Come Dancing

by Leslie Wells

“You seem unconscious of your looks; you don’t fuss over yourself the way some girls do. A lot of women sort of wallow in it.”

  “I guess I still see myself as a four-eyes. Anyway, that’s my track record. And like I said, watching my mother around men turned me off the whole concept for a while.”

  “Well, I’m glad you got over that,” Jack said with a smile. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t Mr. Suave in school either. One thing about being in a band though, even the awful groups I played in as a kid; there were always some girls hanging around. What about at university?”

  “I mostly studied.”

  “But you did have a few fellas. And the last one was that professor.” He gazed at me through lowered lids.

  “Yes, that was kind of hard to get over. Looking back, maybe I was just dazzled by him.”

  “Dazzled because …”

  “I don’t know, I was new to the city, and he had a lot of connections and had read everything ever written,” I concluded awkwardly, thinking how odd it was that Art had called only a few days ago. “He had this slick apartment near the college. In fact, he didn’t like my place much. The one time he stayed over, he wound up taking a cab home at two in the morning.”

  “I think your place is nice. Especially now that it’s not a furnace. What about your boss? Vicky made some comment about Harold.”

  I could have killed her for that. “Harvey. He just makes these sleazy allusions to things. Like he’ll mention that his marriage is stale, and then ask if I want to have drinks.”

  “Bastard. You should let me know if he bothers you.” He ran his thumb up my bare hip. “You haven’t asked me anything though. You seem very uninterested.”

  “I probably can guess.” I definitely wasn’t uninterested, especially with this Nicole lurking around. But I sensed that acting possessive or prying would be the quickest way to put him off.

  “You might think you know all sorts of bad things about me,” Jack said, raising his eyebrow. “But it’s not quite as awful as it’s made out to be.”

  “I hadn’t given it a thought,” I lied. “We didn’t even know each other until a few weeks ago.”

  “So you’re not the jealous type.” He gave me a quizzical look.

  “You can’t go and un-sleep with people,” I said.

  Early Sunday afternoon I walked back to my apartment, feeling confused. I’d had an amazing time with Jack, and he’d seemed happy to be with me. Around noon, knowing that he was due at the studio, I told him I should go home and do some work. He suggested making breakfast, so I decided to stay a little longer. But as he fixed the eggs, he started acting distracted and distant. When I was loading the dishwasher his phone rang, stopped, and rang again. I heard him making muttered plans to meet someone at a fancy restaurant that night. Quickly I gathered my backpack, thanked him for the weekend and rushed out, puzzling over his sudden shift in mood.

  I clumped up my stairs, wondering who he was seeing later on. Is he bored with me already? He acted so into me this weekend, but maybe that was just his sex drive. Perhaps it didn’t matter to him who he did it with, as long as he had a warm body in his bed. Maybe my expiration date had already expired, and I just didn’t know it yet. I felt so alive after being with him; so awakened. Like a lid had been lifted, and now I couldn’t fit it back on again. How could I resume my normal life after being with Jack? I was falling, falling, with nothing to stop my downward plunge. I knew that when I landed, it would be with a really hard thump.

  Chapter 13

  Bottle It Up and Go

  When Harvey waltzed in at ten-thirty, I handed him a stack of pink messages with the three from his wife on top. He shut his door, but his raised voice still came through. Ugh, today wasn’t going to be too pleasant. He’d been extra irritable lately, but at least he was letting me take Friday off to deal with Dot.

  In between obsessing about my work problems, I was mooning over Jack. Every time I thought about the past weekend, it was hard to concentrate on the task at hand. Who was this creature I turned into when I was in his bed? The lack of control was exhilarating, but also scary. And I’d lost sleep wondering who he went out with Sunday night.

  I’d finally finished rewriting Isabel’s chapters and had scheduled an appointment with her. I needed to get it ready as soon as possible, in light of Briar’s pursuit of Pryce Rayner’s memoir. After Harvey rushed out to his lunch date, I speed-walked over to the Chelsea.

