Cosmopolitan Girls (8 page)

Chapter 15

The Lion's Den

I didn't know just how serious Judy was until she sent both Tara and I formal e-mail invitations for our “Supper Club” night. When there was a new hot restaurant that had the city buzzing, we showed up to be the “chic critique” patrol. Bond Street, the swanky new place for sushi, was the choice tonight.

I was the first to arrive. Anxious all day, I needed Tara and Judy's advice on how to deal with Troy. I wanted to see him so badly. I was on the verge of doing something drastic.

“Lindsay sweetie!” Judy's way of greeting a person was like the sticky sweetness of wet cotton candy on a humid summer day.

A young, dapper host escorted us through Bond Street's unique trilevel design. An elevator was our chariot to the third-floor dining room. Bond Street's modern décor was minimalist and I rated it an A plus just for style.

“I'll have the salmon roll, a miso soup, the house salad, and some plum wine.” The waiter quickly jotted down the order as Judy shut the menu and then just as quickly, she opened it again. Judy firmly believed that it was more than a woman's prerogative to change her mind, it was her genetic right. This was the torturous and painstaking part of our supper club. “Wait! That may be too fishy.”

“Ya think? It's only a sushi bar,” I snapped.

Judy finally decided that she'd made the right choice and we got on with the night.

“So what's the 411 ladies?” Judy challenged.

“Something is seriously wrong with Troy and me.”

“Oh, please, that Negro isn't going anywhere. He loves your dirty drawers.” Judy grimaced. Tara nudged her.

“Lin Lin, what's going on?” she frowned.

“I think it has something to do with me telling him I loved him.”

“Bad move!” Judy threw her hands up.

“Judy, shut up!” I yelled.

Tara put her arm around my shoulder. “Sweetie, it's okay. Just lower your voice. Don't forget where we are.” She nervously looked around the room before turning back to me. “Lin Lin, when did this happen?”

“Girl, it was weeks ago, when he left for L.A.”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Judy asked.

“We're your best girlfriends. We're here for you.”

“I've just been so stressed and busy with preproduction, not to mention the fact that we've all been playing phone tag. I wasn't about to leave something as important as this on an answering machine or two-way.”

“Lindsay, I'm sorry, but you can't shock that kind of man with an announcement like that. You'll just send him running into the arms of some lucky chickenhead,” Judy whispered, aghast.

“Okay, so how do I fix it? What do I do now? I haven't talked to him or seen him in two weeks.” I wanted to hear answers fast.

“Lin Lin, you have to do everything in your power to make him feel comfortable again and let your little announcement blow over,” Tara insisted.

“When you do see him or talk to him, act like nothing's changed, and don't ever bring that day up again,” Judy jumped in and was on a roll.

“Maybe this is a sign. You know, he's never even officially called me his girlfriend,” I mentioned.

“Lin Lin, what's in a name or a title? You guys have been inseparable for over four months. Everyone knows you're a couple,” Tara said firmly.

Maybe my girls were right. Persistence is what's gotten me everything else in life and I had to attack this situation with Troy the same way.

A few hours later, I wasn't feeling as hopeful or confident. I was swallowed up in a thick down comforter and the massiveness of my California King sleigh bed, going cross-eyed trying to read what was now our third rewrite of the pilot. Robert was driving the writer and me crazy with all his changes to the script. He's really testing my relationship with Finney, who was ready to quit after the second revision.
I can't take it anymore!
I thought, tossing the script to the side as I looked over at the nightstand at a picture of Troy and me. I needed to be held, but all I could do was ball up in the fetal position and cry.

I couldn't stop sobbing as I looked at photos of me and Troy. We looked so good together, and thinking about St.-Martin made me cry harder. I punched the pillows in frustration, and frantically began ripping the pictures up one by one.

After several minutes, I stopped crying and slowly slinked out of bed and grabbed the cordless. It was too late to call my sisters. Why bother? They wouldn't do anything but tell me how crazy I was to still be thinking about Troy. I needed to get myself together, and quick. I decided to take a long hot bath.

Forty-five minutes later, I stepped out of the tub and poured sesame-scented oil over my body, letting the moisture soak deep into my pores. I lit a Mandarine Votivo candle, releasing the mellow citrus fumes.

Then the phone rang. I skipped excitedly into the bedroom to answer it, hoping I'd conjured up Troy.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's me.”

I knew exactly who “me” was. It was my ex-beau Randy Lanier. I should've known it would only be a matter of time before he called after seeing Troy and me together. His ego had gotten the best of him.

“Lindsay, I think it's about time I get things right with you.”

“Why, Randy? Why now? After all, I tried to remain friends, but you weren't interested.”

“Okay, you're right. I was hurt, and I don't want to be childish anymore. So please accept my apology and just meet me for a drink.”

“It's late, Randy. What's the catch?” I was suspicious. I
know
he wasn't trying to engineer a booty call.

“I'll cut right to it. You got my boy's head all messed up, so let me show you how much I care about both of you. Lindsay, let me help.”

It was only eleven o'clock and I was curious about what he had to say. Randy's offer was too good to pass up; he had information and I needed it.

“Okay, Randy, but I want to be home by one.” I didn't want to seem too anxious.

“Thank you so much, Lindsay. See you at Eros, Fifty-eighth and First. I'm headed there now, but take your time.”

Before I could catch him to suggest another spot, he hung up. Eros was where Randy and I had had our first date. What was he really up to?

I opened my closet unsure of what would be appropriate to wear. I wanted to look good so he would report back to Troy. I thought back on the day I met him.

