Moore to Lose (15 page)

Mia approached the red velvet ropes and caught the attention of one of the big goons. The man looked like a professional bodybuilder. Mia crooked her finger, indicating for him to come over. He approached her with an attitude. “Hey, can you go grab him. I need to talk to him.” She pointed to the guy in the suit.

“What do you need to talk to him about?” The goon was all Brooklyn attitude.

Mia gave the goon an incredulous look, “C’mon, you work with him, so you
know
he doesn’t like his personal stuff shared. I don’t want him mad at either you or me.”

The bluff was enough to send the goon over to the guy in the suit and deliver Mia’s message. The guy glanced over at Mia and nodded at whatever was being whispered in his ear. He didn’t take his eyes off of Mia.

He approached her slowly. Stonefaced. Mia made motion for him to bend down so that she could talk into his ear instead of trying to scream over the crowd. She put a hand on his shoulder and her lips close to his ear, “Today I left a file folder on my dining room table so I had to go home at lunch to get it. Well, when I got to my apartment, I had quite the surprise. My boyfriend of seven years, who teaches at NYU, was fucking one of his students in our bed. After I threw the skank’s clothes out the window, and I live on the sixteenth floor, I threw her out of my apartment, dressed in a brand new Ralph Lauren Egyptian cotton sheet that I really loved. Then I threw the son of a bitch out. I’m here with my two gay friends because I really need to drink and I need to be coddled tonight by gorgeous gay men who tell me how wonderful I am.” Mia pulled away to look at the man’s face.

“So?” His face was belying nothing.

“So, can we go in?”

“What’s your name?”

“Mia.”

The guy gave Mia a hard look. “Do you think you’re special, Mia?”

Mia stared into his eyes — they were a cool blue. “Tonight, not so much.” She shook her head.

“You really threw her clothes out the window?” He almost smiled.

And Mia hit him with a full devil grin and nodded her head. “I did. I freaking did.”

And they both laughed together.

“Go get your friends.”

The look on Mia’s face let him know he had made the right decision. She could see it in his eyes. “Thanks. Umm, what’s your name?”

“Charles.”

“Thanks, Chaz.” Mia teased.

“Do you want to go to the end of the line?” He flipped to serious in a nanosecond.

“Getting my friends.” And she took off to grab Seth and Rory.

“How’d you do that, Line Cutting BBC?” Seth wanted to know. “Did you show that boy your tits?”

“Shut up.” Mia backhanded him in the arm.

An hour and a half later, a dancing-sweat drenched Mia emerged through the front door and stepped out into the cool night air with two plastic drink cups in hand. Wordlessly, she handed one to Charles.

With a furrowed brow, he sniffed the contents of the cup, his facial expression immediately changing.

“How’d you know I was a scotch man?”

“Intuition. And when I saw a bottle of Glenlivit on the bar, I thought it would be a nice way to say thank you for ensuring I didn’t go postal while waiting in line tonight.”

Charles laughed, “Was that story you told me for real?”

Nodding, “Sad, but true.”

“And this happened today.”

Mia continued to nod. “I was walking home from my office and thinking about this leftover Eggplant Parmigiana in my fridge that I was going to warm up and eat before I went back to the office.”

“Bet you haven’t eaten today.” Charles finished his scotch.

Mia thought about that for a moment. “Wow, you’re right. I haven’t.”

“The crowd’s pretty thin here now. Have you ever eaten at Kiev?”

Mia smiled and just the thought made her stomach growl. “Best tuna in New York.”

“Absolutely. Come on, let’s go. Let’s get some food in you.”

“Just let me tell my friends and I’ll be right back out. I don’t want them to think I’ve jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge.”

Mia and Charles headed one block up to Kiev. Out of date and seedy, Kiev was one of the best places in downtown Manhattan to people watch. East Village hipsters, punks after a CBGB’s show on The Bowery, gays, straights, transgenders, the twenty-four hour diner attracted all types. Renowned for their perogies and other eastern European delicacies (including their famed tuna, which was not Eastern European, but a delicacy just the same), Kiev was a New York staple for middle of the night munchies.

“So, you look like you’re in pretty good shape considering your day.” Charles sat back in his chair regarding Mia.

