A police siren shrieked two short blips. Charley jumped, the two of them broke apart, and she searched the street for the source of the interruption. A squad car rolled slowly outside the park, its lights revolving.
Neely hurriedly buttoned Charley up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know they patrolled like this.”
“The park is closing,” came a female voice through the car’s bullhorn system. “You’ll have to exit now.”
“Oh, thank God,” Neely said shakily. “I thought they saw what we were doing and were going to ticket us.”
Charley giggled. “Lewd and indecent behavior?”
“Something like that,” Neely replied. “My God, I’d be mortified.”
“I think we’re fine. Considering what goes on in this city, I’m sure we’re a nice break from the murder and mayhem these cops deal with on a daily basis.”
Neely laughed. “Probably. I didn’t think of it that way.”
They walked toward the front gate, a cop waiting to lock it behind them.
“Thank you, Officer,” Neely said to the woman, moving past her.
“We hated to interrupt you ladies. It looked as if you were having fun, but we have to close the park.” The cop winked at her and Charley smiled back, wondering if she was a sister.
“Where to now?” Neely asked after the cops drove off. “Your place or mine?”
“Ohhh…” Charley wasn’t sure how to handle Neely’s assumption. The conflagration she’d started against the bleachers still resonated and had made Charley yearn for a night in bed beneath a strong woman who could take charge. But that careful core that had become her guide over the years poked its head up, effectively silencing Brooke’s advice to walk on the wild side. At least for tonight. She needed to sort out her feelings, needed to make sure that when she went to bed with Neely…if…it was the right thing to do in that moment. For both of them.
“You’re bailing, aren’t you?” Neely asked.
Charley nodded.
“Did I jump the gun? Did I push you?”
“No. I…” Charley ran her hands over Neely’s leather jacket lapels.
“You need time. I get that,” Neely said softly.
“I don’t know if you do. Maybe sex means different things to us.”
Neely cocked her head, a questioning look in her eyes.
“I don’t think I’m as casual about it as I was when I was younger.” She felt safe confiding in Neely after all the ground they’d covered getting to know each other.
“Okay.” Neely nodded. “Well, why don’t we work together Tuesday night in the library, like I promised you, and have dinner next Friday and talk about what sex means to us.”
She had no idea what that conversation would look like, but she’d have a whole week to think about it. And she wanted to work with Neely in person on Tuesday after everything they’d talked about over dinner.
At the M50 crosstown bus stop, Neely protectively put her arm around Charley. On the ride to Second Avenue, she picked up the thread of a conversation they hadn’t finished earlier, and Charley was grateful for how easily they fell back into it.
Chapter Ten
In the elevator, Charley pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted Brooke. Just got home. We didn’t go dancing. I took her out to dinner. We talked and walked. Brooke sent her a scowling emoji. Charley walked down the hall to her apartment and leaned against the wall by her door. And then we made out like randy teenagers under the bleachers of that baseball field on Twelfth Ave. But the neighborhood police patrol broke up our session, and I sent her home. I am officially an old fart. Her phone rang an instant later and Charley laughed out loud as she unlocked her door.
“You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking,” Brooke said.
“Nope. I got possessed by the devil for an instant, but I’m not ready yet for a night in bed with her. If I even cross that line.”
“Please cross it. Just for one night. I can’t believe I’m rooting for the security guard here.”
“Brooke.” Charley had entered the bedroom, and the blinking message light on the phone caught her attention.
“Okay, okay, the writer.”
“No. My message light is blinking.”
There was a moment of silence between them.
“If my mother really needed me, she’d have called my cell phone.”
“Okay, so find out who it is. If you need me, call me. Otherwise, you have to call us in the morning and tell us every dirty detail of this date tonight.”
Tossing her cell phone on the bed, she hit the message button.
“Hey, babe, it’s me.”
Charley couldn’t possibly miss the sadness in Tricia’s voice this time. “I left you a message yesterday. I guess I didn’t expect you to call me back, but I do need you to. I can’t discuss this over the phone, but…I need your help. Please call me.”