In the winter of 1998, I was coming off a dating dry spell and had been invited by a coworker to a dinner party Randy was hosting at his Manhattan loft. Randy's place was nestled in the hip and pricey Chelsea area.

When I arrived I scoped out the ultra-stylish, ethnically mixed crowd. The women and men dressed in clean lines, too busy trying to keep up with the Joneses to have a good time. Cigarette smoke thickened the room, and the attitude was very European. Randy sensed my uneasiness and paid special attention to me for the rest of the evening, getting me drinks and food.

We quickly became friends and bedmates. I fell into the flow of attending Randy's regular dinner parties. He called them “Big Willies on the Rise.” I enjoyed the elaborate affairs at first. The guests included a selective, intimate group of New York's young sophisticates, handsome brothas with high incomes, flanked by gorgeous women.

After a while, I figured out the scene. All the women had been Randy's bedmates at one time or another too. I was always placed at the head of the table, because I was the flavor of the month, but he'd flirt with all the exes right in front of me. Eventually, I had had enough. I wanted a real relationship and decided to look elsewhere, and I wanted to get as far away from Randy as possible.

Tonight, I decided on a conservative but flattering black, long-sleeve Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress and pointytoed slingbacks. I scooped up my keys, a small clutch, and was out the door and speeding out of the garage before I knew it.

As I entered Eros the aroma of Greek spices tantalized my senses. The overhead tented ceiling, low tables, and crescent-shaped booths, accented by decorative fringed pillows, turned the place into a miniature Athens.

“Boo!” Randy had me by the waist and I almost jumped out of my skin as he snuck up beside me. I playfully shoved him. “Are you crazy?” I said.

“I forgot how jumpy you are. Good to see you're still looking good.” Randy had a way of licking you with compliments and charm.

“What did you expect?” I returned.

“Chill, Lindsay,” Randy said as he sneaked a kiss on my neck and led me to our waiting table. I was uncomfortable and not sure how to react. Randy was in an all-black Prada button-down dress shirt and flat-front slacks, black Prada loafers. He was impeccable.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“I didn't come to eat, Randy. I came to talk about Troy.”

“Lindsay stop being a hard-ass. Let's break bread and then we'll talk.”

I knew Randy well enough to know that he wasn't going to open his mouth if things didn't at least appear to go his way. “Fine. Then just some dessert. I ate earlier.”

Give somebody like Randy an inch, and you know the rest. He had to have a four-course meal and two drinks before he was ready to talk. I'd had a drink and a half and was much more relaxed.

“So what's up, Randy? What's going on with Troy?” He knew I was pressed.

“Oh yeah, T. Listen, I hate how things turned out between us, Lindsay.”

“It was never going to work with us, Randy. You could never give me what I needed, a commitment.”

“You know Troy hasn't given you that either. C'mon Lindsay, be truthful with yourself.” Randy was using reverse psychology, and I was too dumb to pick up on it. “How could he? He's supposed to be my boy—no, my best friend—and look what he did to me. First he took you and now he's fucking my girl Robin!”

“You're lying, Randy. Coming here was a mistake.” I grabbed my clutch and started to leave. Randy stopped me.

“Lindsay, I'm sorry to bring you bad news. I don't want to see you hurt like this.”

“You couldn't have possibly thought hearing this was going to make me feel good!” I was shaking with anger, standing at the edge of the table.

“I know I should've warned you all the other times T messed around on you, but I was too angry to confront you. It was like I wanted him to cheat on you. I'm so sorry.” Randy put his head down. “Now I see I was wrong.”

I slowly sat down. I felt like my teeth had been kicked out and I burst into tears.

I didn't even know how long I had been crying when Randy wiped my eyes with the palms of his hands. “I'm sorry, Lindsay.”

“No, I'm sorry, Randy.”

“I know I was mad at you for a long time, but you didn't deserve this.” Randy touched my face. “T could never understand how special you are.”

Randy ordered the Shi-sha pipe, and the smoke from the apple-flavored tobacco intensified the alcohol in my system. High, drunk, and feeling good, Randy began to rub my thighs.

“That was a long time ago,” I said sloppily, pushing his hand away.

“I still wish I had you, Lindsay.”

“You wouldn't know what to do with it, Randy.”

“I knew then, and I know even better now.”

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't ready for this. Why was I still here? Randy leaned over and kissed the nape of my neck. I jerked away.

“I gotta go,” I said.

“All I want to do is take away the pain T has caused you,” Randy said, turning my face toward his.

Eyes were my weakness. His sad eyes and eyelashes that looked like feathers pulled me in.

“You know you really hurt my feelings when you stopped speaking to me, Randy. Things should've never gotten that ugly.”

“I told you I'm sorry, and I won't ever hurt you again. I just want to please you,” he whispered.

I moved closer to him and let all my defenses down and kissed him. Randy held me close, savoring me.

We tripped out the door, and slid into a waiting car. My plan to be home by one o'clock was shot, and I didn't even bother getting my car out of the parking garage.

Randy's apartment was dark. He lit a candle, and in the glow of the flame he leaned in to kiss me again. He gently untied my dress. It slithered down my body onto the floor. Randy guided me to his room, and even though Randy had told me things I didn't want to hear, Troy had hurt me deeper than any man. I wanted to strike back!

Randy opened his pants and pressed me against the wall. He slipped a condom on and entered me. The room was spinning. I hadn't remembered him being this big. He began forcefully shoving himself deeper and deeper inside. We weren't making love. He was taking all his anger out on me. I screamed in pain. Randy covered my mouth.

“Shut up, and take it!” With each stroke, in and out, I got more and more dizzy. “You like it, don't you?”

“No, Randy,” I mumbled, sobering up, trying to squirm away from his fully erect penis.