“Ma’am what can I get you to drink?” says the girl with the purple hair and nose ring. I’m standing at the register deep in thought, but does she really need to insult me with the word ma’am?
“Oh, sorry, I was distracted by your hair and contempt for humanity. What shade is that exactly?” I frown and she frowns and I better order before we engage in a full-on sticking-out-the-tongue war. “May I have a grande skinny vanilla latte.” I dig in my clutch . . . lipstick case, train ticket, cell phone, no fucking wallet. Zut!
“That’ll be $5.29.” Oh crap, this is embarrassing. I could just stick out my tongue and dart out the door. I could throw some gift cards in the air and pretend like one of them has my money on it. I could . . . “Ma’am?” Jesus Christ, I’m the same age as you.
“I, uh, don’t have my wallet.” I smile nervously and hang my head in shame.
“Here, I got it. May I also have a tall iced green tea.” His voice is smooth and commanding and I’m positive this guy is a movie star. I pivot to thank him and my face meets his chest, magnificently broad and deliciously fragrant. I raise my head and I’m completely enamored by his dark, intense eyes and his gorgeous smile. He places his hand gently on my waist in order to peel my frozen body away from the counter. “Our drinks will be ready down there.”
“You didn’t have to do that!” I say, admiring his large frame and confident gait.
“I try to help at least one damsel per day, it’s part of the superhero code.” He smiles charmingly.
“Well, thank you.” I wink, waiting for him to ask me out. I mean, this is how it happens, right?
“I gotta grande skinny vanilla latte and a tall iced green tea unsweetened here for an Adam,” the barista squawks.
“You’re very welcome.” Mr. Dashing hands me my chilled beverage and a napkin as we walk toward the exit. “I would love to hang around and watch you insult people, very sexy trait might I add, but I’m late for a meeting. Some crazy lady was holding up the Starbucks line.” He smirks.
“Yeah well, crazy bitches need their coffee, too! Thanks again, Adam.”
“No problem. Have a nice day.” He nods and walks in the opposite direction toward the court buildings.
Now, how am I going to get to Grand Central?
September 19, 2002
I OPEN THE FRONT DOOR to Zach’s boyish smile and a bouquet of fresh lavender. I haven’t seen him in two days, and every cell in my body wants to rip open his shirt and lick him from head to toe. Never mind my mom, she can watch.
“Natalie, ma femme, give me a kiss.” Zach steps in the foyer and plants a huge kiss on my cheek, unaware that I have no modesty, so I grab his face and force my tongue in his mouth.
“You two! Zach, I’m Judy!” Mom scoots next to me and Zach’s eyes open and blink rapidly. He releases my grip and places his arm around my shoulder like the gentleman he is.
“Mrs. LeGrange, it’s very nice to meet you. Natalie speaks highly of you and Mr. LeGrange.” Zach presents Mom with the bouquet and smiles proudly. “I picked this from my mother’s garden early this morning.”
“Oh Zach, it smells divine. Thank you so much! You kids have a wonderful day, and Natalie, remember to check in once and awhile.” I roll my eyes as Mom walks to the kitchen.
“What a kiss-ass! Surely you don’t think you can get that sort of crap from me? Parents hate me!” Zach pulls me into him as I grab my purse.
“I doubt anyone hates you, jealous maybe, but you’re lovable. C’mon, I have something for you as well, it’s in the car.” Zach takes my hand and leads me to a black BMW convertible.
I’ve caught myself wondering about the extent of his family’s wealth, but then I see this humble man, caring and compassionate, and the money doesn’t seem to matter.
Zach helps me inside the car and I immediately search for my present.
“What’s wrong? Did you lose something?” He’s grinning arrogantly, enjoying my child-like behavior. Zach starts the car then pops open the glove compartment. A small jewelry box falls into my lap. “Now, before you go thinking that I’m some sap that gives jewelry to every girl I meet, well I don’t! And before you think I’m madly in love with you and I’m rushing into whatever this is, you’re wrong. It’s a little gift for my girl.” He smiles sweetly and then we both laugh at the absurdity of the moment.
