“Just that toxic sugar substitute,” I said, shaking a little packet.
“What are you so preoccupied about?” Ryan asked as he sat down across from me.
“Just visiting with some of my old ghosts. Whenever I walk through Times Square, I think of the Broadway shows I saw. I can usually connect the theater with the show, and the person I saw it with.”
“That’s what you meant about ghosts of boyfriends past?” He studied me carefully. “And what about me, Madison. What category do I fit in?”
His question took me by surprise. “Well, you were definitely an old boyfriend, but since you’re sitting right across from me, you can haunt me in person.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
Uh-oh ... he was pushing the old romance pitch again. “To be honest, I see you as a brother, Ryan. Always there, annoying at times, but lovable and trustworthy.”
“So you do trust me?”
“Of course I trust you! You are probably the most trustworthy person in my life.”
“But I’m annoying.” He lifted his coffee to his lips, then paused. “In what way?”
“Because you ask so many damn questions!” I bellowed as my cell phone started to ring.
I nodded as I grabbed the phone. “This will just take a minute,” I told Ryan. Although I was happy for the interruption, I hate people who talk on their cell phones while they’re with someone else. It’s downright rude. Even if Ryan was not my favorite person in the world, I refused to stoop to that level and breach my personal sense of etiquette.
“I heard you on the radio.” It was Leo.
“What? Weren’t you at work?”
“I was on my way in a cab, and I had the driver turn it up. I can’t believe you brought Ryan on with you.”
“It wasn’t really my choice,” I lamented, “and I can’t talk now.”
“He’s with you, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“In bed?”
“No! We’re waiting for a few cases of toys to be loaded into the car.”
“Oh, well, I just have to say, the chemistry between you two is amazing. If we could bottle it, I’d pour it all over our romantic leads on All Our Tomorrows.”
“Are you kidding me?” I was miffed. On the air I had griped about how hard it was to find a guy, and Leo interpreted that as romantic chemistry?
“You two really came across.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Leo. Maybe you were listening to ‘Scott and Todd in the Morning.’ ”
“Listen, Ms. Avenue, I’m your best friend and I know these things.”
“Whatever. I have to go.”
“You go, girl,” Leo said. “We’ll talk later.”
I flipped my phone closed, shaking my head. “I am sorry,” I told Ryan. “Sometimes I think cell phones were a cruel invention to completely isolate people in their own society.”
Ryan laughed. “I like your theory.”
My phone rang again, and I gritted my teeth. “If it’s Leo, I’m hanging up on him. Hello?”
“Madison? It’s Nicole. From the office.”
“Nicole . . . hi. I’m just out this morning on a toy delivery. Is everything okay there?”
“Well, yeah. I just heard you on the radio.”
Didn’t anyone in this city do their jobs anymore? “Oh, no, tell me it wasn’t on in the office.” The last thing I needed was for Barry to think I was out promoting myself while he gave me time off to work on the toy drive.
“No, but I was listening on my Walkman while I checked proofs. Your friend Ryan sounds very nice.”
“He is,” I said, wishing Nicole would get to the point.
“Were you serious about just being friends with him?”
“Of course. We’re friends.”
“Then I want him!” Nicole blurted out. “When can you introduce me?”
Leaning back in my chair, I glanced at Ryan’s handsome face as a wickedly clever idea gelled in my brain. Ryan and Nicole . . . Nicole and Ryan . . . it was serendipitous. I would be instrumental in bringing two people together, in ridding my life of two needy individuals.
“How about my party, next week?” I asked Nicole. “Are you coming?”
“I’ll come if he’s going to be there.”
“Let me work on it and I’ll get back to you,” I said, flipping my phone shut.
“So Ryan,” I said, lifting my warm paper cup. “Did I mention my tree-trimming party next Friday night?”
32
December 19, 2003
Although I will never match my mother’s talent as an entertaining hostess, I pushed myself to throw the tree-trimming party each year. It was a great way to get single guys into my apartment, and as long as I kept the liquor flowing and the food trays filled, the tree got decorated in no time.