  “You sure weren’t kidding when you said you had some suggestions,” Isabel commented, leafing through the pages. “I don’t think there’s a single line left intact.”

  “The material is really strong; I’m just honing the language. I’d like to get it in a little better shape before I show it to my boss.” I had hoped she wouldn’t be annoyed that I’d done so much rewriting. “How soon will you have the next batch for me?”

  “Maybe in a week or two. I’m having trouble remembering my teenage years.”

  I thought quickly. “Why not skip ahead and write about your TV career? Then you could go back and fill in the earlier parts.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely gearing up to write about the show. But I have to do it in order; I can’t jump around. It’s hard enough as it is.” Absentmindedly she stroked Dinah.

  “Whatever works for you,” I said, giving up. “Would it help to tell me some stories about what went on?”

  Isabel brightened. “That time of my life was so crazy. During casting calls I got involved with the director. I surprised him in his office with my pubic hair shaved in the shape of a question mark, and lo and behold, I got the part.” She smiled, awaiting my reaction.

  “That sounds like a stand-out scene. I could see People excerpting that section.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll all want it. Then my costar Richard and I were hot and heavy during the first season, until he caught me on the tripod with the assistant gaffer. It was Mario’s idea; I didn’t realize the whole thing would go crashing over and bring everyone running. It did get me on a couple of talk shows, though.” She sighed. “Everything seems so tame now compared to back then.” Handing me a folder, she added, “This batch brings me up to age twelve.”

  “I can’t wait to read more.” I consoled myself with the thought that if she ever did get around to writing about the sitcom, it sounded like something Harvey would enjoy.

  I got home at eight and decided to go for a run. I needed air in my lungs, even if most of it was car exhaust; the only exercise I’d gotten this past weekend was on Jack’s mattress. I was still recovering from the intensity of sex with him, complicated by his confusing brush-off Sunday morning.

  The sun was a scarlet smear over the West Side Highway. I got into my pace and ate up the blocks on the way uptown. Passing a billboard for back-to-school supplies unearthed a long-buried memory. The teacher hadn’t come into my ninth grade homeroom yet, and we were all waiting in our seats. A boy slid a folded square of paper onto my desk. It seemed like the whole class was watching me.

  “Open it,” he said with a smirk.

  I didn’t want to; I assumed it was some sort of eye-chart joke, since I’d been given a hard time about my thick glasses before. But with the others saying “Go on, open it,” and the girls in nearby desks tittering, I quickly unfolded the paper. At first I didn’t recognize the squishy sopping circle inside. The entire room convulsed with laughter.

  “Your mom left that in my uncle’s car last night!” the boy crowed.

  I ran to the bathroom and hid in a stall until the bell rang. Even after all this time, the recollection made me cringe.

  Pouring on more speed, I leaped over a puddle of urine pooled at the base of a lamppost and circled to head back downtown. Halfway there I came upon Pamela in a shiny pink evening gown, arguing with a guy in a suit who looked like he’d had a few too many. “How’s it going?” I said. She winked at me as I sprinted by.

  The phone rang at eleven when I was drying my hair. I was thrilled to hear Jack’s voice, but
I didn’t want to seem too eager after he’d acted so weird and distant. “I went for a run, and now I’m reading Harvey’s submissions,” I replied. “I saw Our Lady of the Blue Sequins. Tonight she was even more glam in pink. She was having a fight with some guy; what a rough way to make a living.” I turned off the droning air conditioner so I could hear better.

  “There’s some scuzzy characters hanging around over there. Crackheads and such, looking to score.”

  “I don’t think they’d bother me. Did you make it to the studio today?”

  “Yeah, I just got home. Sammy, Mark, and I were trying to get this one thing down. Why don’t you come over?”

  God, I really, really wanted to see him, but I knew it was a mistake to be available at the drop of a hat. Things could easily deteriorate into my showing up at his place for sex late at night; a convenience for whenever the mood struck. It was a drag to feel like I needed to play these games with him, but his going out with someone else made things tricky. Not to mention that my job was on the line. “I can’t tonight. I have five proposals staring at me, saying ‘Read me, read me.’”

