On the Verge (19 page)

“I’ve been thinking about face painting or maybe setting up a piñata.” I wish my sister would just ask me if I’m a slut instead of taking this tone of medical superiority.

“I’m serious, Eve, and so are STDs.” I have to laugh at that one. This burger is misnamed, it’s disgusting. “Are you in a relationship?” In spite of myself the name Rob King pops into my head. Damn! (Was I creative enough with him?)

“Monica, honestly I’m fine. I know everything I need to know. Don’t get neurotic about that, too.”

“Too? What do you mean? You think I’m neurotic like Mom?”

“I think Mom is an alarmist, I don’t think she’s all that neurotic. But, I guess it’s a fine line. Don’t get excited.”

We go to some other stores and the sales are so good that I wind up buying stuff for myself. I love this season and I love the fact that Monica is giving me the silent treatment, so she can’t tell me how tired she is from walking.

When we get back to the apartment, it smells really good. The dishes are still on the table and the food appears to have been picked at. I start to call out to Roseanne, but then I hear noises from Roseanne’s cranny that lead me to believe that Roseanne is being very creative. You go girl! Monica decides to go back to my parents’ house. I’d prefer not to have her pissed at me, but I don’t think I can handle much more of her. I walk her to Penn Station and give her a big hug. Maybe I’m a bad sister—but don’t forget about the puking. That makes me a kind sister.

On Wednesday, the Feed Meet is canceled because Herb’s on vacation. I know I’ve been here too long, when I’m actually telling myself it’s the hump day. I brought some of Roseanne’s Christmas cookies in to work today, and everyone crowds around my desk and demands to know about the fat and sugar content. I confess that I have no idea, but it’s probably a lot. They ravage the cookies anyway.

Roseanne is having an emotional crisis. She’s happy (and relieved) that she finally got some booty but Tyler’s business is finished in New York. There’s a good chance he’ll return in six weeks, but that’s a long time and apparently they really clicked.
If only we could find a nice straight New Yorker that neither of us works with; we could even share him. Now, that’s creative. Anyway, I take her out for sweet potato perogies at Veselka, this Ukrainian place on 2nd Avenue. It seems to make her feel better.

Tabitha is off to Paris this week until after the New Year. Luckily the Big C takes a cruise every Christmas time, so Tabitha was able to get all that time off.

December is a really slow time, so I spend time cruising the Net. Maybe I should start my own Web page about living in New York, and get Prescott to fund me. Pipe dreams. I won’t make a resolution, but I vow this year will be different. This year I will actually do something that I enjoy. The phone rings.

“Eve Vitali.”

“Eve, this is Sherman Mussey, Rob King’s assistant. Rob told me he took a look at your proposal and thinks it a great idea—”

“He took a look at my what?”

“Proposal. He is pretty jammed up today, but he was wondering if he could meet you tonight around nine for a late dinner meeting.”

“Is this a joke?”

“Is what? Isn’t this Eve Vitali?” The guy seems genuinely confused and very serious. Is Rob King asking me out on a date through his assistant?

“So, ah, Sherman, did you read my proposal?”

“I have to confess, I haven’t, but Rob seems very enthusiastic about it.”

“Thanks.” For a minute I actually believe I wrote some sort of proposal. “Can I call Rob directly?”

“Well he does answer his own phone, but today he has back-to-back meetings.”

“Voice mail?”

“I have to check his messages, in case it’s urgent I can find him and alert him.”

“Alert him, huh? What about e-mail?”

“Same thing I’m afraid.” He gives me the name of the restaurant and offers to send a car to my apartment to pick me up. I respectfully decline the car.

No one can believe it. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m going out with Rob King and that his assistant asked me out. Tabitha insists she come over to help me plan my outfit. She can’t believe I turned down the car. She and Roseanne entertain the notion of a surveillance operation while we are eating, but I
quickly nix that idea. I don’t want those girls anywhere near the restaurant.

Tabitha does my makeup. I remind her minimalist, only she can’t help but mix the brown eye shadows with a sparkly yellow. I’m wearing black pants and a gray Asian shirt with frog fasteners. I think I might be doing it.

