Free Food for Millionaires (54 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I’ll miss you.”

“Me too,” she said. This wasn’t the man who had made her nervous on their first date. She remembered calling Ella after she’d spent time with him in Miami. He’d seemed like the perfect guy: Korean, nice family, good education, and so sweet. Their first date back in New York was at an Italian restaurant near Hell’s Kitchen. She was so anxious during dinner that she couldn’t eat her angelhair pasta with clams. Then he’d asked her, “You one of those girls that never eats on dates?” And she’d said, “Is this a date?” He’d said, “Yes, it’s a date. And I am trying to impress you.” She had slept with him right away, because there was something so sexy about him, so male. He’d been both unfamiliar and familiar to her. Lately, they hadn’t been having much sex. Not zero, but certainly not as much as before. What had surprised her was when he had turned down the most recent offer to be an analyst. So what if it was a step down? Wasn’t a job better than no job? And the gambling. What could she say about that? His car and his watch? She knew how much he loved that old Volvo station wagon. This was like watching a building fall into pieces.

“Unu. How can I help?”

“I’m okay. I shouldn’t have told you like that.”

“Do you not want me to go? This weekend?”

“You have to go, Casey. This guy got you your summer job.”

“I know, but you’re not—” She couldn’t say, not doing well.

“I’m fine, Casey. Have a good time. Call me when you can. I should be home.”

“Okay,” she said. She kissed him good-bye.

Thanks to Hugh’s speeding, the drive up to Vermont took half an hour less than expected. As soon as they reached the hotel in Manchester Village, Casey felt like springing out of the car. She was wired from the Big Gulp Diet Coke she’d been drinking, and she was still mulling over what Walter had said. During a rest stop, Walter had asked about Unu, whom he used to cover. “I left a message for Shim-kin last week. Thought I might have a lead for him for an analyst position. Not a bad firm, either. But didn’t hear. He’s probably busy,” he’d said, looking at her carefully for a response.

“Oh? He didn’t tell me,” she said, which was true. Unu hadn’t mentioned it at all. Why wouldn’t he tell her? And why wouldn’t he call Walter back when Walter was great at making introductions for people? It was no small thing to have a person like Walter vouch for you. What was Unu’s problem?

When they finished checking in, it was nearly eleven o’clock.

“Drinks at the bar?” Hugh asked her and Walter.

“Yes. I could use a glass of wine,” she said.

“I’m turning in, guys. I’ll see you at breakfast. Good night,” Walter said, and went to his room.

The bar at the lodge was a small paneled room with low ceilings. It was one of the original tavern rooms of the eighteenth-century inn. Hugh found them a sofa in the back of the bar and ordered their drinks.

“Why hasn’t he gotten a job yet?” he asked.

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” she answered, smiling. “Haven’t you ever been laid off?” In her tone of voice, she was making it clear that she thought he was an asshole for being so unsympathetic.

“You misunderstand me, Casey Cat. Unu is smart enough to get a job. He doesn’t want a job. Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” Casey replied with a shrug.

“You sound like a disappointed mother,” he said. “But you are aging too well to be a mother to a grown man.”

“It’s often a wonder to me that you are in sales,” she said. “Speaking of aging, when do you expect to retire? I mean, no one in your field works in sales after fifty.”

“I’m not fifty. Hardly, my dear.” Hugh appeared irritated.

“You’re hardly thirty, my dear.” That was Unu’s age exactly. “And you’ll be fifty before me. Eleven years before me.”

“Ah, well, but what is twenty-six in female years?” He smiled and moved his face closer to hers. “None of us are getting any younger.”

“You’re crowding me, Hugh.” Casey drew back a little and sipped her white wine.

Hugh checked the bar. There were no clients here.

“I think we should leave,” he said. “Together. And go somewhere.”

Casey looked at his eyes. They were lovely. He had great beauty in his face. She envied him almost. She had never been beautiful the way he was.

“Muddy brown,” she said.

“What?”

“The color of your eyes is like mud.”

“I think you like me,” he said.

“You think everyone likes you. That is a most repulsive quality in a man. I do envy you, however.”

