Touch Me When We're Dancing

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “Glad I caught you,” he said. “I’ve got bad news.”

  Imagining the last minute contract null and void, she asked, “What is it?”

  “Randy just called, and we have two issues. Pam is furious about you hosting his show, so he’s going to talk to George Crier about rescinding their offer.”

  “Big deal. I’ve been thrown out of better places than that one.”

  He had to pause to bite his tongue from laughing out loud. Once he composed himself, he continued. “That’s not all. She doesn’t want you working in the offices or using our resources. I’m sorry. You’ll have to figure out something else.”

  “The next time you tell me you have bad news, make it something worthwhile. None of that fazes me.”

  “Okay, well, as long as we understand each other.”

  “I hope Randy realizes that leaves the Dutch house off-limits to him now. I’ll find another production company to do a piece on it, and it will be better than anything that public broadcasting dog and pony show can do.

  “And the Two Bridges adult fantasyland? The developer won’t talk to anyone but me. You actually did me a big favor by staying out of negotiations today. Thank you!”

  A better deal could be offered to Richard O’Dell now that she didn’t have to share with Lang, Smith and Romney, and she could hardly wait to tell the man.

  Stunned, and with his mouth hanging open, Peter heard what she’d said and, once it registered, started to protest. Stopping himself, he decided the best way to handle it was to confront Pam. In the middle of a nor’easter, he’d go to Long Island and have an audience with her come snow or tsunami.

  “Let me see what I can do,” Peter said, trying to placate her.

  “Forget it, Peter. I’m not waiting around for you. If I’m out, I’ll line up another office tonight. I can’t wait around for a frustrated housewife to change her mind.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “Peter, save it!” She pulled her briefcase off the chair. “I’ll send a messenger around to get the rest of my files in the morning. In the meantime, if anyone touches anything in this office, I’ll sue you. Goodbye,” she said, and with a little throwing of the scarf around her neck, she made a grand exit, laughing when she thought of the look on Peter’s face—pure terror.

  Once she was out of sight, Peter called his wife and apologized, but he had to go to Long Island and probably wouldn’t be home until long after midnight. He called for a car, and his usual service refused to make the trip because of the storm. Then he thought of Ryan.

  When Ryan saw it was the office, he debated answering, and as luck would have it, he let it go to voice mail. Listening to Peter’s desperation later, he laughed. There would be no run to Babylon for Ryan that night, no matter how important Peter thought it was.

  Out on Exchange Place, Damon waited for Sandra at the curb and ran to meet her with an umbrella. Fortunately, the air was cold enough that slush hadn’t formed yet, and her expensive shoes would be saved, an important consideration for Sandra.

  “I wonder if restaurants are going to be open tonight.”

  “I doubt it, miss,” Damon said. “Do you want me to make a call for you?”

  “No, I’ll text Michael.”

  His response—Gracie’s was closed, so he’d order in dinner. Laying her head back on the seat, in spite of Peter’s ridiculous newsflash that evening, she had a feeling of peace and satisfaction. Everything was turning out exactly as it was supposed to. After what she’d been through in the days following Jenna’s death, Peter’s pronouncements were a piece of cake. If Pam didn’t want her around, great, she wouldn’t be around.

  It made her think of Brent. She was going to fight even harder to regain custody of him. She missed her little boy. Tim didn’t deserve him; he’d taken him away for spite. And once she got him back, none of those lowlifes in Babylon would see him again.

  As proof that she was longing to see her son again, she phoned Tim, and of course, his voice mail was full. She also called Lisa and left a message, and then Pam and left a message that she was trying to contact Tim, not mentioning the show.

  Pam was hiding in her bedroom, avoiding Randy, when the call came through. She’d already heard from Randy that Peter was going to come to Babylon to beg her to change her mind; the Dutch house was off-limits to the production company. It would mean a lot to the company to have the show focused on them. But she wasn’t hearing it.

  “Randy, tell him to save himself the trip. I’m not seeing Peter. Frankly, I want to be alone right now, if you don’t mind. I’ve had enough for one day.”

  So Randy told Peter what she said, and then called George Crier that they’d be starting from square one because the Dutch house was Sandra’s project. It was difficult to explain the significance of Sandra without betraying some confidences, but Randy pulled it off.

  Sitting in Jack’s old leather recliner by the fire, Randy thought about the events of the day, how he had retired so he could spend more time with Pam, and now she was angry with him and wouldn’t even talk to him. He decided he was going to confront her about it.

  In the kitchen, he’d had a wine cooler installed, and he pulled a bottle of Vouvray, uncorked it, and grabbed two glasses. Back in the bedroom, she was sitting with a book on her lap, reading glasses on her nose.

  “I thought you’d like a nice beverage,” he said, holding up the bottle.

  She reached up and pulled her glasses off and laughed. “Wine would be nice,” she said. “I’m not going to change my mind, however.”

  “I wouldn’t think of asking you to,” he said. “I just don’t like this not talking. The only way we’ll work out problems is by talking. It’s important to me for you to know that I don’t like Sandra and I don’t want her around. I thought she’d be good as a host after George mentioned it, and I didn’t think of anything else at the time.”

