An Ex to Grind (26 page)

"My checkbook," she said, hurrying inside with graceful little steps. Her voice was light and breathy and singsong, like the tinkling of a bell. "I must have left it—"

She stopped when she saw me on the floor with Buster, who, at that moment, bolted out of my arms so he could sniff her Manolo Blahniks. She bent down and stroked his head. "It's just me, Busty boy," she said. I watched with both horror and fascination as his tail wagged like an out-of-control windshield wiper. While she stroked him, he licked her, lifted his paws to her, and made purring noises at her like a goddamn cat. He was as besotted with her as his master was.

"Leah, this is Melanie," said Dan. "Melanie, Leah."

I did not get up. Let her stoop to my level, I thought. Well, you know what I mean. "Hi," I said. "Nice to meet you."

She gave me a little finger wave. "Same here. I've heard a lot about you. And I really, really love your dog."

"Looks like the feeling's really, really mutual," I said, not intending to mimic her but unable to help myself.

"I'd keep an eye out for cataracts though," she said. "Pugs his age can be prone to them, and I've noticed that his depth perception isn't always on the mark." She smiled. "In case Dan didn't tell you, I'm a vet."

"He told me," I said, "but we have our own vet for Buster, so we're all set. No cataracts, as of the most recent checkup. No problems of any kind, actually." You quack. You troublemaker. You stealer of my dog's affection.

"Okay, great," she said, then turned to Dan. "I'm gonna run and get my checkbook."

She took off for the bedroom, my traitorous Buster tagging along after her. She was gone a minute or two, during which my ex said, "As I told you, she's been staying over. It made sense to give her a key."

"No explanation necessary," I said, getting up off the floor. "But why would she need her checkbook at her office? Or does she have to pay people to bring their pets to her?"

"Mel."

"You used to think I was funny."

"And you used to make jokes that weren't mean-spirited. Leah's funny, but she manages to be sweet too."

"You just think that because she has nice tits."

"Mel."

"Fine. I'll stop."

Leah returned with Buster in tow. "Got it," she said, holding the checkbook. She kissed Dan on the mouth, then wiped her lipstick smudge off. "You nervous about the interview, Swainy?"

Swainy?

"Not yet, but I'm sure I will be as soon as I get in the car."

She took his hands in hers and pressed herself against him. I wished I'd averted my eyes. "Just remember what we said. Today is an adventure. You'll be meeting new people, learning about the school, hearing about their team, talking about a sport you love. Don't make it about how much they'll like you or whether you'll have the right answers to their questions. Make it about being yourself and letting whatever happens happen. There's no pressure to get this job, Swainy. If it's not this one, it'll be another one. Okay?"

No pressure to get this job? Sure, because he already had an income. Mine!

Dan winked at me. "Didn't I tell you she was sweet?"

"You did." So sweet my teeth were springing cavities.

"And didn't I tell you she has a way of communicating that resonates?"

"Yep," I said. "It resonates with me too. When I go to work today, I'll view it as an adventure."

"Dan told me what your job is, Melanie, but I forgot," said Leah. "Are you a stockbroker?"

"No, I have stockbrokers reporting to me," I said, throwing my shoulders back. "I'm a vice president at Pierce, Shelley and Steinberg, overseeing investment portfolios that cover a wide range of asset options, stocks included."

"Mel's their top gun," said Dan.

"Sounds really, really exciting," said Leah. "I've never been a numbers person. I put my heart and soul into living things."

"Living things are the ones who have investments," I pointed out. "My clients are mammals, for the most part."

Dan shot me a stern look. "I've got to get moving, you two," he said, ushering us both toward the door.

I said a quick goodbye to Buster and Leah said a quick goodbye to Swainy, and she and I ended up riding down in the elevator together.

"So," I said, feeling obligated to make conversation, the way you do in elevators. "How long have you been seeing Dan?"

"About a month," she said. "Not long by most people's standards, but we've grown very close very fast." She sighed a lovebird sigh. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

What was the matter with her? Dan was the biggest slacker of all time, and she was beautiful and sweet, as advertised. Maybe she
was
a dope fiend, as Mrs. Thornberg would say.

