“Uh, not so fast, there, Captain,” he said as he rushed to plug in his iPod and searched for a song.
“Ben…are you playing what I think…”
However, that fun and familiar mambo beat cut her off, and Ben opened his arms wide and winked. “We need to christen this living room,” he insisted. “How about a spin around the dance floor before you go to bed?”
“Relax, Max” was Ben’s unofficial song for Maxine. While Dinah Washington’s voice filled the room, he twirled and spun her around, not so gracefully, until they both nearly collapsed into a fit of laughter. These were the moments she missed the most with him. She could say anything or do anything, and at the end of the day, they could both just shrug it off and indulge in one of their little inside jokes. She missed her dad, but she knew she was under the perfect care of Ben for the long haul.
After three plays, it was time to collect their rubbish from their meal and close the lid on the pizza box. “I’ll likely be at work by the time you get up tomorrow,” Ben said, “but get out a bit and explore the neighborhood. The Whitney’s just right down the street.”
“We saw the Edward Hopper exhibit there with Mom,” she reflected, her smile sad but never waning. “What a grand day that was!”
“Judy made everything fun. Hell, her barbs alone made the afternoon worth it,” he reminisced. “She eviscerated me…and I liked it…”
Reaching out, she took Ben's hands in her own and swung them as she giggled at her recollections. Yes, Ben could tease, but Judy always returned his efforts in spades. “Thank you again, best friend. You're making this happen for me.”
“Nah, you landed that job yourself, Max,” he said, his hand descending upon her head to ruffle her hair. “You’re making it happen all on your own.”
“On the ‘morrow, fine gent,” she said with a courtesy.
With his hand to his forehead in salute, Ben smiled. “Onward, Captain…”
Feet shuffling along the old herringbone floors in the living and dining rooms then on through the chessboard tiles of the kitchen, she endeavored to find a contented medium in her conflicting emotions. Consciously, she knew that she needed to embrace all of the wonderful events unfolding in her life. However, she wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone and talk to her mom.
While she was in college, she returned to her room every single night and dialed her mother’s number—not out of duty, but simply because she couldn’t wait to tell her all about her days, the good ones and the bad. With her grief still so fresh, although it had been just over a year since Judy succumbed to brain cancer, she still had that urge to dial that number…to hear her voice. Tom had kept Judy’s phone just for that reason—so that they could still hear her greeting play, listen to the sound of her familiar voice. Often, Maxine would still call, leaving long, tear-jerked messages to the woman who truly made her into the young lady into whom she had grown.
That night, though, Maxine settled for her photo—one that Ben had placed upon her dresser. Taking the heavy crystal frame into her hands, she brought it to her lips and kissed her mother’s face against the chilly glass.
“I thanked Dad…and Ben…but I thank you, too, Mom,” she wept softly, hoping that Ben wasn’t anywhere near her door to hear her crying. “You were my inspiration…you were my everything…”
Choking back a sob, she jumped a bit to sit down upon that high bed that Ben and his mom had picked out for her, and she snuggled the picture frame to her heart.
“You taught me so much,” she continued on, staring at her mirror image in the photo. Judy had those same wide, emerald eyes that sparkled when she was happy and sparked when she was mad, with her long auburn hair bouncing so thickly upon her shoulders. Forty-two was much too young to die. They had so many plans together.
Judy always told her that she would personally pack her bags and move her to Manhattan, all the while promising that somehow—some way—she’d get her dear old dad to visit often. Maxine knew she would have, too.
“You fostered my appreciation of theater…of art…of everything that wasn’t available in that little town,” Maxine murmured, certain that her mother could hear her voice calling out to her in the darkness of night. She hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. It was just herself and her mom, alone in the ambient moonlight filtering through the window.
