On the Verge (16 page)

I rip open the manila envelope and look around at the staff’s expectant faces. I may never have so much power. I start tantalizingly pulling the invites out. Chris, one of the writers, plays along and starts making burlesque music sounds. Everyone laughs, even Herb. I fully enjoy the moment for the split second it takes me to get the invitations out of the envelope. I hold one up for inspection. It’s a hologram that says “Holiday Party” and morphs to Prescott’s face. A definite collector’s item.

My mom was right, the party is all the way over on the river at 15th Street. How does she know these things? No one has really heard of this place except Lacey, whose friend “in the business” shot a video over there.

When everyone has seen (with their eyes not their hands), I put the invites in my drawer. By law I am supposed to hold on to the invitations for another two days. Don’t ask me why. I am supposed to lock my drawer every time I get up. It takes me all morning to find the key to the drawer and by the time I do I have to pee so bad I am thinking about using a Prescott Nelson cup.

I meet Tabitha at one o’clock in front of The Nook. She is having serious wardrobe issues. Before I get a chance to say a
word, Tabitha holds out a bunch of Polaroids and a picture she ripped from a magazine. They are all of Tabitha in different dresses. The magazine dress is a Badgley Mischka. I hold it up to her. “I think you’re getting a little crazy.”

“I’ll get noticed.”

“No one will recognize the designer but a couple of old women and gay men. Plus, you’ll spill beer on it.” I’m doing salad today. I want to love the poochie less.

“What do you think of this one?” On most people this dress—feathers—would look like they were dressing up as a drag queen, but I’m almost certain Tabitha can pull it off.

“It’s out there, but cool. Wait a second, what’s this foot?” Behind Tabitha, I can barely make out a naked male foot. “Who is this?”

“No one.” She takes the pictures out of my hand. “It must be someone at the store.”

Except I also recognized her bed frame and bureau. Whatever, Tab. We sit in our usual spot in the center of The Nook as she gives me the plan for the party. It’s another week away and I am certain that both the plan and Tabitha’s dress will change about eighty times before we actually set foot in the door.

Tabitha, Roseanne (yes, I got her a ticket) and I arrive via cab to the party. One of the attendants opens our door and directs us in. As we rehearsed, both Roseanne and I have invites, but not IDs. We need both, so we have to go up to someone with a list. My ID is at the bottom of my bag, just in case they really won’t let me in. The woman lets me and Roseanne in with Lorraine’s invite (that’s how I got Roseanne here) and right away the three of us get a Polaroid photo. Tabitha gushes awhile and Roseanne suggests we get before and after shots to have evidence of the results of alcohol. I just want to check out the space.

It’s great—huge with high ceilings. The best part of the place is that one whole side is just windows overlooking the Hudson River. Tabitha has a drink in my hand before I can get too carried away by the beauty of the place.

There is a ton of sushi. It looks good, but Tabitha and I decided beforehand not to eat until we’d been at the party for forty-five minutes. We vowed to be strong when the other faltered. At this point we are talking Roseanne down. Given a chance, I suspect she would push the knife-wielding Japanese chef out of the way and slice herself a huge roll.

Roseanne is sporting basic black, Tabitha has this light brown number on with a feather boa (the one that would make most people look like a drag queen) and I am trying really hard to keep the beads on my dress and to suck in my poochie.

Joe and Adam find us right away. They are with two friends, Anthony and Kristen. All four of them already seem drunk. I think being drunk might take the edge off, but it might also lead me down the road to my dastardly deed.

“What’s up, Eve? You look a little pale,” says Adam, leaning close to me. “I like your dress.”

“Thanks, Adam.”

“It’s so beady.” The last thing I need is to see Adam make a fool out of himself. I will not let my dastardly deed be hooking up with Adam. I excuse myself to get a drink and wind up taking everybody’s order. Roseanne comes with me.

“Eve, what’s up with you? Let’s do a shot, it will put some color in your cheeks.” Rosie’s cure-all. We order two kamikazes and knock them back.

“See, don’t you feel warm now? This place is awesome. Eve, are you okay? I thought you would be more into this. You’ve been dying to go to this since June. I remember you called me and told me all about it. That’s when we decided I should move to New York.”

“I just have a weird feeling. Do you remember the last time I had a weird feeling.”

