The Black & The White (23 page)

“
Let me just wash my foot.”
He hobbled to the bathroom. Minutes passed and I still heard the
water running. I walked in to see him standing like a flamingo on
one foot, while the other was propped under the bathroom sink. A
bloodied sock lay next to his right leg near the toilet. Drips of
blood trailed down his ankles.

He told me two of his toes had been
run over by a cab on his way back from a night of gambling and the
after-after hours club.

“
Stephen, your toes are
broken. They are starting to turn purple.” I wasn’t a nurse, but it
seemed obvious.

“
I think it hurts, not sure
yet.” I knew what he meant. The drugs were still in his system. It
was nine o’clock in the morning.

“
Alright, you’re coming with
me to the hospital. You’re going to feel it in several hours if you
don’t get there.”

He seemed to consider the idea but was
reluctant.

“
Only if I get a
kiss.”

I pushed him away gently. “Give me a
break.”

I grabbed a hand towel, filled it with
ice, and braced him to help him walk through the lobby. His hand
was in the back of my jeans pocket. It didn’t need to be there, but
I allowed it.

“
One kiss?” he begged.
“Look, broken toe. Now can I get a kiss?”

I enjoyed his pleading and placed a
peck on his lips. I smelled the cocaine from his nose.

There were gambling devotees still at
the table and ladies that sauntered the lobby looking for work,
even in the early morning.

I grabbed the first pink cab outside
the hotel and asked the driver to take us to the nearest emergency
room.

“
So, what happened to you?”
the cab driver asked.

“
Cab ran over his toes,” I
said for Stephen.

“
Yeah, that happens all the
time around here. Lots of drunk people get their toes run over.
Stupid, drunk kids get nasty, so cab drivers just take off. You get
all kinds here,” the driver explained nonchalantly.

I placed his barefoot on my lap and
the towel of ice on his foot. Stephen’s toenails were beginning to
turn from blue to black. It was fairly certain that his nails
weren’t going to last.

“
Can you feel the pain now?”
I asked.

“
Kind of. But you caring for
me is nice.” He reached over to kiss me on the cheek. It was nice
for me too.

In the cab, I fantasized about the
possibility of him not having a wife. I wondered if things with us
would be different or if he would even consider dating me. That
thought made me smile.

Stephen saw my smile and kissed my
forehead. “Thank you again for taking me to the
hospital.”

The hospital did nothing to resemble
the glitz and glamour of the Vegas strip. The hospital was just as
ordinary as any hospital one would see in Upstate New
York.

We waited for an hour before we were
admitted. In that time, neither of our phones rang. It was as if
everyone had forgotten about us.

“
Thanks for caring about me,
Isabelle,” Stephen said as he leaned over to me, placing his right
foot over my thighs. He kissed me on the cheek. I was enjoying all
of these physical displays of affection and
appreciation.

I looked at him while I continued to
nurse his foot. “No worries Stephen. I just hope they don’t chop
your feet off. That would make it difficult to walk.” The towel of
ice was now less ice and more water, dripping on the hospital
floor.

“
I’m sure they’ve seen a lot
of broken toes and broken fingers here. I wish I had a cooler story
than ‘I got run over by a cab.’”

The nurse came over and handed us a
form to fill out for admittance. I watched him check the “married”
box. A sudden jolt of emotion caught me off guard. I felt like I
might cry. It was the reality check that I needed but didn’t
want.

Several hours later, we left the
hospital against the doctor’s advice. Stephen hobbled on his foot
carrying his crutches.

Our group met up at the Aladdin Hotel
and Casino for a post-evening recap. We all started the day with
Bloody Marys. “The best in town,” the waitress said as though she
was scripted to repeat it to all of her customers.

My phone rang and I saw that it was
Kim.

“
Hey, girl! How’s
Vegas?”

“
Vegas…What can I
say?”

Kim was apparently in a good mood. “If
you haven’t got good stories to tell, then don’t come
back.”

“
Ohhhh…I’ve got stories,
just not mine to tell,” I said.

“
Who you there with?” she
asked.

“
The Traitors,” I said. Kim
and I called traders “traitors” with reference to their
infidelities and their backstabbing behavior.

“
I bet you have plenty of
stories with those guys. I used to work with a guy who had fathered
an illegitimate kid at a ‘conference’ in Vegas. Not only once, but
twice. Two kids! So much drugs also. I wish I was there with you,”
Kim said, whining.

“
No kids yet. But ask me
nine months from now,” I said. “Although…” I paused as I considered
telling her. “I was privy to the drug part.”

“
Please don’t do it. You
don’t want to get into that habit. Really, Isabelle. Promise me?”
she asked. “Trust me. I know.”

“
Yes. No drugs for me!” I
did not want to disappoint her. Kim thought I was still pure and
not jaded, unaffected by the pressures of New York. It was hard to
tell her the truth.

“
Lots of strippers and
married men sleeping around though.” I paused for dramatics. “Carin
and Andrew!”

“
Get the fuck out!” she
said.

“
Oh and, uh, well, I kind of
told Jeffrey that this was a girls weekend… no mention of the guys
being here. Just didn’t seem right that I am away with my boss.
Looks a bit odd, right? I feel kind of bad—”

She interrupted. “But kind of
exciting, I’m sure. Just be careful. If you feel it’s bad, most
likely it is. Someone should have told me that a long time
ago.”

“
Please,” I said. “You’re
one to talk about being bad.” I laughed.

“
Yeah, but I didn’t say bad
wasn’t fun.”

We hung up, and I headed back to the
table.

Stephen looked at me curiously. “That
wasn’t the loser restaurant boy, was it?”

I shook my head.