This year, party preparations had been hampered by my supercharged schedule: moving toys around town with Ryan, trying to squeeze in a few hours of quality work at the office each day, then rushing to the stores at night to take care of my Christmas shopping. Although I only needed to buy for Mom, Leo, Sugar, Wolf, and my Secret Santa at the office, the process of shopping was so much a Christmas ritual that I couldn’t bear to give it up, even after I’d accumulated all the gifts on my list.
Thanks to Ralph the doorman, my tree was set up in front of the window, its branches relaxed and ready to be adorned. The beer was iced down, the wine was uncorked, and I’d mixed up a pitcher of whiskey sours. Thanks to my buddies Dean and Deluca, the quiches were warming in the oven, and the table was loaded up with salads, pumpkin-cranberry muffins, and a huge platter of salmon spread shaped like a giant fish.
Pausing in front of the mosaic-tile-framed mirror by the kitchen, I checked out my new acquisition. The classic woman’s black evening tux was sexy and elegant, its black velvet vest revealing just the right amount of cleavage to take the mannish edge off. The dramatic tail of the jacket did make me feel a little like a penguin, but it was sort of fun to feel it flopping back and forth as I moved through the apartment. I was sipping a whiskey sour and setting out boxes of ornaments when Ralph buzzed to let me know that the first guests were on their way up. I slid a bunch of Christmas CDs into the carousel, pressed play, and opened the door.
Jenna was the first off the elevator, leading with her wide, ample tummy.
“Look at you, sticking out of your coat!” I ran into the hall to throw my arms around her. “You look great!”
“Thanks. Benjamin takes good care of me,” she said, flashing a loving look at her husband.
“Hey, Madison.” Benjamin gave me a hug, then gestured toward a tall man with dark hair and a black cashmere coat. “This is our friend and neighbor, Owen Drummond.”
“Hey, there! Merry Christmas,” I said, extending a hand.
Owen shook my hand firmly, peering at me through thin wire-framed glasses. Definitely the studious type, which is sometimes fun to defile. “So where’s the party?” he asked.
“Jingle Bell Rock” spilled out of the apartment as I waved them in. “Help yourself. Drinks are in the kitchen, but I will wait on you, pregnant lady.” The guys ducked into the kitchen. I danced Jenna around until she giggled. “What can I get you? Eggnog? Milk? Or seltzer?”
“Nothing yet,” Jenna said, slipping off her coat. She wore a smart houndstooth tunic with a black velvet collar over a black skirt. Cute, but nothing could divert the eye from her huge belly.
“You are enormous,” I said. “Sugar and I are determined to throw you a shower, but we can’t find a date. Maybe after the holidays?”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Jenna said. “Really, my neighbors and business associates have done so much—two baby showers already. We’ve got the crib and a roomful of baby clothes. Everything will be decorated with a Noah’s Ark theme. Benjamin is going to put up the wallpaper next week.”
“Sounds great,” I said, though I worried that any gift I purchased would seem inappropriate now that a theme had been
chosen. Did I need to buy tiny baby clothes with animals on them? Little ark-shaped booties? A lion-head cap? Jenna was entering an alien world, and I wasn’t completely comfortable letting her go. I had a million questions for her. Was she still happy being married to Benjamin? Was she afraid of the pain of childbirth? Was she thinking of leaving her job in the psych ward at that Queens Children’s Hospital?
But now wasn’t the time for girl talk, especially since Benjamin and Owen had reappeared with drinks. Benjamin went over to admire my tree. “This looks nice and fresh,” he said, tugging on a few pine needles. “Do you want me to put the lights on?”
“Benjamin is great at stringing lights,” Jenna told me as she rubbed her belly. “Go on, honey. We may not be able to stay till the end, so let’s get the tree started.”
Meanwhile, Owen paced through the living room, examining my wall hangings as if he were visiting a gallery. “I heard you were in the art field,” he said without looking at me.
“Owen teaches at Queens College,” Jenna said, trying to stir up a mutual attraction between us. “He was my advisor when I did my clinicals. He teaches psych.”
