“Don’t worry, Lena. He’ll understand,” Tess offered.
“Things have been weird. I’ve been preoccupied,” I said, trying to remember the longest period of time that had passed during which Jake and I had not spoken since the day we met. This was it.
“Look, friendships like yours and Jake’s are stronger than a forgotten phone call,” Tess said gently.
“Of course you’re right,” I said. “Jake and I have something special.” And I believed that. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. And for the first time since I’d known him, I wondered when I would see Jake again.
chapter 8
“Let’s go to the polo match this weekend!” Colin exclaimed a few evenings later as we finished a meal of take-out Thai.
I had been enthusiastic, of course, thinking it just an idle comment that would never come to pass—sort of like when someone says, “We should really go to museums more” or “Maybe I’ll take a photography class.” In a matter of moments, however, the plan was set. We would spend the weekend at Colin’s parents’ house in Easthampton, meet up with friends at Bridgehampton for the match, and then have everyone over for drinks that night.
That Saturday, I slowly made my way through a sea of linen and seersucker, trying to appear that I had seen a mallet used for something other than pounding meat a thousand times before. But where was I? What strange fashion meridian had I unknowingly crossed that suddenly sanctioned wide-brim hats and white shoes?
I was definitely in the Hamptons.
Easthampton, Westhampton, Southampton, Bridgehampton—they were like little clusters of Manhattan sprinkled along the eastern tip of Long Island, each with their own personality and reputation. Socialites in Lily Pulitzer, captains of industry in JP Tods, stately New England style mansions with ferocious, hulking hedges connected like Legos around their perimeters. People didn’t go to the Hamptons to “get away,” they went there to stay inside, inside the frenzied bubble of social and professional kinesis that occupied Manhattan for the rest of the year. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, that energy briefly shifted eastward by one hundred miles. Nick and Tony’s replaced Elaine’s and Michael’s. Lobster cookouts replaced champagne receptions. Marimekko replaced mink. But very little else changed at all.
Colin’s house was beautiful, of course—just off Lily Pond Lane, a stone’s throw from the Perelmans and just south of the Grubmans. His parents wouldn’t be there (to my relief), as they preferred their other home in the Vineyard. Why two summer homes so close together? I had wondered, but knew enough by now not to ask.
That morning, I had walked through the house exploring. I touched the furniture and felt the coolness of the marble on my bare feet. In the bathroom, I unpacked, using the shelves and drawers even though we would be here just for the weekend. I walked outside to one of the balconies. I looked out at the ocean and inhaled the thick, salty air. You never fully realized the toll the city took on you until you managed to escape it.
Later on, as we roamed the Bridgehampton polo grounds, however, the pressure had set in again with a vengeance. Colin, of course, seemed to know everyone there, which only made me feel more uncomfortable as I waited awkwardly for him to introduce me and then suffered the inevitable head to toe evaluation. For the moment, however, we were congregating with Colin’s familiar crowd of Gavin, Grace and Vanessa while Caleb (of course) went to fetch us another round of drinks.
“Did you see Cecily with that guy?” Gavin asked, with a hint of mischief.
“No,” I said, scanning the crowd. Good for Cecily, I thought.
“I did!” Grace chimed in. “They were hanging out in the owner’s tent earlier. He was so hot!” she added, rather uncharacteristically.
“Hey, watch it there.” Gavin pushed her teasingly.
“Well, he was.” She smiled back at him.
“Oh, would you all calm down.” Vanessa was grumpy. It was strange seeing her in the daylight. I thought she might evaporate in the sun.
“No way,” Colin said. “She’s not dating anyone. She’s probably just flirting with one of the polo boys.”
“Speak of the devil, here she comes.” Gavin spotted her coming our way.
“Act normally. Like I didn’t say a word,” he instructed in an exaggerated stage whisper.
“Hey guys!” Cecily’s eyes gleamed.
“Well, hello there.” Gavin smiled knowingly.
So much for acting normally.
“What’s new with you?” Grace asked expectantly.
“Oh, not too much,” she teased us.
We all stood there awkwardly.
“Oh forget it, let’s just cut to the chase. Grace and I saw you with that guy.” I guess Gavin wasn’t much for secrets.
“The hot guy,” Grace corrected him.
“You brought a date?” Colin asked.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said, holding his gaze a moment. And then she smiled. “He is hot, isn’t he? Actually, he just went to get another round of drinks. He should be on his way back now.”
We all immediately swiveled our heads in unison to follow Cecily’s gaze. And before my eyes, walking toward me at a leisurely gait, wearing an ivory linen suit and a bemused smirk was none other than Jake. My Jake.
“Hello there,” he greeted us confidently, extending his hand for a round of firm, authoritative shakes.
“Jake?” My voice trembled. Maybe I was imagining things.
“Lena! What a surprise to see you here!” Jake said, looking not very surprised at all.
“You guys know each other?” Colin was confused.
“Yes,” Jake answered for me. “I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned me. Lena and I go way back.” He looked so pleased with himself.
“Isn’t it a small world?” Cecily interjected happily. “Jake and I met in line at the Film Forum just last week. He was going to see Breathless—”
“Godard is a genius,” Jake interjected.
“And I was going to see Wings of Heaven,” Cecily continued.
“Because she’s an angel,” Jake cooed, slipping his arm around her waist and giving her a quick squeeze.
“But we started talking and it turned out we knew several people in common.” Cecily smiled at me and then at Colin.