“I feel pretty ok. My ego is severely bruised and battered, I’ll tell you that. But I think I knew deep down that we probably had been at the end of the road for quite a while.”

“It was comfortable?” Charles probed.

Mia nodded, her brows knit together.

Charles looked down at the table. “I recently got out of one of those.”

The waitress, dressed in a 1950’s style uniform, dropped off the tuna sandwiches. “Together long?” Mia picked up half of the overflowing rye bread.

“Four years.”

“So what happened?” Mia hoped Charles hadn’t found her with another man.

“She wanted to get married.”

“And you didn’t?” It was interesting for Mia to hear the guy’s point of view.

Charles shook his head.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Mia opened up. “What I am a little freaked out about is going home. I’ve never lived in my apartment alone. He was always there. I’m scared it’s all going to hit me when I’m there all by myself.”

Charles nodded and between bites. “It’s weird. But after a few days, it’s great.”

Mia smiled. Her emotions were traveling at bullet train speed — angry at Tom for what he did, relieved that it was over, sad that it was over, scared to be on her own, excited to start a life that was just hers, missing him, despising him. She was starting to feel what she’d been too keyed up to feel all day.

“You’d be a terrible poker player.” Charles laughed.

“It’s starting to hit me, I think.” Mia could feel tears welling.

“Let’s go back. We’ll do a few shots. I finish up in about an hour and I’ll make sure you get home safely.”

As they talked, it was clear they had a lot in common — both were young business owners feeling the weight of responsibility for those they employed, both had been involved in long term relationships with someone they had lived with and both were dyed in the wool New York City kids. Their paths had just missed crossing many times at concerts and events they had both attended. By the time they had walked back to Mia’s apartment she felt like Charles was a forever friend and they were discussing potentially working together on events for Mia’s clients.

“Did you change your locks this afternoon?”

“No. I told him I was, but I haven’t done it yet.” And for the first time she started to feel nervous. It had not occurred to her before — what if Tom was up there?

As if sensing her agitation, Charles put a hand on Mia’s shoulder. “I’d like to make sure your apartment is secure. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing that you are not walking into any surprises.”

Riding up in the elevator, Mia’s nerves started to combust, her mouth began to feel like sandpaper and not taste much better. If Tom was in there, walking in with Charles at 4:30 A.M. was not going to be a pleasant scene.

Exiting on the sixteenth floor, Charles held out his hand for the keys and Mia handed them to him, her hands visibly shaking. “It’s going to be fine,” he reassured, as he opened the locks.

The apartment was dark and Mia flipped on the light. Nothing looked out of place. Charles walked through the living room into the dining room and then the kitchen. Mia thought it felt like a movie — checking to see if it was all clear. He pointed down the hallway and mouthed the word “bedroom?” Mia nodded and Charles headed down the hall. Please don’t let him be in there, Mia prayed.

Charles returned. “All clear. One of your bedroom windows is open.”

Mia rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well … Guess I forgot to close it after I threw her shoes out.”

Charles let out a big, hearty laugh, “You threw her shoes out, too?”

“They were ugly.” Mia was dead serious.

Charles shook his head, smiling. “You are very amusing. But I’m sure you already know that.” And with that, he started checking the locks on the door and the window. “You know this place is not very secure. I’m going to have a couple of my guys come over first thing in the morning to make this a lot safer for you.” Noticing the confused look on Mia’s face, Charles explained, “Mia, I own a security company. It’s not just goons deciding who gets into hot clubs. These guys are very well trained, people have specialties and you would be surprised how many retired NYPD are on my payroll.”

Mia noticed an envelope on the dining room table, behind Charles. It was at “his spot” at the table. The place he ate, graded papers, worked on screenplays. Mia walked over and picked it up. The word “Jailbait” was written across the front of the envelope in Tom’s beautiful cursive. Reality was starting to grab at her throat and squeeze.

“Did he leave his keys?” Charles interrupted her thoughts.

“I don’t see them,” and she quickly went through the apartment. “No, he took them.”

Charles just nodded his head. “How do you feel about an almost complete stranger sleeping on your couch?”

