The Cocktail Collection

by Alice Clayton

  And Clive?

  Clive was strutting. Strutting back and forth in front of her, giving it his all. He turned like he was on a runway, pacing along a line on the floor and glancing at her nonchalantly.

  If Clive could wear a blazer, he would have taken it off, draped it casually over his kitty shoulder, and pointed at her. It was all I could do not to fall down laughing. I stepped toward him, and Purina shouted something at me in Russian. I ignored her and focused all my attention on my cat.

  “Hey, Clive. Hey. Where’s my good boy?” I crooned, and he turned. He glanced at me and then jerked his head in Purina’s direction as though he were making the first round of introductions. “Who’s your new friend?” I crooned again, shaking my head at Purina when she tried to say something. I held my finger up in front of my lips. This would require great finesse.

  “Clive, come here!” Mimi yelled and barreled into the room. She always had trouble containing her excitement.

  Clive made for the door as Mimi made for Clive. Purina made for the bed as I raced after Mimi, who collided with Simon just outside the bedroom door, who was still holding his damn Whole Foods bags. Thoughtfully chosen sustainable, organic produce rained down on both of them as I pushed past, hurdling over limbs and a wheel of Brie on my way back to the front door. I caught Clive just as he made a break for the stairs and held him close.

  “Clive, you know better than to run away from Mommy,” I chastised as Simon and Mimi finally caught up to us.

  “What the hell are you doing, Cockblocker? Are you trying to kill me?” he shouted.

  Mimi rounded on him. “Don’t you call her that, you . . . you . . . you wall banger!” she fired back, smacking his chest.

  “Oh, you two shut up!” I yelled. Here came Purina down the hallway toward us, wearing only one shoe and a furious look. She began to shout in Russian.

  Mimi and Simon continued to yell, Purina screamed, Clive struggled to get loose and be reunited with his one and only, and I stood in the middle of the chaos trying to figure out what the hell had happened in the last two minutes.

  “Get control of your damn cat!” Simon yelled as Clive tried to spring free.

  “Don’t you yell at Caroline!” Mimi yelled, smacking him again.

  “Look at my skirt!” Purina cried.

  “Did someone order pad thai?” I heard above the chaos. I looked and saw a petrified delivery boy standing on the top step, reluctant to come any farther.

  Everyone stopped.

  “Unbelievable,” Mimi muttered and walked into my apartment, motioning for the delivery boy to follow her. I set Clive just inside the door and pulled it shut, cutting off his cries. Simon ushered Purina into his place, telling her softly to find something in his room to put on.

  “I’ll be there in just a minute,” he said, and nodded again for her to go inside. She glared at me once more and spun in a huff, slamming the door.

  He turned back to me and we stared at each other, both starting to laugh at the same time.

  “Did that really just happen?” he asked through his chuckles.

  “I’m afraid it did. Please tell Purina I am sooo sorry,” I answered, wiping tears from my eyes.

  “I will, but she needs to cool off for a while before I will attempt that—Wait, what did you just call her?” he asked.

  “Umm, Purina?” I replied, still chortling.

  “Why do you call her that?” he asked, no longer laughing.

  “Seriously? Come on, you can’t figure it out?” I said.

  “No, tell me,” he said, running his hands through his hair.

  “Oh man, you’re gonna make me say it? Purina . . . because she, God, because she meows!” I blurted, laughing again.

  He blushed deep red and nodded. “Right, right, of course you would’ve heard that.” He laughed. “Purina,” he said under his breath and smiled. I could hear Mimi arguing with the delivery guy in my apartment, something about missing spring rolls.

  “She’s a little scary, you know.” Simon said, gesturing toward my door.

  “You have no idea,” I said. I could still hear Clive wailing behind the door. I pressed my face to the edge and opened it just an inch.

  “Shut it, Clive,” I hissed. A paw came out through the crack, and I swear he flipped me off.

  “I don’t know a lot about cats, but is that normal feline behavior?” Simon asked.