“Zach, I’m just a girl, sitting in a Bimmer, that just wants a lot of gifts. You understand me!” I open the box to find an abstract gold star on a delicate gold chain. It’s so simple and innocent that it actually takes on a deeper meaning. Whatever this is, I never want it to end.
“Let me help you.” I lift my hair so he can clasp the chain around my neck. It rests perfectly on the conclave of my neck and I adore it. “Now, I expect you to wear this necklace and only this necklace when we’re boinking the shit out of each other.”
“Wow, spoken like a true Renaissance man. However, you should see what I’m capable of draped in diamonds.”
“Well then shit, let’s go to the jewelry store now!” Zach speeds out of the driveway and raises the volume to the radio. I put on my sunglasses and turn to admire his stunning profile. He’s relaxed, but there always seems to be a hint of sadness behind his eyes.
“So, is your mom at the hospital or a doctor’s office?” I ask.
“She’s at the house,” he answers flatly.
“Oh, it’s probably more comfortable to get chemo in your own home.” I mean, I can only imagine. I haven’t told Zach, but I’m afraid to meet his mom. I’m not always appropriate, and I’m not great at hiding my fear.
“Mom isn’t on chemotherapy anymore.” His face saddens as he inhales deeply. “We’re here.” I look ahead of me at a large, gated driveway. We’re not even three minutes from my parent’s house, but this is like a whole other dream world. The gate opens and we pull through the iron behemoth, me with my mouth open and Zach waving at a man in a security uniform. Holy, holy shit. The house is a mansion, like Daddy Warbucks-size. I shift in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable and underdressed.
“So, I think I will just hang outside by the garden, or the courtyard, or the tennis courts, I mean Jesus Zach, you didn’t tell me you were the prince of Greenwich!”
Zach stops the car and turns to face me. “Natalie, shut up. We had a deal and you’re coming inside. I need you as a friend right now.”
I swallow my words and gain my composure. My friend needs me and I will not be selfish. I will not be selfish. I will not be a brat. I will . . .
“Let’s go, then.” I jump out of the car and plaster on a smile. I feel Zach’s hand on the small of back, leading me to the house. The doors open and we’re greeted by a lovely woman in her mid-fifties wearing overalls and garden clogs. Surely this isn’t his mom.
“Hey, Aunt Patty, I want you to meet my friend Natalie.” Zach nudges me forward as the woman smiles sweetly and offers a hand.
“Hi Natalie! So nice of you to tag along with this big goof.” She slaps Zach on the back lovingly and continues. “I feel it’s my duty as his aunt to embarrass the heck out of him as much as possible.”
I shake her hand and smile at her warm inclusion. “Then I’m sure you have plenty of stories and photos to keep me entertained for hours!”
“Oh boy, do I! I like her, Zach!” Aunt Patty motions for us to follow her through the lobby, I mean foyer. Everything is expensive, no doubt, but there’s also an air of livability. It’s not a museum and I’m sure Zach probably had some rich boy parties here in his youth. “Your mom is in the garden room watching the squirrels fight over acorns.”
Zach leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Are you okay with this?” I nod, not prepared for what I’m about to encounter.
“Claire? Zach and his friend Natalie are here to annoy you!” Aunt Patty says.
I’m shocked. I can’t breathe because every bodily organ is lumped in my throat. My eyes are stinging and my heart is doing somersaults in my stomach. She’s not getting tr
eatment, she’s dying.
“Hi Mom! I cut some lavender this morning from your garden and the roses look phenomenal. There must be a hybrid of sorts because I swear one bush was a blue color.” Zach sits in a chair near her hospital bed and motions for me to join him. I can’t. I physically cannot move my legs. “Mom, I want you to meet Natalie. She’s like a little star that fell from the sky.” I shake my head violently as tears stream down my cheeks. Aunt Patty comes to my side and wraps her arm around me.
She leans in to whisper in my ear, “Don’t be frightened, there is only love in this room.”
And I do it, with Patty’s help, I make my way to her bedside. Even with the large machines and tubes swarming her body, I can see her beautiful face, smiling up at me.
“Hi Mrs. Parker,” I blubber.
“Claire,” she says quietly.
