“And you don’t,” Kate reminded her, “so what’s the problem?”
Bina stopped fanning herself abruptly, looked at Kate with a wide-eyed appeal, and meekly asked the question that she always asked midway through one of her anti-Manhattan tirades. “Am I being horrible?”
Kate felt a rush of affection overcome her annoyance and, as always, remembered why she loved Bina. Then she gave her the answer that she always did: “Same old Bina.”
“Same old Katie,” Bina responded in the litany they’d used to make peace and settle differences for two decades.
Kate grinned, and the two of them were right back on track. Kate could neither imagine introducing Bina to her Manhattan friends nor envision life without Bina—although she sometimes tried. Bina absolutely refused to grow, and that was both irritating and comforting to Kate—and sometimes downright embarrassing.
Just as they crossed Spring Street, Bina, as if reading Kate’s thoughts, virtually shouted, “God, look at him!”
Kate turned her head, expecting at the least to see a mugging in progress. Instead, across the street she saw a pierced and tattooed guy going about his business, not the slightest bit fazed by the local wildlife. Kate didn’t even comment; she merely looked down at her watch. “We can’t be late,” she warned Bina. “I have something special reserved.” And to change the subject, “So have you picked out a manicure color?”
Bina dragged her eyes away from the local sideshow with obvious difficulty and focused instead on Kate. “I was thinking of a French manicure,” she admitted.
Kate felt distinctly unenthusiastic, and it must have shown. Bina had been having the tips of her nails painted white with the rest a natural pink since high school.
“What’s wrong with a French manicure?” Bina asked defensively.
“Nothing, if you’re French,” Kate retorted, having conveniently forgotten her teenage days when she, too, thought a French manicure the height of sophistication. Bina looked puzzled by Kate’s remark. Kate had forgotten Bina’s irony deficiency. “Hey, why not just try for something a little more up-to-date?”
Bina held out her hands and studied them. Kate noticed she was still wearing the Claddagh friendship ring Kate had given her for her sweet sixteen. “Go for something . . . daring,” Kate suggested.
“Like what?” Bina asked, again defensively. “A tattoo on my fingernail?”
“Oooh, sarcasm. The devil’s weapon,” Kate said.
“Jack likes French manicures,” Bina whined, still looking at her left hand. “Don’t push me around like you always try to.” Then she dropped her hands to her sides. They were both silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Bina said. “I’m just a little nervous. You know, I’ve been waiting for Jack to propose for over—”
“Six years?” Kate asked, forgiving her friend. She had to start remembering to stop giving unwanted advice, which was difficult for a woman with her temperament in her profession. She smiled at Bina as they continued to walk down the street. “I think that on your first date with Jack, you started designing the monograms for your towels.”
Jack and Bina had been going out for so many years. He had been her first and only real love. He’d made her wait while he finished college, got his degree, and became a CPA. Bina giggled. “Well, I knew right away he was the one. Such a hottie.”
Kate reflected on the wide variation of people’s tastes. To her, Jack was so far from a hottie that he left her ice cold. Of course, she’d never, ever, in all the six years of their courtship revealed that to Bina. And Bina had thought Steven was sour and gaunt, while to Kate he’d been—
“I just can’t believe that he’s leaving for Hong Kong for five months tomorrow, and tonight’s the night,” Bina chattered on, interrupting Kate’s thoughts. Kate smiled at her.
There were few secrets among Kate’s old Brooklyn posse, so when Jack had consulted with Barbie’s jeweler father to get “a good deal” on an engagement ring, the news had traveled faster than e-mail among them. The day Bina had waited for for so long had finally arrived, but when Kate glanced at her friend, she noticed something odd: Bina seemed anything but happy. Surely she couldn’t be having second thoughts. But Kate knew Bina well enough to see that something wasn’t right.
Oh, my God, thought Kate. Bina has changed her mind, and she’s afraid to tell anyone. Her parents—especially her mother!—will be beside themselves if . . . “Bina, are you starting to have doubts?” she asked as gently as she could, stopping to look at her friend. “You know, you don’t have to marry Jack.”
