Cosmo's Deli (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Renny checks her watch. It's been three hours since she arrived home to Georgie's note. Why hasn't he called yet? Sitting on the couch by the phone like a sentry, she picks it up even though it hasn't rung. The blaring dial tone in her ear squashes her theory that it might be out of order. Disappointment sticks in her throat like a clump of stale bread, as she wishes Georgie's ‘hello' had been on the other end to soothe her.

Renny dials her parents, but their machine answers. She leaves a quick “call when you get in” message and hangs up. If her parents ask her one more time to come home tonight, she just might do it. Why should she bother showing up at the pitch if Val's plan is to fire her. She should go home, be with her family, instead of giving Val the satisfaction.

She considers going across the hall to get Jeff's input on Val's plot. But, he left her office so mad. And even if he did ask her in and offer help, Renny would be out of earshot of Georgie's phone call.

Moving to the kitchen, she opens the refrigerator and is greeted by a six pack of yogurt, a bottle of cranberry juice and a few slices of American cheese. She grabs the juice and swigs straight from the bottle. The phone rings and Renny runs for it, praying it's Georgie. “We went out for dinner. It's a shame you couldn't come,” her mother says.

“Where did you eat?” Renny asks, following the conversation's culinary direction.

“San Pan. They make a lobster Cantonese that you could drop dead from. That's how good it is.”

“Well don't die on me.” Renny isn't really referring to the food.

“I wasn't planning to. So, did you change your mind about coming out tonight?”

Yes, Renny thinks, wanting nothing more than to have her parents gather her up and bring her home. She longs for a night in her childhood bed, blanketed by the familiar trinkets of easier times.

“Hello, did you hear me?” her mother says in response to her daughter's silence. That's when Renny realizes that a trip home tonight will be far from idyllic. Her mind conjures up the lecture her mother will surely deliver. “I told you to get married and have a family,” her mother would say. “But you had to be a career girl. Now they've run you out of town and who do you come crying to? Me. See, you should have listened to me.”

Renny shakes her head, responding to both the mother in her head and the one on the phone. “I can't come tonight. I'm going to work and then I'll meet you at the doctor's.”

“Do you know where to go?”

“The car service has directions.”

“Better double check them with your father.” She hands the phone off to her father, who repeats the directions exactly the same way he did two days before when Renny called for them. She wishes she could get her mother back on the phone and pour out the details of her bad day. Was it her mother's constant criticism that corroded their relationship or was Renny born with the instinct to hold things back? Anyway, instead of telling all, she silently waits for him to finish the directions.

After a last promise to see them the next day, she hangs up the phone and opens her laptop. She spends a few minutes clicking through the Cedar Foods presentation. But then her concentration evaporates as she figures once again, why bother? Val's going to fire me no matter what. Unable to sit still, she paces her apartment as her thoughts leap like a grasshopper on a hot summer sidewalk. Will they humiliate me at tomorrow's meeting? They won't fire me in front of everyone, will they? The answers are of no comfort—of course they would and they probably will. Val would relish it.

She needs to talk to someone about this. Picking up the phone she dials Sara, but hangs up when the machine answers. She calls Gaby, but once again only gets a machine. Renny slams her hand on the coffee table. “Stupid dating rules. I'm calling him!” She reaches for the phone, her palms sweating as she dials.

“Hello.” Georgie groggily answers.

Renny holds the phone away from her ear as if it were a poisonous snake about to strike. This is a mistake. She is about to hang up when she realizes he might have caller I.D.

“Hello, anybody there?”

Renny sucks in a breath and brings the phone to her ear. “You're home?”

“Who is this?”

His words stab her like a cold serrated edge, splitting her from neck to navel. “It's Renny,” she squeaks.

“Oh, what's up?”

Renny struggles to keep her voice steady. “Did I wake you?”

He blows a deep breath through the phone. “Yeah.”

“I'm sorry. I thought you were going to come over still.”

