Engaging Men (24 page)

And maybe it was the look of utter despair he saw on my face when I told him thatViveca had suggested a nose job, but he allowed himself to be pulled from that blinking cursor long enough to provide the comfort I so craved.

“I think you have a beautiful nose,” he said, planting a kiss on the tip.

Yes, I felt a bit like a baby, standing there red-faced, sweaty, my eyes burning with tears, whining about how Viveca Withers hadn’t jumped for joy at the prospect of signing me. But I didn’t care. At the moment, I didn’t need Viveca Withers and her wax-faced smile. I needed the feel of Kirk’s arms around me, his hands as they gently caressed my back, his eyes as they greedily roamed over my features, telling me that I was wanted. Truly desirable, despite what anyone else said.

And after he had demonstrated that fact, right there on the kitchen floor in a display of passion I had not seen since those days just after I instituted the deprivation tactic, he gave me something else I needed. Food. Lots of it. Sesame chicken. Orange beef. All handily ordered from Jimmy Chen’s takeout before I’d barely even snapped my bra back on.

This was what it was all about, I thought, sitting cross-legged on the bed across from Kirk as we dined. This was all I needed.

Apparently it was all I was going to get. Because I hadn’t even gotten to my fortune cookie yet when Kirk started glancing anxiously at his laptop, which still sat on the desk where he left it, screen aglow. I knew he needed to get back to work, so I went back to my life, feeling somewhat better about it despite the fact that not much had changed.

But something had changed. My apartment, I discovered, when I came home and found Justin on a ladder, where he’d just hung some kind of netted hammock from the ceiling.

“Hey, Ange,” he called out, beaming at me as he stepped down to the floor once more. “How’d it go today?”

All thoughts of Viveca were forgotten now as I studied this latest addition to our happy home. “What is that?”

“It’s a tree swing,” he said, as if this should have been obvious. “C.J.‘s wife gave it to me when I went up to visit them in Westchester a couple of months ago,” he explained. “They got it as a housewarming present, but they really didn’t have a tree in their yard that could support it.”

“Um, Justin? You might not have noticed, but we don’t have a tree at all.”

“I know that,” he said, giving the swing a tug as he looked up at the hook he’d hung it from on the ceiling, “but it works just as well indoors. I don’t know why C.J. didn’t think of it.”

It was a wonder how even Justin had thought of it. But I suppose he did like to make use of his finds.

“Hey, it works,” he said, sitting in the swing and looking at me happily. “And it’s comfortable as hell. Try it out, Ange.” He got up and gallantly offered me the seat.

I sat down, the netting molding around me as I leaned back into it. It was almost like a hammock, but upright like a seat. “It is pretty…cozy,” I admitted.

“Turn around. I hung it from a swivel hook so you can face the window.”

I swung around and saw that Justin had moved the desk away from the window to reveal the azalea in all its splendor. God, that thing had gotten big. The branches were even fuller now, probably because Justin took such damn good care of it. But I could still see just above it, out into the courtyard and the pretty brownstones across the way. I felt an easy contentment settle in my bones as I swung gently back and forth.

“So tell me how your meeting at the Actors’ Forum went,” Justin coaxed.

I felt all my satisfaction drain away as I turned to face him once more. “Not so good.”

“What happened?”

“She…she thought I should get a nose job,” I said, touching my nose sorrowfully.

“What? You have a great nose!” he said, clearly outraged on my behalf. “That’s the DiFranco nose!”

“Actually, it’s the Caruso nose,” I said. Caruso was my mother’s maiden name, and after all, I had inherited this illustrious schnoz from her.

“Whatever,” Justin said. “It’s your nose. It goes with your face.”

“She said it made me look too…ethnic.”

“Ethnic? Well, what’s so bad about that? That’s just the kind of look that launched the career of DeNiro, Pacino, Turturro. It’s the face of New York! It’s the face that flooded Ellis Island

when your ancestors took their first courageous steps into this fine city. It’s—“

“Okay, okay, I get your point,” I said, smiling tentatively at him. I couldn’t help myself. He was so cute when he got on the whole New York thing. Or the Italian thing, I thought, understanding once more why my mother had made Justin an “honorary Italian” from the moment she first met him. I sometimes think Justin wished he were Italian, like his beloved director, Martin Scorsese. Or at least a native New Yorker rather than the transplanted Midwesterner with a penchant for red sauce that he was.

“So are you gonna look for another agent?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, all my fears rising up again. “She seemed very… encouraging about the Rise and Shine contract. Maybe she’s right to see that contract as an opportunity. It could mean higher pay. Health insurance.”

