Engaging Men (26 page)

Since I felt kind of stupid standing there while Michelle flirted like a woman who’d been sprung from a cage, I headed over to one of the sofas where Claudia sat, regally sipping her drink and looking around the room with a kind of disdain.

“Hi,” I said, sitting on the chair across from her.

She actually smiled, as if she were glad to see me. But she was probably just glad to have any sort of company, I realized as that frost descended over her features again and she reached for her chic black bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” I joked, trying to make some sort of conversation.

There went that smile again, waxen, patronizing.

“Can I bum one off of you?” I asked somewhat ruefully in light of the comment I had just tossed at her. “I mean, I’d hate to see you fritter away seven minutes of your life alone.”

She leaned over, holding out the pack to me, and I took what looked like the thinnest cigarette I had ever seen. “What are these?” I said, studying the pink design on the filter.

“Capris,” she answered blandly, dropping the pack back into her bag.“They’re much lighter than regular cigarettes. And you don’t have to tug so hard on them to get a drag. Protects the face,” she added, leaning back in her chair and gesturing carefully to the area around her mouth, which did, in fact, look pretty smooth for a woman who, according to Grace, had been doing a pack a day for at least a couple of decades. But that could have been Botox…

I leaned back in my own chair, grabbing a pack of matches from the table next to me and lighting up. “At least we’ll make good corpses.”

This gained me another fake smile, followed a forced chuckle. Actually, could you call what came out of her laughter? Sounded more like a cough.

But the moment I had Claudia pegged as some kind of subhuman, unfeeling female, I saw a vulnerable look suddenly come into her eyes. I glanced up to see that a broad-shouldered hunk had stopped just beside the couch where she sat and was smiling down at her. Well, well, well. It seemed darling Claudia was human, I realized, seeing the hope that came into her eyes as she smiled up at him.

“Got an extra cigarette?” he asked.

I didn’t miss the crushing disappointment that flitted through Claudia’s eyes before she bent her head to search jerkily through her bag. By the time she’d located her cigarettes and held out the pack to him, that cool mask was firmly back in place as she met his gaze once more. When he stalked off again with a muttered thanks and I saw her glance down at her low-cut top and smooth a hand somewhat self-consciously over her hair, I realized that maybe Claudia wasn’t as secure as she seemed, especially in this environment. I tried to think how I would feel, pushing forty and sitting in a dark club surrounded by men who were half my age and seemingly only wanted me for my nicotine supply.

Fortunately, Grace came back then, preventing me from making any attempts at female camaraderie that would likely have embarrassed Claudia.

“God, that was fun,” Grace said, somewhat breathlessly, running a hand through her sweat-damp hair and returning it to its tousled splendor. “I almost went for a third dance and a cab ride back to my place with that guy. Did you get a good look at him? He was amazing.”

“So why didn’t you?” Claudia asked. “ We wouldn’t have cared.” But the tight expression on her face said otherwise as she tugged—yes, tugged, I saw the lines bracketing and hardening around her mouth—on her cigarette.

Grace simply shrugged and plopped down on the couch next to Claudia.

“You’re smoking?” she said, looking at me with a mixture of shock and concern.

“Only when I’m at a bar,” I hedged, or when I was with Michelle, or when I was contemplating yet another hit to my Visa or shopping for engagement rings, all in the name of my future with Kirk…God, I had been smoking a lot. But I would stop, I knew I would, just as soon as I got back from Newton. Yeah, that was a perfect plan. After all, I wouldn’t be able to smoke while I was there. I was certain that no one in the illustrious Stevens family ever polluted their bodies with nicotine. I could wean myself off in one weekend, I rationalized, stubbing out the cigarette after one last, stimulating puff. But just the thought of my upcoming trip—and that blasted plane ride—made me want to light up another one immediately.

“Where’s Michelle?” Grace asked, glancing around.

“Over there, talking to Jose,” I said, gesturing toward the bar.

“What’s the matter?” Grace asked. “Is our little married friend not getting any at home?”

“She and Frankie have a great relationship,” I argued, somewhat halfheartedly, as I watched Michelle laugh merrily and lean in closer to Jose.

“How long have they been married?” Claudia asked, turning to study them, too.

“Seven years,” I replied.