“Hang on a minute.” She hears him moving around and a groan, only it sounds like a woman. Renny feels like ants are crawling under her skin. She hears a door shut and Georgie comes back on, speaking in hushed rapid fire comments. “The thing with my agent ran long. Did your doorman give you my note?”

“Yeah, he did.” Is there another woman there, she wants to ask, but instead she apologizes. “I'm sorry I wasn't home. You won't believe my night—”

He cuts her off, “I have to get up early for my show. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. Fine,” her voice trembles. “Is there someone there with you?” Renny bites her lip waiting for his answer, praying he doesn't try to pass it off as the television.

“No, I fell asleep with the tube on.”

Her heart sinks. “Are we still on for Saturday?”

“Huh.” Georgie blows out a heavy breathe of air. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, so you'll call me?”

“Sure. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” He hangs up; leaving Renny with a promise she knows he won't keep. The phone slips from her hand and her arms wrap around her body. Tears bubble over.

“If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again,” the phone chirps from the floor, “if you need help, hang up and then dial your operator. Beep, beep, beep, beep…”

Renny slams it back into the receiver. “This can't be. It just can't be.” But Georgie's indifference burrows to the pit of her stomach and sprouts a single thorny vine that weaves a prickly path through her heart. That groan, who was that?

The phone rings again. “Oh my god.” She puffs four short breaths and wipes her tears before grabbing the phone. “Georgie?”

“So, vhere's my food?!”

“Mendelbaum?” Renny sobs in disappointment.

“You vant a person should starve?” he barks.

“Fuck you Mendelbaum,” Renny snaps. “I am not Cosmo's Deli! Why do you keep calling me? I'm a person, not a restaurant! Do you get that?! A PERSON! You call me every fucking day and for what? I'm not the world's doormat. I'm going to lose my job tomorrow!” Renny wails, “And Georgie—he's dumping me. And my mother, she might…she might have…” She falls silent, but her mind reverberates like an old LP record with a stuck needle.
Cancer, cancer, cancer.
She drops the phone and sobs her way to the bathroom. Pulling off reams of toilet paper, she collapses onto the cold linoleum, like a drowning woman who has waded until all her strength is gone. Sobbing, she wonders if her tears could just melt her into the crevices of the hard bathroom floor, allowing her to disappear. She clutches the toilet paper streamer that connects from the roll to her shaking hands. A crazy laugh explodes through her tears. Her mother told her she was pissing her life away and now Renny realizes that this generic toilet paper is all she has. How appropriate. She blows her nose and scrapes herself off the bathroom floor. Rushing to the kitchen she grabs the stack of papers that are the final potato chip presentation and carries them to the bathroom. Lifting the seat lid, she drops them in, knowing full well that they're too big to actually flush. Yet, she can't help feeling some masochistic pleasure in literally throwing her life in the toilet. Shuffling back toward the phone, she grabs a handful of paper, allowing the roll to unravel behind her.

A muffled echo travels up from under the side table where the phone fell. Bringing the receiver to her ear, Renny hears. “Shnsh, shnsh.”

“Mendelbaum?” she asks, shocked that he would still be on the phone.

“I, shnnsh, I, shnsh—”

“I don't understand. You have to stop crying.” He blows his nose and she holds the phone away from her ear. “What are you trying to say?”

He sniffles. “I von't bother you anymore. I'm an old man who is alone and I shouldn't make you angry.”

Renny sighs. “I'm not angry at you.”

“You vant I should stop calling? I vill if you do.” Another trumpeting blow follows.

“No. You don't have to stop calling me.” She cracks a rueful grin, “After all, who else do I have?”

“Vy are you so sad?”

Renny can't believe she's about to pour her heart out to Mendelbaum. But, he's the only one asking, so why not? “There are some things going on in my life and at work. Things I didn't plan on.”

“There is a saying for that.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“
Menshen macht, God lacht
. It is Yiddish.”

“What does it mean?”

“People plan and God laughs. Do you see vhat that is?”