Charley smoothed out the crumpled paper with Tricia’s number on it and reluctantly picked up the receiver, but then looked at the time on the clock and put it back down again. Where is Reagan? Why is she calling me? And then it dawned on her: Reagan must have left Tricia. Or vice versa. I hope that’s not what this is about…
As she brushed her teeth, she couldn’t help picturing Reagan and Tricia the night she’d stumbled upon them sitting at a table in the window of that Chelsea restaurant. She’d known immediately that they were lovers. Unnoticed, she had turned the corner and thrown up in a trash can. Hours later, she’d confronted Tricia, gotten the confession that she was fucking her new young associate, slammed out of the apartment, and taken a cab to Brooke’s.
Why do I do this to myself? Needing to staunch the rising stress level, she headed for the cats, who were curled up on the bed, tail to tail, two mismatched bookends. She pulled the covers back slowly so as not to dislodge them, slid into bed and kissed them each on a furry shoulder. Bing sighed. Bob shifted and opened one eye. Finally on the verge of falling asleep, Charley pushed aside the past and felt Neely pinning her against the bleachers, her lips setting her on fire, her hands adding fuel to that fire, her own hands full of Neely’s luscious ass, and she reached beneath the covers to quell the insistent pulsing that arose between her legs
* * *
In the morning, with the college football countdown show providing background “music,” Charley called Brooke and put the phone on speaker mode so that Annie could hear about the date, too.
“Are you listening to those stupid talking football heads?” Brooke asked. “They’re so full of hot air.”
“I have to listen to something while I clean the lab experiment in my refrigerator. I have no idea how this happened, but even the cats left the room when I discovered it this morning.”
“Oh, thanks so much for sharing that.”
Annie laughed. “Never mind that, Mrs. Clean. How was the date?”
An hour later, feeling like she had shared almost every minute of the date, her pantry shelves cleaned in addition to the refrigerator, Charley finally hung up, made lunch, and sat down at her computer to work on the next set of chapters. She lost track of time until the cats reminded her they needed sustenance. Charley made dinner for all three of them, watching some of the Boise State game as she ate hers, and then went back to work again.
Sunday morning, she felt the effects of sitting too long the day before and did something completely out of character: she left everything where it was, picked up her coat and canvas bag, slipped her last several chapters into it, and got on the subway to Woodside for the train to Long Beach. It was a perfect fall day, a cool seventy degrees, blue sky as far as you could see, and hardly anyone else on the train with her. She walked the beach from one end of the small town to the other, allowing her thoughts to run rampant without making any tidy conclusions, which was anathema to her very nature.
She sifted through problems like her mother’s increasing needs and her brother Robert’s recent request for more help from her. I’m going to have to g
ive him more of my time, but when? She worried about the possible merger Emily was working on. That generous pay raise suggested everything would be fine, but what if it wasn’t? Parts of her world that had been safe for so long suddenly seemed to be in flux. And now her previously nonexistent love life had become a thing. She climbed the ramp to the boardwalk and sat on a bench, turning so that the sun’s late afternoon rays hit her shoulders and back. Neely doesn’t fit into a neat box I can tie up with a pretty ribbon. As confused as she was about dating her, she was reluctant to lose the sense of life at full throttle that it was giving her. And she didn’t know enough about Joanna to know what might happen tomorrow when they met for coffee. What if her hunch proved wrong? At least she’d have a new friend. Two new friends. She was going to have to do something she rarely did. Let go, and let things happen.
She took the chapters she’d brought with her out of her bag. This is one thing I can control.
Chapter Eleven
Anyone walking down the main hall of the Legal Department could see Emily Dunn’s big glass office at the far end, and as Charley made her way to her desk, Emily was sitting there staring into space, a piece of paper in her hand. Charley sensed trouble, dropped her canvas bag on her chair, and went in. “What’s up?”
