Annihilate Me (9 page)

“You’re
not.
 
Tomorrow, I’ll agree to the
job.
 
I’ll give db Bistro two weeks’
notice.
 
Then, we’ll find a new
apartment together.
 
You and
me.
 
Something better than this
joint.
 
We deserve it.
 
We deserve a real prize of an apartment,
and we’ll find it.
 
But I won’t do
any of this without you.
 
Do you
hear me?
 
None of this happens
without you.
 
I will refuse it all
if you’re not with me.
 
You mean
that much to me.
 
OK?”

She
leaned her head back against the sofa and sighed.
 
“Jennifer—”

“OK?”

“I
just don’t think—”

“OK?”

“Fine,”
she said.
 
“OK.”

“You
mean the world to me.”

“I
don’t think I’m going to mean the world to Alex.
 
I think I’ll be in the way.”

“He’s
not like that.
 
He’ll understand the
situation.”

“I
love you, Jennifer.
 
And I’m beyond
happy for you.
 
But I don’t think
you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What
do you mean?”

“We’ll
see.
 
And I sure as hell hope that
I’m wrong.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The
next night, when I gave my notice at db Bistro, Stephen hugged me and wished me
well.
 
“I knew we wouldn’t be able
to keep you long,” he said.
 
“Not
someone like you.
 
I just wish it
had been longer, because I will miss you.
 
But go out and live your dreams, Jennifer.
 
We’ll be fine, so stop looking so
guilty.
 
OK?”

I
couldn’t have asked for a better exit.
 
The next morning, I told Alex that I would accept the job.

“Please
tell me you’re not joking.”

“I’m
not.
 
But Lisa and I have to find a
new place to live.
 
It’s not safe
here.
 
You know that.
 
We each feel threatened by being
here.
 
I need you to be patient with
me until we find a place.
 
That’s
going to take a lot of work.”

“It
doesn’t have to.”

“Why’s
that?”

“Wenn
has properties all over the city.
 
If you’d like, I’ll ask Blackwell to assist you.
 
She knows them all, and she knows them
well.
 
She herself lives in one of
our buildings.
 
You could be
neighbors.”

“Very
funny.”

“She
not that bad.”

“I
know she’s not.
 
Actually, she’s
grown on me.
 
But I think another
building might be best.”

“Give
it a shot—it’s not like you’re going to get a discount on rent, because I
know you’d never have that.
 
This is
just an easy way to cut through the clutter.
 
I’ll have her call you and we’ll nail
this down fast so you and Lisa can get settled.
 
Wenn provides moving assistance for all
new employees, so you will be moved at no cost.”

“Alex—”

“That’s
a fact, Jennifer.
 
I’m not doing you
a favor.
 
Certainly you’ve heard of
other corporations providing moving assistance.
 
That’s all this is.”

Of
course, I had.
 
“All right.”

“By
going through us and because you now work for Wenn, this will be an easy
transition by New York standards.
 
No boards.
 
No bullshit.
 
And you know why?”

“Because
you own Wenn?”

“Exactly.
 
Expect a call from Blackwell.
 
She’ll find you a great place.
 
And soon.
 
Because I want to see you soon.”

“Same
here.”

“I
already miss you.”

“I
miss you, too.”

“I’ll
have her set up appointments now.
 
You’ll hear from her within the hour.
 
I’ll give you all the space you need,
because I know you’ll find something quickly.
 
Can I call you, at least?”

“I
hope you do,” I replied.
 
“And text
me whenever you want.
 
I’m going to
need that to get through these next two weeks.”

“That’s
all I needed to hear.
 
Talk
soon.
 
Text sooner.
 
And have fun with Blackwell.
 
She’ll turn everything into a Broadway
show.”

When
Blackwell called an hour later, just as Alex promised, she was her typical
high-strung self.
 
“So, now it’s an
apartment,” she said.

“I
guess it is.”

“There
are two of you?”

“There
are?”

“What
do you require?”

“A
large space.
 
Two bedrooms.
 
Two baths.
 
A terrace.
 
A nice view.
 
And a great kitchen.
 
Anything else is a bonus.”

“I
can do all of that.
 
What’s your
friend’s name?”

“Lisa
Ward.”

“What
does she do?”

“She
writes about zombies.”

“She
writes about what?”

“The
undead.”

“Who
does that?”

“Lisa.”

“Well
at last the undead are thin.
 
Mostly
skeletal, which is good.
 
I could
probably dress them for her.”

“I’ll
let her know that.”

“Please
do.
 
I’ll see you in thirty
minutes.
 
Get ready, because it’s
going to be a whirlwind.”

I
decided to tease her.
 
“Before you
go, I have a confession.”

“You
have a what?”

“A
confession.”

“Save
it for a priest.”

“In
this case, you are my priest.”

“I’m
plugging my ears.”

“No,
you’re not.”

“What
is it, then?”

“Yesterday,
I had a Big Mac.
 
Large fries and a
shake.
 
At the end of the night, I
had an entire bag of chips.
 
It was
fantastic.”

“Don’t
you ever talk to me like that.”

“I
loved it.
 
I thought of you the
entire time I was gorging myself.
 
I
also think you would have loved it.”

“Absolutely
not.
 
Salad, Jennifer.
 
I told you.
 
Salad.
 
Roughage!”

“I
might have gained a pound.”