“You always have weird feelings—no offense.”

“It was the night we went to Rick’s party, remember? I kept telling you I felt weird, but I drank anyway.”

“You wound up doing the walk of shame the next day with the guy who lived next door to Josh’s dorm.”

“That wasn’t the worst part, the worst part was—”

“That he was a math major. I know. That was bad.” I nod. “Well there are obviously no math majors here. All the boys here are cool.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“C’mon, Eve, I don’t think you have some kind of psychic power. What you do have is willpower. Look how good you’re being about the sushi. C’mon.” She gives me a hug. “Let’s do another shot and go forth in sin. We’ve got people waiting.”

I’ve got to hand it to Roseanne, she makes a good point. I do the shot with her and I feel my brain starting to flood. It’s a good feeling. We bring the drinks back.

“It’s about time,” says Tabitha. I am told that Kristen went off with some guy in Media Development so we have an extra drink. I wind up holding it, because I could put it down, but eventually someone is going to want to drink it and that someone turns out to be me. I am done with it by the time everyone is finished with that round, so I have Adam and Joe bring me another Stoli gimlet.

“Well, Anthony and Roseanne seem to be getting along.” I look over to see Anthony offering Roseanne a cigarette. I bum one from Tabitha. “Maybe she’ll get lucky.”

“With any luck. This place is cool.”

“Yeah, Prescott doesn’t skimp. Wonder if he’ll show.”

“Doesn’t he have to?”

“No, he’s a little old, so it’s understandable.” Tabitha loves to make excuses for Prescott.

“He’s not in the box yet.”

Tabitha laughs and fake hits me. “That’s blasphemous. Look at all the guys from shipping dancing.”

“They’ve actually got some good moves.”

“All your friends. Kinda makes you wish you lived underground, too. I know I’m terrible, but I look good. Look who it is—your friend in high places.” I look over at Robert King. Adam comes over a little too close to give me my drink.

“Here you go, gin and tonic and roofies.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Adam.” I’m serious. Joke references to roofies are like references to snuff films—always in poor taste. I hope I’m not going to think less of Adam after tonight.

“Hey, Eve, chill, I’m just kidding.”

“Some things aren’t funny.”

“Sorry.” Adam’s head hangs as we walk over to the table where I guess we are supposedly based. He is a fifth wheel, because Anthony and Roseanne are getting closer and Joe is hitting on some Latina.

“Nice going.” Tabitha exhales a bunch of smoke in my ear.

“Well, I don’t find date rape jokes funny.”

“Neither do I, but I’m talking about dissing your power man.” I stare at her confused. “Rob King just waved at you and you ignored him.”

Shit, he must have waved just as I got my drink. He’s not there anymore. I look around for him. Nowhere. Maybe he was just putting in an appearance. Tabitha hands me another drink and suggests we get some sushi. We stop by the table and see if Roseanne wants anything. She shakes her empty glass, so we’ll bring
her more alcohol. She gives me a little smile just to make sure everything is okay and I smile back; she doesn’t need to know about my missed opportunity with Robert King. Wait! What am I thinking? No, I will not entertain the idea of him. I am just buzzing.

Tabitha and I go and stockpile our plates with goodies. The food looks delicious—salads, chicken, steak and portobello mushrooms. As Tabitha puts each thing on her plate, she says, “Thank you, Prescott, thank you.” I know I’m getting drunk, because it’s funny every time.

We get a separate plate for sushi and meet Adrian at the sushi line. After a round of kisses, we decide to scarf up our food and dance. We grab Roseanne, the crew and more drinks and start shaking it to the disco songs that come on. Adrian is a great dancer (surprise!) and he takes turns leading the three of us around.

I drink up. I am starting to get over my ominous feelings, but that may be a part of the danger. I will be strong. Roseanne comes up to us looking sulky, maybe the bad feeling is passing to her. I would be secretly glad if it is. (That doesn’t make me a bad person—it is my company party after all.) Tabitha (who has suddenly become the better friend) asks her what’s wrong. She points over to Adrian and Anthony (!) getting their groove on. This deserves a hug.

“Adrian can be such a slut.”

“No, Tabitha.” Roseanne shakes her head like a scorned woman. “Anthony can’t help how he feels. They make a cute couple.” It’s true they are dancing away like they’ve been doing it (dancing, that is) forever. I decide to be helpful. After all Roseanne is
my
roommate, I should be responsible.