“I remember when I was five…and you took me to see the ballet—Swan Lake—in Pittsburgh. And you marched me down to the orchestra pit at intermission, just so that I could see what was going on down there…and you told me to always watch the conductor because he was often the most entertaining part of the entire show…and I never forgot that, Mom. Ever…”
Her fingers smudged the glass as she wiped her tears that fell upon the frame away. “But even more, I remember how every day when I’d come home crying in grade school because someone picked on me…called me fat…called me ugly…and you swore to me that I was better than they were…that I’d do amazing things with my life. And I didn’t believe you. I was hurting too much. And I couldn’t see the goodness—the greatness—in myself. But you always did.”
Knuckles turning white, she wrapped her fingers tighter around the picture. Strength, Mom—give me strength…
“And I know you would have packed my bags yourself if you were still here…and that you'd be with me now. And that Ben would have let you sleep in his own bed…and…” Folding herself in half, she dropped her head between her knees and stifled her sobs, mindful that Ben might hear her. She didn't want him to worry. “Why did you have to go so soon, Mom? Why…?”
Maxine never stopped herself from grieving, but over the last month, she’d managed to contain her tears. That night, however, she had to allow herself the time to remember her mother…and to cry.
From her earliest memories of imagining she'd move to New York one day, she never thought that Judy wouldn't be with her, right alongside her, helping her along the way. That was something they were supposed to have experienced together. They’d even joked around about her first apartment, mocking how small it would likely be and what sort of seedy neighborhood she could barely afford.
“Mom…I hope you can hear me…I hope you can see me…” she pleaded into the empty space before her. “I want to do a good job here…I want to make this work…not just for me—but in your memory, too.”
Hugging her knees, she allowed the photo to drop beside her on the bed as her body shook with sobs. She needed this release as much as she despised it. She cried for her mother…her father—even herself. Life wasn't always fair, but she never imagined it would be so cruel, losing her mother before she'd even reached official adulthood. Often, she thought she was just selfish, needing Judy beside her to advise her on what to do next. However, she missed their long walks and even longer talks. She missed the chats they'd share on the back porch in the morning. And she missed the fact that the next time she went to the theater, she'd be without Judy.
Once she'd composed herself somewhat, she picked up that picture again and looked deeply into her mother's twinkling green eyes. “Just keep watch over Daddy,” Maxine said. “He misses you. And now he misses me, too…”
Rather than replacing the frame in its spot on the dresser, she kissed the photo, then sat it upon the nightstand next to her bed, leaving her mother to mind her as she slept.
Tugging the covers down and then around her, she settled herself into the bed. It was a brand-new mattress, but she found herself tossing and turning immediately. She had to still herself—force herself to be calm.
She grabbed her favorite childhood toy that she'd tossed on the bed from her suitcase earlier and held it to her chest in the crook of her arm. Stuffy the Lamb. Judy bought him for Maxine for Easter when she was maybe three years old. He was timeworn and tattered now, but Maxine still took him everywhere. In fact, she'd once instructed Ben to bury Stuffy with her, which he reluctantly promised to do.
Clutching that toy as if she were clinging to her mother's l
ast seconds of life, she looked up at the reflection of the crystals from the chandelier that danced on the ceiling in the moonlight. Finally, she allowed the shadows to hypnotize her into sleep.
Chapter Three
“OK… a little big here,” Ben said, pinching the excess fabric at her waistline, “but dammit, you’re rocking it, girl!”
Twirling around in the lacy, navy dress, Maxine giggled over the fluttering skirt. How she loved nothing more than getting dressed up—and having somewhere to go—on a Friday night, for a change. For the first time in weeks, she'd bothered to do her makeup, although Maxine never wore much—just eyeliner and mascara, a bit of gloss and a light dusting of blush over her cheeks. She'd blown out her thick auburn locks to sleek perfection, taking extra time with each and every section to assure that the volume would last throughout the evening.
“Here…” she said, passing her phone to Ben. “Take a photo, so that I can send it to Dad. He needs assurance that I’m not sitting around and moping like I did at home.”
