No matter how hard she tried, Carmala couldn’t convince Izzie that it would be better for everyone if she just stayed home tonight. Izzie threw a big terrycloth robe over Carmala’s dress and got busy with her makeup and hair.
She cleaned off the tear-streaked makeup and started from scratch. Carmala watched Izzy in the mirror. She applied color to her eyelids and thick mascara to her eyelashes, brushed powder over her face, added blush. Izzie pulled Carmala’s hair into a severe ponytail, wildly teased the back, then plopped a large black patent leather flower on the side of her head.
“Voilà. You are complete, my dear.”
Carmala blinked at her image in the mirror. A large beauty mark on her heavily rouged left cheek, lined eyelids, and large red lips gave her a sultry look. She didn’t recognize the face she saw in the mirror. In less than fifteen minutes, she’d been transformed into a voguish clubbing girl.
Maybe this was what she needed, to pretend to be another person altogether. Transform in masquerade and forget the old Carmala—just for the night.
In her six-inch stiletto heels, Margo towered over Carmala. And Izzie, with her gold sequined minidress and matching gold strappy heels and gold bag, appeared raring to go.
They headed downstairs. Izzie grabbed two bottles of wine on the way out, and they scooted into the backseats of the waiting limo.
Per Izzie’s instructions, the limo deposited them at the front door of Club 21. The girls stepped onto a red carpet, handed their invitation to the bouncer seated by the cordoned-off entrance and entered a make-believe Oz through the oversized glass doors—ahead of a line that wrapped around the block. People waiting in line glared at them with envy as they glided into the club.
Once inside, the host escorted them to a secluded VIP section that came stocked with chilled champagne. Soon Carmala, Margo, and Izzie ventured out of their little cubby into the wide world of dance. They started dancing to the throbbing techno beat.
Through the strobe lights, Carmala caught a gaze from across the dance floor. The tall, lanky blond approached. Nope, not her type. He smiled at her, and she ignored him. Another set of eyes caught hers belonging to a dark, handsome, and polished looking man. Carmala decided she’d approach him and make the moves. She wanted to lose herself and play act the part she dressed in. Give in to another self. Why not act like the vamp she’d dressed like tonight? She had nothing to lose. So, she danced with him. When his arms curled around her waist, grabbing at her butt, she ignored it.
Four songs passed, and she lost herself in the pulsating beat. Carmala grinded with the delicious stranger. She didn’t know and didn’t care to know his name. She’d never see him after the dance set anyway. He groped her breasts. Oh, no, that wouldn’t do. It turned her off. She pushed his hands away and strutted off the dance floor.
He pursued her, but she picked up her pace and escaped to the ladies’ room. The attendant, a middle-aged, rotund, but well-dressed woman, nodded when Carmala entered. “You act like you just saw a ghost, honey. You all right?”
Carmala glanced in the mirror and touched up her makeup. “It’s my first night out after a horrible breakup. I just dumped a dance partner who groped me on the floor. Not good. But I intend to find someone else to play with tonight.”
“That’s my girl. You go get ’em, tiger.”
She took her time to freshen up. She powdered her nose and applied more red lipstick. Carmala wondered how Margo and Izzie were doing and decided to head up to the VIP lounge. She exited the ladies’ room, and with relief, noted that the guy she’d danced with was gone. At the VIP lounge, the girls were surrounded by three guys.
Suddenly Carmala felt the roar of a tiger crawl up her throat and let a wild scream out. She felt free, and the scream became an incredible release. A release of all that had passed. And a thrilling excitement for what was to come took the place of all the bad. She was liberated from the bounds of the energy-sucking relationship with Guido forever more.
Everyone gazed at her with evident surprise and bemusement.
One of the men resembled her client Michael Maddox and hadn’t latched on to either Margo or Izzie. Feeling daring, Carmala walked over to him and whispered into his ear, “You’re pretty hot. Hope you aren’t taken tonight?”
She felt an immediate attraction to this stranger. She wanted to pretend he was Michael. Unattached Michael, just for a few glorious minutes.