“Ah, the old seven-year-itch,” Claudia said. “I know that one well. Suffered from it myself, but at least I had the good grace not to act on it,” she continued with a bitter smile, referring to all the philandering Grace told me Claudia’s husband did in the last year of their marriage. “Good for her,” she said, raising her glass in Michelle’s direction. “I wish I had taken my shots when I was still young enough to enjoy them.”

“You’re still young enough to enjoy them,” Grace replied. Now she sounded defensive. “I mean, you’re only a few years older than I am.”

Claudia turned to Grace and gave her a one-raised-eyebrow glance that said she didn’t think Grace was any spring chicken herself.

Whether to save Grace from Claudia’s killing stare, or protect the now somewhat shadowy fantasy of Michelle’s marriage, I blurted out, “It’s just innocent flirting. I was out there dancing my heart out with a guy, but I wasn’t exactly going to have sex with him. I mean, I have Kirk at home for that…”

Now they were both looking at me, and their expressions said they were curious about just what I was getting at home that was keeping me from partaking of that fine young stud I’d been grazing crotches with.

“Lucky is the woman who can be happy with one man,” Grace said philosophically.

“You were happy with Drew,” I insisted, remembering how warm and cozy they’d seemed the last time I’d seen them together. Hell, Grace had been talking houses in Westport, I thought, wondering once again what the hell could have turned her 360 degrees from everything she’d been dreaming of, not even a month ago.

“Yeah, I was happy, I guess,” she said. “If you call sleeping with

a man who wouldn’t even take his socks off during sex happiness.“

Claudia laughed uproariously at that, as if she shared some secret joke with Grace. And maybe she did. I certainly didn’t know about this little quirk of Drew’s. And what the hell was the big deal anyway? Kirk sometimes wore his socks during sex, especially in the winter. His feet got cold, dammit.

“Then there was the fact that he hardly ever went downtown,” Grace added.

Now she was sounding ridiculous. “Grace, you hardly ever come downtown yourself. I can barely get you to come to my apartment!”

This time it was Grace who was laughing.

“Darling girl,” Claudia said, looking at me as if I were some kind of a dimwit. “She means downtown,” she finished with a glance down at her lap.

Ohhh. That downtown. “Big deal,” I blurted. “I mean, Kirk doesn’t like to…to do that either. And I don’t mind. I mean, I’m not even sure I like it,” I finished, though this last part was said a little less forcefully, as a memory of Vincent’s—and even Randy’s—prowess in this particular area flickered into my mind.

Now neither of them were laughing. No, they were looking at me with a kind of horror.

Finally Claudia sputtered out one of her characteristically superior chuckles. “Oh, it’s true, Gracie darling,” she said, turning to her with a roll of her well-lined eyes. “Youth is wasted on the young…”

Fortunately I was rescued from this merciless little dialogue a short while later by a new dance partner, who called himself Umberto and wasn’t quite as stunningly good-looking as my first, but that was fine with me. I’d had two Bacardi O Cosmos at this point and a shot of Herradura at the prodding of Claudia, who had developed a thirst for tequila after we had moved on to our next topic—her divorce. Now, as I strutted and twirled about the dance floor with Umberto, my head was swimming with thoughts of going downtown. And I didn’t mean Chinatown.

I quickly changed partners, taking on a man so tall, I felt like I was merengueing with his belly button.

But I had a good time—how could I not, when my best friend joined me on the floor and was laughing beside me as we flew through the steps with our partners. Even Claudia had moved herself to the edge of the dance floor, and if I was seeing correctly through the blur of bodies on the floor, she might have even been shaking her hips to the pulsating beat.

I was having so much fun I didn’t even notice the time—or the fact that Michelle had seemed to disappear. But when we finally ventured away from the crowded dance floor and headed to the bar for another round, I suddenly realized that my little married friend, as Grace had referred to her, had gone AWOL.

“Hey, where’d Michelle go?” I asked after the bartender poured our drinks and we’d made yet another toast—this time, to Latin men, whom Grace had just proclaimed the last good men on earth.

I whirled around to the last place I’d seen Michelle, at the other end of the bar where we’d started out the evening. But there was no sign of her or her sexy little charmer.

