Cosmo's Deli (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

The next morning Renny covers her face as she passes Elsay's deli and heads to the Java Bean on the corner. Anxious to get to work she has no time to talk this morning. She flings open the door to Java Bean, craving a caramel latte, with extra caramel, but the pinch of her waistband reminds her that she weighed in three pounds heavier this morning. The result of all that chip research, she rationalizes, yet uneasy with the sudden uptick. Renny places her order, “Super Latte,” emphasizing, “skim, no whip.” She sucks in her stomach and wishes she'd worn pants with an elastic waist instead of the blood stopping equivalent of a tourniquet with pant legs.

As the barista makes her drink, Renny glances at an elderly man sitting alone at a table. That could be Mendelbaum right there, she thinks. After he hung up on her last night, she spent an hour searching the Internet for Vilna and found that it was a Polish city, turned Jewish ghetto, during WWII.

At the door a man with a Mets cap pulled over dark sunglasses blocks her way.

“So you switch to the enemy. Is there no loyalty, Renny? No loyalty?”

Renny looks up. “Elsay, what are you doing in here?”

He lowers the shades to glare at her. “What am I doing here? What about you, my favorite customer? Don't I treat you well? How could you stray?”

“It's just a cup of coffee.”

“Today coffee, tomorrow a brioche, what am I to do?” Elsay leans in, “I am here gathering information on the competition.”

Renny laughs.

“You laugh, but corporate espionage is serious business. I will not be out-spied. Look at those muffins, do they look familiar? Where do you think they got the recipe? I know the Java Bean operatives have been in my store. They stole it. We'll see how they like it. I must go place my order.”

“You're ordering coffee here?”

“Strictly research.” Elsay pulls his hat low and heads to the counter.

***

Renny is seated in her office exactly three minutes before Lucy barges in. “Well, did he call again?”

“I'm sorry I told you about it,” Renny replies.

“Damn, he didn't call.” Lucy looks truly dumbfounded.

“At least he called once. You said I shouldn't expect any calls.”

“Since when do you listen to me? Besides, I know what I said. But you were so hopeful, it got my hopes up.” Lucy stamps a foot on the ground, like a child being denied a second cookie for desert. “Now I have to boycott the show, because he's a shit. Who the hell am I going to listen to now?”

“Somehow your listening selections are not at the top of my concern list.”

“Okay, I hear you. You need the crash cart.”

“The what?”

“When the heart falters in a relationship, you need to show up somewhere that he's going to be and shock it back to life.”

“That's an interesting theory. But where and when?”

“He's a celebrity, leave it to me. I'll think of something,” Lucy says while sashaying out of Renny's office.

“That's what I'm afraid of,” Renny mumbles, despite her hope that Lucy's idea isn't that farfetched at all.

***

After spending the last two hours fused to her desk, Renny brainstorms with a list of absurd descriptions, hoping they'll line up like cherry's in a slot machine and deliver a creative jackpot and a product name.

Carbs gone wild.

Oil drenched starch slices.

Potato rounds fried beyond recognition.

Nothing but lemons. Shit, and she has to give Val a progress report in fifteen minutes. Renny twirls her chair toward the window and stares out at the adjacent brick wall of the building next door. Depressing, she thinks, facing the dingy gray-yellow decaying mess. The building next door is a concrete reminder that a hefty chunk of innocence is the price paid for the cynicism needed to navigate life in this city. Those bricks may have been white when the building was first built, but now they are sullied after years of city wear and tear, much like Renny, who is also coated in a layer of grime. The phone rings saving her from wading deeper in to this puddle of dark thoughts.

“It's me,” her brother Ira says. “Sorry I missed dinner with Mom and Dad the other night. How was it?”

“Well, just when I thought our mother couldn't get any more frantic about marrying me off, she proves me wrong. Now she wants me to go out with a podiatrist. Who the hell goes to school and decides to study feet?”

“Go easy on Mom.”

“She should go easy on me. And, by the way, you forgot my birthday again.”