Momentarily shocked at her own behavior, she clung on to this Michael character for dear life. He said something in reply, which she couldn’t hear over the loud music but took as acquiescence. He had Michael’s dimples when he smiled and had that same smart, cocky look. She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair. His twinkly black eyes penetrated hers, just like Michael’s had.
He poured her a glass of champagne, and Carmala drank the entire thing down, enjoying the bubbles and the alcoholic high she had going on.
Izzie made out with one of the other guys, and Margo had her hands full—literally—with the remaining one. Each of them had hooked up with a man.
Carmala held her finger up to her pretend Michael, indicating that she’d be right back. She went up to Margo, whispering into her ear, “Can you believe this? I say we should eat these men alive and spit ’em out when we’re done. What do you think?”
“My sentiments exactly. Get a gander at that Izzie.” Carmala and Margo gazed at Izzie in amazement. Izzie straddled the guy while kissing him. “Izzie tells me she does this all the time. She claims it’s divinely fun having men without strings attached, and I do think I’ll be following her example,” Margo said.
They laughed and clinked their glasses.
“Way to go, Izzie,” Carmala said, holding up her glass as though in toast, knowing that she couldn’t hear her. “We’ve got nothing to lose by following her lead.”
Carmala rejoined the Michael look-alike, grabbed his hand, and dragged him to the dance floor and proceeded to bump and grind against him until they were both sweaty and panting. At times, he held her close; then he turned her back to his front and continued to dance wildly, bumping and grinding against her ass. She let her inhibitions go and danced with abandon. Carmala whispered in his ear, calling him Michael every chance she got, knowing he’d never hear her over the music.
For tonight, he was her sexy Palm Beach client.
This was fun. To exist, unrestrained, even for a couple of hours, in this altered state of reality was amazing.
But her Michael-wanna-be got frisky. His hands slid over her breasts. She stepped away. He whispered something in her ear. She couldn’t hear and didn’t care to hear. She kept dancing, but at a distance. He got on her nerves, slightly. He tapped her arm and pointed to the VIP lounge. She smiled and nodded.
Why not? She was thirsty.
At the VIP lounge, Carmala and her Michael enjoyed more champagne. He kissed her. He was rough, taking over her mouth and thrusting his tongue deeply. He nipped and teased her. God, she had to admit, he felt good. He pulled her onto his lap where he rubbed his hard-on against her ass. Uh oh, this was getting a little out of hand. He sucked on her ear and licked her neck, kissing her in wet, circular motions.
Carmala couldn’t deny that this stranger turned her on. But she wasn’t ready for this. He would, without a doubt, want to get laid. Not her. She wanted to play a little, dance, make out, but she was so not ready for sex. Casual sex wasn’t her game.
She was a romantic at heart.
And tonight she was looking for a little harmless fun. It was only her first night out as a single woman, for God’s sake.
Evidently sensing her discomfort, the man backed off. “So what is your name?” he asked.
“It’s Beth,” Carmala lied. Why not? She didn’t plan to see this guy again. “And you’re Michael, my Prince Michael.” She caressed his cheek, enjoying her little game.
“It’s actually Josh. But I’ll be Michael if that’s what you want.”
“Yes, for tonight.”
Obviously drunk, Izzie staggered over and whispered in Carmala’s ear. “I can’t believe it’s almost two a.m. We’re going to have to bust this popsicle stand.”
Carmala whispered back, “Okay, give me a minute or two. That’s all I need with this guy.”
Margo made her way over. “Come on, girls, we got to do that thing, remember?”
Carmala played along. “Oh, yeah, that thing. I forgot about that. Come on, Michael, last chance to dance.”
She grabbed her pretend Michael, and they danced a fast dance and then a final slow song for the last dance. The DJ made an announcement for the last call for alcohol. Carmala supposed now she would say goodbye and exchange phone numbers. However, she didn’t intend to exchange her real phone number.