Emily looked at her absently. “Hans contacted another company to help with the Middle East deal, but Donnie went and screwed things up with their CEO.” Emily rubbed her eyes. “God, Donnie is such a stupid prick, and I had no idea this was going on. If it’s what I think it is, Hans didn’t even clear it with the board. And now he’s tasked me with fixing everything. Trouble is, I don’t know anyone over there.”
“Where?”
Emily handed the piece of paper to Charley.
She looked at the information in front of her. It was a financial breakdown of their biggest competitor. “Okay.”
“Something doesn’t feel right. But beyond that, I’m not sure how to get in the door.”
“Emily, you know everyone in this business.”
She hung her head. “What I should’ve said is I’ve burned so many bridges getting here that I’m sure no one will answer my calls.”
“Who do you need to see there?”
“Paul Whitney, the CEO.”
Charley went out to her desk, opened her digital Rolodex, and dialed the number that popped up on the screen. A moment later, Emily was leaning over her shoulder reading the screen, and Charley felt her freeze. She was amused by the surprised look on her boss’s face as she secured her an appointment with the CEO and a date for drinks with his assistant for herself. “You’re in,” she said, hanging up. “Nine thirty Wednesday morning.”
“Shit. How do you know Paul Whitney’s assistant?”
“Worked with Payton years ago in advertising. My Rolodex is full of assistants I never lose touch with or track of. Never know when you’re going to need to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Consider Payton said rabbit.”
“You’ve never burned a bridge in your life, have you?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Wow. Okay, well, I need to think about what I’m putting together for this guy.” Emily went back into her office, then came out again. “How does Payton know he’ll see me? Considering Donnie’s utter incompetence, I’d think he’d cancel me in a heartbeat when he spots the appointment in his calendar.”
Charley snorted. “Payton’s been working with him for fifteen years. If she put the meeting in his calendar, he’s going to trust that there was a damn good reason. Besides, she knew I was begging. I owe her now.”
Emily sat down at her desk, got up again, and walked to the doorway. “Bring me the receipt for your drinks when you meet with her. I’ll expense them.”
“You know that’s not kosher, don’t you?”
“I have an assistant who’s good at burying that sort of stuff deep in the expense reports,” Emily said as she returned to her desk.
Charley laughed.
An hour later, she had the notes for Emily’s presentation to Paul Whitney. Looking them over, she realized Emily was angling for a joint rollout with this new digital company they needed help with, positioning it as a win over the possible takeover Hans had obviously sent Donnie in to sell to Paul. She’s trying to save us. Hans was going to give us away, and she knew that.
Emily’s accompanying instructions made her smile. Work your magic, make this sing.
It took her all day to fashion the ten-minute PowerPoint, going back and forth with Emily as they tried to get it right, adding and deleting fade-ins and experimenting with an animated pie chart, finally settling on revolving financial charts, all the while trying to hide her surprise and fear at the information indicating how much trouble the company was experiencing, knowing that that was why Hans might’ve been trying to unload it. By the time she left for the pool, she had a headache and was exhausted on many levels.
Charley didn’t see the telltale blue Yale lock anywhere when she arrived in the locker room, and the sensation she experienced in the pit of her stomach wasn’t good. Joanna hadn’t seemed like the kind of woman who would leave someone high and dry over a simple cup of coffee. But then, it wasn’t like Charley knew her at all. What if the whole date thing had, in the end, scared her off?
Hoping she was just going to show up later than usual, Charley headed down to the pool and the comfort of Anita’s regimentation, opting for the heavier blue Styrofoam water weights so she’d have to keep focused on the class. She knew she’d pay for that choice tomorrow.
Back upstairs an hour later, there was still no blue lock in sight. On any locker. Charley checked the whole room. Should she wait? Get dressed and sit in the little TV area for a few minutes? And how long should she wait before feeling foolish? Charley didn’t want to get angry because maybe there was a really good reason Joanna didn’t show up. And making plans for coffee wasn’t exactly ironclad. She got dressed and went home.