“I don't think I do.”

“Someday you vill.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs

“I miss you, Laura.”

“Laura?” Renny cocks her head to the side. “Mendelbaum, it's me, Cosmo's Deli.”

And then like a modern day Jekkyl and Hyde, Mendelbaum is transformed from a wise man back into the gruff, confused food orderer. “Ach! Too much talking. I am hungry. Forget the cheesecake. I vant a reuben! And don't forget the Cosmo's ships that Maria makes. Fresh. Not the garbage in the bags.”

“Ships?” Renny squints.

“Yeah, ships, ships.”

“Oohhh!” she nods. “You mean chips!”

“That's vhat I said, ships.”

Renny blows her nose in the moist toilet paper streamer. “A reuben and our special Cosmo's chips coming right up.” She pauses. “Hey Mendelbaum, thanks.”

A moment of silence hangs between them before she hears the familiar click of the phone hanging up.

There was love in that pause, Renny thinks, putting the phone down. “Cosmo's chips and a Reuben.” Her skin tingles. “That's it!” She grabs her computer from the coffee table.

After a few minutes of surfing the Internet, Renny concludes that no one is selling food products using the Cosmo's name. It's perfect for Cedar Foods' new product, she thinks. But how can she pull together a whole new pitch by tomorrow? And without Val catching wind of it?

Renny looks down at her nubby blue bathrobe and zebra fur slippers. She tightens the belt of her robe and sets her hands on the keyboard. I can do it, she thinks. Renny taps feverishly on her keyboard, forcing out all thoughts of Val, Georgie and her mother. “Fired is something that happens to other people. Not me!”

***

Georgie's bedroom is dark, when he cracks the door open and peeks at the sleeping figure of Tawney in his bed. Gently, he closes the door again and crosses his living room to stand in front of the ceiling to floor windows that peer down over the eastside of the city. The phone is still in his hand. It has been for the last hour as he debated whether he should call Renny back.

Tawney had been right; he did have a hard on sitting in the restaurant with her. When she caught up with him on the sidewalk, he wanted to rip the nude colored dress from her body. He knew she could see it in his eyes by the way her lip curled into a playful smile. “My car is at the corner,” she said.

Georgie grabbed her arm, squeezing it as he pulled her up the block and finally throwing her into the back of the black limousine. She'd complained a little, his grip was too hard, not so rough. He knew she didn't mean it. Tawney liked it rough. She always had. In the limousine, she told the driver to head to his apartment and by the time she finished her sentence he was already inside her. He knew she'd left the speaker on, so the driver could hear everything they did. The bitch loved an audience. So did he, it heightened the excitement. That putz in the front seat could only dream of having a woman like Tawney. They'd give him quite a show tonight, with sound effects. His hands gripped her buttocks and she moaned loudly to the rhythm of his movements. He was in control now. But was he? Tawney knew him well, his desires and what to do to penetrate past whatever mental amulets he wore to ward her off.

Georgie walks away from the living room windows and puts down the phone, leaving his palm attached to the receiver. In his mind he hears Ben telling him that Tawney is good for his career. His future depends on them getting back together. He could call Renny and explain that right now things are out of his control. He glances at the door to the bedroom and his hand recoils. It's better to end it this way, now that Tawney's back in the picture. He has to think of his career, his show. Renny must have picked up the ‘its over' camouflaged in his words. And if not, when Saturday night comes and goes without him, she'll figure it out. They all do.

He blows out a sigh and opens the bedroom door, catching the sight of Tawney's naked back in the moonlight. Their final dance in the limo comes back to him. “Now,” he'd growled at her. The car's leather seats squeaked against her skin as she flipped over onto her stomach. Lifting her hips up, Tawney knew just what he wanted.

Climbing into bed, he is ready for her again. However, even with her sleeping body waking up to fulfill his desire, he can't shake the nagging feeling that he is really the one who is taking it in the ass.

