by Kiki Leach
He sat the carton of ice cream down on the counter, resting the spoon on top of the lid. Then he went over to her and extended his arms. They embraced one another tightly and he kissed the top of her forehead.
“You’re not terrible at this father/daughter talking thing,” she said. He laughed. “I hope Gina always appreciates what she has in you.”
“I’m your dad too. Maybe not in the same way as Gina, but I’ll always be here for you and your sister no matter what.”
“I know.”
He pulled away, looking at her for a moment, his dark grey eyes sparkling like two tiny moons beneath his eyelids. He pat her cheek and smiled, then headed for the foyer. “I’ll see you next weekend for your mother’s surprise birthday dinner at the house?”
She stopped walking and groaned. “I almost forgot about that.”
“You promised her you’d be there.”
“I know. She’s turning thirty-five, again, which she said gives right for her to throw her own surprise party. But why isn’t Felicia obligated to come?”
“If your mother could’ve made a way for her to get here before Saturday, believe me, she would’ve. But with the new baby, she felt it’d be a little much.” He squeezed her hand before heading out the door. “I’ll see you.”
She waved as he hopped down the stairs, and noticed the moon adding more light to the thin lines of grey forming in the coils of his hair.
After shutting the door and locking it, she ran into the kitchen and grabbed the invitation. She stared long and hard at it for what seemed like an eternity. And then placed it on the fridge with the help of a magnet. If she was going to move past this once and for all, she was going to need to face the reality of the situation head on. And she knew the only way to do that was to be confronted by it on a daily basis. Even if she was certain it was going to kill her before all was said and done.
Part Four
The next morning, Vanessa walked into her office with her head down, her eyes focused on her blue Louboutin’s as her feet glided across the marble, hoping the employees who had arrived early alongside her would forget her behavior from the previous day. They hadn’t, but they were not going to risk their livelihoods in making a single mention of it aloud to anyone either, including to the press. At least not on the grounds in which they worked, where if the building had ears, every set belong to Vanessa at all times.
Before she even got to her desk, her assistant jumped from the chair and stood in the opening of her door.
“Wait,” Vanessa started. “Before you say anything to me, I need to just…”
She took a sip of her coffee and shut her eyes for a moment. Then turned her head toward the ceiling and swallowed. For a few moments, she pretended as if she were in another place altogether, in a paradise, occupied by only she and three male servants, all of whom managed to look like Nathan in some way.
Once snapped back to reality with the help of the elevator dinging behind her as the doors opened, she realized how silly she was being and breathed out. She silently counted to ten, then looked back into her assistant’s eyes.
She tilted her head and smiled wide, hoping to cure herself of the irritation that had arisen. “What is it?” she asked, still smiling.
This seemed to make Samantha more nervous than when Vanessa was screaming and swearing. “You received a phone call this morning.”
“What, from my mother? I’ve already spoken to her, so if she’s calling again, tell her—”
“No,” she said. Vanessa arched a brow. “What I mean is, this call is from someone you went to high school with. A Joan Hopkins.”
“Joan.” She moved past her assistant and slipped into her office, setting her briefcase on the white leather couch near the door. She took another sip of her coffee and tilted her head a little. “Joan… Hopkins?”
“Yes. She said you would remember her from your senior Calculus class together?”
“Senior Calc…” Vanessa thought for a minute, folding one arm over the other. And then she excitedly snapped her fingers. “Oh! Right. Yeah, yeah, Joan the Groan. She dyed her hair purple for a year in the hopes of creating some kind of new anti-homework movement against our teachers or something. It never took on. She’s the chairperson for the reunion now, right?”
She nodded. “Technically.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that she’s still involved in all the big doings, just like you are here as Editor in Chief – approving bylines, what’s allowed within the magazine and what isn’t. But unlike you, she won’t have a ‘first hand’ in making things actually happen anymore. To make a long story short, she has to permanently step down because she gave birth a few days ago, and everything she does now will be via Skype. Apparently she was due the week after your reunion, but she couldn’t wait.”
“She had a girl?”
“Yes.”
“What did she name it? Do you know?”
“Joansephina.”
“Joansephina? That must be a play on her and the baby’s daddy. That kid is going to have some serious issues growing up. Oh, well, congrats to them.” She set her coffee on the desk and picked up her mail. As she dug through it, she turned to Samantha. “Am I going to find anything here that’s going to piss me off today? Because I’m somewhat prepared, but I just need to know before I manage to make an unexpected fool of myself again.” Samantha shook her head. “Good.”
“Except…” she started. Vanessa glared. “Except the bad news didn’t come in the mail today. It came in the phone call from Joan. She appointed someone else as a temporary replacement since she’s all but turned in her reunion badge.”
Her heart sank. “Oh God. She didn’t call to ask me to be the replacement, did she? Because there’s no way in hell I want anything to do with people I went to high school with; let alone, sit at a table and hand them name badges while I throw on a fake smile and pretend that I care that they bothered to show up and reminisce about years I’d so much rather continue forgetting.”