His brow furrowed. “You already have health insurance through Lee and Laurie.”

“I know, but I don’t want to work there forever.”

“But you won’t be working there forever. Just until you get a better acting gig. You have so much experience. You played Fefu. Hell, you almost won an Obie Award,” he said, reminding me of my accomplishments on the stage.

“I know, but I haven’t really gotten anywhere so far.”

He frowned. “You’re not actually considering taking that contract if it comes?”

I held my tongue. I knew Justin was going to try to talk me out of it. Try to convince me that pounding the pavement in search of a role I wasn’t too ethnic, too short, too…ordinary for was what I needed to do. But I wasn’t sure I should be talked out of this contract anymore. I was so tired of wishing for things that seemed like they were never going to happen.

“Kirk thought it was a good gig for me.” For us, I thought but didn’t say. I hadn’t told Justin how much of an us Kirk and I had become. I think I didn’t want him giving that azalea any more credit than it deserved.

“What does he know about what’s good for you?” he said, with something that looked like anger. Which was surprising for Justin. He never got this worked up about anything, it seemed. Or anyone.

But rather than examine his sudden wrath, I turned mine on him. “At least he knows you have to work for what you want in life. You can’t just sit around, dreaming up stuff and never doing it. I mean, you talk big about putting together some music and starting to perform around town, but I haven’t seen you do much more than strum a few chords now and again while sitting on that lovely sofa you’ve cluttered up our apartment with!”

When I saw the sadness that descended over his features, I immediately regretted my words. Until Justin hit me with his.

“I am going to do it. I just have to get my stuff together. That’s all. These things take time, you know. Success doesn’t happen overnight. Not in this business.”

He was right. Sometimes it never happened. And as things stood now, I doubted it ever would.

Because if I didn’t trust Justin to achieve his dreams, with his contacts, his natural charm, his blond good looks and his seeming talent for everything he took up, I certainly didn’t trust myself. Despite whatever “star power” Justin thought my nose had.

As it turned out, in the weeks that followed, I had only myself to rely on. Between managing his other clients and working his butt off to finish his design for Norwood, Kirk was so buried in work, I barely saw him. And even on those nights we did get together, I usually spent it watching him sleep, as he seemed to fall into bed exhausted within an hour of my arriving at his apartment.

I was starting to feel I had won the battle…and lost the boyfriend.

And one of my best friends. Because Justin too had discovered a sudden yen for work, accepting a grueling production job that kept him away from the apartment for most of the day—and most of the night, as he had taken to hanging out with the crew until long after I had gone to bed.

I felt almost as lonely as I’d felt just after my father died. But at least then I had had my family. Now I couldn’t even go out to Brooklyn, because showing up without Kirk would only

prove to my mother that she was right—that Kirk didn’t take me seriously enough to make me a real part of his life.

I was starting to wonder if she was right.

“We’ll be spending all next weekend together at my parents‘,” Kirk said, when I called him on Wednesday night, hoping to make him commit to plans for the weekend before he bogged himself down with more work. “Besides, I want to get this design for Norwood done before I go home so we can just relax and have fun while we’re away.”

Fun? I was seriously doubting how much fun I was going to have while under the scrutiny of the Stevens family.

Not wanting to face the upcoming weekend alone, I found myself dialing up Grace, hoping I might get some quality time with her, since she had been all but avoiding me since her breakup with Drew. Probably because she didn’t want to talk about it and I somehow managed to bring it up every time I got her on the phone. I couldn’t help myself. I was still mystified about why she had shoved him so completely out of her life.

She picked up on the second ring, sounding somewhat breathless and… exhausted.

“Are you okay?” I blurted out by way of greeting.

“I’m fine. Just…tired.”

“What have you been up to?” I asked, ever curious as to how the other half—the Single half-—lived, now that I had joined the Hopelessly Coupled. Hopeless? Where did that come from?

“Oh, God. Everything. Claudia and I must have hit every hot spot in Manhattan this week.”

“Claudia?”

“My boss. You remember her, right?”

How could I forget her? We had met at a cocktail party Grace had thrown at her apartment shortly after starting at Roxanne Dubrow. Claudia had been freshly divorced, and the sting of her philandering ex’s rejection was still working its way through her system judging by the tart comments she made about every single woman in the room, and not a few of the men. I couldn’t help but wonder what she said about me, but Grace assured me that I wasn’t even on Claudia’s radar. Somehow being ignored by the woman who was the vice president of marketing at one of the most powerful beauty-product companies in the world seemed even worse than being put down by her.