On the Verge (24 page)

“It’s me. Rob. What’s up? I wish my life were a Sunday night. I’m in meeting hell. Wondering if you wanted to catch a late dinner and movie. Maybe ten. Will you be around?” Save. I’ll listen to it at least five more times.

“Eve, it’s Roseanne. Just calling to see if you are coming home for dinner tonight. I bought some salmon yesterday at Chelsea Market. I didn’t make it because you didn’t come home. Just let me know if you are coming home tonight. Okay, ’bye.” She sounds really sad. Delete. I don’t need to be reminded what a sucky friend I am.

“Eve, it’s Lacey. Can I get a 4:00 with Herb today? I need to talk to him about my installment before the Feed Meet.” I hate the way she says “need” like I should drop everything and hook her up. I hate her. Delete. Delete. Delete.

I tell Tab I will have lunch with her. I call Roseanne and say, yes, I’ll be home for salmon, then I leave a message with Sherman saying I will meet Rob at ten, but not for dinner. I don’t say what we’re doing at ten, because I don’t want Sherman to get the wrong idea. I don’t even know Sherman, but I hope he doesn’t think I am some kind of assistant traitor. I schedule a time for Lacey and Herb. I’m multi-tasking.

Tabitha and I meet in The Nook. She gets the chicken cordon bleu with two sides and I grab a California roll. She gives a good show of asking me about Rob. Since I don’t really want to say too much, she starts right in about Joao, this Brazilian choreographer she met at the dance performance on Saturday. He is only in town for two weeks.

“Tabitha, do you ever think that maybe you have some reason for going after all these out-of-towners?”

“I certainly hope this quasi-domestic blissful relationship you are having with a totally unattainable and who-knows-how-reliable
guy is not making you just a tad judgmental. But, yes, there is definitely a reason.” She licks her chickeny fingers slowly. Always the drama mama.

“I give up, what is it?” She takes another bite of her mashed potatoes and leans into the table, encouraging me to do the same.

“I get bored fucking one guy for too long.” I laugh out loud. Tabitha is rarely so crass. “That’s right, laugh. Monogamy is monotony.”

“Even Jaques? You were down for the long haul with Jaques.”

“I was slightly deluded by his fashion sense and the way he would encourage me to eat buttery things. You can’t fault me for that. What you can fault me for is picking a friend—that would be yourself—who would not knock some sense into me when I started to get all mushy faced.” She sips her iced coffee and scans The Nook. “But I can be strong-willed, so I guess I can forgive you not speaking up sooner. Although, I would like to think that in the future you will alert me to these strange behaviors.”

“Only if I get the feeling you want to be alerted.”

“Good plan. Hey—” she looks past me “—isn’t that a high-powered exec who is rumored to be having an affair with an underling?” I see Rob having lunch with a very attractive woman. I decide I need some catsup for my sushi. I try to eavesdrop on my way up as I walk behind him. He has his all-business stance, which is slightly encouraging. I’m acting like a teenager. This is stupid. If he was screwing around with this very attractive woman, he wouldn’t bring her to The Nook. He apparently doesn’t see me at the condiment stand. I decide to sneak back behind him, to avoid suspicion of my suspicion.

“Hey, Eve,” he says as I am walking behind him. There is a table full of people between us and I know his lunch companion is checking me out.

“Oh, hey, Rob.” How cool am I?

“Did you get enough condiment?” His face is serious, but he cocks an eyebrow up.

“I think so, see ya.” He turns back to his lunch date or whatever. When I get back to the table, Tabitha has her analyzing face on.

“Interesting exchange?”

“I guess it’s a business meeting.” What am I doing? “Did you talk to Ro this weekend?”

“Not really. I invited her out to the dance performance, but she didn’t want to go. I think she’s mopey about Pete. He still hasn’t
called. Oh, God! The Big C is in our midst. Look at the skirt, it’s like she plans her Monday outfit around the Sunday
Times
style section. What’s she eating, Eve, can you see?”

“Not sure, looks like a salad.” She stops to chat with Rob.

“Of course, probably no dressing. She’s ridiculous. Let’s get upstairs before she spots me. We have to start going to delis.” It’s a rare occurrence for us to see anyone we know in The Nook, but one Big C sighting and Tabitha will keep us out of there for a month.

