Captain of Industry

by Karin Kallmaker

  She sat looking around her tiny studio apartment, glad not to have a roommate even if it meant minimal living space and using the oven made the lights flicker. She’d tacked up her favorite Lauren Bacall poster from To Have and Have Not, but otherwise there was nothing here she hadn’t purchased in New York. She’d left everything behind because she wasn’t that girl anymore. Being left standing on the sidewalk by Suzanne had made her feel like it though. Forgettable. Dime a dozen, as her mother had told her frequently.

  At least it wasn’t after sex. The only guy she’d hooked up with since moving here had practically fallen out of bed in his haste to get his pants back on. Maybe he’d been married or had a girlfriend. If so, she was glad he’d left without her number. Whatever it was, he’d hardly said goodbye. Part of her had been hurt, but part of her hadn’t cared. She’d been lonely. He’d made her laugh once or twice at a party. The sex, like all sex to date, had had moments of pleasure and otherwise been mostly waiting for it to be over. She could manage more and better results all by herself.

  Suzanne had treated her differently. Suzanne had also made parts of her body do little quivers and dances. Until now, she had supposed her bits and buttons didn’t work with the same enthusiasm Cosmopolitan reported they did.

  “It would serve her right if I stood her up,” Jennifer told her reflection as she updated her street makeup from day to nighttime.

  The sweater wouldn’t be warm enough. She considered the Yves St. Laurent silk blouse she’d been given after a photo shoot. The peplum style was very feminine and it fit her like a ruby skin. If Suzanne ignored her while she was wearing that… But it would require another layer under the coat to keep her warm in the theater, or she’d have to keep her coat on. Which would ruin the whole point of the blouse.

  Anyway, didn’t she already know that Suzanne found her physically attractive? Her gaze rested on the utilitarian Brooklyn Bridge sweatshirt she’d bought for emergency warmth a few weeks ago. So be it, she thought. Easing it over her hair, she knew she’d be glad of the warmth. But fashion was never about comfort. She gave herself a disapproving look in the cracked mirror on the back of the door.

  She turned profile and pulled the sweatshirt tightly across her chest but the effect was not exactly a showstopper. It will get her out of my life for good unless she’s really paying attention to me.

  Chapter Ten

  Suzanne arrived in front of the movie theaters near Radio City and Rockefeller Center worried she was keeping Jennifer waiting in the cold. She’d paid the engraver fifty bucks to hurry a ten-dollar project, and was relieved to have a chance to catch her breath when there was no sign of Jennifer.

  Annemarie had been the one to suggest a gift. After they’d talked through multiple angles of the merger and why Suzanne’s name was being floated as a possible transition leader, Annemarie had asked how life in the Big Apple was treating her. Confessing that she’d abruptly abandoned a very pretty and interesting girl in favor of talking business had left Annemarie aghast.

  “You were rude—you need something more than a movie ticket and a large popcorn to make up for it.”

  “I was going to get large drinks too. That adds up to about sixty bucks in Manhattan.”

  “You are such a nerd. You are no longer a starving student, if you ever were.”

  “I know I got reduced tuition at Stanford because of my father—”

  “And you lived at home.”

  “And I lived at home. But my parents are hippies, Greenpeace and Earth Day bona fide hippies. I know it’s not quite the same thing as economizing because you have no choice, but if we didn’t need it, we didn’t have it.”

  “None of which is going to impress a supermodel.”

  “She’s not dripping in jewels and furs.”

  “Yet.” Annemarie had sighed. “She’s interesting, single and she seems to want to hang out with you of all people. There’s got to be something wrong with her. Meanwhile, apologize for abandoning her in the middle of the street.”

  She spotted Jennifer in the crowd crossing against the light, ignoring the honking cabs like a seasoned New Yorker. Still in those fabulous jeans and boots, she was also swaddled in a cinnamon-hued shearling coat that reached her hips. Suzanne abruptly felt underdressed. Maybe that just came with the territory of being around someone so casually stylish. Jennifer had seen her—it was too late to pull off the cable-knit beanie that kept her earlobes from turning to ice. This California girl was not getting used to the cold.