It was quite amusing to Maxine to send her dad a picture of herself all dolled up. In truth, when Judy found out that she was pregnant, Tom wanted a boy. Max was going to be his name…until his new bride had an ultrasound that left his dreams of having a son crushed. To compensate, Tom often took little Maxine out to the woods with him, and while she loved to play and stomp around in the brush, she stopped short of hunting expeditions with her dear old dad. She did, however, love to watch him toil away in his workshop, where he spent most of his time when he wasn't off supervising a construction site in one of the surrounding small towns. He built houses for a living, but his true passion resided in his first love of building new and restoring old furniture. In fact, their family home was filled with many of his pieces. He'd even constructed a treehouse for Maxine when she was a small girl that was still perched up high in that old oak tree in the wooded fields behind their home.
“Count of three—say Cabaret!” Ben said with a nod toward the hottest ticket on Broadway at the moment. Once he snapped, he surveyed his work. “Gorgeous, Captain!”
Looking down upon the photo, Maxine said, “Not bad for a little girl from the backwoods of Pennsylvania…”
“Well, I think you’re going to get laid tonight…” he sputtered suddenly out of the clear blue.
“Ben!” No one could make her blush like her best friend could. “Will you stop with that? Besides, I think this event will likely have greater pickings for you than me…”
“Are you stereotyping all gay men as theater-loving divas?” he mockingly accused.
“Would I dare?” her eyes challenged him.
“Yeah, but that’s alright, Captain,” he said. “You’ve already proven yourself—I’ve inducted you into my Fag Hag Club.”
Returning her attention to the wicker framed mirror above her dresser for one final look at herself, Maxine asked, “There are others?”
“Well, not exactly,” he shrugged. “But in case I feel the need to add any in the future…”
“Uh…text from Dad…why am I going out so late on a Friday night?” she read from the small screen of her phone. “Because Broadway related functions start late, as most shows don't close until ten-thirty…”
“Tell him I’m going with you…”
“I can’t lie to my father!” she insisted.
“How are you getting there, by the way?” Ben, the always overprotective big brother she’d always wanted, inquired.
“Subways run all night in this town, so I hear.”
“Um, no. You’ll take a taxi. And I’ll give you money.”
“I’ve got the money, Ben,” she said. “But what’s wrong with the train?”
“It’s almost eleven o’clock at night, and you’re a young woman traveling by herself,” he said, helping her into her raincoat. “And I want to get some sleep tonight. I don’t want to be wide awake, worrying about my best friend.”
“OK!” she relented. “I’ll take a cab.”
“And you’ll get laid…” he said on the fly.
“I’ll take a cab to and from the party—alone.”
“Yeah, and the sad part is that I know you will,” he grumbled. “Oh, well…I’m trying here…”
“Technically, this is my first official function for work, Ben,” she reminded him. “I should remain on my best behavior.”
“Yeah,” he sighed in resignation. “I know.”
Ben followed her through the apartment to the front door, making sure that she had her wallet and keys in that tiny clutch she carried. Maxine didn’t even bother to fight him when he escorted her outside to hail a cab.
“Call me if you need anything,” Ben said as the taxi pulled up alongside them at the curb. “But most importantly, have fun tonight, Max. You deserve it.”
With a thoughtful nod, she heeded his words with every intention to enjoy herself fully. “I will—that, I can promise you.”
“Later, Cap,” he opened her door for her.
“Don’t wait up…”
“Oh, I will…”
# # #
“Maxine!” that familiar voice called out when she stepped off the elevator to the penthouse suite at the SoHo Grand. It was quite early for this crowd yet—only eleven-twenty—and the lofty suite had yet to fill. The expansive view of the New York skyline from the panoramic windows easily distracted Maxine and entranced her with its sparkle and splendor. For that sight of the incomparable lower Manhattan scape alone, she thought it was well worth the cab ride downtown.
A tall and slender brunette with a bob of tight curls and deep brown eyes, Jillian McGee flashed her bright white, but genuine smile the second she spotted Maxine. Throughout Maxine’s internship, Jillian had been her mentor, her advisor and her friend. Although she was only four years older than Maxine, Jillian had climbed the ladder at D &D rather quickly. And Maxine just admired her. She took the time to teach her protégé the art of public relations from the ground up. She recognized Maxine’s talents and drive from her first day in the office, and eventually, she trusted her with calling the press and small writing assignments. When an opening became available, Maxine was the first person that Jillian insisted they call.