“Oh, really? That must be interesting,” I said. “How do you find the caliber of students these days? Is it a challenge to teach them, or are standards slipping?”
“Some of them are brilliant,” he said. “My wife was one of those. A remarkable aptitude, but did she apply herself?” He shook his head. “I find that many of my students are simply lazy, fraught with a strong sense of entitlement . . .”
Did he say wife? As Owen went on I mouthed “Wife?” to Jenna.
“Owen means his ex-wife,” Jenna interrupted. “He’s divorced.”
“The paperwork will be filed in January,” Owen said. “It’s sad to think that I’ll become another statistic of our society—another failed marriage.”
Sad is right, I thought. I stepped back, seeking escape, then grabbed a tray of cheese balls to cover the fact that I was trying to get away from Owen. In theory, I had no objection to dating a man who was divorced, but there was divorced and there was Night of the Walking Wounded.
“Cheese ball anyone?” I asked, holding out the tray.
Jenna and Benjamin helped themselves, but Owen declined. He probably had major food allergies, too. Lactose intolerance. One sniff of a nut and he would blow up like the Fuji blimp.
“Where did you get this picture?” he asked me, nodding at a print.
“I don’t know, it’s a fairly popular painting by Mary Cassatt. Do you know her work?”
“It looks familiar,” he said. “Haunting.” His eyes searched from behind his glasses, as if I had the answer he was looking for. “I find it interesting that you would choose to hang it here in your living room.”
I hugged the cheese ball platter and turned away. “I like it,” I said, ducking into the kitchen before he asked me to hop on the couch and tell him all about my father. Note to self: Remind Jenna not to bring any more psycho psych experts around.
Another bachelor out of the running. Disappointed, I caught a glimpse of my fabulous tux in the reflection from the toaster. I hoped this classic outfit wouldn’t be wasted. Maybe Frank could come through tonight, emerging from his former shadow and proving himself to be a strong, stand-up guy worth pursuing. Fingers crossed, I went out to answer the doorman’s buzz.
The apartment quickly began to fill up with people. My boss, Barry, arrived with his partner, Upton, one of the sweetest guys I’d ever met. Mrs. Warner from next door appeared with a dish of kugel. Leo sprang off the elevator, maneuvering like a champ on his crutches. A group of women from the museum came together, a traveling cloud of perfumes barbed with manicured nails. Nicole wore a leopard-print skirt that was just a tad too tight to be tasteful, but I bit my tongue, sensing that she was nervous about meeting the man of her dreams.
“Okay, everyone, you’ve got to put at least three ornaments on the tree,” I said. “If everyone does their part, then you’ll be allowed to return to your homes with peace and goodwill!”
The women from the office gathered around the tree, commenting on Benjamin’s fine job stringing the lights. I hurried over and pulled out a few ornaments I wanted to hang myself: a papier-mâché globe of the earth that I’d made for my father in Brownies, a crystal teardrop Mom had brought me from Switzerland, and the snow globe of Rockefeller Center that Leo had given me some ten years ago.
“Do you remember giving this to me?” I asked, dangling it in front of him. “That was ten years ago.”
He swiped the ornament and gave it a shake. “I can’t believe I still work there.”
“I can’t believe we’re still friends,” I teased.
He rolled his eyes. “You’d be lost without me, Ms. Avenue, and you know it.”
“Maybe so,” I said, “but just remember who introduced you to the love of your life.”
“Ugh! You’re never going to let that debt go,” Leo growled.
“Never!” I said, taking the snow globe back to hang on the tree.
When Ryan arrived, I gave him a perfunctory introduction until we came to Nicole. I had planned to give her a major buildup, but there was one problem: I couldn’t think of a positive way to sell her. I mean, she’s always struck me as a nosy, spoiled brat. Last month I found out her parents paid cash for her co-op on West Twenty-fourth. Cash! That wouldn’t bother me so much if she weren’t so competitive at work, always reminding Barry of the work she’s done, always pointing out my failings to him in her whiny, victim voice.
So anyway, I kept saying things like: “Nicole and I work very closely together.” Or “We’re almost cubicle mates!” Or “Nicole is a good person to know.” Whatever the hell that meant.
