Cosmo's Deli (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

In the Soho offices of
It's New York
magazine, Gaby storms out of her editor's office and throws her papers down on her desk. She hisses, “Asshole! Who does he think he is? I don't show for a few days and he's havin' a goddamn hissy. Big fucking deal.” Gaby was so shaken up after the incident at Phosphorous, she's been living in a Valium haze for the past two days. This morning, the angel on her shoulder made her toss the bottle in the garbage before the devil on her other shoulder convinced her to retrieve them. Gaby is unsure which shoulder resident will win out when she gets home from the office. Yet, even in her drug-induced fog, she heard the half dozen nasty messages being left on her machine by her editor, Richard D. Burnell, aptly nicknamed Dick. Yesterday's was his swan song. “You better show your face in the office tomorrow, Gaby Bowers, or don't bother coming in again. Ever!”

Gaby figured the only way to dig her way out of this hole would be to hand him an article. No problem, she thought. Settling in last night with the aid of two of her little white pills and a couple of glasses of Cabernet, the words spilled easily from her mind to her laptop. After proofreading it Gaby deemed her work a masterpiece.

“Now look at it.” She sits at her desk and scans the pages. There is nothing more degrading then silently standing by as Dick bloodies her work with his pointy red pen, drawing arrows and crossing out sections. “He has it in for me,” she sputters. “This is the best damn article ever handed in at this shitty little magazine.”

Dick is a graduate of Columbia's esteemed journalism program. He spent the last ten years working his way up through the magazine world. He resented Gaby for a number of reasons. First, because the owner of the magazine, Rita Zigg, hired her. Rita was a big fan of Unmentionables and credited a pair with her third husband's proposal. Office legend has it that after becoming acquainted with her password; Mr. Zigg gave Rita a flawless six-carat diamond ring and ownership of the magazine. Since then she's worn the marriage, a hefty allowance and her publisher's title quite merrily. Gaby was reluctant to take the job, never having considered writing about anything. But Rita wouldn't take no for an answer.

Secondly, Dick hated Gaby's attitude. He thought she viewed the magazine as a step down from where she came.

Well what does he know? It is!

Dick's ire hit the boiling point when her reader fan mail began arriving in bulk. He told her today, “If you don't hand in something decent by the end of next week, you're through. And I don't care who you sold panties to, because I will quit. And they sure as hell need me more than you.”

“They weren't just any old panties,” Gaby yelled, before leaving his office.

How dare he make Unmentionables sound as if they were sold in a ten pack at Wal-Mart?

While letting out a lion-jaw yawn, Gaby notices the blinking message light on her phone and she smacks the speaker. “Hey, Gab, guess who? It's Annette. I'm coming to New York middle of next week to do an interview with the lead singer of Mourning Breath for
Rock Notes
magazine and I wanted to know if you're free to get together. I'll be staying at the Paramount. Plan some fun for us.”

Annette is a freelance writer who lives in Chicago. The last time they went bar hopping was five months ago, just before her mother died. Stan was livid that Gaby was going out without him, but at that time she could not have cared less what Stan wanted, she was about to dump him anyway. She and Annette hooked up with a group of French cyclists who were on their way to compete in a race in Vermont. Gaby hazily recalls their cab dumping them out at Columbus Circle during the wee hours of the morning because one of the guys wouldn't stop farting. The driver did the right thing, because if her sensory memory is correct, the odor was toxic.

“A few nights out with Annette will be a good thing for me.” She stuffs a note with the Paramount's number in her knapsack and then crumples her butchered article and shoots it into the garbage. Dick's voice weaves through the hall, growing closer. “I've had enough of that for one day.” Gaby grabs her bag and hustles into the stairwell.

Down in the building's lobby she decides to stop at Barney's on the way home. After all, if she's going out on the town with Annette, she'll need a few new things.

Chapter Sixteen

“I'll have the revised material there by this afternoon,” Renny says into the phone.

“That should give us plenty of time. Don't worry,” Heather, the art director informs her. She is one of the few friends Renny has made during her six months at Heffner, Wilde and Cooke. “Stop down around three.”

“Thanks, Heather.”

“No problem.”

Renny hangs up and dials her answering machine like a junky jonesing for a fix. “You have one new message,” the electronic voice informs, causing her heart to skip a beat until her mother's tidings send it sinking into her stomach. “It's your mother. Call me when you have a chance.” She had hoped Georgie would have called. Renny was up for hours the night before, wondering why he hadn't asked her to come up to his place. Why he'd left her in the cab with her boob hanging out?

Renny gets up from her desk and walks out in the hall. It's past noon and although Lucy's purse is under her desk, she hasn't been there herself all morning. Renny goes back to her office, knowing she's hit a new low if she's out seeking Lucy's advice.

