is that? who is that beautiful woman? she doesn’t work for us, does she? no, we don’t have a woman who is that gorgeous, do we? Do we? Do we????”