“She’s a big girl,” Grace said, seeing my sudden anxiety.

“Indeed,” Claudia said. “Especially in that dress.”

The thought of Michelle’s slinky outfit wasn’t very soothing, especially when I remembered how much Jose had been appreciating the view of the cleavage oozing out of it. And she had been sucking down those drinks…

“I’m just gonna take a look around,” I said, placing my drink on the bar and making my way through the crowd.

I circled the bar, then skirted by the lounge, before I finally made my way down the steps to the bathroom.

Stepping into one of the stalls to relieve myself of some of that Bacardi O I’d been pouring down all night, I had just settled into a blessed squat when I looked down to see two sets of feet in the stall next to mine. One clad in shiny black loafers that I knew couldn’t possibly belong to a woman—at least not any woman I knew—and another shiny pair of four-inch stilettos, which I knew could belong only to one person.

“Michelle!” I said, pulling my panties up and my skirt down faster than you could spell relief. Without waiting for an answer, I put the lid down on the seat and climbed, somewhat unsteadily in my own three-inch heels, on top of the toilet.

Looking down into the stall, I saw the top of Jose’s head and felt a shudder of alarm when I realized his face was buried deep in that cleavage Michelle had been flaunting all night.

Michelle herself had her head thrown back against the wall, her half-closed eyes widening at the sight of me peering down.

“Hey, Ange,” she said with a giggle, “what are you doing up there?”

“Never mind that. What the hell are you doing down there?”

Jose looked up, a somewhat annoyed expression on his face. “This is a private party.”

“Well, the party’s over,” I said, hopping somewhat ungracefully off the toilet and heading out of the stall.

“Come on, Michelle, open up,” I said, pounding on the door of their little love nest.

The door swung open and Michelle stared at me, her eyes glassy and her mouth curved in a mischievous smile, until she opened it and began to slur out merrily, “Every party needs a pooper, that’s what we invited you fer, party pooper, party poop—”

I yanked on her arm, pulling her out of Jose’s clutches. Normally I wouldn’t be so aggressive, but she was clearly plastered and, from the look of things, might not have left that stall without some show of force. Raising the arm I still held, I waved it in Jose’s face. “Can’t you see she’s married?”

His gaze flicked over that diamond-clad hand. “And your point is?” he said.

“Point!” Michelle said, thrusting her hips forward drunkenly. “Jose has a point! So does Frankie,” she added somewhat mournfully. “But his is so tiny.”

Oh, brother. “C’mon,” I said, dragging her out of the bathroom as she waved merrily at Jose. “Bye, Javier,” she called as I pulled her through the door.

As I half carried her up the stairs, she leaned in heavily and slurred, “You used to be so much fun, Ange. Wha‘ happened to you? Remember how we used to ha’ so much fun? Me and Eddie and you and Vincent…” She sighed. “Wha‘ happened to all those good times?”

“They’re gone,” I said. And good riddance, I thought, suddenly remembering all the angsting I had done over Vincent,

whether he really loved me, whether we would grow old and die together. It was all so pointless, really. Yes, those days were over. Thank God.

Michelle magically regained her footing once we reached the top of the stairs, but since I didn’t trust her not to wander off, I grabbed her hand and led her back to the bar, where Grace and Claudia still stood sipping cocktails.

“You found her,” Grace said, her gaze moving over Michelle as she leaned heavily against the bar, plunking her oversprayed head right on top of it and closing her eyes.

“And it’s a good thing you did,” Claudia said, her eyes widening as she brought her glass to her lips once more.

“I’m gonna take her home,” I said.

“All the way to Brooklyn?”

“No, just to my place,” I said, suddenly exhausted with the thought of having to watch over Michelle all night, making sure she didn’t choke on the vomit she was sure to spew the minute she lay down.Yuck.

“Okay,” Grace said, with a look that said I told you so. “It’s too bad you can’t stay. We were having so much fun. I mean, it’s been a long time since we’ve had a chance to hang out.”

I was grateful, at least, that Grace had noticed how long it had been. It made me feel a little better as I hugged her goodbye. Even Claudia granted me an embrace and air-kiss, though whether it was from some girls‘-night-out camaraderie or those three cosmopolitans she had downed, I didn’t know.