Tide's Ebb (2 page)

But, finally, she was confident that Harvard commas were used consistently throughout the brief. A crisis, on par with a natural disaster in a developing country that lacks adequate infrastructure, had been averted. Marianna could finally exhale.

No sooner had Marianna pressed send at 11:59 a.m., her phone rang.

Marianna looked at the display and picked up. “Hey chica!”

It was Suzanne Santorini. “Hey Marianna baby! You ready for lunch? I swear, I could use a Cosmo!”

“Suzanne! You shouldn’t even joke about drinking on our job! We’re lawyers!”

“Oh Marianna, you just need to get laid more…. Come to lunch! Screech is coming too… and I’ll tell you all about what I did last night! ”

Marianna smiled.  Suzanne was kind of slutty, and it was good for every hot woman to have a slutty best friend because being able to judge your friends is one of the greatest gifts of friendship.

The two girls met in the office lobby, trading air kisses and squeals. Suzanne, a svelte brunette in a multi-colored pair of lizard-skin Proenza Schouler pumps and a red shift dress by Vince, looked great, as usual. Her best feature was her incredibly tight stomach. She would have worn a midriff shirt into the office every day, if she hadn’t already been told repeatedly not to. As it was, Suzanne always wore a padded bra and a funny hat to show how much of an individual she was. Today, the funny hat was a black beret, which she somehow pulled off without looking like Blossom in a red light district.

They stepped out into the chill of a Manhattan December and began their walk to the restaurant.

“So… let me tell you about last night!” Suzanne exclaimed.

“Yes, please! What sort of adventures did you have?” Marianna lived for hearing about Suzanne’s sexual exploits—they were always so scandalous!

“Well, you remember Bartender Brian from the Meatpacking District?”

“Yes…?”

“Let’s just say he’ll be packing some meat soon!”

“Oooooh! He was hot. Give me details! Details!”

“Well, he wasn’t paying any attention to me, so I flirted with his ugly friend from Brown. When Bartender Brian saw that, he grabbed me and pulled me into a cab. We made out like crazy in the taxi! We caused such a scene that the cab driver kept adjusting his mirror to see what was happening!”

“Ha! Suzanne, you’re too much!”

The young lawyers arrived at the restaurant—Adour at the St. Regis Hotel, a warm and comforting bastion of privilege in a city that had far too few of them.

Screech was waiting for them.  Screech’s real name was Alan Wall. But he was a dead ringer for the character on
Saved by the Bell
, so everyone called him Screech. He was in his late twenties, with a goatee that was just a little past its sell-by date. He was not a lawyer—he was an IT professional. This meant that he would frequently wear awful sweaters. In a bid to be cool, Screech had one ear pierced with a simple silver stud. He was a slight man. But as Marianna knew well, what he lacked in size, he made up for in other talents. Marianna got hot and flushed just thinking about it.

“Hi Screech!”

“Hey ladies! Anyone up for some oral?”

Screech was obsessed with oral sex.

“Oh, you’re such a kidder!” said Suzanne. But Marianna understood he wasn’t kidding. All of the ladies in the office had, at least once or twice, “ridden the goat,” as they liked to call receiving oral pleasure from Screech and his goatee.

The three sat down.

“Well, how are things with Bradley?” asked Suzanne.

“Things are great! I’m so happy because I can really see myself being
Mrs.
Bradley W. Simpson Jr.!”

Screech looked confused. “What does the ‘W’ stand for anyway?”

“Oh, no one knows! It just adds to the mystery! His father was the only one who knew, and he disappeared years ago.”

“And how’s the sex?”

“Honey, once you’ve done a rugby man…” Marianna insinuated slyly. She knew that when she got home that night, Bradley would be waiting to ravish her. “He gets a little kinky! Sometimes, he’ll film us making love!”

“And you let him? Miss Marianna Holt! I am shocked! Even I only let the boys film us bumping uglies if they promise to film in black & white! It’s so much more romantic that way…” Suzanne’s voice trailed off, clearly thinking about her own reverse cowgirl
Casablanca.

“Well, of course I let him! I love him—I’d do anything for him! Besides, he only focuses the camera on himself, so none of my lady bits are on film.”

“Ahem…” The waiter had snuck up behind the threesome. “Welcome to Adour! May I take your order, or shall I return later?” The three laughed in embarrassment.

Lunch was exquisite—toasted brioche with house-cured koala foie gras, carmelized masutake on a bed of Monkfish liver, caviar cleverly arranged in a trompe l’oeil to look just like Margaret Thatcher! Dessert was delicious, and Screech had somewhat vulgarly offered to perform cunnilingus on both of them as a
digestif
(which they respectfully declined).  But then it was time to head back to the office, and the ladies said goodbye to Screech.  

“Did you see that waiter’s face when you talked about your lady bits?”

“Ha! You’re such a bad influence on me.” The girls turned down Fifth Avenue.

“Oh. My. God.” Suzanne stopped dead—she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or perhaps a really unattractive old fling.

“What?”

“Isn’t that…
your
man?” She gestured towards the handsome man with an iron jawline.

“It is! I’m gonna go say ‘hi’ to my Bradley!”

“You might want to think twice about that…” Suzanne beamed. “What’s that he’s holding?”

Marianna’s eyes were drawn like a hawk, or perhaps some other bird known both for good eyesight and a taste for exquisite jewelry. Bradley W. Simpson Jr. was carrying one of those famous blue bags from Tiffany’s! Marianna shrieked with delight, for she knew that the blue bag undeniably held one of the famous blue boxes from Tiffany’s, which always contained what every woman wants the most.

“
I’M GETTING ENGAGED!
” Marianna shouted, loud enough to attract Bradley’s attention. Marianna and Suzanne squealed and ducked behind the corner, just as Bradley’s perfect jawline jutted in their direction. They hid for a minute, making fanning motions with their hands, before Suzanne peeked around the corner.

“The coast is clear! He turned around and headed the other way!”

The girls hugged each other and giggled. “I can’t believe it’s finally happened! I have the perfect job, and the perfect life, and soon… the perfect husband!” Marianna’s heart was beating fast, like a beautiful butterfly’s, and she thought to herself,
I have never been happier in my life, and absolutely nothing bad will ever happen to me again.

Back at the office, Marianna could barely contain herself.  For perhaps the first time in her life, she found it hard to concentrate on Harvard commas, or the inadequacies of others.
It is so sweet what Bradley is doing! I’m going to head home early to freshen up for my man and meet him at the door wearing nothing but a smile. And perhaps some La Perla!

She called her boss, Sam. She prayed he wouldn’t be upset. “Sam, I have a… doctor’s appointment. I have to leave work a little early… at 5 p.m.”

“What?” Sam seemed genuinely surprised. “I thought the firm provided you with doctors who work outside of office hours?”

“But…”

“Is this a goddamn woman thing? This is why we try not to promote women at this firm!”

Oh, that Sam!
thought Marianna. Sam had a remarkable ability to lead and inspire.
He’s such a powerful man!

“Do whatever you need to do with your damn uterus. Just don’t get pregnant. That bullshit always affects productivity! In any event, I hope you’ve finished up with that comma placement project. You know what would happen if we filed a brief riddled with comma placement failures with the Southern District of New York! That is all.”

“Yes, of course! Thank you, Sam!”

The commute back home to Park Slope was strange. The train was full of people who were wearing awful clothes. They appeared to be workers or people who had only basic cable.
Who are these people?
Marianna wondered.
And why are they headed home so early?