“I know it seems like all the good men are gay, but look around, there’s got to be some straight ones you can find.” Unfortunately, the Village People come on right at this moment and we realize we are standing in the center of some of the most beautiful least attainable men.

“But, what does it say about me?” Roseanne asks. “This is the second time I’ve been attracted to a gay man. Now they are both dancing together.”

“It means you’re a lesbian.” I am trying to make a joke. They both glare at me. Sorry, Wonder Twins, can’t anyone take a joke? I need another drink. I must have telekinetic powers because just then a waiter comes around with frozen margaritas. He has one
left. Victory! I take it. Tabitha shakes her head. Fine. I hand it to Roseanne. Why does everyone love each other more than me?

Some really cool Latin music comes on. I want to dance. I see Joe and give him a smile.

“Hey, Eve. Want to dance?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to dance to this music. I’m betting you do.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” Before I can say no, Joe is leading me onto the dance floor. He puts his hand very low on my back and tells me that when he presses it I have to turn. At first, I feel like a spaz following his moves, but soon I get it and my hips sort of move on their own. He’s an excellent dancer. He is totally in control—and you would never think it was such a turn on. Wow! I could marry Joe. We dance for three songs and then he thanks me and kisses my cheek. I go back to Tabitha and Roseanne, who clap for me.

“You looked like you were in a movie.”

“That dress fit right in, it looks so Spanish.”

“I never knew your hips could move like that, girl,” Adrian yells.

I turn back to my Latin Love, Joe. He is now dancing with the Latina he was talking to earlier. She really knows how to dance, too. Her hips are moving like mine never could. She is putting my pitiful attempt to shame.

“I feel like Tony in
Saturday Night Fever
when he gives the prize to the Puerto Ricans, because they totally deserve it.”

“Well, Eve, it looks like she already has the prize,” Tabitha says. I see Joe kiss the woman as they dance. I am heartbroken.

“Ladies, what say we get another drink and check out the room where the big boys are?” I am starting to get that wobbly feeling and as usual, when Uncle Pres pays, I don’t know when to say when. It’s bad.

Anyway, there is no official bigwig room. But just like The Nook, the bigwigs manage to isolate themselves. They are all in a room off to the side of the main floor. It’s real stuffy in here, but for whatever reason those with the power, the board members, the execs, and most of the editors-in-chief are hanging out here chatting merrily away, content to be separated from the peons. We see the Big C right away. I rarely get to see the Big C; she’s always in a meeting when I go visit Tabitha, so seeing her in the flesh is kind of an event. She looks good, I mean well put together, but that’s all. She’s just a really attractive woman in terrific shape,
but it all seems so forced. She spots Tabitha and comes over and kisses her. Talk about forced.

“These are my friends, Eve and Roseanne.”

“Lovely to meet you.” The Big C shakes both of our hands firmly.

“We’ve already met,” I say as she pumps my arm. She smiles and nods and I know she has no idea who I am. She chats with Tabitha, but all the while her eyes check out who’s here. Maybe that’s how she stays on top. You would think after all these years in this business, she could let the party come to her.

Finally, as if she allows herself exactly ninety seconds with everyone, she excuses herself by saying. “Well, I’ve got to find my boss. Remember, Tabitha, we have billing to do tomorrow.” Tabitha nods, and I think it lacks class on the Big C’s part to remind Tabitha about work at an event like this.

“I bet she doesn’t show up before noon,” Roseanne says, trying to comfort Tab.

“No, she will be in at eight. That woman is hard core.”

“Well, Tabitha, she severely lacks tact. She’s on a power trip.” This helps a little, so we decide to get another drink. (Are you keeping track? I’ve stopped.)

Anyway, what before my wondering eyes do appear? Herb, obviously drunk (Healthy Herb?) chatting away with shitty Lacey Matthews. She is doing a good job of throwing her hair back when she laughs. I get pushed into Lacey (I swear it was unintentional—the bigwigs are restless) and she spills her drink a little. What is she doing in here in this room anyway?

“Hi, Eve.” Herb has such a condescending way about him.

“Hi. Sorry about that, Lacey.” Lacey gives me a tight smile and turns back to Herb, but he addresses me.