  “You can read some over here; I’ll let you alone. For a little while. How much time do you spend working at night, anyway?”

  “A couple of hours usually, and more on weekends. Lately I’ve been backsliding.”

  “My opinion, you haven’t been on your back nearly enough,” Jack said. “Okay, I can do that. I’ll amuse myself with this evil bitch of a tune that’s been torturing me for the past two months. I’ll keep away from you until midnight.”

  I was tempted to jump up, throw some work clothes in my bag and race over there. I almost said yes, but then I remembered how awful I’d felt when he’d acted so remote on Sunday. It was a bad idea to come running whenever he called last-minute—it seemed like something Dot would do.

  “Sorry, but I have to stay here and slog through these things. Maybe we can get together tomorrow.”

  “What’s the big deal? Can’t you read them later?” He sounded mad.

  “Harvey wants to call the agents tomorrow. I can’t let anything slip with Briar breathing down my neck. I really need this job.”

  “Is it dough you need? I’ll have Mary Jo send you a check.”

  “It’s not just the money. It’s my career. Anyway, I’m not going to sponge off you.”

  “It wouldn’t be sponging. I’ve got it to spare; it’s no skin off my teeth. Why not let me help you out a little?”

  “That’s okay. It wouldn’t help me when I have to face Harvey and tell him I didn’t get the reading done.”

  “All right, be that way.”

  He clicked off, and immediately I had second thoughts. I hoped he wasn’t now calling whoever he’d spent Sunday night with. I tried to decide if I should call him back. It would be fantastic to be with him, instead of lying here alone with these stupid manuscripts. I kicked a pile of pages aside. What’s wrong with me? I just turned down Jack Kipling—how dumb is that? As I was vacillating, the phone rang.

  “I really don’t know if I can come over.” If he asked me again, I’d be there in seconds flat.

  “I believe I’ll survive,” Vicky said dryly. “But I would like to catch up with you on the phone.”

  I felt ridiculous. “I thought you were Jack.”

  “I figured. But my question to you is, aren’t you worried he’s going to take up with another woman who’ll give him her undivided attention?”

  “Harvey’s expecting these reports by tomorrow; I can’t let anything slide with Briar nipping at my heels. She’s going after Pryce Rayner’s book.”

  “Isn’t he a little shopworn by now?”

  “Harvey doesn’t seem to think so.” I lifted the hair off the back of my neck.

  “Well, be that as it may, you need to listen to some good advice about your sex life for a change. When you’re sixty, what are you going to remember: the times you got it on with Jack Kipling, or the times you stayed home editing Navel-Gazing for Novices?

  “If I race over to his apartment every time he has nothing better to do, he’ll get bored with me. Anyway, he went out with someone else the other night, so this fling might be short-lived.”

  “At least he isn’t trying to get over on other women while you’re with him.”

  “What do you mean? Is that what Sammy does?” Man, it’s hot. I clicked the AC back on, and it hummed to life.

  “Oh, he’s constantly checking out other girls. But then I’m not supposed to look at anyone else because he’s a rock god, and I’m just a regular person. I think he’s getting ready to scout some new talent, so I might make my move first. Better the dumper than the dumpee.”

  “Are you guys going to that party at the Mudd Club? Jack mentioned it, but I have no idea if he’s taking me. He may be taking his Sunday squeeze.”

  “I think we’re going. If I see her there with Jack, I’ll bite her.”

  “Enough about my woes. Tell me about your latest publicity coup.”

  “I got up at four a.m. to escort Bobby Pavlocek to the Morning Show green room the other day,” she said nonchalantly.

  “He’s the hockey player, right?”

  “Yes, we’ve just come out with his memoir. He shags a new girl every five pages.”

  “Was he a jerk?”

  “You could say that. He changed clothes right in front of me; stripped down to his bvds like I was part of the furniture. Then he yelled at me because I didn’t have a tube of hair gel on me. As if I’m his personal groomer.”