Eventually, everyone started to make
their way back to the Palm Hotel to lie under the sun. Since I had
never been to Vegas, I wanted to tour around before another evening
of debauchery began. Carin and I set off.

We walked down the boulevard
surrounded by people who’d won a lot of money, along with people
who’d lost just as much. Others went just to party. Carin and I
laughed at the girl who still wore a veil on her head and a sign
that read “Almost married.”

The hotels on the boulevard were
awe-inspiring, individually unique, more than I had assumed Vegas
to be. It was a city that exuded opulence, with its triangular
buildings, facades that shined like gold coins, roller coasters,
and singing fountains. It was surreal, magical.

“
I feel like shit. I can’t
get Blake off my mind. What do you think I should do about that
asshole?” Carin asked me.

I didn’t answer. It was obvious she
just wanted me to listen. “I mean, I should have seen it coming. We
spend zero time together.”

She knew the relationship was
unhealthy. She was guilty of no longer putting in the energy to
save the relationship. “It is hard to be alone,” she said. “I just
thought he was going to be the one,” Carin said.

I was surprised at this admission. I
had never heard her speak much about commitment or a desire to be
married.

“
I’m getting old. At one
point, I’ll have to settle down. I just don’t want to fucking date
losers in New York. And the pool gets smaller the older you get.”
Carin began to cry. I had never seen her cry—had never thought she
was capable of it. She seemed invulnerable.

I gave her a hug and let her cry into
my shoulder. After a few seconds, she pulled away and said, “You
know what, I am not going to let that fucker get to me. I am better
than to lament over him.” That was the Carin I knew. I smiled at
her and gave her a high-five. She wiped away her tears and
laughed.

At the bar at Caesars Palace, Carin
decided to call Blake. “If I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it,”
she said as she picked up her phone.

“
After I do this, I’m going
to need a drink…lots of drinks.” She smiled.

While she was on the phone, I
aimlessly walked around Caesars Palace amidst the
sneakers-and-sweatshirt crowd. I thought about Stephen mostly. I
waffled between wanting to hate him and really liking him. Caring
for him at the hospital, he showed his vulnerability, a facet that
drew me closer to him. It bothered me that I cared about this man,
a married man, yet I couldn’t help myself. Suddenly, something
Jeffrey had said once came to mind. “You can’t choose who you fall
in love with, Isabelle.”

“
Why do you have to be
married?” I said aloud. Luckily, no one seemed to have heard
me.

After a while, I meandered back to
Carin.

“
Hey, girl. All okay?” I
asked.

“
Yeah. It’s just so over
with us. There’s nothing left to even hope for. And you know what
they say in finance: If all you have is hope, sell!”

I gave her a hug.

“
Don’t worry about it,
Isabelle. It is what it is. I will endure. It just fucking sucks,
but I expected it. The slow death of a relationship.”

Stephen called at six p.m., asking me
to meet him at his hotel, The Four Seasons, for an in-room massage
he had ordered for everyone.

“
Isabelle!” At the door of
his suite, Stephen pulled my arm into the room, which was larger
than my whole apartment. I expected him to be alone, but instead
there were three girls sitting on the sofa, picking at the nuts
that were on the table. Who are these people? I was both
irrationally jealous and annoyed.

Stephen led me by my forearm to the
masseuse and said, “Don’t touch this one. I’ll give her the
massage.”

I coquettishly pushed him way. “Keep
dreaming,” I said.

Stephen made a carafe of vodka and
cranberry juice. One of the girls from the sofa came over and
placed her arm around him. I felt jealous that the girl was
touching him. Didn’t she know I was the one he had called in a time
in need? That I was the one who took him to the
hospital?

She touched him like I would. He
probably touched her himself, even more than he touched me. I
should have known to not get myself involved. He probably kissed
everyone the way he had kissed me. That kiss had meant nothing to
him. There was tightness in my throat. A small tear fell on my
cheek, which I immediately wiped away.

I jumped up on one of the massage
tables in the middle of the living room and lay down on my stomach.
The others were enjoying their fresh cocktails. Below me, near the
couch, I saw shopping bags from Gucci, Prada, and Hermes. I had
overheard a girl talking to some-one about shopping with Stephen.
With Stephen’s gambling winnings, he had decided to take one of the
girls he had met at Crazy Horse out for a day of shopping. It was
the girl he had gotten the phone number from at the end of the
night.

“
I don’t get to massage you,
Isabelle?” Stephen asked again as he grasped my shoulders and
started to gently rub them.

“
Get your hands off of me,”
I said sternly.

“
Whoa! Are you mad?” he
asked.

“
No! Just let me
be.”

“
Isabelle?” Stephen bent
down to talk to me at my ear. “Why are you mad?”

I ignored him. The masseuse pushed him
off to the side, and Stephen turned away and went back to the
party.

Vegas suddenly seemed like too
much.

Feeling angry, I flew home earlier
than my scheduled flight on Sunday morning. Everyone else had
missed their eight a.m. flights. Stephen flew back privately much
later. When I landed, I received a voicemail from Stephen asking me
if I wanted to fly home in his jet. I was happy I had left. I
decided I didn’t want to see him anymore.

I
returned from Vegas with a slew of new Wall Street
acquaintances—clients, dealers, and brokers. I added their names to
my address book. My contact list grew to sixteen.

“
If you want to make it in
the Street, you’ve got to shut up and be nice to everyone. You
never know when you’re going to need them,” Kim had advised me
once.

If I wasn’t with either Carin or Kim,
I spent most of my post-work hours with clients I had come to know
and like. Increasingly, clients and work friends called me to ask
me out. But of all the clients, I enjoyed Stephen’s company the
most.