Keep Dancing (11 page)

“Wouldn’t it be great to have a little Ollie running around underfoot?” he asked.

I gulped. If we ever did have a kid, chances were, he’d be a wild child. “Right now I’m enjoying just being with you. Anyway, wouldn’t that be getting the cart before the horse?”

He seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.
It’s exactly as I thought; marriage hasn’t even occurred to him. I guess it’s too middle-class a concept for a rock star
. “Never mind. Let’s talk about it some other time, okay?

Jack got up and started putting on his jeans.

“I’ve never even taken care of a dog, much less a child. Neither have you,” I added quickly. “You said your mother fed all your pets, growing up.”

He looked down at his chest, buttoning his shirt. Then he sat and jammed on a pair of boots.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Out.” He stomped to the front of the loft. I heard him pick up the phone and call Sammy.

“Fine,” I said after the door slammed.
I guess Mr. Kipling’s used to getting exactly what he wants
.

After tossing and turning for hours, I fell asleep around three. But every noise from the street made me jerk awake, thinking it was Jack coming in. Finally I realized that he wasn’t going to.
Is this the way he’s going to react every time I don’t agree with him?
That doesn’t bode too well for our future
, I fretted as I threw off the covers and got out of bed. It was five a.m.; the corner diner would be open. I could have breakfast there and head in to the office early. I didn’t want to be here when he came back.

I passed a bleary day at work. Every time the phone rang I jumped at it, spoiling for a fight—but his call never came.
I guess his true stripes are showing; the first time he doesn’t get his way about something, he bails out
. We hadn’t yet discussed his habit of staying out late at bars with the guys—or, for that matter, monogamy. I had assumed it was part of the package of living together, but maybe that was just another of my middle-class ideas—like the concept that one might get married before one got knocked up.

Several times I picked up the phone, then slammed it back down.
Why should I call him?
He’s the one who started it!
Suddenly my indignation turned to despair.
Jack is the first man I’ve ever been so intensely in love with. I’ll never feel this way again. Am I insane to throw away what any other girl would give her eye-teeth for?

Then I caught myself.
My entire identity is wrapped up in being an editor. Who would I be, if I gave up my career?
Sure, the more established editors were able to leave the office at 5:30 and go home to their kids, but I was just starting out and had to prove myself. It took a while to acquire a strong list of books, and that involved late nights and long weekends spent editing. How could I do all that and deal with a baby too? And as much as Jack seemed to think he wanted one right now, would that turn into one of his spur-of-the-moment ideas that he’d later wish he could back out of? If so, where would that leave me?

Exhausted from second-guessing, I forced myself to stay late at the office. I didn’t want to seem anxious to see him, and also I dreaded the showdown. At eight I trudged home from the subway in yet another heavy snowfall. Nervously I pushed open the door.

Jack was sitting on the couch, an open whiskey bottle on the glass-topped table. He nodded at it. “Want a shot?”

The casual comment made my blood boil. “Where’d you go last night?” I kicked off my dripping boots.

Jack looked surprised at being questioned, but that was too bad. “I hit a few bars with Sammy,” he said, coming over to me. ”I got in at five. I must have just missed you; the bed was still warm.”

I crossed my arms. “So, we have a difference of opinion about a huge thing—especially for me—and you just leave? Does that mean we’ll get along great, as long as I agree with everything?”

Jack ran his hand through his hair. “I was ticked off. You’re entitled to your opinion.”

As if we were deciding what to have for dinner.
“We’re talking about my career—something that would change my whole life.”

“I know.” He gave me a dark look. “It’s
always
about your career.”

“It’s just as important to me, as yours is to you—hard as that may be to believe. Besides, if you walk out on me over one disagreement, I’ll
need
a career to fall back on. Because our chances of staying together aren’t looking too good!” Hot tears surged behind my eyeballs.
Don’t cry,
I told myself.
You’ll seem weak.

“Do you know how many girls would—” He stopped himself.

“Would what? Be dying to have your baby?” Jack shrugged, but I knew that was what he meant. “Maybe you should be with one of them. A sweet, fawning admirer who goes along with everything you say. I’m not that person, Jack.”