"It's not just that he's the most gorgeous guy I've ever dated, although I can't deny I find him incredibly attractive, physically," she went on, without any encouragement on my part. "It's his goodness. His kindness. His decency."

"Then he hasn't taken you to any strip clubs yet?"

She laughed. "I know he's no angel, but he's really, really trying to improve himself."

"He told me you've had a positive influence on him."

"I think he just needed someone to support him."

Support him? Isn't that what
I
was doing? Every damn month?

"Well, here we are," I said when we arrived in the lobby. I was all set to shake hands and split, but she kept talking. And walking. And despite my efforts to break away, we were approaching Ricardo together.

"Ladies," he said. "Glad you got to meet each other." He turned to me. "She's some caretaker, huh?"

"Caretaker?" said Leah. "You make me sound like a nurse or something."

"Sorry. I don't know what you people call yourselves these days," he said before I could slap some duct tape over his mouth. "Caretakers, nurses, therapists, techies."

"We call ourselves veterinarians," she said with a look that suggested Dan's doorman was a little soft in the head.

Ricardo nodded. "Mr. Swain's an animal, all right. I'll never forget that game against the Dolphins when he took on four of their guys and still hung on to the ball."

I tugged on Leah's arm. "I've got to get to the office."

"So do I," she said.

Ricardo pushed open the revolving door for us. "Really happy about how well Mr. Swain's doing," he called out as we exited the building. "It would have been a tragedy if we'd lost him."

Leah's eyes widened. She did a complete revolution out the door, then revolved her way back inside, with me on her heels. " 'If we'd lost him?'" She glanced at me. "What's he talking about?"

"It's okay," said Ricardo, lowering his voice. "I know what's going on. Thanks to you, he's still with us."

"I don't understand," she said.

I linked my arm through hers and dragged her back through the revolving door, the two of us crammed in the same slot this time.

"Ricardo hasn't been able to deal with Dan's retirement from football," I told her once we were outside on the street. "He's a loyal fan, and he's afraid that, now that Dan and I are divorced, Dan will leave New York and move back to Oklahoma. That's what he meant by 'if we'd lost him'."

She relaxed into a smile. "Dan's not going anywhere. He'd never leave that apartment. In fact, last night he told me I could redecorate it. I know you and he lived there together, but it could use a bit of sprucing."

"Sprucing?" And Dan
was
leaving that apartment. As soon as the ninety days were up, he would no longer be able to afford it.

"Yes. The colors are a little, well, ten years ago. You don't mind, do you, Melanie?"

Those colors were my colors. Just like the photos on the sofa table were my photos. Just like the pug without the cataracts was my pug. I did not like this woman. But here's what I said in response to her question: "Whatever you and Dan decide is fine and dandy with me." Because the thing about sweet people is this: they can make the rest of us look bad if we're not careful.

"I'm so relieved that you feel that way," she said. "I didn't want to offend you."

"Offend me? Don't be silly." I chuckled at the very notion. "You and Dan are building a relationship together. The important thing is for you two to cohabitate continuously and substantially." I said it simply to keep myself on message, not to be facetious or smart-alecky.

She beamed then opened her arms and wrapped me in a squishy hug. "That was a lovely thing to say." She squeezed me again. "I've dated a lot of divorced men, and most of the time their ex-wives are bitter and vindictive. But you?" She hugged me a third time. "You're really, really great."

As I just indicated, the trouble with sweet people is that you can't tell them to go fuck themselves, no matter how much you might want to.

It was Close to ten o'clock by the time I finally made it to the office. Late for me, yes. But I figured that after all the years and all the hours I'd logged in at that place, what was an hour here or there? Besides, there were no meetings scheduled, no presentations I was supposed to give. Just your run-of-the-mill day at Pierce, Shelley.

Steffi wasn't at her desk—she must have been foraging in the supplies room or making photocopies in the copy room—and my desk was piled high with messages. I went back out into the hall to look for her. There were other assistants milling around their cubicles gossiping, people who knew me well enough to at least greet me in the morning, but none of them did. In fact, they stopped talking when I passed by and lowered their eyes.