  “He has a rather odd attachment to your girl there—ever since the second night I lived here. I think he’s in love.”

  “I see. Well, I’ll make sure I convey his sentiments to Nadia,” he said. “When the time is right, of course.” He chuckled and prepared to go back inside.

  “You better keep it down over there tonight, or I’ll send Clive back,” I warned.

  “Jesus, no,” he said.

  “Well, then turn on some music. You gotta give something,” I pleaded. “Or he’ll be climbing the walls again.”

  “Music I can do. Any requests?” he asked, turning to face me from inside the doorway. I backed up to mine and put my hand on my door.

  “Anything but big band, okay?” I answered softly. Heart moved down low in my tummy, flitting about.

  A look of disappointment crossed his face. “You don’t like big band?” he inquired, his voice low.

  I pressed my fingers to my collarbone, my skin feeling warm under his gaze. I watched as his eyes followed my hand, further heating me with the intensity of his gaze.

  “I love it,” I whispered, and his eyes jerked back to mine in surprise. I smiled a shy smile and disappeared into my apartment, leaving him smiling back at me.

  Mimi was still yelling at the delivery guy as I came inside to school Clive, a simpering look on both our faces. Five minutes later, with a mouthful of noodles, I heard Purina yelling something in indecipherable Russian on the landing, and then Simon’s door slammed. I tried to hide my grin, instead playing it off as a particularly spicy bite. No wall banging tonight, I guess . . . Clive would be so depressed.

  At around eleven thirty that night, as I was settling into bed, Simon played me some music through our shared wall. Wasn’t big band, but it was pretty good. Prince. “Pussy Control.”

  I smiled in spite of myself, delighted at his wicked sense of humor.

  Friends? Definitely. Maybe. Possibly.

  “Pussy Control.” I thought of it again and snorted.

  Well played, Simon. Well played.

  chapter eight

  A few nights later I was headed out to yoga when I found myself face-to-face with Simon once again. He was coming up the stairs as I went down.

  “If I said, ‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ would it sound as trite as it sounds in my head?” I offered.

  He laughed. “Hard to say. Give it a try.”

  “Okay. Wow, we have to stop meeting like this!” I exclaimed.

  We both waited a beat and then laughed again.

  “Yep, trite,” he said.

  “Maybe we can work out some kind of schedule, share custody of the hallway or something.” I shifted my weight from one leg to another. Great, now it looks like you have to pee.

  “Where are you off to tonight? I seem to always catch you when you’re leaving,” he said as he propped himself up against the wall.

  “Well, clearly I am headed somewhere very fancy.” I gestured to my yoga pants and cami. I then showed him my water bottle and yoga mat.

  He pretended to think very carefully, and then his eyes widened. “You’re going to pottery class!”

  “Yes, that’s where I’m headed . . . ass.”

  He grinned that grin at me. I smiled back.

  “So you never gave me the scoop on what you heard at brunch the other day. What’s going on with our friends?” he asked, and I didn’t at all feel a flutter in my belly at the mention of the word our. Not at all. . . .

  “Well, I can tell you that my girls were quite taken with your boys. Did you know they’re all going to the symphony benefit ne
xt week?” I said, instantly horrified that I went there that quickly.

  “I heard that. Neil gets tickets every year. Perks of the job, I suppose. Sportscasters always go to the symphony, right?”

  “I would assume, especially when one is trying to cultivate a certain man-about-town persona,” I added with a wink.

  “You caught that, huh?” He winked back, and we found ourselves smiling again. Friends? Definitely a stronger possibility.

  “We’ll have to compare notes afterward, see how the Fantastic Four are doing. Did you know they’ve been going out on double dates all week?” I said. Sophia had confided that they’d been going out constantly, but always as a foursome. Hmm . . .

  “I did hear something about that. They all seem to be getting along well. That’s good, right?”

  “It’s good, yes. I’m actually going out with them next week. You should come along,” I tossed out casually. It’s all for the truce, just the truce. . . .