He picks a Russian place in midtown that’s really close to the office. I stand kind of stupidly in the elegant foyer and try to look into the restaurant for him. I ask the host if he has arrived yet, but he hasn’t. The host suggests I have a drink in the bar. I order a rum and Coke. I wish I had a magazine or something; the bartender isn’t the friendliest and the other two guys alone seem like some kind of dorky salesmen waiting for their clients.

I am midway through my second drink and starting to wonder how much of a credit card bill I will have if I charge these, when he shows up. He is wearing a dark gray suit and it fits him well. I guess I sort of forgot what he looked like. We smile at each other a little awkwardly and then he kisses me on the cheek. I lean up into him. He smells good—it reminds of the party, but nothing concrete. He settles my bar tab and we go to our table.

“So, do you want to talk about my proposal?”

“Yes, I do, Ms. Vitali, I definitely like your idea about elevator game requirements, but I’m afraid I’ve talked with the board and we have voted against your policy of not alerting us of your progress. Communication is key if we want to—” he cocks his head to the side “—put this project to bed.” He is so hot!

“Oh, that, well I’ve been busy.”

“You know in the cab on the way home you told me all about how little you have to do and how bored you are at work.” I did? “I think you’ve just plain been avoiding me, Ms. Vitali.”

“It’s not that—” I’m interrupted by the waitress who wants to take our order. Rob tells me to order the wine, I pick one of the more (but by no means most) expensive reds. Rob orders us two of these special Russian drinks he guarantees will “warm me up.” I have a bad flash of Zeke, but ignore it.

“So continue.” He looks over his menu at me, intensely.

“I just, you know, didn’t know.” I don’t want to sound like a confused kid. I don’t want to act like I think he is such a great catch. I want to be the catch. “I didn’t know what was up.”

“Have you thought about that night at all?” I wait while the waitress places our warming drinks on the table and lets him taste the wine. He tells her we’ll need a few more minutes to mull over
the menu. He smiles at me and leans closer. “I hope you’re going to be a good girl and eat all your beets.” Why is he so sexy?

“You know, you have really nice teeth. Did you have braces?”

“No. Just good breeding.”

“I bet.” We sit there until the waitress assumes we are ready to order. Rob gets a bunch of appetizers and I get some lamb dish that is really just the first thing I see.

“Look Rob, this is kind of a ridiculous thing to ask, but—” he is hinged on my every word “—did we…” I roll my hand over to imply.

“What?” He rolls his hand over faster.

“You know, do the deed, get nasty, slap skins, what have you?”

“Well there was quite a bit of ‘what have you,’ but I don’t know about that other stuff.” He shrugs, he is so cute.

“C’mon, tell me.”

“Well—” he looks from side to side and then peeks under the table “—no.” I don’t know how to feel. “Believe me it wasn’t for lack of encouragement on your part, but I figured when you almost walked into the closet, you weren’t really in any shape to be making decisions. You were difficult for a while, but then you sort of conked out. I’d like to think if it did happen, you’d remember.”

“My dress?”

“You took it off. Cute undies, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Our appetizers arrive. I focus on eating sexy, but not in an overt way.

“I figured it was kind of awkward, though,” Rob continues. “I just wanted you to call me and not be freaked out.”

“I wasn’t freaked out. I wasn’t.” Lies. I was.

“Okay.” I’m finding it hard to keep my cool with him and at the same time wondering if I have anything in my teeth. “Does that kind of stuff happen to you all the time?”

“Yeah,” I’m too quick to answer. “Actually, no. I’ve never woken up in a strange bed with no immediate idea why. I think I forgot, or blocked a lot of that night out.”

“You make it sound so traumatic.”

“I don’t mean to, it’s just sort of a weird situation.”

“Why?”

“Well there you are hanging out in the cool V.P. room and I mean, I’m an assistant. I don’t even have benefits.”

“Yeah, we’re working on that. And you’re not my assistant. How do you like that drink?” It’s so good, and when our food
comes it is also delicious. I like that Rob offers me some of his meal. I make sure not to have him feed me (not that he offers). He smiles when he sees that I like it. I feel a glow, not the alcohol one that I usually feel, but, a glow like I’m in a cosmetics ad. It’s a perfect sort of romantic feeling. I can’t help but smile. Rob doesn’t ask me why I’m grinning like a dork, he just smiles back.

