The Suite Life (21 page)

Less than twenty minutes later our driver pulled up in front of what even I knew to be one of the trendiest new ladies' lunch places, on Madison Avenue just above Sixtieth Street.

Lena, perfectly groomed, with her stick-straight blond hair impeccably highlighted, was already waiting for us at a prime table near the window, and as soon as we'd ordered, my hostesses got down to the business of beginning my “education.”

“Now that the honeymoon is over, you're gonna need all the tricks of the trade you can learn to handle Alec,” Sophia said to begin, turning to Lena for confirmation.

“We're a good team,” I said.

“Sure you are,” Lena agreed. “It's just that things tend to get crazy in his business.”

My crazy guy can handle it.

“Not that there aren't benefits,” Lena added, and both she and Sofia smiled like two cats who had each swallowed a canary.

“The money is as crazy as the work is,” Sophia continued, “which is a good thing because there is so much shopping to do!”

“We'll get you started on that if you want,” Lena said. “We know all the right places, and we can help you redecorate your apartment to make it yours, too. Right, Sofia?”

“Absolutely.”

“Money isn't everything,” I said, starting to get annoyed at their attitude.

Sofia and Lena looked at each other and their smiles were matched as perfectly as their shoes and gloves.

“Sometimes that's all there is,” Lena said.

Maybe for you two.

“Of course,” Sofia said, “kids are part of the equation. But we're talking about having a life of your own.”

“I have that.”

“Oh, right,” Sofia said. “I remember—you're a writer. How's that going?”

Good timing.
“Pretty well, thanks.”

“You gonna be published soon?” Lena asked as the waiter brought our food.

“Working on it,” I said with a thin smile. “Writing can be crazy, too. I'm not sure where it will end up.”

“Well,” Sofia said, picking up her fork, “what you
can
count on is Alec getting to the top of the heap. Victor says he rules a room like nobody he's seen, including the infamous Gordon Gekko.”

We all chuckled.

“Tom's thrilled his wagon is hitched to your husband's,” Lena continued.

“There are a few others, too,” Sofia said. “But there are plenty in his firm who aren't in his corner.”

I flashed back to Bermuda. “Victor mentioned the sharks that are about,” I said.

“Exactly,” Sofia said. “Like that Harvard graduate, Ted Ross.”

“He seemed nice enough,” I said.

“They all come off that way,” Sofia scoffed. “But he's the one who came up with the idea of a merger and he's none too happy about sharing the glory with Alec.”

“Not to mention the money,” Lena said.

“According to Victor,” Sofia added, “there probably would have been no deal, and no money, if Alec hadn't taken the bull by the horns.”

“He spearheaded the whole thing,” Lena said.

That's my guy.

“But at the end of the day,” Sofia continued, “senior management doesn't care who brought them the money. And they don't hesitate to throw whoever it is under the bus if he stops being useful.”

I looked her in the eye. “Alec's a big boy.”

“With big appetites,” Sofia said, and Lena laughed knowingly in agreement. “Clothes, cars, gadgets, games . . . whatever.”

“Not to mention food and wine,” Lena chimed in.

Sofia paused, as if considering whether or not to say what she had in mind. “The scuttlebutt is that Alec's big appetites include risky stock positions, and the honchos are worried about keeping him under control.”

Join the club.

Lena rested a hand on my arm. “I think there's more than a little jealousy involved, too,” she said. “Alec's so young, and so talented.”

And I'm so proud of him!

“The higher-ups are always worried about an upstart tipping the scales,” Sofia continued.

“And we all know Alec's a big tipper,” I said, bringing another round of laughter to our table.

“Good for you, Samantha,” Sofia said. “Gotta keep a sense of humor about all this stuff, or we'd lose our minds.”

“And not be able to enjoy dessert,” Lena said, signaling the waiter. “The crème brûlée is to die for, Sam.”

“I'll have one of those fresh fruit medleys I saw on the cart.”

“Sorry, but that's a little too healthy for me,” Lena quipped.

“And speaking of healthy, how are you in the cooking department, Sam?” Sofia asked.

“I can do breakfast with my eyes closed, and I'm okay with salads, but I have to admit that dinner is a little daunting,” I answered honestly.

“Well, we can give you a few pointers in that department, too,” Sofia said, with Lena again nodding her agreement. “And we'll throw in a few for the bedroom.” She chuckled. “No extra charge.”

I'd had every intention of tidying Alec's desk when I got back home, but my eye caught the last notation I'd made before the house phone interrupted me. So I sat down to finish what I'd started and the next thing I knew, I heard the front door opening. A quick glance at my watch confirmed that I'd once more lost track of time. As I quickly gathered the pages now covering the desk, Alec stuck his head in the door. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing the manuscript clutched with my arms.

“Just getting some work done on my manuscript,” I said, moving away from his high-backed leather chair.

“Oh, that,” he said with a shrug, dropping his briefcase and sitting in the chair I'd just vacated. “Unfortunately, nothing's
come of those calls I made.” He spread his hands along the edge of the desktop and surveyed his work area.