Roseanne is sitting on the couch watching one of those gossip news shows when I get back to our apartment that night. Monday is usually her Spinning class at the gym. When I ask her why she isn’t going she shrugs and tells me she will grill the salmon in twenty minutes.

When she gets up to make the salmon, I try to call Rob at work to tell him that I can’t make the movie. Sherman keeps picking up. I can’t believe he has to wait there until Rob gets out of his meeting. What a slave driver Rob is!

Roseanne’s salmon is delicious and I tell her. I must be the worst roommate ever, because she is giving me the silent treatment without actually committing to it. I shouldn’t have spent the whole weekend at Rob’s. I hate conflict.

“Hey, Roseanne, are you mad at me?”

“Not at all.” She sounds pretty convincing, but now that I’ve grabbed this confrontation thing, there’s no turning back.

“Well, you’re being really quiet. You didn’t go to your Spinning class and here you are watching trash TV.”

“It’s comfort TV.”

“Well, why do you need to be comforted?” She doesn’t say anything and has another bite of salmon. “Ro?”

“My job has to be the most boring ever,” Roseanne spills. “Not like your kind of boring where I can surf the Net or go shopping or talk to my friends. No, there is work to be done—boring work. Every hour lasts an eternity and it’s numbers, numbers, and numbers. Big surprise, that’s what I majored in. My mother is upset that I won’t give her my work number. The reason I won’t is because I don’t want her to call and complain about my father from dusk till dawn, but not for the reason you might think. No. I don’t want her to have my number, because I think the sound of her voice might actually comfort me when I’m hanging out with my numbers. Like these shitty shows. I’m bored with working out. The past two boys I had sex with haven’t called back. Well, I
should make that one and a half, because Pete was too drunk to get it up and keep it up, despite my valiant efforts. Of course, he won’t call me back, even though we’ve been friends for like five years or something. I keep thinking I can have enough fun after work with you guys, but honestly, I don’t know if I can make it. I keep telling myself that the summer is coming and I’ll have summer hours and I’ll get to do what I want. But that’s five fucking months away. That’s the other thing. I’m talking like a sailor. I never swore this much before. My parents used to hurl curses at each other and I swore I’d never do it. But, fuck it, now I do!”

“Wow!” What do you say to that?

“Eve, don’t. I know you are going to try and say the most sensitive thing. And you will. I mean you always do, you listen to people and you help them. I guess I just want to revel in my own self-pity for a while and then figure it out. I don’t want to bring you down, because I can see you’re happy. I know you already feel bad about spending time with Rob, but don’t worry about it, please. Shucks! I never used to be such a drama queen.”

The thing that makes it hard to be friends with Roseanne is that when she’s like this she doesn’t turn into a witch and make you hate her for a while before she clues you in on the problem. She knows what’s wrong and she doesn’t ask you to fix it. When my friends have problems, I like to be the one that interprets it for them. The last thing I need is a self-sufficient friend. Then my one skill will be futile.

“Do you like this guy? Rob?”

“Maybe. I don’t really want to. I mean we’re not cut from the same cloth. I can’t help feeling like I’m sleeping my way to the top, although I haven’t gotten anywhere and probably won’t. I’m not doing anything wrong, but I feel like I have to keep this hush-hush.”

“Eve, just do what you want. If he’s cool, go for it.”

“Pete hasn’t called, huh?” Roseanne just shakes her head. The phone rings. It’s Rob asking me to meet him at the movie theater in an hour. I almost tell him I can’t make it, but I want to see him too badly. I feel like a big shit when I say good-night to Roseanne.

“Hey it’s only another hour to Letterman,” I say as I’m leaving. She smiles, but it doesn’t seem to reassure her.

The job listings come out every Tuesday. Now they are available via e-mail. There is never anything good that I am considered qualified for. I once applied for a copyright position in
NY By
Night
marketing. Tabitha told me about it. I could tell that the woman who interviewed me was really impressed. I was proactive about staying on top and keeping myself “fresh in her mind.” I called her once a week, but she never returned my calls. I didn’t want to be a nag, I just wanted to know. Finally, after four weeks of waiting by the phone, she told me that although she thought I would be “great for the department,” I just didn’t have enough experience.

“Did you see the listings?” Tabitha says almost breathlessly when I answer the phone.

“No, but, let me guess, executive assistant to some crappy finance guy.”