“Are you crazy? Of course I do! I want to. I’m just nervous that . . . well, I’m just nervous. Normal, right? Hey, where is this place, anyway?”
“Just to the left on Broome,” Kate said. And if Bina didn’t want to talk about her nerves, it was fine, she told herself. Give the girl a little space. “This is the Police Building,” she said as a diversion while they passed the domed monument that Teddy Roosevelt had built when he was chief of police. “It’s condos now,” she went on, “and they found a secret tunnel from here to the speakeasy across the street, so—”
“So the Irish cops wouldn’t be caught getting drunk,” Bina said, then stopped in embarrassment. Kate just smiled. Her father, a retired Irish cop, had died three years ago from cirrhosis of the liver, and Kate couldn’t help but consider it a release for both of them. It was the Horowitzes who couldn’t get over it.
“No harm, no foul,” Kate told her. “We’re almost there and we’re only four minutes late. You’re going to like this place. They have great nail colors, but just in case, I brought a few alternatives for you.” She scrambled around in her Prada bag—the only purse she owned, and she carried it everywhere. It had cost her an entire paycheck, but every time she opened it, it gave her pleasure. Now she pulled out a little bag. It contained three nail polishes, each one a wildly different seductive shade.
Bina took the bag and peeked into it. “Ooooh! They look like the magic beans from ‘Jack and the Beanstalk,’” she said. Then she started to giggle. “Get it? Jack and his beanstalk?” she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Kate gave Bina her “I’m not in the mood” look. Clearly her moment of nervousness had passed. “Hey, spare me the details of Jack’s beanstalk or any other part of his anatomy,” she begged. “Consider that your bridesmaid’s gift to me.” She took Bina’s arm to get her around the guy selling used magazines on the sidewalk and across to their destination.
Just then, as they crossed the street, Bina stopped—as if the Manhattan traffic would wait for her—and pointed to the corner. “Omigod! That’s Bunny’s ex.”
Kate looked in the right direction as she simultaneously pulled Bina’s arm down. She was about to tell her not to point when she caught sight of one of the best-looking men she had ever seen. He was tall and slim, and his jeans and jacket had the perfect casual slouch. As a cloud moved, light from the west fell on that corner and reflected off his hair as if he had a halo around his head. He had stopped for the light, and before he began to cross the street, he fished in his inside pocket. Kate couldn’t help following his hand, and as he crossed the street she turned her head to get a look at his buns. She always had a weakness in that area, and this guy was . . . well, his buns must have come from the very best bakery.
“He went out with Bunny?” Kate asked. Of her posse, Bunny was probably the most garish and certainly the dimmest bulb.
Bina nodded. Kate could only see that in her peripheral vision, because she couldn’t tear her eyes off the man just twenty feet away.
“Are you sure that’s him?”
To Kate’s good luck, the guy stopped at the corner across from them and turned downtown in their direction. Kate stood rooted to the spot, although it was a few steps off the curb. She thought that he looked at her. Just then a taxi honked, the driver deciding he would warn them before he ran them over. At a shriek from Bina, Kate pulled her eyes away, and the two of them scampered across the str
eet. By the time they had walked single file between parked cars and gotten to the sidewalk, the Adonis had put on sunglasses and was striding away.
“What color do you think I should do for bridesmaids?” Bina asked.
Kate suppressed a groan. Bev had had them all in silver, and Barbie had picked a pistachio green that not even a blonde could wear without looking sallow. “How about basic black?” Kate asked, but she knew there wasn’t a hope in hell. She sighed. She and Bunny would be the last of their high school crowd not to be married—at least there was still Bunny. Kate would try not to mind, but everyone else would. No one at Bina’s wedding would leave the naked state of her left finger unnoted. “Please, Bina! Don’t make me walk down that aisle again. Why not just make me wear a sign that says ‘Unmarriageable’?”
“Kate, you have to be my maid of honor. Barbie was always closer to Bunny, and Bev . . . well, Bev never really liked me.”
