phone began to ring, and he rushed to pick it up with me still over his shoulder. Putting me and the gorilla head down, he answered the phone while I began to talk to Mr. Mohawk about price.
“Healthy Foods,” Jack said, coming out of the dressing room fully dressed and throwing the navy kilt onto the counter with a half smile. “I’ve gotta get back to the office.”
“Do I have to get back to the office, too?” I asked, praying that he would say no.
He hesitated. Never a good sign.
“But it’s Saturday,” I whined.
“A lawyer’s work is never done,” Jack said.
“You’re a lawyer?” Jennie asked Jack. She had put a hot-pink boa around her shoulders and was working it for all it was worth.
“Tell you what,” Jack said to me, “to make up for having to go to work, let me buy you a present. After all, we’ve forgotten the most important part of the costume.” He reached over to a display of “Fun Rings” and started to sift through them. He first pulled out a ring that looked like a skeleton’s head, shook his head
no
and continued to sift. Finding what he wanted, he handed it to Mr. Mohawk.
“On me,” Jack said as he looked at me and handed the ring over to Mr. Mohawk. It was a silver ring with a round faux diamond. It even had tiny fake baguettes. Putting it on my finger, he said, “Consider yourself engaged.”
“That’s so romantic,” Jennie swooned. Truth be told, I kind of swooned, too.
9
“T his newfound stalking obsession of yours is going to get very costly,” Vanessa said, putting a piece of grilled salmon in her mouth.
Vanessa and I were in the Grill Room at the Four Seasons, the fabulously fancy midtown institution where I knew Douglas took a lot of business contacts for lunch. I had called the restaurant earlier that morning, under the guise of being Douglas’s secretary, to “confirm” his reservation, and then took the liberty of making a reservation for Vanessa and myself for thirty minutes before his reservation so that I could pretend that we
just so happened
to be there and bump into him. A dramatic reconciliation would then surely ensue.
“He’s going to walk in any second. Try to act normal,” I said, “and anyway, I’m paying, so what do you care?”
“You wouldn’t let me order an appetizer,” she said, as I tried to remember how that expression about a gift horse went.
“That’s forty-three-dollar salmon you’re eating,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “Try it, it’s divine.”
“Divine?” I said as she stuck a forkful into my mouth. “Who says
divine?
”
I took a moment to savor Vanessa’s dish. The mustard crust gave just the perfect amount of spicy kick to the fish, which remained moist, even though it was cooked through completely.
It was divine. As was my braised beef, which I ate carefully, so as not to get any in my teeth. Vanessa was devouring her salmon, barely even bothering to look up at me as we spoke.
“What?” she said, as I gave her a not-so-subtle look. “I’m training for the marathon. I need my protein.”
“The marathon’s in November,” I said.
“So?”
“It’s April.”
I was straining my neck to get a glimpse of everyone who walked in. I had flirted shamelessly with the maître d’ to get a table angled just so, all the better with which to get a great view of the doorway. I’d then appealed to the girliness of our hostess to try to get her to tell me when Douglas’s party walked in, goading her with details of his gorgeousness and how we were about to get back together and dramatically reconcile that very day.
I took another ladylike bite of my beef just as two fake blondes walked in. They were total throwbacks to the 1980s — big hair, long red acrylic nails and both simultaneously chewing and cracking their gum. They looked as if they could be extras in a Whitesnake video. I could hear their nasal voices from where I sat.
They were both wearing jeans, which was totally
“Healthy Foods,” Jack said, coming out of the dressing room fully dressed and throwing the navy kilt onto the counter with a half smile. “I’ve gotta get back to the office.”
“Do I have to get back to the office, too?” I asked, praying that he would say no.
He hesitated. Never a good sign.
“But it’s Saturday,” I whined.
“A lawyer’s work is never done,” Jack said.
“You’re a lawyer?” Jennie asked Jack. She had put a hot-pink boa around her shoulders and was working it for all it was worth.
“Tell you what,” Jack said to me, “to make up for having to go to work, let me buy you a present. After all, we’ve forgotten the most important part of the costume.” He reached over to a display of “Fun Rings” and started to sift through them. He first pulled out a ring that looked like a skeleton’s head, shook his head
no
and continued to sift. Finding what he wanted, he handed it to Mr. Mohawk.
“On me,” Jack said as he looked at me and handed the ring over to Mr. Mohawk. It was a silver ring with a round faux diamond. It even had tiny fake baguettes. Putting it on my finger, he said, “Consider yourself engaged.”
“That’s so romantic,” Jennie swooned. Truth be told, I kind of swooned, too.
9
“T his newfound stalking obsession of yours is going to get very costly,” Vanessa said, putting a piece of grilled salmon in her mouth.
Vanessa and I were in the Grill Room at the Four Seasons, the fabulously fancy midtown institution where I knew Douglas took a lot of business contacts for lunch. I had called the restaurant earlier that morning, under the guise of being Douglas’s secretary, to “confirm” his reservation, and then took the liberty of making a reservation for Vanessa and myself for thirty minutes before his reservation so that I could pretend that we
just so happened
to be there and bump into him. A dramatic reconciliation would then surely ensue.
“He’s going to walk in any second. Try to act normal,” I said, “and anyway, I’m paying, so what do you care?”
“You wouldn’t let me order an appetizer,” she said, as I tried to remember how that expression about a gift horse went.
“That’s forty-three-dollar salmon you’re eating,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “Try it, it’s divine.”
“Divine?” I said as she stuck a forkful into my mouth. “Who says
divine?
”
I took a moment to savor Vanessa’s dish. The mustard crust gave just the perfect amount of spicy kick to the fish, which remained moist, even though it was cooked through completely.
It was divine. As was my braised beef, which I ate carefully, so as not to get any in my teeth. Vanessa was devouring her salmon, barely even bothering to look up at me as we spoke.
“What?” she said, as I gave her a not-so-subtle look. “I’m training for the marathon. I need my protein.”
“The marathon’s in November,” I said.
“So?”
“It’s April.”
I was straining my neck to get a glimpse of everyone who walked in. I had flirted shamelessly with the maître d’ to get a table angled just so, all the better with which to get a great view of the doorway. I’d then appealed to the girliness of our hostess to try to get her to tell me when Douglas’s party walked in, goading her with details of his gorgeousness and how we were about to get back together and dramatically reconcile that very day.
I took another ladylike bite of my beef just as two fake blondes walked in. They were total throwbacks to the 1980s — big hair, long red acrylic nails and both simultaneously chewing and cracking their gum. They looked as if they could be extras in a Whitesnake video. I could hear their nasal voices from where I sat.
They were both wearing jeans, which was totally
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