“Happy Birthday,” Ira deadpans. “Can we talk about Mom now?”

“Ahem!”

Renny jumps. She hadn't noticed Val standing in the doorway. “I have to go,” Renny says and hangs up while Ira's tinny voice emanates from the phone. Fumbling with the receiver Renny knocks a picture off her desk and leaves it where it falls. “Val, I was just coming up to your office.”

“I could see that,” she rakes over Renny's desk with files spread across it. “Now I've saved you the trip.” Val adds, “I overheard that bit about dating and I shouldn't have to remind you that you have great deal to do before next Friday. That's what you should be focusing on, not personal fluff.”

“That was my brother on the phone.”

“Renny, for a woman to get ahead in this business work comes before everything, family and especially your love life. I didn't get married until I moved into a windowed office. With your job status, you shouldn't even date.”

She has no right commenting on that, Renny thinks. She wishes she could report Val to Human Resources, but if she does, her career at Heffner, Wilde and Cooke will go into a permanent state of dormancy. Renny's seen it before. They don't fire you. Way worse—they bore you into quitting. And then you can't even collect unemployment.

Val peers over Renny's desk. “So, what do we have so far?”

Renny shuffles her papers together. “I've gotten a lot done. But, the finishing touches are all in here.” She taps her noodle.

“Well let's see if you can share a bit of what's lurking in there with a five-minute presentation for me.” Val leans back in a chair and smugly waits for Renny to fall on her face.

Renny trips over her words as she tries to articulate her plan. “Okay, well, basically I think we need to start small, maybe in a handful of markets. Secondary markets. Before we roll out nationally. Like a test.”

“What's your idea for the product?” Val asks.

“My research shows that Mr. Cedar grew up during the Depression. He was quoted as saying years ago in Fortune that one of his fondest memories as a boy was spending time at the local grocery store his grandparents owned in a town outside of Houston. Cedar Foods began as a mom and pop food distributor. I was thinking a western small town theme could work.”

Val taps her fingers together, reminding Renny of a teacher who's caught her student cheating. “Interesting.”

“As part of the roll out we can work through some of the Chip of the Month clubs.”

“The what?”

“Chip of the Month Clubs. There are quite a few. They operate just like the Fruit of the Month or Beer of the Month Clubs. Each month they send out different samples to their members.”

“You didn't mention a name. Do you have one?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“That's okay,” Val shakes her head, “because I have a new approach for you to take. You see Cedar Foods is trying to leave their country bumpkin image behind. Now I like the test market idea you have, you just need to adapt it to something hip and cosmopolitan.”

“Really? Because the research I did doesn't support that.”

Val snaps, “Must you always be so stupid? Can't you see when someone is doing you a favor?”

Renny glares at Val wordlessly.

Val mollifies her tone. “I said you could present if you follow my guidelines. I know you want the opportunity to present. Don't you?”

“Of course I do. It's just, I spoke to Heather in the art department and my mock-ups are almost done. They'll have to start all over.”

“I could give this information to Lance. Give him the leg up. But Renny, I'm talking to you woman to woman. I want to give you the chance. After all, it would be nice to have someone else who pees sitting down as part of the executive team. I would welcome a bit of female camaraderie at the top. Win this account and you get to join me.”

Renny shudders at the thought of urinating next to Val.

Val continues, “You can keep most of what you have. Just adapt it to the approach I told you. You should still be able to have your things to the art department by Monday.” She stands up and waits. When nothing is forthcoming she snidely remarks, “A ‘thank you' would be nice.”

“Thank you for your help, Val,” Renny says quickly, praying it is enough forced adulation to satisfy Val's super-sized ego.

“Well, the rope's been tossed. Let's see if you hang on and pull yourself up.” Val leaves, a look of satisfaction on her face.