In the kitchen, Charley dropped the salad she’d bought at the Amish Market on the counter and headed for the bathroom to toss her suit into the sink. The blinking red message light caught her attention as she passed the phone on her night table. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out who it was.
“Hey, Charley. I’m sorry I’m stalking you, but I need you. It’s something serious. Please call.”
She sat on the bed and tried to measure her feeling of inadequacy at not calling against her anger that Tricia was trying to contact her, and then got mad that she even considered herself inadequate. Whatever Tricia wanted, the call was going to be hard. She sat on the bed for a few minutes, rehearsing in her head what she and Brooke had talked about, and picked up the phone to dial, but before she hit the last number, she hung up.
Instead, she rinsed out her suit and walked out to the kitchen, fed the cats, picked up a fork and the salad, and went to her computer to bury herself in editing and reshaping the next batch of chapters.
* * *
“Are you ready for tonight?” Neely asked when Charley handed her ID over the desk Tuesday morning.
“Yes.”
“There’s a room I work in at Hunter Library. No one seems to know about it, so I have it to myself. I’ll meet you downstairs with a guest pass at eight. Is that okay? I’ve read the next five chapters, so we can take a look at my notes and decide if they work for your overall vision.”
Neely looked so serious as she handed the ID back. Charley would have to reconcile this mentor with the woman who had flirted relentlessly with her all year and then set her on fire under the bleachers Friday night. Neely was more complicated than Charley had realized, and she wondered, again, what she was doing dating her.
The morning slipped by with Charley working through everything Emily thought she would need for tomorrow’s meeting with Paul Whitney. When she finally looked up, Emily was coming down the hall with two bags from Chop’t, the salad place around the corner.
“You’ve done yeoman’s work lately so I’m treating yo
u to lunch. You go to this place all the time, don’t you? Come on in and we can go over what we’ve got before my two o’clock.”
Toward the end of lunch, Emily kicked off her heels, tucked her feet up on the couch, and began dishing about many of the company men. Charley had never seen this side of her boss. It was amusing, and it also made her feel a little more secure. A good relationship with your boss wasn’t something that came easily.
“Of course, all this stays right here,” she said when she finally uncurled herself and stepped back into her heels.
“I should be horrified that you even asked,” Charley said.
* * *
Neely was in the lobby of the library, pass in hand, when Charley walked through the doors.
“They all smell the same, don’t they?” Charley said as they stepped into the elevator. “Academia. Books. Leather bindings. Even the dust.”
“And now it’ll smell a little bit like you…” Neely hooked her finger into the front of Charley’s shirt and kissed her, but when the doors opened, she became all business again. Sitting in the small space that contained a table, a chair, and the old overstuffed leather chair Neely admitted she’d dragged up from the second floor reading room, they discussed her notes, the edits, and the cuts she’d made that tightened the chapters and telescoped Charley’s story line. They also looked at Charley’s technique and style. She hadn’t had anyone to discuss those things with in a long time and reveled in it.
“What you’ve done is amazing,” Charley said.
“I keep telling you, I’m working with good material. And you’re getting that muscle back.”
Hours later, when Charley collected everything together to leave, Neely caught her up in her arms and kissed her, and like she had on Friday night, Charley surrendered to her soft lips, this time kissing Neely back, wrapped in the intimacy of the moment.
“Am I seeing you Friday night?” Neely asked, Charley still in her arms.
Charley hesitated. Closing the door on Karen had opened a window she hadn’t known was there. So much in her world had shifted, the biggest surprise being Neely and what was happening between them. There hadn’t been any contemplative time to iron it out, to figure out what she really wanted. Or what would be right for both of them. Friendship, yes; sleeping with her, a very possible yes, although the prospect of that hard young body against hers was daunting every time she thought about it despite knowing she wanted it. And what would the repercussions be? At this point in her life, the responsibility to consider that was paramount; she knew the outcome, emotional and practical, would never be on Neely’s mind. For this moment, though, the plausibility of another Friday out was off-putting.
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