Predictably, Josh asked her for her number. She scribbled a fake number on a cocktail napkin. She made excuses about why they needed to go, and he finally said goodnight.
Carmala searched for Izzie and Margo and found them saying goodbye to their guys. Their behavior tonight was all so juvenile, but regardless, the shenanigans did the trick of wiping away her troubles.
So this was having fun with the proverbial Mr. Wrong. By God, she’d embrace it. And what a blast.
They crawled into the limo and headed for a Manhattan diner for an early breakfast.
Izzie sank into the plush banquet seat at the diner, fairly drunk but still mostly coherent. “I could do this forever. The freedom, the men. The game. The rockin’ sex. The coming and going. Going mostly. And did I mention the rockin’ sex?” She giggled.
“Wow. What a night. I found a sense of freedom inside Club 21 I never knew existed. Girls are truly in control today, aren’t they? We call the shots, we’re in charge, and we dictate the outcome,” said Margo.
“Right, these guys get what they want too. They are there for one thing. You might think you’re in control, but only as long as they allow it. Try not giving them what they want and see what happens.” Carmala tugged her skirt down. “But I did have a wonderful time. It got my mind off everything.”
“You’ll see exactly what I mean in time, my dear Carmala.” Izzie patted Carmala’s thigh. “You are in for quite a ride. Just stick with me, girlfriend. I’ll show you both a better time than you ever imagined. Invitations are coming out of my ears, including tons of private clubs. We’ve got to keep this party going.” She held up her cup of coffee and her hand wavered, but she saved herself from spilling it at the last moment by settling it onto the saucer with two hands.
“Sounds like a plan. What do you say, Carm?” Margo asked.
“Guess so.” Carmala had reservations. She couldn’t see herself doing this every weekend. She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted yet. But a niggling desire popped in and out of her consciousness, playing hide and seek, making her question where she was going in life—regarding men, anyway.
Maybe she didn’t have to know right now.
****
Over the course of the next several weekends, Carmala went out with the girls and tried to figure out what she wanted, just flirting or casual dating. But clubbing burnt her out before she could find that elusive something she yearned for.
Nursing one too many hangovers on a Sunday in order to get herself back into working order had her saying no to Margo and Izzie.
How did single girls continue to do this? Weekend after weekend?
She didn’t get it. It exhausted her.
Carmala begged off girls’ night out for a couple of weekends in a row. She recuperated and fortunately found a measure of peace and restoration. She didn’t miss Guido. At least the clubbing had been good for something. It had kicked those thoughts of loneliness right out of her system.
She watched new movies on demand, curled up with the Times or a romance novel, and enjoyed the simple company of her cats.
Things at work continued as normal. Pure Cosmetics ran into a wall, and she needed to revamp the financial strategy with the executives. It consumed a good portion of her time, but she didn’t mind. She found the challenge exhilarating.
One Thursday night, on the way home from work, she bumped into Jane downtown when she stopped in a deli to pick up dinner. “Jane, my gosh. How are you? How’s married life treating you?”
Jane seemed surprised to see her. She rearranged her shopping bags and hugged Carmala. “Nice to see you, Carmala. Married life is as wonderful as can be expected. I’m very busy at work, and sometimes Bill and I commute to work together or have lunch.” She gave Carmala an uncertain glance. “How’s single life treating you? Bill told me. I hope you don’t mind.”
Carmala didn’t offer an explanation about her relief that Guido was out of her life. She’d told Bill about the breakup but not the nitty-gritty, and she wouldn’t get into it with Jane. “It’s great. I’m enjoying my freedom. I’ve hit the town a few nights. Now I’m keeping busy with work.”
Jane nodded. “Why don’t we meet for lunch or after work for drinks since we both work downtown? It’d be nice for us to spend some girl time together.”
“That sounds perfect. How’s Bill? I haven’t talked with him in a while.”
“He’s struggling a bit. The economy is still crawling along. But he knows how to make a deal happen. So I don’t think he really has a lot to worry about. I’ll tell him you were asking about him.”
“Good.” Carmala shuffled her bag from one hand to the other.