“Bev has never liked anyone,” Kate informed Bina, not for the first time, and took her arm. “Hey, I’m really touched.” The pair came up to the door of the salon. Kate held the door open for Bina, who nervously stepped inside.
Chapter Four
Kate knew the spa was unlike any place Bina had ever seen in her life—a sort of postindustrial French boudoir with Moorish touches. That was exactly why she had chosen it. Not to show off, but to make it very special for her friend. “This is,” she informed Bina in a dramatic stage whisper, “the most expensive spa in the city of New York.” She studied Bina’s face to make sure what she was telling her was sinking in. “And I mean the entire city,” she continued.
“Wow,” was all Bina could manage, looking around at the sheer curtains, the concrete floor, and the Louis XVI bergere armchair.
Kate smiled and walked up to the counter. A chic young Asian woman smiled back and, without speaking, raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows. They did a good brow wax here. “Kate Jameson,” Kate announced. “There are the two of us here,” she added, because Bina had disappeared shyly behind Kate. “For manicures, pedicures, and toe waxing.”
From behind, Bina whispered, “Toe waxing?” but Kate ignored her. “We have a reservation. I have the confirmation number.”
“It will be just a moment,” said the beautiful receptionist. “Please, have a seat.”
Of course, that was difficult with just the one antique armchair, but Kate motioned for Bina to sit and she did, albeit gingerly.
Then she looked up at Kate and grabbed her hands. “Oh, Kate. I’m nervous. What happens if I go through all this and it jinxes me? What if Jack doesn’t—”
“Bina, don’t be silly. You can’t ‘jinx’ things.” Kate sighed. “I just spent an hour trying to convince an eight-year-old that magic won’t work. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Look, I know all about you. Little Miss Logic. But I’m superstitious, okay? No black cats, no hats on the bed, no shoes to friends.”
“Shoes to friends?”
“Yeah. You give shoes to a friend and she walks away from you,” Bina said. “Don’t you know that?”
“Bina, you are truly crazy,” Kate said. “Anyway, this is your big day, and I want to be a part of it. So relax and enjoy. Everything will be fine, and tonight with Jack will be wonderful.”
Bina still looked doubtful. She craned her neck and looked around again. “It just must be so expensive,” she said. “You know, I can have all of the same things done in Brooklyn at Kim’s Korean place for about one-quarter the price. And I bet it’s every bit as good, too.”
Kate smiled. “Maybe—maybe not. But here you have ambience.”
“Well, my mother would say, ‘Ambience, schmambience, paint my nails.’”
“You know I love your mother, but sometimes she’s not exactly au courant.” Bina looked perplexed. “And by the way, how do you spell schmambience?” Kate asked with a smile.
“You don’t,” Bina told her. “It’s Yiddish. It’s a spoken language.”
Kate laughed. This was typical of the verbal exchanges she and Bina had been having since Kate first entered the Horowitzes’ household and Mrs. Horowitz pronounced that Kate’s father knew “bupkis” about raising a “sheyna maidela.”
At the time, Kate didn’t know that bupkis meant “virtually nothing” or that sheyna maidela meant “pretty little girl,” but she figured it out from the context. She learned what putz and shnorrer and gonif meant, all of them words that sounded better and more accurate than their English equivalents.
Kate had celebrated every holiday at Bina’s house—even if they weren’t Kate’s holidays—and learned to love sweet noodle kugel. When the time came for Kate’s first Holy Communion, Mrs. Horowitz sewed up Kate’s white dress and bought a headpiece. (When Bina wanted a white dress and headpiece, too, she got one, though Dr. and Mrs. Horowitz drew the line at allowing Bina to get on line with the little Catholic girls for the ceremony.)
Kate, told by a priest in her catechism class that trick-or-treating on Halloween was a mortal sin, felt tremendous disappointment. When she shared this with Bina’s mother, the reassurance Kate got was, “Sin, schmin! Do your best with that meshugene in a dress and go out to get your candy. Don’t worry about it.”
“But I don’t want to go to hell after I die,” Kate told her tearfully.