“You’re
going to be the end of me, Maine.”
 

*
 
*
 
*
 

As
usual, Blackwell got it right, and on the first try, which was no surprise to
me at this point in our relationship because she always seemed to nail it on
the first try.
 
I think doing so was
a source of pride for her—it’s what drove her.
 
But who knew—maybe she just got
lucky, though I was beginning to seriously doubt that.
 
She had skills I had yet to tap
into.
 
What mattered is that she
always came through, even though she chastised me again for my “binging
behavior” when she arrived by limousine to pick us up.

“I
didn’t binge,” I told her when Lisa and I stepped into the car.
 
“I gorged.”

“On
crap that will make you fat.
 
How am
I supposed to dress you for the next event?
 
Tell me.
 
How?
 
I can barely fit that ass of yours into
couture as it is.”

“It
hasn’t been a problem so far.”

“It
will be if you keep that up.”

She
looked at Lisa and surmised her with a careful eye.
 
“You’re the one who writes about the
undead?”

“I
am,” Lisa said.

“And
you make a living doing so?”

“I
do.”

“The
irony!”

Lisa
laughed.

“What’s
wrong with writing about the living?” Blackwell asked.

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

Lisa
leaned toward her.
 
“Don’t you think
the living disappoint?”

“Well,”
Blackwell said, straightening.
 
“I
can’t exactly argue with
that
.
 
Especially after recent divorce proceedings in my life.
 
And I have to say, you are very pretty,
Ward.
 
Beautiful.
 
And thin.
 
Tiny.
 
Probably a coveted size zero.
 
Are you hearing me, Maine?
 
Look at how tiny she is.”

“I’m
not listening to this.”

“Ward,
why would you let Jennifer go on a binge like that?”

“I
don’t control her, Ms. Blackwell.”

“Who
can?
 
She’s headstrong to the tenth
degree.
 
I can’t keep her in a
bottle to save my life—she always bursts out of it.
 
I’m surprised she doesn’t swing from
vines.”

“Excuse
me?” I asked.

Blackwell
ignored me and gave Lisa a questioning look.
 
“Are you naturally blonde?”

“I
am.”

“Dip
your head.”

Lisa
shot me an amused glance, and dipped her head.
 

“So
you are.
 
So rare.
 
So Scandinavian.
 
Are you Scandinavian?
 
No?
 
Just from Maine?
 
I see.
 
Well, regardless, I do have to admit
that I admire your chic ensemble.”

“I
got it at Macys.”

“You
got it at what?”

“Macys.
 
From the bargain bin.
 
I think it was something like ninety
percent off, with another five percent off if you had a coupon, which I did.”

“Coupon?”

“That’s
right.”

“Why
am I suddenly faint?
 
Can you see
the gray edges closing in like I can?
 
Do you see the demons?
 
They’re encroaching.”
 
She
snapped her head at us.
 
“Don’t you
ever say Macys, coupon or bargain in my presence again.
 
Understood?
 
Good.
 
God!
 
Do I need to teach you girls
everything?
 
Apparently.
 
There are some things you just don’t say
around me or anyone else in this town.
 
You’ll send everyone whirling.
 
Already I need something for my acid reflux.
 
This is going to be a hellish
day—I just know it.”

“Sorry,
Ms. Blackwell,” I said.

“I’ve
already told you to call me Barbara.”

“I
prefer Ms. Blackwell.”

“Well,”
she said.
 
“I mean, of course you
do.
 
I don’t blame you.
 
It does, after all, suit me.”

*
 
*
 
*
 

Later,
in the car, she said, “Where do you want to live?”

“Close
to Wenn.”

“That’s
the most sensible thing you’ve said today.
 
So, Upper East Side?”

“That
would be perfect.”

“Where?”

“On
Fifth?”

“Really,
Maine.
 
Fifth?”

“That’s
right.”

“Well,
who doesn’t want to live on Fifth?
 
But you’re lucky.
 
I’ve got
the place.
 
To die for.
 
And with your new salary, you can afford
it.
 
You will blow kisses at me when
you see it.”

“We’ll
see.”

“Oh,
no, Maine.
 
You’ll be blowing me
kisses straight up my ass.
 
And
you’ll send me flowers for the privilege of doing so.
 
You might even invite me to dinner,
though I’d decline in an instant.”

“Why?”

“Because
you’d probably serve me something like McDonald’s.
 
Or you’d ply me with a pizza.
 
Or some other assorted junk.
 
You know I don’t approve of eating.
 
Ever.”

“Oh,
please.”

“Oh,
please, yourself.
 
All one needs is
black coffee, water, ice and a daily vitamin.
 
Just you wait and see what I have in
store for you two.”
 
She leaned
toward the driver.
 
“800 Fifth
Avenue.
 
STAT!”

“Do
you think it has Park views?” Lisa asked me.

I
shrugged.
 
“Does it, Ms. Blackwell?”

“Does
it what?”

“Have
views of the Park.”

She
looked imperious as she lifted her chin and peered out the window to her
right.
 
“Park views.
 
Do you really think I
wouldn’t
give you Park views?
 
Do you think so little of me?
 
Do you think I lack vision?
 
Common sense?
 
A goddamned heart?
 
Of course, you’ll have Park views.
 
And a hell of a lot more than that.
 
Just you wait and see.”