Of course, being the polite guy that he was, Ryan stayed captive at Nicole’s side, listening as she talked her nonsense about shopping for Christmas gifts and walking into a great sale at Bed, Bath and Beyond.
I was a little annoyed with Nicole, having spent the week prepping her with interesting little nuggets about Ryan. I had found out that he lived in a restored carriage house in the Village, a place he was proud of. I told her to ask about his years in the Navy. I’d tipped her off that he was an architectural engineer, and even recommended that she pick up a copy of Architectural Digest to get a feel for the landscape.
All this prep work, and here she was telling him about a bath boutique?
I actually felt a little sorry for Ryan as I wandered off, but then again, the guy knew nobody in New York, so even the vacant-minded Nicole would be a start.
Mission accomplished, I moved over to laugh with Leo and Jenna, who was telling a story about Benjamin’s nerves over being a new father. Which put me in a position by the door when Frank arrived.
“Hey, there,” he said, handing me a little gift bag. “I brought you an ornament,” he said, “and something else.” He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms, planting his lips on mine.
Ooh! I blinked in surprise, trying to answer the kiss without breaking into heavy petting. But then, as my warm feelings swelled with the chorus of *N Sync’s “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays,” Frank thrust his hips forward and ground against me, performing a primitive dry-hump ritual for all to see.
“Excuse me?” I didn’t mean to sound like a schoolteacher, but this guy was definitely going to detention. “Is that a lump of coal in your stocking, or are you happy to see me?” I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him away. “Christ, Frank. A little subtlety, please.”
“Sorry.” He shrugged sheepishly. “But it’s good to see you, Madison.”
“Do I get a kiss?” Sugar asked, appearing in the doorway. She looked stunning in her winter white Arden coat, trimmed in faux fur and slit up to the wazoo in the front. She squeezed Frank’s arm, then patted his cheek affectionately. “I have no idea who you are, but I must admit, I like your Neanderthal style.”
He grinned at me. “At least someone appreciates me.”
“He’s a total ho
rndog,” I told Sugar.
She shrugged. “The sign of a good party—there’s something for everyone.” She dropped her leather bag from her shoulder and pulled it open. “And I’ve brought a little Christmas surprise. My preview of January Playboy came today.”
“No way.” I draped an arm over her shoulder as she turned to the “Sugar Plum” feature. The headline, “Visions of Sugar Plum,” was superimposed in dark red over a glossy photo of Sugar licking her fingers, naked, of course. The angles of creamy light over her mocha skin were exquisite, from the curve of her hips to the delicate fullness of her breasts.
“Wow! You look great! The smooth texture of your skin, and the sculpted curves. You could be one of Michelangelo’s goddesses.”
“Yeah,” Frank moaned, leaning close. “Really nice.”
Smiling, Sugar sighed. “Man, I am so happy with the way it turned out. And what a pleasure it was, doing the work.”
“And the pleasure just keeps on keeping on,” Frank said, devouring the photo. “Go on, turn the page.”
Sugar turned the page and squealed. “Oh, man! This one turned out great!” In the photo, Sugar’s legs were propped up on the console of a studio with a microphone popping up between her legs. “They got a bunch of these, with me in this pretend radio station. Isn’t it hysterical? Wait till Cream sees them. He’s gonna wet his pants.”
Frank’s eyes were bugging out. “Ouch, baby. You are one sexy thing.”
Sugar squinted at him. “Who are you, anyway?”
He extended his hand, with a smug smile. “Frank Falcone, and the pleasure is all mine.”
Shaking his hand, Sugar let out a full-bodied laugh. “You’re a real crackup, Frank.”
I patted Sugar’s shoulder, warning her: “Keep an eye on him. He bites.”
Frank let out a low growl, and Sugar laughed again.
I couldn’t believe she was humoring the creep. I also couldn’t believe I thought I might fall for him. Big sigh. I was running out of possible dates, and the party was only half over.
Now was the winter of my discontent.
33
Ghosts of Boyfriends Past Page 26