“
That’s
for sure. If I wanted that, I could’ve had it a million times already. But I like a challenge.” He gave a wry smile. “And you’re definitely a challenge.”

I thought about that for a moment. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I guess.”

“But seriously, don’t you ever want children? You can still do your editing.”

“You don’t know how much it means to me. It’s not some little pastime,” I said heatedly.

“Sure I do,” Jack said. “I see how you slog away at it. It’s the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning, and the last thing you do before you go to bed.”

“Not necessarily the last thing.” To try to make peace, I reached out and gave him a little squeeze.

Jack put his hands on my shoulders. “I’d take care of you, baby. You wouldn’t have to worry about supporting yourself.”

I pushed his hands away. “What is this, the 1950s? Am I supposed to have dinner waiting on the table, or something?”

“A pot roast wouldn’t be bad, once in a while.” Seeing my expression, he added, “You know I’m kidding. But I think you care more about your work than you do me.”

“That’s not true. Anyway, why does it have to be one or the other?”

He gave me a contemplative look. “All right. I admit I shouldn’t have left last night. But I want you to think about it. No pressure.” He lifted his hands. “Just give it some thought.”

I didn’t want to say I’d already thought about it. “Okay. I will.”

Girlfriend Is Better

“Wow, so he wants you to have his baby.” Vicky gulped the last of her margarita and signaled for another. The Broome Street Bar was rowdy tonight, jukebox booming, packed with its usual artists and downtown types. “You said he was impulsive, but that takes the prize.” She licked salt off the rim of her glass, her catlike green eyes reflecting the light from the mirrored bar.

“Having Oliver stay with us must have triggered it. But he hasn’t even mentioned marriage. And I’m just starting this new job. ”

I had been shocked when Ted called to offer me the position at Hawtey House; I’d given up hope after Perry Stroud had acted so unimpressed in the interview. I had a sneaking suspicion that maybe their first choice hadn’t accepted. But¸ I told myself, perhaps that was just Perry’s personality. Maybe he’d warm up to me once he saw how hard I worked. Regardless, I was on cloud nine. I’d be a full editor instead of a junior underling, and finally free of the mind-numbing clerical duties. Bidding adieu to Harvey would be the icing on the cake.

Jack had been genuinely thrilled for me, and had a bottle of champagne chilling when I got in last night. We’d dressed up and gone to Caliban for dinner, and later he made the most amazing love to me. I thought the baby thing might come up again, but he didn’t mention it. We had survived our first big spat as a live-in couple; I wondered how long the air would stay cleared.

“Earth to Julia.” Vicky waved her hand in front of my face. “Does Jack understand how hard it is to move up? Practically nobody’s hiring with this recession.”

“He knows Hawtey’s my big chance.” I stirred my vodka tonic with a finger and licked it. “But he’s eight and a half years older than me, and he’s reached the height of his profession. So for him, the timing’s great. But then again, maybe having a kid is something he
thinks
he wants, but hasn’t really thought through.”

“And what Jack wants, Jack gets.” Vicky narrowed her eyes. “Too bad there isn’t some way to compromise.” She scooted her stool closer to make room for a guy with THIS SIDE UP tattooed on his neck.

“I’ve worked so hard to get this new position; I can’t let it slide through my hands. I’m going to have to acquire like crazy, and my first list of books will just be coming out next year. Besides, I am so not ready to have a baby.”

“I guess there
is
such a thing as a nanny,” Vicky commented.

I raised my voice as the jukebox got louder. “I’d love to have children eventually, if we stay together—but now isn’t the right time. Oliver is cute, but boy, is he a bundle of energy. I almost blew the interview, I was so wiped out from chasing the bugs he let escape. Apparently Jack was the same way when he was a kid.” I thought for a moment, and smiled. “Actually he still
is
pretty energetic.”

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that, Ms. Nash.” Vicky crossed her long skinny legs on the stool. “On that topic, did I tell you, I had the strangest experience last week. I was at a party for an author at the Explorer’s Club, of all places. His book is about Alaska. Everyone had to pose for pictures in front of this huge stuffed polar bear.” She rolled her eyes.