“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.” Mia felt relief in knowing she had protection staying in her living room. Not that she ever would expect Tom to do anything crazy or violent — that wasn’t Tom — but a surprise scene would not be a good thing.

Before leaving this guardian angel, who with a large leap of faith she chose to trust, Mia sat down next to him on the couch, “Charles, thank you. Really.” He nodded, but remained silent. “You’ll now know when someone says they have something personal to tell you, you’ll have your guys tell the person to take a hike.”

He laughed and nodded, “No shit!”

Mia smiled and with a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek, she left him, letter in her hand.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she turned the envelope in her hands a few times, before taking a deep breath and gathering up the nerve to open it. She had the urge to say “Showtime,” but didn’t.

Jailbait,

I’m at such a loss for words. I want to make this right, yet I fear that is just no longer possible. I know you will never trust me again, and without that trust, we will never come close to being whole again.

First and foremost, my apology. I am sorry, Mia. I have hurt you, and until today, I had no understanding of quite how painful it is to know that you have hurt someone you love (yes, I just said the “L” word). I hurt for you and I would give up everything to change what I have done and what I have done to you.

I sit here writing this and I’m scared. I’ll be honest with you, I am very scared. I don’t know what life is like without you and I don’t want to know what life is like without you. I have never had a relationship that has had the length or depth of what we have shared and I apologize for not treating it and you with the deserved love and respect.

You are my life, Mia. I know you don’t believe that right now. I am an ass. I guess I wanted to feel like “I still had it,” if that makes sense and the irony is, I now have nothing.

I am praying this is not the end of us. You have my commitment that I will do anything and everything to make this up to you, to make things right. Please don’t close the door on us, Mia.

Today, I singlehandedly shot the sun out of the sky and I yearn to see it rise again, to see the glow of that beautiful golden side lit early morning light. Light that I long ago marveled at how it bathed a beautiful teenage girl and a tangle of wildflowers. But until then there is only darkness, for which I am responsible.

I love you, Mia. I really do. And I hope to not only tell you that, but prove it to you, every day of your life.

Forever, Tom

Mia stared at the page in her hands for a very long time. She felt nothing. Just numb. She couldn’t even begin to process Tom’s words or formulate what her reaction was supposed to be.

“I need sleep,” she mumbled and fell back onto the bed. (She noted that Tom had actually had the decency to change the sheets). Curling up under the blanket, on her side of the bed, she grabbed her pillow and shoved her left arm under it. Something silky brushed against her wrist.

Mia rolled over and turned on the bedside light. Lifting her pillow, she gasped at what Tom had placed there. Underneath her pillow, Tom Sheehan had left her his MFA tassel from Cornell.

And there it was, a wave cresting and rushing to shore and Mia had caught the wave wrong and now she was being dragged under — her face scraping on the abrasive sand and broken shells lining the ocean floor. The sadness swept over her and finally the tears flowed freely. Once again, that feeling she had too often felt, a feeling she had been able to sweep to the darkest recesses of her mind for most of the past seven years, leapt out of the darkness like a stalker and began coursing through her veins. Subway cars speeding though darkened tunnels.

Although they were not strangers to one another, Mia Silver was not pleased to once again greet loneliness.

“Are you coming out with us?” Seth stuck his head into Mia’s office.

Mia just shook her head, not looking up from her PC. “Too much to do.”

“I would think you’d be more fun now that you’re single, but you’ve turned into this huge BBC bore.”

Mia smiled, still not looking up from her PC, “You certainly don’t want a bore with you. Have fun.”

Clearing off her desk for the weekend, Mia was feeling mighty proud of herself. Billings were higher than she had ever dreamed, they’d on boarded three new clients, and both she and the agency were up for CLIO and ADDY awards — an honor she could not believe had been bestowed on them.

Mia walked over to her window and looked out over lower Manhattan. The Trade Centers were just beginning to illuminate the night. Standing in the cocoon of her brick-walled office, Mia felt disconnected from the world outside, a world of people laughing together, dreaming together, growing together. Maybe it was just the long haired blonde girls who got what they wanted — the CJ’s of the world, the blondes like Tom’s skanky student. Maybe girls like her just got handsome gay friends and asshole rapists. And advertising awards.