  After a breathless exchange of greetings, Suzanne handed over the little jewelry box.

  “What’s this?”

  “To make up for dumping you this afternoon. I could have at least had the cab take you to your apartment.”

  “Oh.” Jennifer didn’t look very impressed. “It was okay.”

  “No it wasn’t.”

  After a little silence, Jennifer said, “It was a little abrupt.” Her smile was forbearing as she opened the little box. “A bracelet—thank you, I mean, it’s very nice but we hardly—”

  “It’s engraved just for you.”

  Jennifer tilted the box toward better light. “Does it say ‘Suzanne Mason is crazy’?”

  “I have those by the dozen in a storage unit in Silicon Valley.”

  Jennifer’s face went still, then a genuine, soft smile lit her up. “Thank you. That’s, um, I’ll wear it to auditions.”

  The thin silver band slipped around Jennifer’s fine-boned wrist, glinting the words I am Unforgettable. Suzanne liked the way it looked before it disappeared under her jacket sleeve.

  “So, I can’t believe I’m going to the movies with someone in the movie.” Suzanne bounced on her toes.

  Jennifer pulled her sleeve back to touch the bracelet one more time. “You have to look quick. I’ll let you know when the two shots are coming up.”

  “So you’re an actress and model.” She took Jennifer’s elbow to guide them both into the line for tickets.

  “I don’t get to claim actress yet. This was totally as a casual extra. It’s still a major jazz, though.”

  She’d barely made a dent in the popcorn when Jennifer nudged her.

  “Right here is the first one,” Jennifer whispered around a mouthful of popcorn.

  And there she was. Wearing the same shearling coat, with her abundant hair glinting for the camera, she cheered as the basketball star of the movie went into Madison Square Garden. Gone in a second and a half.

  Jennifer gave a little laugh. “They shot ten minutes of film for that. I’m not visible again for another twenty-one minutes.”

  She settled in to enjoy the movie, as well as sitting in a dark theater with a beautiful woman next to her. The story was goofy, but it was a movie for kids, and all around her kids were laughing and having fun.

  “Next one coming up.” Jennifer tapped her arm. “Look in the background right over Bugs Bunny’s shoulder.”

  There she was again and this time in the shot for longer.

  “You look stunning,” she whispered back.

  “Thank you. It was really fun. A total fluke too. We were doing an outerwear shoot in the fashion college down the street and when it was over we saw the film crew. I guess a half dozen pretty girls rushing up to ask if they needed extras caught their eye.”

  Suzanne started to ask a question, but there was a loud shush from behind them. Jennifer giggled and hunkered down in her seat.

  “Want to split a twelve-layer cake at Johnny’s?” Suzanne asked on the way out of the theater even though she knew the answer.

  “Bacon burger recommendations, cake—you’re a pusher. The popcorn alone means I have to do an extra hour at the gym tomorrow, and my trainer always seems to know when I’ve gone face first into sugar.”

  “So what’s your tomorrow like?” Afraid Jennifer would read in a blatant invitation to a night at her place and breakfast, she quickly added, “Or your weekend?”

  “I have an audition and I’m also meeting a new
teacher—speech and vocal. I need to talk purdy. Moses supposes his toeses are roses, and all that.” To Suzanne’s puzzled look she asked incredulously, “You’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain?”

  “I can’t say I’m really into old movies. I like modern stuff. But this one I should see?”

  “Well, yes. Duh. It’s a classic. What kind of geek are you? You’ve been hearing lines from old movies all your life and never knew.” Jennifer paused to look in the window of the brightly lit Lego store. “Who has the time for these?”

  “It’s very relaxing. Almost Zen. The rest of the world just goes away.” Suzanne pointed out the small details on a Star Wars tableau. “The store is closing, but we can get a close look if we’re quick.”

  “You seem to know this place well.” Jennifer pivoted to follow her into the store.