Renny bends over and picks up the picture that fell from the desk, finding the glass cracked in the corner. It is a picture of her family, taken when she was ten. It was summer and the four of them had gone to the Jersey shore for the day. After spending a day on the beach, they'd showered and dressed at a public bath house before going for dinner at an Italian restaurant. It was really a pizza joint that served a few spaghetti dishes. Even the sign hanging in front read, Vic's Pizzeria, but her mother called it an Italian restaurant. In the photograph they appear as quite a mismatched crew, her father in brown pants and a plaid shirt, her mother in a floral shift, Ira in cut off shorts and an aqua blue polo shirt and Renny in a yellow peasant skirt and blouse. Ira wore brown tortoise shell glasses with a Band-Aid wrapped around the broken nose piece. Her brother's glasses were always being held together by something, be it Band-Aid, duct tape or even Elmer's glue. In the photo, her mother stands between Ira and Renny, her mouth set in a line across her face like an angry cartoon character. For as long as Renny can remember, her mother has never smiled for a picture. Instead she always looks like a captured soldier whose poker face gives only name rank and serial number. This picture is no different; her mother's face stating just the facts; wife, mother of two, one boy and one girl.

Lucy pops her head in. “What did the evil stepmother want?”

“She was giving me some advice for my presentation. Do you think she could actually be trying to help me?”

Lucy seems to hold back her response, an act as unnatural as a horde of women restraining from grabbing the last Kate Spade handbag at a fifty percent off sale. “Listen Renny, not for nothing. If I were you, I wouldn't bet my cards on anything she says. I heard the terms of the pitch on Friday and you're getting a crummy deal.”

“It's not just me. It's Lance, too.”

“Yeah well, you just look out for you. Val's a viper.”

“I'll be careful.”

Lucy checks her watch, “I'm going to Giggles for lunch. Do you want to come?”

“It's just twelve. I'm not hungry yet.” Renny eyes the phone and ignores the urge to check her machine.

“There's this guy I have a thing for and he goes to lunch every Thursday at Giggles on 44th. I want to get there before the rush, so I can tell the hostess to seat him near me. You've inspired me. Today I make my move and introduce myself.”

“Thanks. I can't. I have to do these changes Val gave me.” Renny straightens her features and grimaces as she tries to impersonate Val. “She said I shouldn't let personal fluff get in the way.”

“Yeah, well fluff her.” Lucy flips up her middle finger.

***

Turning the corner to the copy room late that afternoon, Renny finds Lance already there. She tries to back away unnoticed.

“I'll be done in a minute,” he says.

Too late. “Great,” Renny responds.

“Are you almost done with the corporate history file? I'd like to take it home tonight.”

“Yeah, I'll drop it in your office.”

“That's okay, I'll stop over there when I'm done here.”

Like hemorrhoids on a hard wood chair, that doesn't sit well with Renny. “You know, I need it for just another hour. I'll give it to you when I'm done.”

“So now you're not done with it?”

“Isn't that what I just said?”

“Yeah, but it sounded more like you were afraid I might see something in your office,” Lance sneers. “I'm not going to steal anything from you. Believe me, I don't have to.”

“Well I guess there's a first for everything.”

“If you're still pissed about Magic Razor, get over it. I left you a message about the meeting change. Besides, most of that material was mine anyway.”

“Is that the fairytale you tell yourself? What happened? You got tired of mirror, mirror on the wall?”

“Very funny. I'm done with the copier now.” Lance walks past her.

“Stay out of my office.” She warns.

He doesn't answer her.

Renny puts her papers in the copier and slams the START button. The machine whirs into action and then stops abruptly, as six different warning lights blink madly at her.

“Shit!” Renny walks out of the room and sees Lance at the far end of the hall. “You did this on purpose,” she hollers.

His diabolical laugh carries back down the hall in response.

***

Heading back to her office, Renny notices that Lucy is already gone for the day. She checks her watch. Ten after five. Lucy doesn't waste anytime getting out of work, Renny thinks. She scans her desk to make sure it looks the same as when she left, especially the Cedar Foods Corporate file, which is still tucked beneath her bottle of Evian. Pulling out her chair, Renny finds a page from the
New York Standard
with a yellow Post-it. She recognizes Lucy's handwriting on the note.