Something was definitely up, but what? Was there a juicy rumor circulating? Were we being acquired? Were we acquiring another company? Were we poaching a client from another company? Was some heavyweight getting canned?

I decided to stop by Bernie's office before getting down to work, hoping he'd fill me in. When I reached his office, Carla, his assistant, a large, pale woman with enormous nostrils, told me her boss was in a meeting. I said I'd wait, even though she seemed eager for me not to.

Two minutes later, Bernie's door opened, and he and Jed Ornbacher walked out together, slapping each other on the back and appearing to be in high spirits. They stopped in their tracks when they saw me standing there.

"Oh. Mel," said Bernie, looking uncomfortable. "I didn't think you'd come in yet."

"Who told you that?" I said with a big smile and an increasingly nervous stomach. "Of course I'm
in
." I turned to my client and shouted at him, so I wouldn't have to repeat myself. "Jed? Everything okay this morning? You're flying back to Dallas later, right?"

Jed removed his cowboy hat, revealing the cowboy comb-over, and moved closer to me. "You're a smart gal," he said, taking my hand and patting it, more grandfather than dirty old man for once. "I'm gonna pray for you, but I want you to do some praying yourself. You hear me, young lady?"

He was so loud they could hear him in Dallas. "Thanks, I need all the prayers I can get," I said. "We all do, right? Such a crazy world we live in."

He put his hat back on. "Put your faith in the Lord and it'll all be fine." He laughed-coughed-wheezed, then said he'd better run.

"Have a safe flight and I'll be in touch soon," I said, waving as Bernie walked him to the elevators.

How odd, I thought, as I watched them make their way down the hall. Why hadn't Jed set up an appointment to see me before he left town? And what was he doing in Bernie's office on the day of his departure? I was his account executive. I was the one who'd reeled him in. I was the one who'd impressed him during our very first encounter. Yes, I'd messed up a couple of times with the meetings and phone calls, but I'd come up with an excellent financial plan for him, and all I needed was some time to implement it.

Well, maybe he was just in a rush, I decided. Yes, he was only concerned about making his flight. But then, of course, I remembered that he had his own plane and it wasn't leaving until he was good and ready for it to leave.

My insecurities started to take on a life of their own, so I hung around until Bernie reappeared, just to reassure myself that nothing was amiss. Carla kept glancing at me with those nostrils in the air—they were so big you could stick hot dogs up them, rolls and all—but then this was no time to think about food, I reminded myself.

"Ah, good. I was hoping we could chat," Bernie said very gently, as if I were a mental patient about to go on a rampage.

"I'd like that," I said. We entered his office and sat down—he, behind his desk, I, in one of the chairs facing him. "Did my client offer to pray for you too?" I laughed. "The guy's too much, isn't he?"

"That's the thing I wanted to chat about," he said, continuing in this flat monotone he'd never used with me before. "Jed isn't your client anymore."

At first I didn't get it. Of course Jed was my client. He and Bernie hadn't been arguing when I saw them together, so there was no apparent rift with Pierce, Shelley. And I certainly hadn't received any notification that Jed was moving his account to another firm.

"
I'm
taking over his account," Bernie explained. "We worked out the details this morning, and I was planning to tell you as soon as he left."

I couldn't believe it. The news was like a punch in the gut. I'd never lost a client—well, not to another executive within the company—and I never envisioned that I would. I was counting on making partner, not getting demoted. How could this have happened? How could I have allowed it to happen?

"Why are you taking over Jed's account?" I said, trying to maintain my composure but hearing the plaintive tone in my voice. It was high and squeaky, like the toy Evan had bought for Buster. "Didn't he think I was competent?"

"Mel," said Bernie. "You and I both know you've lost your focus lately. You admitted as much."

So it was the whole business with Dan and the alimony. Well, sure, getting the project off the ground had appropriated a great deal of my energy, but as Desiree often said, matchmaking is a full-time proposition, even when you're not the one looking for love. Not for yourself, I mean. If I hadn't given the project my all, how else would I have been able to commandeer Ricardo, Isa, and Mrs. Thornberg to spy for me? How else would things have proceeded so smoothly? Because I was on top of every aspect of the project, that's how!