She dials her mother. “Hi, Ma,” Renny says, after her mother picks up.

“Oh, sweetheart. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“You called me.”

“I know that. Listen, I ran into Mrs. Meyerson at the Shop Rite.”

“Ma—”

“Just listen,” her mother cuts in not giving her any other choice. “Her nephew was engaged two years ago but the girl met somebody else. Isn't that great? He's not afraid to make a commitment.”

Renny puts the phone down and lays her head on the desk, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

“Honey? Are you there?”

Renny picks up. “I gotta go. I have a ton of work to do.”

“Ahh! You're so stubborn. I don't know where you get that from.”

“Gee, I wonder.”

“Your father and I—” her mother's words break off into a hacking cough.

She sighs into the phone. “You should go to the doctor about your cough,” Renny says, trying to display concern. “It's seems worse lately.”

Her mother clears her throat, “I went yesterday. They did some tests.”

Renny's concern turns genuine. “What kind of test?”

“Just tests. One had a tube, another a needle.”

“Did they also have a name?”

“I don't remember. It's nothing. If you want to help me, settle down. You think all this worry is good for me. It's killing me.”

“So now I'm killing you.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Don't be so dramatic. By the way, your father and I will bring your laundry in Sunday morning. Don't forget we're coming. Daddy and I don't need to be standing out on the street holding your underwear like last time.”

“I got there five minutes after you did. Five minutes is not even considered late. I have to go. Let me know when you get the test results.”

“Suddenly Miss Busy cares.” Her mother hangs up.

“Of course I care.” Renny says, only her mother isn't there to hear it.

Chapter Seventeen

On Saturday morning, Renny is bounding up the stairs of the Barnes & Noble on 82nd and Broadway. “Remind me why we're here again?” Gaby calls after her as she drags sluggishly behind.

“I need to find a book about where Mendelbaum grew up. Maybe if I ask him questions about it, it will trigger him to tell me where he is now.”

They weave through the stacks of travel books. “He's old, right?” Gaby asks.

“Yeah, so?” Renny takes out a book about Poland.

“So there's no romance potential. I don't understand why you care.”

“I don't know, I just do.” And that is the truth, Renny thinks.

“One other thang, though. Why is it I'm here with you?”

“You need to get out of that apartment.”

“Yeah, kay.” Gaby's lip quivers slightly.

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” Gaby turns away mumbling, “I'm gonna carry myself back downstairs to get a Mocha. I just can't seem to wake up today.”

“Gaby,” Renny calls, but all she sees is her sandy blond head retreating downstairs without turning back. It took Renny an hour of cajoling on the phone to pry her out of her apartment and she still wasn't convinced Gaby would show until she physically saw her round the corner of 83rd Street. That sight did little to calm Renny's concerns, as her friend looked like she fell out of bed to get here. Renny held back comments about Gaby's appearance though, knowing that tears would spring from her eyes at the slightest criticism.

“Can I help you find something?” a salesclerk asks.

Renny turns and finds a gray-haired man, probably in his early sixties, ready to help. The name “HENRY” is spelled out in block letters on the Barnes & Noble nametag dangling from the black cord hanging from his neck. In his front shirt pocket a plastic liner is tucked with four pencils standing in an even row. Renny notices that the eraser ends look gnawed at. “I'm looking for information on a city in Poland. It's called Vilnius, but it used to be Vilna. I found that much out on the Internet.”

“Are you looking to travel there?”

“No.” Renny shakes her head. “I have a friend, well a sort of friend. Anyway, he grew up there, probably before World War II, and I'm trying to find out about what it was like then.”

“Well you're in the wrong section,” he advises while crooking a wrinkled finger at her. “Follow me.”

Renny follows as he weaves through the stacks and across the floor to the History section. He bends toward a bottom shelf. “Vilna alternated between being part of Russia, Poland and Lithuania, depending on the day and the powers that be.”

“You know all that just from working here?” Renny asks with amazement.

“No.” He smiles warmly, pulling a book out. “I used to teach European History at Hofstra. Retirement got a little boring, so I putter here part time.” He hands her a book. “This should be a good start. It details the history of Vilna from 1940 to 1945.”

Renny looks at the title,
Poland and WWII.
“Thanks.”

Henry nods and saunters off to three bewildered looking people at the end of the aisle. “Can I help you?” he asks.

***

After scanning the book and a detour through Self-Help, which yielded two more books, Renny finds Gaby lounging on the first floor sipping a mocha and reading
InStyle
. “There you are.”

“Hey.” Gaby looks up. “Find what you needed?”

Renny holds up the book that Henry gave her.

“What are those?” Gaby asks, pointing to the other books in her hand.

“Just casual reading.”