Vicky’s publicist job often took her to glamorous places, but she’d become jaded. “That sounds kind of cool,” I said.

“These two different guys in suits kept coming over to talk to me. I was just focused on shmoozing the critic from the
Times
. But it was like they were competing for me, or something.” Vicky acted as if she was surprised, but she’d been hit up like that before.

“Not a new situation for you. So what happened?” I asked. A Pretenders song blasted from the jukebox, and I swayed my foot to the beat.

“The party was wrapping up, and I went to get my coat. The first guy started walking me to the door. I just figured he was leaving the same time I was. Then when we got outside, he had the nerve to say, ‘I knew you were going to go home with me from the minute I laid eyes on you.’”

“What a jerk!” I downed the rest of my vodka.

“Luckily the second guy came outside right then. I looked at the first one and said, ‘No, I’m not. I’m going home with
him
.’ I walked over to the other guy, and we got into a taxi.”

“Did you really go home with him?” I hoped the answer was “no”.

“Nah, I wasn’t that attracted. I asked him to drop me at my place. He wanted my number, so I gave it to him.” She reached for her wallet.“I may see him this weekend, or I may stay in and catch up.”

“Let me pay. I’m feeling flush with my new salary.” I put some bills on the bar. “The only downside is that now I’ll have to take the subway to work, since it’s too far to walk. Jack offered to have Rick take me in the mornings, but can you see me getting out of a car with a driver?”

“Why not?
I
wouldn’t have a problem with that,” Vicky said.

“Everyone would think I had a sugar daddy. I’m still keeping it a secret that I’m with Jack. If people found out, they’d think that was why I got the job.”

Vicky made a face. “Jeez, Julia, you and your scruples. Anyone else would be shouting it to the rafters.”

The next morning, I went to tell Meredith about my job offer. She put down her watering can and hugged me.

“I’m so thrilled for you! That’s great; you really deserve it. But I’m going to miss you around here. Promise me we’ll have regular lunch dates?”

“Of course we will.” I felt a little teary-eyed.

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you tell Harvey,” she said. “And I hate to ask, but I need one last favor. Could you edit this book on Ayurveda before you go? I’ve sat on it for three weeks already.”

“Sure thing, I’ll start on it tonight. What’s Ayurveda?”

“A kind of yoga technique. It’ll be a good topic to have under your belt before you head off to Hawtey,” she added. “They have some woo-woo on their list.”

Harvey turned pale when I told him. “You aren’t even giving me a chance to make a counter-offer,” he said in a testy tone of voice. “I can’t believe you’re jumping ship before we publish Isabel’s memoir.”

“I have to take this opportunity. I’m sure you understand,” I replied coolly.

He frowned. “Hawtey House has pretty high standards. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“I think they want to broaden their range beyond pure literary stuff. Anyway, they must think I can handle it if they hired me.” I relished his look of chagrin.
Now that I’m leaving, he’s ready to give me more money. Well, he can take his counter-offer and shove it!

“Be sure to tie up all the loose ends before you go,” Harvey said with a scowl. “And don’t think you can come crawling back here if it doesn’t work out.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing that.”
Jerk.

Jack was in an amorous mood that night, but I barricaded myself in the bedroom with the Ayurveda manuscript. After an hour of trying to parse the author’s headache-inducing prose, I went out to where he was sitting on a stool, shirtless. He was strumming a Muddy Waters tune on his electric guitar, wearing headphones—or “cans”, as he called them—so I could concentrate. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he slipped them off.

“All done?” he asked with an anticipatory look.

“Could you come here for a minute? I could use your help with something.”

“Sure, baby. I could come here,” he said, putting his hand between my legs, “or here,” tracing my lips with his finger, “or anywhere you want. But it’ll take more than a minute.”

“Let’s hold that thought for now.” He propped his Telecaster on a chair and followed me into the bedroom. “Can you lie down? I need to try to figure out all these confusing chakras,” I said.