  “Oh, wow. I’d love to, but I’m heading overseas. Leaving tomorrow, actually,” he said.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say he almost looked disappointed.

  “Really? On a shoot?” I said, and realized my mistake. That knowing smirk came back with a vengeance.

  “A shoot? Checking up on me?”

  I felt my face go from pink to a lovely tomato red. “Jillian mentioned what you do for a living, yes. And I noticed the pictures in your apartment. When my pussy was chasing your Russian? Ring any bells?”

  He seemed to shift his weight a little at my choice of words. Hmmm, weak spot?

  “You noticed my pictures?” he asked.

  “I did. You’ve got a great set of sconces.” I smiled sweetly and looked directly at his crotch.

  “Sconces?” he mumbled, clearing his throat.

  “Occupational hazard. So where are you headed, anyway? Overseas, I mean.” I dragged my eyes deliberately back up to his, and noticed his were nowhere near my face. Heh, heh, heh . . .

  “What? Oh, um, Ireland. Shooting a bunch of coastal spots for Condé Nast and then going into some of the smaller towns,” he answered, bringing his gaze back to mine.

  It was nice to see him a bit flustered. “Ireland, nice. Well, bring me back a sweater.”

  “Sweater, got it. Anything else?”

  “A pot of gold? And a shamrock?”

  “Great. I won’t have to leave the airport gift shop,” he muttered.

  “And then when you come home, I’ll do a little Irish dance for you!” I cried and started laughing at the lunacy of this conversation.

  “Aw, Nightie Girl, did you just offer to dance for me?” he said in a low voice, stepping a little closer.

  And just like that, the balance of power shifted.

  “Simon, Simon, Simon,” I exhaled, shaking my head. Mainly to clear it from the effect of his being so near. “We’ve been over this. I have no desire to join the harem.”

  “What makes you think I’d ask you?”

  “What makes you think you wouldn’t? Besides, I think that would mess with the truce, don’t you?” I laughed.

  “Mmm, the truce,” he said.

  Just then I heard steps on the stairs below. “Simon? Is that you?” a voice called up.

  At that he leaned back, away from me. I looked down and realized we’d been inching toward each other on the landing throughout our exchange.

  “Hey, Katie, up here!” he called down.

  “A haremette? I’ll watch my walls tonight,” I said softly.

  “Stop it. She had a hard day at work, and we’re heading out to a movie. That’s it.”

  He smiled sheepishly at me, and I laughed. If we were going to be friends, I might as well meet the harem, by God.

  A moment later we were joined by Katie, who I, of course, knew as Spanks. I muffled a laugh as I smiled at her.

  “Katie, this is my neighbor, Caroline,” Simon said. “Caroline, this is Katie.”

  I offered my hand, and she looked curiously between Simon and me.

  “Hi, Katie. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Caroline. You the one with the cat?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye. I looked at Simon, and he shrugged.

  “Guilty, although Clive would argue that, in fact, he is an actual person.”

  “Oh, I know. My dog used to watch TV and bark until I put on something she liked. What a pain in the ass she was.” She smiled.

  We all stood for a moment, and it was beginning to get a little awkward.

  “Okay, kids, I’m off to yoga. Simon, have a safe trip, and I’ll fill you in on the gossip from the new couples when you get back.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be gone awhile, but hopefully they won’t get in too much trouble while I’m away.” He chuckled as they started up the stairs.

  “I’ll keep my eyes on them. Nice to meet you, Katie,” I said, headed down.

  “You too, Caroline. ’Night!” she called back to me.

  As I walked down the stairs, more slowly than necessary, I heard her say, “Pink Nightie Girl’s pretty.”

  “Shut it, Katie,” he fired back, and I swear he swatted her on the butt.

  Her yelp a second later confirmed it.

  I rolled my eyes as I pushed the door open and headed out to the street. When I got to the gym, I switched my class from yoga to kickboxing.

  “I’ll have a vodka martini, straight up with three olives, please.”