“Let's see.” Gaby puts down the magazine and coffee and takes the books from Renny. “
Dating in the 21st Century
and
Think Like a Man to Win a Man
.”

“I'm just trying to understand Georgie.”

“Shug, I doubt it's in either of those. I'm starving. Let's go get something to eat.”

***

After an hour of trying on shoes at Steve Madden on Amsterdam and downing two hot dogs at Gray's Papaya, Renny finds herself seated in a chair outside the fitting room at Bella, waiting for Gaby to finish trying on two arms full of clothes. She gets up and calls through the door, “Are you almost done?”

“Hold on to your pants, girl,” Gaby chirps back, sounding more cheerful than she has all day. “I'm almost through.”

Her mood has definitely lifted since the shopping began, Renny theorizes falling back in her chair. Her feet dangle in a pool of shopping bags filled with Gaby's new shoes, six pairs in total. Pulling out
Dating in the 21st Century
from the Barnes & Noble bag, Renny settles in with the first page.

Most women enter the courtship arena with old fashion notions of order. Let the man make the first move. He needs to place the first call. Don't eat anything but salad on a first date. Well it's time to ditch the old ways and take the bull by the horns. Pun intended!

The saleswoman, who happens to come in tall, thin and dark just like the store's clothes, raps on the door of Gaby's fitting room. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Gaby cracks the door, her arm making an appearance with a pair of navy slacks in hand. “Do you have these in black? And if you do, bring the matching bolero with it.”

“I'll check.” The saleswoman turns away from the door. “I read that last year,” she says, tapping Renny's book.

“Did it help?”

The girl holds up her right hand to reveal a huge glittering diamond perched on her ring finger.

“Wow!” Renny says, exhibiting the level of amazement she believes is expected. “That's something.”

“Four carats, cushion cut,” the saleswoman quips. “I just may invite the author to the wedding.” Her long black skirt makes a swishy noise as she saunters away.

Gaby comes out of the fitting room with one hand holding two shirts and the other laden down with at least ten articles of clothing. “Okay I'm all set.”

“Gaby you should leave the pile you don't want in the fitting room. They'll put it back.”

“You're right.” She throws the two shirts back in the room and wraps both arms around the mass as she heads to the front desk.

The saleswoman catches up with Renny and Gaby as the items are being written up, in her hands are a pair of wide leg black trousers with a matching cropped jacket. “I found these. Do you want to try them on before you leave?”

“Nah, that's okay,” Gaby waves, “just throw them on with the rest. I'm sure they'll be fine.”

Renny tugs her arm. “You should try them on. If you return them you only get store credit.”

Gaby shakes her head cheerfully and Renny holds in any further comments, but watches in amazement as the items are totaled. The final count is four pairs of pants, five shirts, two skirts, a dress, two belts and one hat, all for a whopping $3,546.90.

Gaby flips her credit card onto the counter like a blackjack dealer giving the house an ace.

“Things must be going well at the magazine,” Renny comments.

“I guess so,” Gaby answers.

Renny detects the twitching of her friend's eyelids, the same involuntary reation to stress Gaby had in college. Her eyelids always twitched before exams.

After swiping the card the salesclerk informs Gaby, “I'm sorry, but it says we should call.” She picks up the phone, and after a brief exchange adds, “I need to see your driver's license.

“Sure thing.” Gaby produces it from her wallet, as her forehead appears to grow dewy with moisture. “Is it hot in here or is it me?”

“It's a little warm.” Renny prompts, “Maybe we should just go?”

“And leave all this behind? I don't think so. That card has no limit.”

And neither, so it seems, do you, Renny thinks.

The saleswoman speaks into the phone, “Okay.” After she hangs up, the credit machine spits out a receipt for Gaby to sign. “Your account's been very active, so they wanted us to make sure your card hadn't been stolen.”

“I appreciate someone looking out for me. Thanks for all your help.” Gaby gathers the shopping bags and walks toward the door with Renny falling in behind her.

Outside Renny struggles to find a delicate way to confront Gaby about her spending. “So what's with the shopping spree?” Okay, it's not delicate, but at least it's direct.

“What?”

“Gaby, you just spent a small fortune in there.”

“I needed a few new things. That's all. My friend Annette is coming to town next week. What's wrong with a girl spoiling herself every once in a while.”

“So that's it?”

“What'd you think?”

“I don't know. I just, I want to make sure you're okay.”

“I'm as fine as fine can be. In fact,” Gaby clears her throat and belts out a song.

“Stop!” Renny holds up her hand noting the thankful glances of other pedestrians. Singing is not one of Gaby's strengths. “Don't sing. I get it.”

“Come on, I'm fixing to buy us two gals some ice cream.”

Shopping bags knock against Renny's legs as they walk up Columbus Avenue, each jab reminding her that Gaby is as far from fine as she's ever been.