  “Like I said, it’s very Zen.” She pulled Jennifer through the doors and over to the Technics displays. “They have the space shuttle. Awesome.”

  Jennifer’s face held a polite look of interest.

  “This type you actually build the exterior with bricks and then there are electronics to connect.”

  “I can see how, if you’re you, that’s fun.”

  “Fun for ages fourteen and up. It says so on the box. Wow, they have the complete space and airport set too.” Suzanne pulled both boxes off the shelf. Major score. “Could I coax you into helping me with a project then? I make a mean club soda and lime, you know that already. And I have more of those puffy snack things.”

  “Well…” Clearly it wasn’t Jennifer’s idea of a way to continue their evening. “How about I help you get started?”

  “Terrific. I need a big table for it. Nothing in the loft is big enough to spread out.” She dashed to the cash register where the clerks showed every sign of closing down. But as she had suspected, they were happy to pause and sell her the two kits and one of their layout tables.

  “They’re kind of heavy,” the bushy-bearded cashier warned her. “We could deliver it day after tomorrow.”

  “No, we’ll manage.”

  When they were both standing outside the now locked doors, with a large, heavy box between them that could have held a hundred-pound pizza, Suzanne began to regret her optimism. The table box was awkward, and she and Jennifer could lift it, but just barely. And there were the two kit boxes to somehow carry as well.

  “You’re stronger than you look,” Suzanne managed between grunts.

  “You really are crazy.” Jennifer was sucking in her breath, but her end of the box was as far off the ground as Suzanne’s. “This will never fit in a cab.”

  “Oh ye of little faith.” They made it another dozen feet and set the box down. She glanced around, then called out to two teens about to buy pretzels from a kiosk in the middle of the plaza. “Hey guys, twenty bucks each for some help for a few minutes.”

  The two boys gave her a skeptical look, but she waved a hand at the box. “We need to get this into a cab. It’s heavy. Seriously, twenty bucks each.”

  She thought they were about to write her off as a crank, but Jennifer added, “You both seem pretty strong.”

  They looked at Jennifer and Suzanne thought they’d agree to carry the box all the way to the loft for free—they had matching glazed deer-in-headlights expressions. It wasn’t as if Jennifer was even trying to get that response, either.

  “Sure, uh, sure,” they stammered in fits and starts.

  Between the four of them, with the two boys intent on demonstrating their muscles, they got the boxes to Fifth Avenue.

  “Pay our helpers, Suzanne.” Jennifer now seemed well aware that she had two willing supplicants at her disposal. “We’ll take it from here.”

  “Aren’t you…?” one of the boys began.

  “Yes,” Jennifer said. “Whomever you think I am, you’re right.”

  Suzanne handed over the cash and the two boys headed back toward the pretzels, slugging each other in the shoulder as they disappeared.

  Jennifer proved her prowess at summoning cabs. The driver muttered nonstop about how the box was going to tip out of the trunk any moment and their lack of foresight to bring bungee cords. The trunk lid bounced as they made their way along Central Park West and every time it smacked the box particularly hard, Jennifer giggled.

  “I still think you’re crazy.”

  “You have no idea.” They shared a long look that made Suzanne wonder what on earth she was doing proposing a night of Lego building to a beautiful woman who might, just might, be signaling she’d prefer other activities. The sensation of her brain going to soup again was disorienting.

  The building elevator was fortunately large enough if the table box was upright, and the doorman helped them get it shifted inside, then put the two other boxes at Suzanne’s feet just as the doors closed.

  “Do you have any ice cream?” Jennifer’s sudden question made Suzanne realize she had worked up a sweat in spite of the nose-reddening chill outside.

  “I think I have some It’s-Its.” To Jennifer’s raised eyebrow she added, “It’s a Bay Area thing. Oatmeal cookie ice cream sandwich. There’s a store on Seventy-Third that carries them.”

  “I deem that acceptable. If you don’t have any—”

  “There isn’t anything you can’t order delivered in Manhattan, 24/7.”