“Tell me all about it,” he said, reaching for his glass. He was curious as to what she’d say but wanted to appear detached.

“Because you’re so free. Your movements, your speech, your appearance. You’re not marked as exceptional or different. You’re just a tall, good-looking. . . white guy with solid connections. And you were born like that. What is that like?”

“You envy that?”

“Maybe.” Casey hated to admit it. “Yeah, maybe I do. Everyone always likes you. And if you think about it, they really shouldn’t. Take Karyn, for example. You don’t like her. And she’s probably hoping that you’ll call her for a date. It’s preposterous how much unearned power you have.”

“Power? What power? Karyn? That woman you work for? She’s. . . whatever. I’m sure she’s nice. I feel nothing for her.”

“Exactly. But then why did you flirt so hard with her? You misled her. I hate that about you.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Son of a gun.” Casey shook her head. “Does Narcissus ever take a holiday?”

“You know, it’s true.” Hugh spoke gravely, switching his tone. “Perhaps people do like me more than they should. Except you, obviously. But you really should like me because I am quite fond of you.”

“Hedge, we’re friends. You know that.” She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings.

“Close friends.” Hugh slid his left hand around her waist and placed his right on her thigh above her skirt.

“What is it with you?” Casey did not push him away but edged back a bit on the sofa. She was awfully curious about what he would say next.

He looked at her squarely, then slipped his right hand under her skirt.

“Excuse me,” she said tactfully.

He withdrew his hand. “Unu?” he asked, betting that the boyfriend might be the source of her resistance.

“I don’t know,” she answered. This was true. That morning, he’d asked, “You coming back?” And she realized she hadn’t answered him. Had she done something to make him feel she was leaving him? The thing that kept nagging at her was how he’d turned down that analyst position last week but then had given up his watch and car. He made no sense. “Get the check,” she said.

All Hugh had to do was glance at the waiter, who’d been paying attention to the table, and the man brought over the leather folder immediately. He signed his room number, and Casey got up.

The sex was not gentle. They were almost hostile. He did not love her, and she did not love him. But Casey liked the way he moved and admired his lack of self-consciousness. He was excited by her, and she found that its own kind of stimulus. It was hard to tell who was in control, or maybe neither was. When she was done, she put on her clothes to go to her room. Hugh didn’t ask her to stay, but before she left, he kissed her for a long time—the only tender moment of the evening.

The next day, she golfed brilliantly, and the clients were both impressed and peeved by the female summer intern’s solid game. Walter said, “All right, Han,” when he heard that she’d shot a seventy-eight. Even she was surprised by how well it went considering her lack of playing. After the long client dinner, she returned to her room, and not ten minutes later, Hugh came by.

“It’s me,” he said from outside the door.

Earlier that morning, before going down for breakfast, she had read her Bible, jotted down her verse, and prayed. She had prayed for forgiveness. When she heard Hugh’s knock on her hotel room door, she hesitated. Thirty or forty seconds—the extent of her resistance.

Hugh had brought her a bottle of wine, but she refused. She’d already had several glasses at dinner. “I don’t need it, either,” he said. “It’d be better for us if I didn’t.” He laughed, then kissed her and removed her blouse. They didn’t talk much again but went on to try new things. She was amazed by how much he knew about sex. This was the most monstrous bit she was learning: It was not hard to put Unu out of her mind and to focus merely on the bodies.

Casey looked at Hugh’s face after she climaxed. He reminded her of Jay, not because they looked so much alike, but because, like Jay, Hugh seemed perennially amused. They were the kind of men who could laugh at disparate things—in a good way, they faced life with humor; but in a bad way, they appeared to lack humanity at times. She had been with Hugh when he laughed at a homeless man’s drunken soft-shoe dance on Eighth Avenue and could recall how Jay would imitate his Indian friend’s accent behind his back.

Now, she had done to Unu what Jay had done to her. She had neglected Unu’s feelings, although the memory of her own humiliation had not yet gone away—when she saw Jay at the reunion, the image of him with the sorority girls had been helpful. It made their not being together anymore more plausible. Didn’t she love Unu enough even as a good friend to not hurt him? Could she have foreseen when Hugh proposed the golf trip that this might occur? She didn’t think so. Not completely. And Casey had violated her own morality, however broken and taped up it might have been; she had not believed she could do this.