“So Mom, Natalie just got a job with Molly. She’s a PR expert and speaks French.” Oh, I could just kill him.
“That’s true.” I sit down next to Zach and squeeze his leg.
“Natalie is from Canada and sometimes she says funny words.” Oh dear god, this is so weird. He’s trying to rile me up and force me to be myself.
“I can’t help that Zach doesn’t speak the language. Claire, your son is very sarcastic and a bit of a dreamer, do you know where he could’ve picked this up?”
“I have . . . no . . . fucking . . . clue.” Claire’s smile is the same crooked grin that Zach often flashes, and it’s apparent that their relationship was the family glue.
“Okay Mom, that round goes to the mouth of Natalie LeGrange. I’m going to take her up to my room and make-out, but we’ll be back down for some lunch.” Zach stands up and pulls me with him. He leans over his mom and kisses her on her bald head and my tears are about to make another appearance but then . . .
“Use . . . protection,” Claire whispers.
Inside Zach’s childhood room, I take a moment to snoop around and gather my thoughts. He lounges on a bean bag and watches me, amused by my behavior.
Okay, so Claire’s obviously dying. So why am I here? Maybe this is one of those things where he needs to marry me to inherit the family fortune. No, that’s not it, his dad is still in the picture and that only happens in movies. He mentioned that he had other plans for his life, maybe he wants me to take care of his mom so he can get out of town. No, he definitely loves his mom and I’m not a caretaker. Wow, there’s a lot of funky shit in this room. Zach was a total stoner in high school.
“Is this a bong?” I hold up an orange tube with a little bowl and shake my head.
“Maybe. Now come kiss me.”
“Not yet. Let me do what I need to do.” I walk to his closet to survey his clothes. There’s a bunch of Princeton shit and some fraternity stuff, and I realize we never even talked about his life. He’s been so evasive about what he does or wants to do. It’s like he’s more concerned about protecting and helping me—“Did you go to Princeton?”
“Yes.”
“Does your mom have cancer?” I face him, immediately feeling regret.
“No. I mean, the doctors don’t really know.” He gets up from the bean bag and sits on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed and his head drooped. I move beside him and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Talk to me. I’m your friend, remember?” Zach lifts his head and smiles at the little star resting on my neck.
“My mom’s a doctor, the kind that conducts medical research for drugs. She actually started Parker and Parker and my dad was just the face of the company, the businessman that fronted the initial costs. Mom has worked in a lab at Mt. Sinai for twenty years, well up until September 11, 2001.
“She was in the lab that day working on a new drug when the planes crashed into the towers. It was part of her oath to serve those in medical need, and she selflessly spent thirty-three days at Ground Zero while my dad bunkered away in Greenwich, working from home and ignoring everyone around him.
“I had just moved into my apartment, and I offered my bed to Mom, but she refused. She camped out Downtown like a refugee, never abandoning the responders digging through the rubble. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mom put on gloves and started hauling away debris, it’s just in her nature. Around Christmas, she got a cold that eventually lead to pneumonia. I took her to specialists and a CT scan finally revealed the several black masses swallowing up her lungs. It was assumed that she had lung cancer, but two rounds of chemotherapy did nothing but make her weak and hopeless. She’s on full-time oxygen and last week she started the morphine drip.” Zach stutters out the last words, full of pain. “It’s over,” he adds.
My eyes swell into a watery mess and my heart beats erratically. I kiss him passionately, trying to swallow all his sadness, if just for a moment. Zach pins me down on the bed as tears drop from his eyes. I drink their saltiness and inhale his hot breath, consuming all his repressed hurt. He’s wild and emotional, but I gather him in my arms and hold him. The child, the man, my best friend.
September 26, 2002
“HOW ARE YOU MANAGING with the Russell party? I swear, that family can be quite eccentric.” My new boss, Molly, is fanning herself with an ornate Chinese fan and pinning red fabric to a presentation board.
“Yeah, they’ve changed the theme six times and now they want camels!”
“Oh good Lord! I’m so sorry. My best advice is to keep detailed notes and just go with it.”