“Hell, schmell,” Mrs. Horowitz responded. “Trust me, there’s no such place except here on earth.” She drew Kate onto her lap and held her close. “There’s only heaven, honey,” she whispered. “And that’s where your mama is.”
Somehow, Mrs. Horowitz’s complete conviction sank in. A few months later, after catechism, when Vicky Brown told Kate and Bina that Bina’s Jewish mother was going to hell after she died, Kate turned to Vicky and declared, “Hell, schmell! What do you know?” After that, Kate and Bina made a pact to stick up for each other.
Maybe it was from that day they became known as the “Witches of Bushwick.” As teenagers, their posse grew, with Bev and Barbie and, later on, Bunny, but they stayed the same, though in the neighborhood their nickname changed to “Bitches.” Then Kate drifted from the group.
Bina was still holding on to Kate’s hand. “Oh, Kate,” she said, and squeezed hard. “I’m so excited! Tonight’s the night I get proposed to by the man I love.”
“Don’t forget to act surprised,” Kate warned her. “You don’t want Jack to know you already knew.”
“I wish Barbie hadn’t told me that he bought the ring.” Bina sighed. “I’m so nervous. Why couldn’t she just have let it be a surprise for me?”
“Oh, honey.” Kate laughed. “You don’t want surprises. You want to look your best.”
Just then another Asian woman even more beautiful than the receptionist walked into the waiting area. “Kate Jameson?” she asked. Kate nodded. “We have your room all ready. Follow me, please.”
Kate and Bina followed her into a small room, and Kate sat in one of two facing chairs. Each was thronelike, with a built-in foot Jacuzzi already filled with delightful-smelling bubbling water. The softly lit room, all in soothing sea blue, also had two glass tables on wheels prepared for hand pampering. Two young Asian women knelt on blue silk pillows on the floor beside the foot baths. They helped their clients out of their shoes and indicated that they should plunge their feet into the fragrant Jacuzzis in preparation for the pedicure. Bina looked across at Kate in amazement. Kate merely smiled at her. The air smelled of freesia, and Kate took a deep, appreciative breath. If she had to pay half her salary check for the “ambience, schmambience,” it was so worth it. The second beautiful Asian woman came back into their blue heaven and asked the pair, “Would you like bottled water, coffee, tea, juice, or champagne?”
“You’re kidding!” Bina almost squealed.
“Champagne, I think,” Kate replied as if Bina hadn’t reacted. Bina didn’t usually drink, but, “This is a big celebration,” Kate told her.
In the moment of silence that followed, Kate closed her eyes, and the image th
at came to her, unbidden, was the long, lean jeans-clad guy whom Bina had pointed out. She must have been wrong. Bunny could never have dated someone like that. She mused about it for a moment or two and, guiltily, compared what she had seen to Michael. Michael was just a little too broad in the beam, and there was something about his walk. . . . Kate shook the thoughts from her head as unworthy. “What’s his name?” she asked Bina.
“Whose name? Jack? His name is Jack.” Bina gave her a look, then laughed. “You’re so funny.” Kate blushed and decided to forget about the guy on the corner.
“Kate, this is so nice of you,” Bina began as one of the two pedicurists began to massage her feet. She giggled, pulled them away, and giggled again.
“Oh, just relax, Bina,” Kate told her. “Breathe.” For a moment the two were silent. Kate closed her eyes and let herself feel the strong hands work her heels and instep.
Bina leaned forward to whisper across the small room, “Is this really where Sandra Bullock, Giselle, and Gwen Stefani get their manicures?”
“Yup,” Kate said. “And it’s where Kate Jameson and Bina Horowitz have their manicures, too.”
“Soon to be Bina Horowitz Weintraub,” Bina reminded her. “Oh, Kate, I love Jack so much. I’m just so . . . so happy today, and so glad I’m sharing part of it with you. I just want you to find your Jack and be as happy as I am.”
Kate laughed. “As your mother would say, ‘From your lips to God’s ears.’” Before Bina could speak, the door opened and the woman entered with a tray holding two flutes of champagne. She offered one to Kate and one to Bina.
“Enjoy!” she said as she glided from the room.
Dumping Billy Page 3