Casey lay back on the pillow, her body covered loosely with the bedsheet.

“What are you thinking about?” Hugh asked. “You don’t look very happy.”

“I thought men didn’t talk after sex.”

“What do you know of men?”

“You got me there.”

Casey sat up, then swung her legs off the bed.

“If you wait for a little while, we can go again.”

He couldn’t see her face, but Casey was frowning. The way he’d said this made her feel bad. She had done plenty of sport fucking in her time before Jay and was amenable to doing more, but somehow, the way Hugh said “go again” bothered her, as if what they had just done were no different from a game of tennis. Unu never said things like that. Their lovemaking had been passionate and erotic, and despite his unwillingness to remarry, she didn’t doubt his commitment to her. She felt unworthy of Unu suddenly. He’d be better off with someone else. It wasn’t as if Hugh were a stranger. She had known him longer than Unu, but she didn’t know if he’d had feelings for her. Maybe it shouldn’t have mattered. She didn’t love him, either.

Casey lay down, feeling tired and unmotivated to wash up before going to sleep.

She kissed him on the mouth, wanting to test her own feelings. What was this they were doing?

He pressed his lips against hers, and she could feel the weight of his body.

“I don’t even like you.” She wanted to hurt him.

“I can’t stand you,” he answered. “But I’ve wanted to fuck you for quite some time.”

“Why?” she asked, trying to appear tough. She pulled her body away from his and propped up her face on bended elbow.

Hugh stroked the curve of her hip bone. “Who can explain it?”

Casey thought he could have said many things. Hugh was a good talker, after all. He was an institutional salesman. He could have said he liked her, her body, that she was pretty, that he liked her smile, her eyes—the crap men said to get sex. He could have delivered the words with some half-felt admiration. But he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he wanted to fuck her, and he wasn’t even going to try to pretend. Maybe she could have been anyone to him.

“You really can’t stand me?” This time, Casey was sincere.

“No, silly girl. I like you quite a lot. I couldn’t make love to someone I didn’t like. Unlike you, my dear, who can.”

Casey stared at him, stumped.

“I should go to bed,” she said, wanting to be alone. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Was he now being kind, or was he telling the truth? And he wasn’t wrong: She had slept with men she didn’t like. But she did like Hugh, although now she didn’t feel like saying it.

“Will you go back to him?” he asked. Normally, when Hugh conducted an affair, he never brought up the husband or the lover, but he felt that with Casey, it wouldn’t work this way. She wasn’t someone who pretended not to see things. At worst, she would not say the thing, but she knew what was going on.

Casey turned to him, and he cupped her small breasts in his hands. With his thumbs, he massaged her nipples.

“Cut it out, Hugh,” and as she said it, she heard the assonance of the names Unu and Hugh. They both had the long
u
vowel sound. Jay had taught her about assonance, consonance, and other aspects of prosody. It was like being in bed with all three of them. Casey got up finally and put on her robe.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I’m sleepy,” she said.

“Should I go, then?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hugh.”

“Very well.”

The drive back to New York on Sunday felt even shorter. Casey talked to Walter most of the time. Walter noticed the change in the car but didn’t say anything. He didn’t believe that Hugh would stoop so low as to seduce Casey. That would arguably be sexual harassment, since Casey was a junior employee. When they stopped to fill up the tank near Hugh’s parking lot in midtown, they decided to park his car and take taxis back home. Walter lived in Brooklyn, so they gave him the first one they hailed.

“I’ll drop you off,” Hugh said when the next cab appeared.

Hugh gave the driver instructions, and not a minute later, he began to feel her up.

Casey removed his hand from the inside of her thigh. “No, Hugh. No more of this.”

Hugh turned from her and faced forward. “Why?” he asked calmly in his work voice.

“Because I feel like a jerk. I’m such a hypocrite.”

And she couldn’t tell him that it was Sunday, and all she could think about was how God must think she was a shit, because she was a shit. If God was God, He probably didn’t mince words. She was no angel, but this was very low even for her.

“You should leave him.”