  “See, now that frightens me,” Pam said. “You were under her spell.”

  “That’s horseshit.”

  “I heard you out; now you should do me the same courtesy.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Carry on.”

  “Sandra is devious. The reason you didn’t disagree with George even though you’d just shelled out four million dollars to get rid of her is because you were influenced by her appearance. What other explanation can you give me?”

  Randy went to the window and pulled the drape aside. Although he couldn’t see anything but a black void, he stood listening to the waves crashing on the beach. She was right, but he was too embarrassed to admit it.

  “I can’t give you any other explanation,” he replied, contrite. “She’s history. We’ll have to choose another project, which will take more time and delay production. Why does everything suddenly depend on her?” He shook his head.

  “Well, I guess you get it now. I’m really ticked off at Peter, though. He knows how slippery she is, yet he let her back in. I’m not done with him yet.”

  “You don’t have to worry about Peter,” Randy said, which was the wrong thing to tell Pam.

  “I trusted him, and he proved that he’s not immune. If you’re a guy, you get sucked in by her. If you’re a woman, you get sucked in! Look at me. I practically lived my life to please her the first year after Jack died. Even Bernice, even hard old Bernice wasn’t safe from succumbing to Sandra. My mother is the only one who never caved to her.”

  “Are you concerned that she’d retaliate? What about Brent? If she ever gets him back, that’s it for us seeing him.”

  “As long as Tim has him, Brent is not a problem,” Pam replied. “We have to make sure Tim keeps Brent.”

  Thinking of Brent made her think of Jack.

  “Randy, I’m going to confess something to you. It might be painful to hear. In all the years I was married to Jack, we never fought. What’s happening now between you and me would never have happened because I would have turned the other cheek. I’d sense something was amiss, or it would be bl
atantly not to my liking, yet I would look the other way.

  “Everything he got away with was due to my letting it go. I have a deadly disease because of it. I felt that something was truly wrong in those last months, but I never addressed it. I never said no to Jack. If he called me to say he wasn’t coming home for some lame reason, I never confronted him.

  “Now I know that he was with Sandra during those times. He was under her spell. Chances are even if I’d fought him, nothing would have changed. We might even have gotten a divorce before he died. I’ll never know.

  “But I’m no longer that woman. I won’t have her making demands in my life, even those she isn’t aware of, like this latest thing, where she just shows up and everyone rearranges the schedule to include her. No. You felt it, and that’s why you snuck behind my back for the buyout. Why would you risk angering me about something so monumental unless you really felt compelled? Because you know she’s a snake.”

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “You’re right. It’s frightening to think a bunch of men could be so vulnerable.”

  “I feel sorry for Michael Bennett,” Pam said. “He really is at her mercy and has no idea.”

  When Sandra got home, Michael was setting the table with long white tapers in silver holders on a white linen tablecloth. They’d eat dinner in the alcove off the kitchen, overlooking midtown, the Empire State Building in the distance. He wanted to celebrate her coup: so many good things happening for her in one day. Sandra was on a roll.

  He heard the elevator ping and went around to the foyer to greet her. The double doors of the elevator slid open, and she came gliding through like a queen, her coat open, a long black silk scarf untied, a bulging briefcase in her hand.

  “Let me take that for you. Yikes! What’s in here?”

  “Pretty much my life,” she said. “Everything has changed since we talked this afternoon. Shall I tell you now or wait for dinner?”

  “Change into spandex and you can tell me during dinner. Do you still have to work tonight?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll probably need your help, too.”

  “Whatever you need, you can have,” he said, following her back to the bedroom. He sat in the chair in front of a window overlooking the Hudson River and New Jersey. The bedroom jutted out of the penthouse like a peninsula, windows on three sides. Tonight the lights were intimidating, though, so Sandra shut the drapes before she undressed.

  He watched her walking around the room, methodically hanging up her suit for another wear, putting the silk blouse into the cleaner’s bag. She went into the bathroom, and he could hear the water running while she washed her face, the makeup and grime of the day going down the drain. When she came out, her face was pink and shining, her hair up in a ponytail on top of her head, earrings out. She looked like a different person than the glamourous woman who’d stepped off the elevator ten minutes earlier—this was a clean-scrubbed teenager.

  Watching her brought him joy; she was so organized, her routine unchanging. She was dressed in skintight spandex binding in the crotch, leaving nothing to the imagination. He looked away when she walked past him because he knew better than to proposition her when she was on a mission. Maybe after she told him her news and listened to his and finished her work, he’d make a pass at her. But only then.

  “What’d you order? I’m famished.”

  “Lobster ravioli.”

  “Yum. Let’s eat.”

  He got up from the chair and followed her back out into the apartment. She saw the table set.

  “How beautiful. This is just what I’m in the mood for. Thank you so much, Michael, you always go the extra mile.”

  Standing by her while she dished out their food, Michael told her about his day, first the stressful stuff, a lawsuit the hospital was dealing with that was warranted, how they’d handle it to minimize the backlash but do right by the family of a patient who’d died. Then the good: a new surgeon they’d lured away from Ann Arbor, a heart specialist.