“No. She’s already appointed someone, the vice president.”
“Thank God!” she screeched. “But I didn’t know there was a vice president for this thing. Thinking back on it, Joan’s name was the only one I ever saw all over everything, from the invitations to that silly video she digitized and sent in the mail from our senior year. Anyway, who is it?”
Samantha hesitated and swallowed hard. “It’s Sheila.”
Vanessa leaned forward and rattled her head, fearing she had misheard. “Say that again?”
“Sheila Harris. She was asked last night and accepted the position first thing this morning. Via Joan, Sheila said that she wanted you to be the first to know, given your history. And in case you had changed your mind and planned to in fact attend, even though you are long past the RSVP deadline – her words, not mine -- you would have to deal with her from now on.”
“I would have to deal with her from now on just like I had to deal with her back then?”
“Hopefully not in the same way?” said Samantha, scrunching her face and ducking a little as if she were expecting a strike.
Vanessa dropped her mail onto her desk and rested her hands on either sides of her hips. Her palms began to sweat, making small prints on her brand new, cerulean Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress. “Did she say anything else?”
“Which one?”
“Either of them.”
She gulped. “Sheila said she hoped that you would make it. Something about it being time to move forward.”
“As if that’s not what I’ve been trying to do for the last five years, which is exactly why I cut her out of my life to being with? Now I’m right back to where I started with both of them and she’s got the audacity to tell me that it’s time to move forward?” She grit her teeth and pressed the tip of her middle finger against her forehead to keep from swearing. “This was all from Joan, right? She’s acting as Sheila’s residential mouthpiece?”
“Y
es.”
A slight smile crossed Vanessa’s face as she shook her head. It wasn’t a smile of happiness or impending satisfaction that she had made a success of herself, while Sheila’s only claim to fame was being the daughter of a former senator and screwing Nathan into possible unwanted, lifelong submission. It was a smile of anger, sadness, dread, desperation, sickness, and knowing. She couldn’t scream as loud as she wanted. She couldn’t cry as hard as she needed. She couldn’t punch something because it was all made of glass. She couldn’t leave her employees in a lurch again and get drunk in another hotel bar before 3pm, despite feeling as if she needed something other than a few pep talks from her therapist to get her through the rest of the day. She had to be professional. She had to at least pretend that she was able to get through it, even if she felt like crumbling faster than the Berlin wall inside.
“When is the date of the reunion, again?”
She looked down at her notes. “June 13th.”
“That’s just in a few weeks. Is a new chairperson really even needed for just a few weeks’ worth of work? It’s a high school reunion, she’s not running the entire country. I imagine the worst thing that will happen to her is that she’ll run out of streamers or something. Whatever. When does the evil queen plan to grace us with her presence?”
“She’s supposed to be flying in tomorrow night to take care of a few last minute things with the hotel, bookings and everything.”
“Wonderful. Is she flying in with Nathan?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask Joan, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have wanted you to, it’s not part of your job. And it doesn’t matter anyway. That gutless guttersnipe doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.” She moved her hands to her temples and began massaging them with the tips of her fingers. “Besides, I have so much to get done today and as much as I’d like to toss a book through the window or skip out for an early kickboxing class while imagining Sheila’s face on the bag, I can’t afford to. Do me a favor and make some phone calls to our publishers. Every number is in the rolodex. Let them know that I am here today, bright and early and ready to speak to them as soon as possible so that we can get the next issue out on time. Remind me to approve yesterday’s bylines as well as todays.” She stopped to think for a moment. “What time are we scheduled for the ‘What’s in For Summer!’ photo shoot in Central Park?”
“10:30.”
“Good. I’m going to need you to attend in my place because I have too much to take care of here.”
She grew timid. “Me?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t normally send you out to the wolves so unprepared, but since I skipped out yesterday, I’m going to need all the time in the world today to get things done. Which means I might need to stay overtime. My mother comes back from Paris soon, and the last thing I need is for her to once again regret hiring me for this position. Felicia had it first, my sister. And then she met some guy who was in art school, became a modern day hippie and moved to the beach on the opposite coast. Alexis constantly admits that she only appointed me to keep it in the family, but I’ve done my damnedest to prove my worth.”
“You’re a fantastic editor, Vanessa, the numbers prove it.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. That’s why I was so eager to get this position. I knew I’d be up to task for whatever you wanted me to do, whenever, however possible…” She cleared her throat. “Having said that, I don’t think I can handle an entire photo shoot by myself.” She curled her fingers around the pen in her hand. “I can hardly get the order on your coffee from day to day, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle photographers, and models. What if someone falls or breaks a heel?”
“We have people there for that.”
“Yes, me! If I’m you for the day, who am I going to appoint to get a new heel for the flailing model? No one is going to listen to me, they don’t even know my name yet.”
“We’ll make them learn it before the day is over.”