“No, a coordinator position for
Food and Fun,
the travel/restaurant mag. Listen to the responsibilities— ‘Coordinator will be responsible for the attachment of photos to copy and often attend photo shoots to assist in brand conveyance—’ if that’s even a word ‘—for a deadline. Coordinator will be expected to attend creative meetings and assist in magazine development.’ Development is awesome, it’s so flaky, but actually cool. Travel and restaurants. Awesome.”

“Sounds like a major they offered at my school. Are you going to apply?”

“No, Eve, are you crazy? I am in the zone here at
NY By Night.
I am a proverbial rung away from the Big C’s job. I think this would be a great job for you, and sort of a test.”

“It sounds pretty cool, but what is it a test of?”

“The strength of your blossoming love.”

“Tabitha, is this Brazilian supplying you with some crazy South American drug?”

“It’s more of a love juice, actually.”

“You are foul.”

“You’re no nun. Honestly. Rob needs to put his money where his mouth is.”

“That would make me a literal whore.”

“Right, but honestly, it’s all who you know. You just know him better than most.”

“I appreciate your support, but it lacks integrity and ethics.”

“Mother of God! Eve, you aren’t writing a journalism thesis, you are trying to get a goddamn job. Look at the Big C, where are her ethics?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to put a price tag on it. Who knows if he can even help me get the job?”

“The way I hear it, he’s got everyone quaking in their boots. I assure you, Rob King can get anything in the company he wants. Including the assistants.”

“Thanks for the reassurance. I am not going to give him an ultimatum or anything. I’m going to apply fair and square. Okay? My phone is beeping.”

“If it’s him, you should ask.” I hang up and it is Rob asking me if I want to come have lunch in his office. He’s getting wraps. I order a spinach wrap with portobellos and goat cheese. There is no way I’m going to mention that job. Instead, I e-mail my résumé to the appropriate person.

I have to wait for Rob in his office. Sherman assures me he is finishing up a meeting. Our wraps and fruit smoothies (a special treat I didn’t know about) are sitting on Rob’s desk, taunting me. I am starving. If only Sherman would stop checking on me.

I hear the door close behind me and feel Rob kissing my neck. I reach my arms up around him and we start kissing. I can’t believe it, but I notice he has the shades drawn on his windows. He is putting his hands into my sweater. I try to stop him. I’m thinking of poor Sherman.

“I locked the door,” he whispers, trying to lift me onto the desk.

“Rob, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He pulls back panting and goes to sit on his side of the desk. He looks across at me like I might be some other exec.

“Well, Eve, if that’s the way it has to be, we’re going to have to establish some rules. You can’t cross over to my side. This is my side, this is your side—”

“Just like
Dirty Dancing.
”

“Eve, please, these are important rules.” His sexy eyebrows are arching all over the place. “You may not do anything overtly suggestive, like licking your fingers, tilting your head or lowering your gaze to my unmentionable areas. It may be torture, but remember this is what you wanted, not me. Now. Let’s eat.” My wrap is not what I ordered, it’s lamb and some kind of chutney. Rob catches my grimace. There is nothing I hate more than people who kick a gift lunch in the mouth or however that saying goes. Every time I order food for the people in my department, there is always one person who has to ruin it by complaining about something, “They didn’t send enough plates, I need a separate one for dessert” or “I can’t eat this, this has cilantro in it, I will not stomach cilantro.” So I feel a little guilty that Rob takes my wrap
out to Sherman. I can’t hear or see the exchange, because the door is closed. When Rob comes back in he is wrapless. I would have eaten the lamb—I like lamb as much as any carnivore (I’ve actually started to like it more since I started working with so many vegetarians), and I was really hungry. He sits back down on his side.

“Well, looks like we are going to have to sit here staring at each other until your new lunch gets here.”

“You could eat your wrap.”

“That would be rude and besides, I prefer to stare at you and think about what might have come from our lunchtime rendezvous.” I guess there is something that would take my mind of my stomach—his stomach.

“You are filthy.” He nods and drums his fingertips. “Did you lock the door?” I know, I am turning into such a whore. To think I was so staunchly opposed to an office romance and here I am struggling to get my tights off without ripping them. We are getting very caught up in the moment and his wrap, which is open, almost gets all over the back of my sweater (which would suck because it’s Roseanne’s sweater and this might push her over the edge). We almost don’t hear the knock on the door. He mutters a curse and waits for me to untwist my skirt before opening the door to Sherman.