Chapter Thirty

Early the next morning, Renny navigates around the coffee bar at Starbucks searching for Heather. She finds her sitting in the back, her spiky, bottle-blond hair glowing against a dark purple velour upholstered chair.

“Did anyone see you?” Renny asks, plopping into the vacant chair next to her.

“No, but I heard Val came in at six this morning. She stopped by my department at seven. I still had your old stuff on my desk so she has no clue.” Heather yawns. “I can't believe we pulled this whole thing together overnight.”

Renny yawns, too. “I know. I'm running purely on caffeine and adrenaline. Okay, let me see what we've got.”

Heather unveils the large boards from her portfolio and Renny studies them one by one. They're good—no they're great, Renny thinks, considering that they were done overnight. Not as polished as the previous boards, because there was no time to send them out. “These look great.”

“Poster board and rubber cement,” Heather says, nods approvingly at her own ingenuity. “Your idea is what's going to sell. I think they're going to love it.”

“I hope so. I really owe you.”

“Just knock Val on her ass. My money's been on you from the start, even if you are the long shot.”

She tosses the hair out of her face. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay, don't take this personally. You know Randy in the mailroom?”

“Yeah,” Renny says.

“He's got a pool going on who will win the account.”

“Gee, that's not personal, it's only my life.” Renny tilts her head to the side. “What are the odds?”

“You're paying seven to one, Lance is three to one. But the even money is on no one winning because there was a story a few months ago in
Magnate
that said Walt Cedar hates everything. Chances are he won't like either of the pitches because that's how he is. Then there are side bets on whether either of you will really get fired.”

“I should bet my savings on that,” Renny says glumly.

“Ah-ha, I caught you!” A voice yells from behind.

Renny whirls around and is relieved to see Elsay. “You scared the shit out of us!”

He walks around to face her. “What are you doing in here again?”

Renny gestures toward Heather. “We needed an out of the way place to work.”

Elsay's face lights up. “Hello.”

Heather blushes. “Hello.”

Their instantaneous attraction is palpable. Elsay clears his throat and raises his eyebrows at Renny.

Renny makes the introductions. “Elsay, this is Heather Donovan. She is the very gifted Art Director where I work. Heather this is Elsay, he owns the deli across from our office.”

Elsay gazes into her eyes. “We have never officially met, but I know you. You come into my store. Large coffee, extra cream, three sugars and an egg and sausage sandwich with a raspberry cheese danish on the side. Every so often you order the muffin special. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He bows grandly.

Heather's eyes are glued to Elsay's, “I better get back to the office. Is there anything else you need?”

“Tell Lucy that if she needs me to call me on my cell. I'm going to stay here until the pitch.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Heather tells Elsay while ignoring Renny.

Elsay grabs Heather's hand and brushes it with his lips. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Heather floats to the door and Elsay's eyes track her the entire way. She turns before leaving and waves. He vigorously waves back like one cheering a favorite team at a sporting event. Renny whispers in his ear, “She's single, go get her tiger.”

“You are not jealous?” he asks.

“Can I still cut the line in the morning?”

“Always.”

“Go get her.”

With a cheery growl, Elsay bolts toward the door to catch up with Heather. Renny sits down with a smile and opens her PowerPoint program. Checking her watch, she sees it is just after eight. The meeting is at eleven. Renny doesn't know whether she or Lance will pitch first, but each should run no more than thirty to forty minutes. Val had originally wanted to break for lunch between presentations, but thanks to Doris, they weren't going to do that. Doris caught wind of Renny's quandary over her mother's doctor appointment. She told Val that the Walt Cedar's secretary had called and that he needed to wrap the meeting up no later than one-thirty. Renny types a note in her on-line calendar reminding her to send Doris flowers next week. If everything goes accordingly, Renny should be buckling in to the back seat of the Lincoln Town Car just after one-thirty. Traffic should be light that time of day, getting her to the oncologist's office in time for her mother's two-fifteen appointment. Renny can't wait to see Ira's face when she walks in.