“You should come over for dinner soon. Bill would want to catch up with you. And I’m finished with the home improvements at our apartment. I’d love to show them off.”
“That sounds good. Let me know. It’s great seeing you.” They kissed each other’s cheek goodbye, and then Jane hurried down the street.
Carmala had a momentary sinking feeling as she watched fresh, confident, happy Jane disappear. She could have had a settled-down life, just like Jane, but ironically she hadn’t wanted it back then. Did she really want it now? She didn’t know. Even if Guido had been on her business and intellectual wavelength or didn’t have his anger management problems or hadn’t slept with Jon, would she have been restless? She couldn’t be sure.
If she’d married Bill, she’d now have the intellectual and professional compatibility she thought she longed for. Granted, they’d have a lot to share at the end of the day. But would she truly be happy?
Maybe she just needed to continue to have fun with all the Mr. Wrongs at the clubs for now. Until she figured it out.
Chapter Twenty-One
Michael Maddox entered his office building on the Intracoastal Waterway. Yeah, he was the man who had it all. Power, a successful business, and many friends and business associates. And thanks to the tenacity of Carmala Rosa and the team at Synergy Plus, Inc., the polo school had opened on time. Things were moving right along.
He exited his private elevator and treaded the plush carpeting of the executive suite to meet with his chief officers. A glow of sheer satisfaction overcame him as he thought of the recent addition to his business. He had ignored the naysayers who believed his expertise existed outside the area of expansion and went ahead with it anyway. From the ground roots all the way up to the top, if there was one thing Michael learned about himself, it was that his business sixth sense had never led him astray. And that was why he stuck with his plan to open the polo school. How fortunate to have the school booked to capacity and in full swing on its first session.
Eventually, he’d pocket the sponsors and host regional polo matches.
He’d planned to first meet Bert Lankely, chief risk manager. Michael caught him in a meeting with legal counsel, John Woodwork, which couldn’t be good. If Bert was meeting with the lawyer, it had to be bad news. His mental high dropped a few notches.
“Hi, Mike, glad you’re here,” Bert said as he and John stood to greet him.
John cleared his throat. “Mike, we’ve had a development we need to discuss.”
Dread immediately replaced his good mood. “Development” had a bad ring
to it. “Gentlemen, let’s dispense with the formalities and get right to the point.”
Bert took his seat behind his desk, John and Mike in chairs opposite him.
“We’ve had a bit of beginner’s bad luck with the polo venture,” John said. “You’ll recall the accident with the young polo student, May Cronin, a few months ago.”
“Yes, an unfortunate event. I’ve spoken to the parents a couple of times, and they said she’d fared pretty well,” Michael said.
“It appears that her injuries are far greater than initially thought. Numerous tests were done, and it’s been determined that the poor girl will remain paralyzed from the accident.”
How very sad. A girl’s life was now permanently affected by an accident on his polo school training grounds. There’d been no negligence on the company’s part, but because it happened on his turf, they were financially liable. That was what insurance was for.
But Michael couldn’t help feeling guilty. “This is upsetting, so horrible. We need to send flowers, offer to help with medical costs…” What could he possibly offer to make up for this distressing matter?
“It appears we’ll be offering much more than that. As usual with these situations, inevitably a civil lawsuit has been lodged against Maddox Industries,” John said.
Bert leaned forward. “Although we’re fully insured, the amounts claimed in the lawsuit exceed the maximum coverage paid by our general liability insurance. Our special-risks policy for the polo school wasn’t in effect when the accident occurred. Excess liability will not cover the risk. The business may have to absorb the losses.”
Michael remembered the bit about the special-risks policy. He’d been anxious to open the school for the start of the season, and the policy hadn’t been bound until weeks later. They had the general liability policy in place, so he didn’t think they’d be exposed. The sheer rarity of the accident exposed the calculated risk he had taken. One he shouldn’t have taken. It didn’t matter, the business would have to sustain the losses. He didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Having Fun with Mr. Wrong Page 27