Vanessa noticed she was shaking a little and placed her hands on her shoulders to calm her. “Listen, Samantha. I like you. I don’t say that to many people because I don’t like many people, especially my employees. I’m not supposed to say things like that, but it’s true. And I wouldn’t send you out there if I didn’t like you, or if I was certain you would screw it up, because ultimately, my name and reputation with regards to Attitude are on the line here. We’re working with high class fashion models and photographers that Wintour herself would chew off her right arm to snag for her latest issue. One screw up on set could ruin me a lot more than any Page Six article ever written about me.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Good, because you seem like the type that really wants me to succeed, so I know that you’ll be fine.” She dropped her hands and stepped back. “And you can relax, because you won’t actually be by yourself. It’s just that I’m not going to be there to guide you as I’d like. Someone else will be there with you, another editor. I just need you to be my eyes and ears. Record it on your phone if you have to. Just let me know what’s going on.”
Samantha let out a sigh of relief and fell back on her heels. “Alright. Okay, I can do that.”
“Great. I need to get started, so why don’t you make those phone calls for me, okay?”
She bobbed her head and moved toward the door. “Would you like to be left alone for a few minutes?”
Vanessa saw the apprehension on her face and pinched her lips to the corner of her mouth. “Yeah. I need to collect myself before getting started. Thanks.”
“Sure.” She closed the door behind her.
Vanessa folded her arms and glanced up at the ceiling.
Dear God, it’s me, Vanessa. When I said I felt I needed to be confronted by this situation on a daily basis in order to move past it, I never meant literally and with the help of the other two parties involved! But, thanks!
She went over to her chair, sitting down and once again looking down at all of Manhattan below her. It was official. Hurricane Sheila was blowing back into the city much sooner rather than later. With no previous plans of ever attending the reunion, and the wedding taking place in California, she thought she was free from confronting her past in person. But once again, fate stepped in and had other plans. She wasn’t sure whether she would smile at her in hopes of proving how much she had moved past it all, and certainly didn’t need any help from the enemy in doing so. Or just walk up to her and deck her directly in the mouth upon sight like she had in high school when she found her having sex with Nathan in the shower of the girl’s locker room.
That latter was looking better and better the more she thought of it.
After spending the night alone in bed, Maurice was somewhat cranky waking up. The girl he had been having sex with the day before —whose name he finally learned was in fact Shaleesha— was long gone before the sun even set. When he had returned to the room after speaking with Vanessa downstairs, he saw that she was still tied up with the apple in her mouth, but was now pissed as hell that he had left her alone for so long. When he tried explaining that his roommates were home and that she was going to have to go home anyway because she was too loud, she became even more furious. He debated on whether or not he was even going to untie her by then, seeing as how she was trying to kick him in the face, as her legs weren’t bound, and kept making clawing gestures with her fingers.
But all it took was a deep kiss, and she was back to being putty in his hands. Maurice knew he had a way with women, all women, except the one he had always wanted. He knew Vanessa found him attractive, sexy even, which is why he was so certain that she did in fact watch him as he had come out of the shower, and sometimes even as he was still in there. He also knew that despite whatever she said, under the right circumstances, they could actually make a real ‘go’ of a relationship. Possibly even get married and maybe have a few kids. She was the only woman who ever made him believe in such things.
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br /> He was always by her side, patiently waiting for her to realize their potential. When he learned that Nathan had discarded her for Sheila, he immediately abandoned their childhood friendship, choosing to remain at Vanessa’s side, even as she tried pushing him away, fearing that he would leave her anyway like all men seemed to, beginning with her father. But he assured her as he often did that she was his best friend, and the only person in his life he could ever love more than his own mother.
He felt she needed to know that he still wanted to be with her as more than a friend from the moment he learned it was over between she and Nathan, and even long before then. But she needed time, and he gave her as much as he could offer, all while still playfully flirting, even if she didn’t always respond in the way he would’ve liked. She could’ve used him and tossed him aside like yesterday’s trash, treated him as if he were a stranger and stomp on his heart with a pair of six inch stilettos. And still, he would’ve come back for more. Addicted was too accurate a word, but still not accurate enough. It’s why she was the first person he went to when his house “flooded”. Why he’s never moved out. And why he’s certain the only way he’d ever leave her is if he were forced out by fate.
He stared up at his ceiling fan that morning and prayed for maybe the second or third time in his life. He prayed for world peace, for world hunger to end, and for his feelings for Vanessa to be openly reciprocated – or for his own to finally be burned in the fiery pits of hell. He didn’t necessarily mean the last part, but at the same time, it’s something he felt he needed to get off his chest.
As he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, he saw Nikki in the hallway. She was leaning against the frame of her door, one leg crossed over the other, only wearing a fitted green tank and her matching green and white polka-dot, high-waist panties, all while brushing her teeth. When she saw Maurice staring at her, she yanked the brush out of her mouth and sneered.
“I thought you were already gone to work?” she said.