“You told me all about your plan to have your own magazine. I think it’s a great idea.”

“I guess I think about stuff like that all the time. It’s funny that I actually said it.”

“Why?”

“I mean it’s so far-fetched. I don’t have the capital or the experience. I have an entry level position that’s supposed to be my foot in the door, but really just seems like a big waste of time. No offense.”

“Why should I be offended?”

“Well, because you’re one of the top guys. Guys like you are depressing.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re young and the company is supposed to be young and hip and cool. They want you to represent them. But beneath the image, it’s still a business. There’s the same shit at brokerage firms and other corporate businesses. We just get to wear what we want.”

“And how does that apply to me?”

“Because you either skipped all these steps or you came in when there was a clearer path to where you are now. You’re a reminder of the speed things should move, but it doesn’t usually go that way.”

“I don’t know, Eve, I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Maybe you should be more aggressive. Do you tell them that you want to do more? That you’re bored out of your skull playing hangman all day?” Not a good idea to tell him my computer recreation activities.

“I think that whole aggressive thing is a lie. I mean, after a while you just start to annoy people. No one wants that.”

“It seems like a waste of the company’s money, of your talent. Part of the reason I’m there is to consult, to tell the board how they can make things run more efficiently.” Ding! Duh! I’ve finally figured out his job.

“You’re here to fire people.” He looks away from me and examines the crease in his cloth napkin.

“Eve, I’m here to do research, to get a feel for all our lines of business. It may be that some of the fallout from my findings is termination, but if not me, someone else.” I wish we hadn’t gotten on this topic, I think Rob let me in on more than I should probably know. We sit in silence while the waitress takes our plates away and asks us if we want dessert. Rob asks me if I like chocolate (I do) and then orders this chocolate dessert they have. I get a cappuccino. I am remarkably sober, and while I don’t exactly appreciate the tension, it’s refreshing to talk to someone like Rob and have him relate to me like I was someone worth talking to.

“There, we got those nice teeth of yours back, Ms. Vitali. Do you like it here?”

“It’s a great place. Do you come here a lot?”

“Actually, only one other time—some business meeting. I thought it would be a really nice place to go with a date. So what comes after dessert?”

“Whatever. It’s only, shit, it’s 11:30.”

“What’s that ‘shit, it’s 11:30’? I thought you were the young one. The night is young.”

“You know I was never late until the day after the party. Even when I was hungover and coming from Jersey.”

“You’re a Jersey Girl? I’m from Cherry Hill.”

“Yeah, but that’s Philly, that’s slightly respectable. I’m not too proud of Jersey.”

“And now you live in Chelsea.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve got friends in high places.”

“I thought that was confidential info.”

“Right, but we’re not going to talk business, we’re just going to eat this delicious dessert and then…I guess we’ll have to get you home so you can get up early tomorrow. Another day another dollar.” He raises an eyebrow at me. He’s got great brows. I tell him my Kevin story and he laughs.

“Very impressive, Ms. Vitali, you’ve got the pros fawning over you.”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly fawning. I never get fawned over.” Again the eyebrow raise. I really want to go back to his apartment. I really want to practice different elevator activities with him and run my fingers along his eyebrows. This is getting too Spice Channel. “So how’s your doorman?”

“Good, I guess.” He laughs. “Why do you ask?” I could find a way to make it clear that I definitely want to remember tonight,
but honestly I can’t help feeling a little freaked out about all this. I need to confer with the girls before I proceed. I don’t want to be the geeky girl who gets seduced by the captain of the football team and then stays moony over him. I know I’m getting carried away, but, as I recently discovered, he was a math major after all.

“Just wondering.”

“Should we get the check?” I nod, although I don’t really want to leave. “Maybe we could walk back to your place, if it’s not too cold.”

We decide to walk. We go past the Prescott Nelson building, and Rob senses me stiffen up. “You know we’re not really doing anything wrong, Eve. I’m not your boss.” But, once we get onto 40th, he puts his arm around me and I feel sort of tucked into him. There’s nothing for me to do but put my hands around his waist. When we start getting close to my apartment, I wish we’d walked slower, because I don’t want the night to end and I don’t want to deal with the doorway etiquette.