  Jennifer tapped the box with a slender fingertip. “Except a Lego table.”

  “You have me there.”

  They tugged the box out of the elevator and found it easier to drag rather than carry it over the smooth concrete floor of the foyer. Suzanne trashed the furniture feng shui by pushing back a couch and coffee table so they could flop the box onto the floor near the east-facing windows.

  Jennifer shed her coat and Suzanne tried not to notice how she made an ordinary sweatshirt as suggestive as a negligee.

  “We need a box cutter,” Jennifer said, eyeing the thick straps wrapped around the box.

  “Uh…”

  “You have a box cutter, right?”

  Suzanne laughed outright. Jennifer didn’t look amused. “No, I don’t. But I do have a very expensive set of kitchen knives.”

  “Chefs everywhere are crying out in pain.”

  Fetching the longest of the knives, Suzanne quoted, “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

  “Necessity is the mother of emergency room visits. You’re on your own, CEO.”

  Praying she didn’t injure herself, she set to sawing the thick plastic straps open, one by one. “Those two kids would have helped with this if you’d asked.”

  “They didn’t look the type to have box cutters.”

  “No, I meant they’d have happily showed off their muscles for you.”

  “Jealous?”

  Jennifer’s curt tone made Suzanne look up. “Of two boys, no. All I meant is that you have considerable power over mere mortals. Like a Jedi. If you knew what that was.”

  “Sorry. It’s just that I got gnawed on in acting class for having just looks.”

  “Just?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She started on the last strap. The heavy German blade was getting less effective. She tried not to sound out of breath. “Not sure I do.”

  “Have you ever had anyone tell you that you were good for only one thing? And you disagreeing made them laugh?”

  She stopped sawing. “Yes. I was only good for math. Then only good for computers. Not any good for leadership or management, art design, music, style, parties. Or friendship, or romance.”

  “I don’t think anyone would say that to you now.”

  “No, not now. It got better when I left behind the idea that how men saw me was the be-all and end-all of my value. In my field that’s easier said than done.”

  Jennifer crossed her arms. “Are you saying that I believe that?”

  She’d obviously struck a nerve, reminding her that an AltaVista search had turned up a stunning photo of Jennifer in the borrowed pajamas last night, but h
adn’t offered any clues about the woman’s love life. “No, I was talking about me. I came out and got comfortable in the clothes I liked and then people seemed to see me differently.”

  “Well, I’d like to be more than a pretty face.”

  “So you have lessons and you work at it, right?”

  Something in Suzanne’s expression had made Jennifer relax. She knelt on the floor and pulled at the cut straps. “Let me help.”

  “Insert Star Trek ‘City on the Edge of Forever’ reference here,” Suzanne said.

  Jennifer laughed. “Okay, I get Star Trek even less than Jedi.”

  “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

  “Insert Some Like It Hot reference here.”

  “Another movie I should see?” She grinned at Jennifer. “Yeah, I know. Duh. It’s a classic.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As promised, the table was easy to assemble and came with the necessary small tools. Jennifer glanced at her watch—it was nearly ten o’clock and they were only getting started. She glanced out the tall windows to the view of Central Park, glittering with frozen gold and white through dark trees.

  Some things were more important than Legos, she decided. “Where’s the ice cream?”

  Suzanne looked up from a collection of plastic bags and a newly unfolded list of instructions. “I thought I was a food pusher.”

  “You are. It’s your fault.” She clambered to her feet. “Keep playing with the pretty plastic. I’m going to forage.”

  The freezer yielded up a box of ice cream sandwiches. They did look very yummy. So, tomorrow, a trip to the gym even though it wasn’t personal trainer day. But it would have to be squeezed in between the audition and getting ready for the Winter Strut for the Cure where she was walking again for Lucius.

  “Here’s your What’s-It.” Jennifer handed over one of the frozen goodies, still in its cellophane wrapper.

  “It’s an It’s-It. Thanks.” She tore off the wrapper. “Nothing like it,” she said around a huge mouthful.