  Handing him his plate, Sandra nodded toward the table, excited for him regarding the new surgeon. Sympathetic about the lawsuit.

  “Now it’s your turn,” he said. “I didn’t mean to go on and on.”

  “Well, there’s news that might seem not so good.”

  She told him about Pam’s demands, the recantation of the host offer for the show about the Dutch house, and the use of the office and staff. He protested, but she insisted it had a silver lining. The contract for the Two Bridges project was signed, and now she could lower the price for the developer, which would make him very happy. The downside to it was that she had to find an office to rent immediately.

  “I know you have to do that from time to time when office space is tight,” she said. “What’s your advice?”

  “I’ll call the building manager tonight, but I believe we have offices on the east side to sublet. Are you good traveling over there?”

  “That would be perfect,” she said. “My projects are on the east side, and the developer lives downtown.”

  “Okay, as soon as we’re done, I’ll make the call.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about Brent tonight,” she said.

  “Let’s double our efforts, then. What can I do to help you?”

  “I think I need to just show up at Pam’s house. What do you think about taking a ride to Babylon with me this weekend?”

  “That’s fine,” he said, pouring wine. “I’m ready to get out of town for a day. We might think about looking for a summer rental while we’re there if the snow stops.”

  Having thought the same thing, she was pleased their minds seem to be moving in the same direction. “You’d do that?”

  “I’d love to have a place to hang out this summer. I’ll get a paper in the morning on my way in to work.”

  “Don’t people of our means hire someone to look?” she asked, her eyes twinkling over the glass of wine.

  “I like doing the work,” he said. “It’s fun to look. Then when we have an idea of what we want, we can call a realtor.”

  “Okay,” she said. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

  “This is true,” he said, holding up his glass. “To us. A summer at the beach.”

  “To us! Yes!”

  Chapter 5

  Nanny Valarie sat on the floor with Brent, organizing toys in his new bedroom. She had a list a mile long, of groceries they needed, the school forms where he’d go for preschool, all things Tim didn’t want to leave to Lisa to accomplish.

  The idea that her commute had doubled having to come out to Babylon every day was troubling, but she had an idea. There was a small alcove off Brent’s room where a cot would fit perfectly. The plan was to ask Tim if she could live in. Her family of origin was a financial and emotional drain. If she ever had a free moment to herself, she’d consider joining a dating website. Maybe out of her mother’s house once and for all, away from her sisters and lazy brother, she’d have half a chance of getting a life.

  “What’s going on?”

  She looked over her shoulder at Tim standing in the doorway, smiling down at her.

  “Organizing the master’s toys,” she said, and then thinking that moment was as good as any, she added, “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Shoot. Or do you want to sit down over coffee and do it?”

  “Maybe coffee would be nice now. Can I take Brent to play with his cousins?”

  “Sure. I’m sorry I’m being such a pain about keeping him in our space. I just don’t want Lisa to feel like we’re taking advantage of her.”

  “I gotcha,” Valarie said, standing up, grabbing Tim’s offered hand. “I’ll make a fresh pot.”

  “I already did,” he said. “Thank you for remembering to pack the pot and coffee.”

  The noise from downstairs made them smile. Alison’s daughter, Diana, was there playing with Megan, and she was a noisy, demanding child. The boys were running wild, and the sound of toys hitting the wall followed by Lisa’s
voice calling out, “Knock it off!” made the adults laugh.

  “Daniela must not be here yet,” Tim said, getting the only two mugs they’d unpacked out of the sink and rinsing them out.

  “She’s at the Chuas’ in the morning. Lisa is going to ask them to move here, too. Daniela overheard her tell Julie that she’d give them money for a house, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “It would probably be worth it to have the father closer. The temptation might be not to make the trip if it’s too far.”

  “Well, it will be interesting to see if he caves. His other baby mama is at the farm, remember.”

  “Yikes. I did forget about that. I sure have led a boring life,” Tim said, sadly thinking of his unborn baby. “What about you, Valarie? Are you in love with anyone?”

  “Ha! Here, sit down,” she said, putting a cup of coffee down. “I wanted to ask you if I could live in. That’s how exciting my life is.”

  Tim looked carefully at her to see if she was joking. He’d never spent much time getting to know Valarie because she was the nanny. Keeping it impersonal had worked, and now she was asking for more from him.

  “I’m ready to move out of my mother’s house so the family can stop using me. I have a brother who has never held down a job. He’s nineteen and takes classes when he feels like it at the community college, while us girls have worked since we were twelve. My mother worships him. Everyone has their hands out. The weekends, unless I’m with you, are spent helping my aunt with her catering business, doing work that I’m never paid for.”

  “Is there room here for another adult?”

  “Follow me,” she said, standing up.

  They walked down the narrow hall to a windowless alcove off Brent’s room. In order to get into it, she’d have to tiptoe through his room every night. The space was large enough for a twin bed and a chest of drawers and maybe a narrow wardrobe.