“That's okay,” I said, smiling to mask the lie, and the disappointment I felt.

“When do I get to read it?”

“Whenever you want,” I assured him, trying not to show how excited I was by the offer. Reading it, I was sure, would prove to him that I was a serious writer, and it would also give him much greater insight into who I was and where I had come from.

“Just leave it on my night table,” Alec said, still inspecting the desktop.

“How was your day?”

“Merger went to escrow,” he said.

“That's good, right?”

“No, it's great,” Alec said, still not looking at me.

“Sounds like we should celebrate, then,” I said.

“We'll do that after I get my money.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Listen,” he said, resting his massive arms on the desk, hands clasped, head down, pausing a moment, “I can't have you messing things up here.”

I swallowed hard and pressed the manuscript to my chest. “I didn't disturb anything, Alec, and I have to work someplace.”

“Can't you use the kitchen table?”

“I suppose so, but I'm also going to need the PC.”

“So pick up a laptop tomorrow. You should have your own computer anyway.” Alec reached for his mouse and started clicking away.

“Okay,” I said softly. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Why not order up some Chinese,” he said, scanning the latest stock quotes. “I'll eat here while I finish what I have to do.”

I took a few steps on my way out and paused at the doorway. “You know,” I said to my eyes-glued-to-the-monitor husband, “I
could have a decorator come in to carve out a little workspace for me, if that's okay.”

“Don't bother,” he said, peering at the screen. “By the time one of those broads makes up her mind and draws up specs, we'll be long gone from here.”

The first order of business over the next few days was entering the edits and notations I'd made on my novel into the electronic file
on my brand-new laptop
—the first purchase I'd made with my brand-new AmEx card. It sounds silly but I felt like such a grown-up handing over my card. (It was not lost on me, however, that I was more like a spoiled child since I wasn't the one footing the bill.) I had to admit, though, I did feel an unexpected rush as I walked out of the store. I immediately thought of Sofia's and Lena's cavalier attitude toward spending their husbands' money.
Sometimes that's all there is.
They made it sound like revenge. I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came and chalked my exhilaration up to excitement—the laptop was just the first step toward my dream of getting
The Blessed Bridge
published.

When I was done revising the manuscript, I printed a copy on the printer I'd bought to go with my laptop and left it on Alec's night table. I had butterflies in my stomach just thinking about what he'd have to say once he had read it. With that mission accomplished, I set about becoming the best wife any Wall Street titan could have. Although I certainly intended to enjoy every material comfort every step of the way, I was also determined to stay true to myself—that girl from Brooklyn—and
not get swallowed up by the shallowness I saw all around me. So with my priorities in check, I jumped with both feet into a life where money would never be an object and I would never again have to stand in line anywhere. I had gone from nothing to instant gratification in a few short months, and now it seemed as if Alec had given me the keys to the city. It felt surreal and real at once, and I was grateful.

Although I did my fair share of running up the AmEx bill, I wasn't in Sofia's and Lena's league, and never would be. So while I indulged in Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, and Armani, I didn't overindulge (at least by Wall Street standards), and I didn't shop out of spite. I mean, the occasional Hermès Birkin was always a huge purchase, but anyone who had any money had one. I didn't think owning four was a big deal, but hey, who was counting.

Over the weeks that followed Alec worked nonstop and was distracted much of the time when we were together. I didn't begrudge him his dream—I knew all about dreaming myself—and vowed to help him in any way I could. But staying upbeat was difficult, especially when the titan-to-be to whom I was married had to dash off to one far-flung city or another to handle a “sensitive negotiation.” At the same time, Priti was about to leave for India to get married. Inevitably, I grew closer to Sofia and Lena, who introduced me to other women in the Wall Street wives club, and they were soon inviting me to join some of their charities and causes.

Sometimes self-doubt reared its ugly head and I questioned whether I was worthy of my own good fortune, but I tried to remain grateful for what I'd been given, which included my dear father-in-law, Giovanni, who shared my faith in God and also seemed to have faith in me. Giovanni made me feel like I belonged in the DeMarco clan, even on days when I felt completely out of my league with them.

At our family Thanksgiving dinner at the DeMarcos'
Brooklyn home, I ticked off my many blessings in my mind, but in the midst of all the goodhearted chitchat, I was also aware that no one really cared about the one thing that meant the most to me—my writing. All the women wanted to talk about was an upcoming charity luncheon or shopping expedition or a planned vacation trip, and the men, drunk on football along with an array of wines and vintage ports, weren't of any use as company.

It's funny, but even though the women in my new family ran in a more affluent crowd, they still seemed so Brooklyn to me. They were as consumed with shopping and lunching and spas and salons as my friends from the old neighborhood were. Except with better highlights. Still, as much as they tried to make me feel like I belonged, I wasn't any more like them than I was the gum-snapping disco queen and wannabe moll that Tony had wanted in a girlfriend. I did my best to hold my own with them and appreciated being part of a loving family for the first time in my life. Our lunches and other get-togethers were pleasant enough, and, as I figured, having finally made it across that coveted Bridge, I intended to stay and make the best of it.