Today is my third day and I’m already knee-deep in shithole clients. I’m actually surprised Molly trusted me with planning an event with so little experience and an unrefined mouth. I thought I would just be here to answer phones and maybe do some PR work, but she’s a sweetheart from Nashville and seems to have a lot of faith in me . . . or she owes Zach a big favor.
“I hope my instincts are enough. Do you need help with that presentation board?” I see Molly struggling with the fabric and offer her a helping hand.
“How do you feel about fortune cookies? Do they even have those in China? The clients want Asian Elegance, but I’m stuck somewhere between 1940s Bangkok and P. F. Chang’s!” Molly smiles, but her eyes are wildly stressed.
“I think fortune cookies could work. Maybe spray them gold and use them as place card holders?”
“Um hum, there you go! See Natalie, you’ve got what it takes. How are things with Zach? Excuse my meddling ways, but I was raised by a church-gossiper.”
“That’s okay Molly, I like to know juicy details as well. Let’s get back to Zach, what’s going on with you and that mysterious businessman?” Molly blushes and sits down at her desk.
“Mr. Ross and I are just friends.” She scrunches her nose and chews on the tip of her pen. “Is it that obvious, Natalie? Oh, he’s such a gentleman and makes me swoon. They just don’t make them like him anymore.” Molly is in her early forties, and while I admire her tenacious spirit of being a modern woman, I don’t envy her dating pool.
“He seems dashing! And you’re right, men my age just want sex.”
“What about Zach?”
“He pretty much only wants sex.” I smile as she shakes her head in dismay, although I secretly know she and the debonair Mr. Ross fuck like rabbits.
The phone rings and I take it as my duty to answer all calls.
“Molly’s Events and Planning, Natalie speaking,” I say cheerfully.
“What are you wearing?” he asks.
“Cousin Alfred?” I giggle.
“Ha ha, Nat. Are you staying over tonight?” The truth is, I’ve stayed over every night for the past week, but it’s cute that he always asks.
“Yes, dear.”
“Mmm, and can I put my dick between your tits?”
“Do you even need to ask? I’ll be by around six.” I type in exotic animal rentals on an internet search, hoping to find nothing.
“Maybe I’ll feed you first, if you’re a good girl. Shove a nice, thick plaything between your luscious lips.” I glance at Molly and she’s totall
y staring at me, nosy little belle.
“Great, I’m starved. See you later, Zach!” I hang up the phone and rustle in my chair.
Molly is nodding her head in excitement. “See, Natalie! Zach is a gentleman, calling on you like that.” She smiles sweetly and continues working on her board.
“He is indeed.” I laugh.
September 27, 2002
“I NEED TO GO HOME TONIGHT and pick up some more clothes. The last thing I want is for my southern employer to think I’m some wanton hussy shacking up with a guy.” I quickly brush my teeth and dab on some travel-size perfume. I’m already running late due to the early morning shower shag, and yet Zach is still not sexually satisfied. Look at that strapping boy, calmly leaning against the bathroom door, smiling at me with a big, fat hard-on.
“But aren’t you my hussy? I’ll go with you and we can stop by and see Mom. There’s something I need to discuss anyway.” Oh damn. Oh God! Could this really be happening?
“Are you proposing? Because I will say no.”
“Hell no! You make an excellent lover, but you would be a horrible wife.” Zach flashes his crooked grin and makes a goofy face.
I cross my eyes and purse my lips. “Thank God. Okay, pick me up from work around five and we’ll go together.”
After we stop by my house to gather some clothes and my Aveda shampoo, I drive Dad’s car to Zach’s mansion (it drives him insane when I refer to his home as a mansion.) We’re greeted by a middle-aged man in a tennis outfit, same sandy hair and the same navy eyes.
“Hello, Dad,” Zach says full of venom.
“Son.” The man acknowledges Zach but keeps his eyes directed at me. “You must be the girlfriend.” He extends his hand but Zach grabs both of my arms and clears his throat.
“Dad, we need to talk. May we use your study?” Raymond Parker grits his teeth and I can only imagine what he’s thinking. I’ve seen enough episodes of 90210 to know that rich guys always knock up the white trash and dishonor the family.
The Album: Book One Page 7