  The bartender got to work as I looked around the crowded restaurant, taking a break from the Fantastic Four. After two weeks of hearing about all these fabulous double dates, I’d agreed to go out with them and turn them into a Fantastic Five. It was fun, and I was having a great time, but after being with two new couples all night I needed a break. People-watching at the bar was a great way to get some time off. To my left was an interesting couple: silver-haired gentleman with a woman younger than I was who had newly purchased tits. Good girl! You get yours. I mean, if I had to look at flabby, old-man buns I’d want bigger boobs too.

  I never thought I’d enjoy being alone, but lately I was finding I did pretty well without a man in my life. I was alone, but I wasn’t lonely. Orgasms aside, I did occasionally miss the companionship of a boyfriend, but I liked going places solo. I could travel alone, so why not? Nevertheless, the first time I took myself out to a movie I thought it was going to be weird—the likelihood of running into someone I knew while out and about in the jungles of Costa Rica was slim to none, but running into someone at the movies in the jungles of San Francisco? Odds were greater—but it was great! And a restaurant alone was also just fine. Turns out I’m a great date all by myself.

  Still, dinner tonight with my friends had been quite entertaining. The way these two new couples circled each other was fun to watch. Mimi and Sophia had both snagged themselves the men they’d cultivated in their heads as the perfect matches. Just then I spotted Sophia in the crowd, her height and gorgeous red hair setting her apart even among hundreds. Hot restaurant, and even hotter bar, this place was packed with people and pretention.

  I could see her chatting with someone, and off to the side I found Mimi and Ryan. What was odd? Neil, not Ryan, seemed to be Sophia’s conversation partner. Ryan appeared completely captivated by Mimi, her hands moving through the air and punctuating statements with her toothpicked olive as he listened. From where I stood, the distance afforded me perfect clarity. I couldn’t help but smile. They’d found the boys they always thought they wanted, but now they each seemed fascinated by the other one . . . ah, well, the grass was always cuter, right?

  Sophia glanced over and spotted me at the bar, and shortly thereafter, she excused herself and headed my way.

  “Having fun?” I asked as she perched on the stool next to me.

  “I’m having a great time,” she mused. She then told the bartender exactly how to make her cocktail.

  “How’s Neil tonight?”

  Her eyes lit up briefly, and then she seemed to catch herself.

&
nbsp; “Neil? Good, I guess. Ryan looks great, doesn’t he?” she covered, gesturing over to where we’d left our group, and where Mimi and Ryan were still deep in conversation. Ryan did indeed look good in jeans and a shirt that exactly matched his green eyes—the eyes fixed delightedly on Ms. Mimi.

  How could they not see it?

  “Neil looks pretty good tonight too,” I tossed out, refocusing on the brawny sportscaster. Charcoal sweater, chinos—he was every inch the man about town.

  “Yep,” she said icily, licking a bit of salt from the rim on her glass.

  I giggled and placed a hand on her arm.

  “Come on, pretty girl, let’s get you back to your perfect man,” I said, and we rejoined the group.

  I departed a little before my friends did, tired but happy. Once again I’d spent an evening alone and lived to tell the tale. I wondered if other single women understood the delight that came from fifth-wheeling it. To not have to make small talk with some guy you’d been set up with, to not have to worry about some idiot with peppercorn-encrusted-filet breath trying to force his wiggly tongue down the back of your throat, and to not have to explain to that same idiot why you insist on taking a cab home when his superfast Camaro is parked right over there.

  I’d enjoyed—or should I say mostly enjoyed—an assortment of relationships since high school but hadn’t really been in love for a long time. Not since senior year of college. And since that fell apart, I’d had just a series of casual flings, never really feeling fully invested in anyone. Hence my current hiatus from dating. Getting all the parts to line up seemed more and more difficult for me as I got older, and the process could be exhausting. Lower Caroline might be on board, but Brain and Heart always seemed to have reservations. Plus, now that my O was also absent, for who knew how long, I was finding my solitary lifestyle more and more appealing.

  As I mused over these thoughts, headed home in a cab, my phone beeped. I had a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

  Have a good time tonight?