  “And people say PR isn’t glamorous.”

  Vicky snorted. “Good luck with Dot this weekend.”

  “I’ll need it.”

  Chapter 14

  Big Apple Dreamin’

  I was on edge all day at the thought of my mother’s visit. At six I left the office and walked up to the 42nd Street terminal. Dot stepped off the bus, looking around with wide eyes. She had on a tight pink top that revealed her bosom crease, and white pants with polka-dotted bikini underwear showing through. Her hair had been subjected to yet another color job that left it a brassier blonde than ever.

  “Hi Mom,” I said, taking her bag. “How was your trip?” I didn’t try to hug her; my mother wasn’t touchy-feely, at least not with me.

  “Oh, I had a great time with Darrell. He’s a scream.”

  We walked over to the subway, Dot asking loudly “Is this safe?” as I led her into its overheated depths. “What is that smell?” she said, making people in the token line roll their eyes.

  “Some kind of sewer leak.” She got stuck in the turnstile and I helped her through. “Mom. Try not to stare.” She’d been giving the hairy eyeball to a man who was mumbling and gesturing at the ceiling. The train roared into the station, and we pushed our way on. “Why do they let them write all over the walls?” she asked, looking at the graffiti. “You can’t read a word of it.”

  When we got to my apartment, Dot glanced around, her nose wrinkling. “Geez, Julia, you’re paying three hundred for this? It’s teensy.”

  “I told you it was small. For the neighborhood, it was a steal.”

  “Not enough room in here to sling a cat.” She plopped down on the couch.

  “Want a rum and cola?” I asked, recalling what she’d been drinking at Christmas.

  “Oh, I’m off that. Do you have any gin?”

  I’d spent fifteen bucks on the rum. “I can get some.”

  “Don’t bother, I’ll make do with this tonight. What do you have planned? I thought we could go out dancing, since you like that so much.”

  I had no intention of taking my mother to a club. “I got up really early,” I said, pouring her a hefty dose of liquor and topping it with an inch of soda. “Let’s stay in and catch up, okay?”

  “I swear, sometimes I think I’m younger than you are. Oh, have I told you what Erwin did the other day? I was only ten minutes late getting back from my lunch break, and he yelled at me in front of Marie. I told him what’s
what.”

  She jutted her chin in that familiar way, and suddenly I was back in high school, hearing her justification for telling off her boss at the KwikMart; her reasons for arguing with her best friend. I zoned out as she described her latest dust-up. “After that, Marie’s son’s girlfriend came in; she’s the one who had the baby, but it’s been hard finding a sitter …” I listened to Marie’s son’s girlfriend’s troubles for half an hour, then I offered to run out for a pizza.

  We shared our meal on my overturned milk crate; I still regretted not getting that gold-leaf table. As I draped some sheets on the sofa—I’d bought an extra set on Canal Street, since I was letting her have the futon all to herself—I brought up the subject of Jack, without stating exactly who he was.

  “You know how you kept saying I should try to meet someone? Well, I finally did. But I’m not at all sure where it’s going.”

  “When did this happen?” she asked with a sniff. I could tell she was getting her back up that I hadn’t mentioned it before.

  “A little while ago. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if we were just friends, or what.”

  “But you’re more than friends now?” She sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Only for the past couple of weeks.”

  “When were you going to tell me? All this time I’ve been worried about you. It’s hard enough being alone in a small town where you know everybody; I can’t imagine being single in a place like this.”

  “I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “Is he cute?” she wanted to know.

  “I think he is. He has kind of long hair.”

  “Is he a hippie of some sort?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I wouldn’t call Jack a hippie. Actually he’s a musician.”

  “What does he do for a job? He’s not mooching off you, is he? I know that type.” She scratched a match and lit a smoke.

  “Oh no, he supports himself. His job is being a musician.”

  “Does he do weddings and parties, that type of thing? He could probably make a pretty penny in New York City. There are a lot of rich people here,” she said with rounded eyes.