Arms open for a long overdue hug, Maxine felt dwarfed by Jillian’s presence. Even in heels, Maxine still felt so small beside her long and lanky frame.
“I am so glad you're here, Max,” Jillian said, taking a step back while still holding on to Maxine's hands. The poor thing had lost so much weight since her mother's death. She seemed like only a shell of the girl Jillian knew just a couple of summers ago. Perhaps living in New York now, away from the harsh reminders of her life back in Pennsylvania, would help her to heal at long last. “And everyone at D & D is just thrilled that you'll be joining us full-time. You were always one of the few interns we remembered fondly. And there weren't many, you know…”
“Jill…thank you for taking a chance on me,” Maxine said, giving those hands a squeeze. “I’m very proud to become a part of the team.”
“Even Jeffrey himself can’t wait to see you,” she said, dropping in the name of the agency’s CEO, Jeffrey Dawson. “Not supposed to tell you this, but I’m excited. We’re doing a little welcome lunch in the conference room for you when you start. I’m in charge.”
“I’ll feign surprise,” Maxine promised with a wink. “So…more urgently…what’s in store for this evening?”
“Oh, you’re just here to have fun,” Jillian said, patting her on the back. “I’ll introduce you around, though, to the press agents we usually work with—if they even bother to show. This is sort of the first party after the summer, so don’t expect a crowd. You may see a few faces you know, but certainly no Patti LuPone or Alan Cumming tonight. Some of the rising stars, so to speak.”
Maxine loved how Jillian just dropped two of the biggest names in theater like it was nothing. Patti LuPone was a Kirk family icon. Judy had adored her, and they’d seen the Broadway luminary on stage too many ti
mes to count over the years. To work with her would be Maxine’s ultimate measure of success. One day, Mom, she promised both herself and Judy.
“The coat check is across the room, then make a left,” Jillian said, gesturing toward a far-off corner of the loft. “Why don't you get comfortable, grab a drink and I'll introduce you around…?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Maxine said. “See you back here in a few…”
Don’t fall, Maxine, she thought to herself, as she hurried on her wobbly legs in pursuit of Jillian’s directions. She already felt a blister building beneath the leather of those expensive stiletto heels that had been an impulse purchase not long after her mother passed away. Now stuck with those damn shoes, Maxine decided that she had to wear them. She didn’t care that she’d inherited her mother’s small stature—she simply preferred flats!
Carefully, Maxine plotted her route, meandering through the small crowd across what seemed to be a football field of a living room. She stopped at the bar along the way, feeling like she needed just a little shot of courage, and ordered a glass of champagne.
In true Kirk fashion, however, she felt herself falling, as one spike of her heels caught the other. Thud. Boom. Right into the hard chest of…some…random…
Noooooooo!
As she struggled to level herself, face-to-face, with the soft feel of a fine jacket, she realized that she was likely only rubbing her make-up into the fabric. Fire radiated on her cheeks, which she tried to mask with the tiny bejeweled clutch she'd been carrying that evening. But before she had a chance to run, she felt the sturdy grip of long fingers clasp her arms, helping her to stand upright in those stupid shoes.
She closed her eyes for a moment, too terrified to face her rescuer, but once she opened them, she found his own soulful—possibly sad—blue-eyed stare piercing her own. Folding her lips together, she thought those eyes just might have the power to stop her thundering heart beating so wildly in her chest.
Electricity, white and hot, radiated through the palm of her hand that he held so delicately in his own. This single moment rendered her speechless. She couldn’t move, paralyzed by this blond, curly-haired gentleman with the chiseled jaw, steely gaze and too handsome face that she recognized immediately.
WEAKENED: The Manhattan Bound Series Book One Page 4