“That’s right,” Jake added. “When I realized that Cecily was a friend of Colin’s, I was shocked.”
I felt completely numb. I hadn’t said a word yet and I wondered if I would ever be able to speak again.
“It must be fate then,” Colin said dryly. He seemed annoyed or suspicious, I couldn’t tell which.
“Do you come to the matches often, Jake?” Grace inquired, obviously still smitten. Wait, Jake was the hot guy everyone was so worked up about? It had just dawned on me.
“Used to, used to. Played a bit myself over the years.” I shot him a look. He didn’t waiver. “But you know, couple of broken ribs later, I told Peter I’d better just concentrate on my galleries.”
Was he using a British accent?
“You know Peter Braman?” Gavin asked, clearly impressed.
“Oh sure, old friend, old friend.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Peter Braman was the publishing mogul and former top amateur player who had almost single-handedly brought the sport to the Hamptons. Clearly, both Jake and I had read his recent profile in Vanity Fair.
“You work in a gallery, I believe you said?” Grace inquired, still enchanted.
“He owns art galleries.” Cecily was only too happy to make the important distinction. “He has another one opening downtown very soon.”
I thought of the condemned space on the Lower East Side that he had brought me to that Saturday afternoon.
“I needed a New York presence,” Jake offered ever so helpfully.
“He already has places in London, Milan, Saint Tropez, and…”
“Patagonia,” Jake finished for her, and winked subtly at me.
“Must be tough
times for you down there, what with the financial crisis, huh?” Colin said. Surely, he must know that he was talking to a complete fake. Jake was lying so wildly he might as well have declared himself royalty and worn a crown. This could not end well.
“Well, looks like the chukker’s almost over,” Jake announced abruptly.
Had he read Polo for Dummies on the jitney out here, I wondered?
“What do you say we head back over to the owner’s tent, Cecily?” Jake said, ever so gallantly.
Thank God, I thought. And with a quick exchange of “pleased to meet you” and a knowing glance at me, Jake led his new lady away.
“We’ll see you guys in a few hours, okay?” Cecily called over her shoulder.
Omigod. The cocktail party. I had completely forgotten. My first time hosting a party with Colin and my former best friend turned international gigolo would be attending.
“Well, Cecily certainly did well for herself,” Grace concluded after the happy couple had escaped earshot. “I just can’t put my finger on what it is about him.”
“He certainly dresses well,” Gavin offered.
“True,” Grace agreed. “And he must be loaded.”
“He’s smoldering,” Vanessa declared.
Even Vanessa was smitten?
“And you guys are good friends, huh?” Colin still looked uneasy. His nervousness, I was ashamed to admit, made me feel more secure than ever before.
“Yeah,” I said, watching Jake go. We used to be, I thought.
“You’re okay with Jake and me, right, Lena?” The party had just gotten started when Cecily wandered into the kitchen where I was busy slicing limes for a round of gin and tonics. I had spent most of my time up until this point avoiding Jake while also formulating the verbal attack I would unleash upon him when we were alone, back in the city.
My face tightened at the sound of his name. I closed the oven door gently, regained my composure and turned to face Cecily. She had taken a seat on the kitchen counter.
“Of course,” I lied, and headed toward the refrigerator in an effort to avoid eye contact.
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I mean, I assumed he had. You two are pretty close, aren’t you?”
I would have assumed the same thing, Cecily, I thought to myself, and started arranging biscotti on a tray.
“We really hit it off that night. We just have fun together.” She smiled brightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like him.” And then she laughed to herself, as if she’d just remembered something hilarious he’d told her. “And he’s so funny!”
This was painful.
“But I have to ask.” Her tone was more serious now. I experienced a brief moment of panic as possible questions that Cecily might “have to ask” about Jake filled my head.
“Why haven’t you two dated?”
Well, that was an easy one. I was relieved.
“We’re just friends. It would never work.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not how our relationship is. We’re such different people.” There. That should placate her.
“What do you mean?”
Guess not. Jesus, these questions had to stop. She must feel insecure about Jake, I reasoned. It’s only natural to wonder why a guy like Jake would be available. Sort of like when you find the perfect dress in a pile full of crappy ones on the last day of the sale. Something had to be wrong with it. Naturally she was turning him inside out looking for stains. My heart sank with sympathy for her. I chastised Jake in my head.
“What kind of girls does he usually go for?”
I pictured a montage of Jake’s dalliances over the years and they coalesced into one indistinguishable perky blond prototype. I was pretty sure I couldn’t tell her that Jake’s relationships didn’t last long enough to make such detailed assessments.
“Well…” I stalled.
“Am I making you uncomfortable? I’m sorry.”
“No, not at all,” I said, perhaps a little too vigorously.
“Listen, Lena. I just want—” She stopped herself midsentence.
“What?” Was she on to Jake? Was she on to me?
“I guess I just want something close to what you and Colin have.” She shrugged. “If that’s even possible.”
I looked at her, speechless. My heart ached for her. She had been the first person in Colin’s group to reach out to me and here I was deceiving her about Jake’s intentions. Of course I knew he was going to have his fun with her, play his little games and move on to the next fling. And I felt complicit in his deceit—my hands were dirty, too.
“Cecily, darling,” Jake was calling from the other room. “Come back in here, I miss you.”
Cecily smiled. “Guess I better go.” She slid off the counter to her feet. “Thanks for being so reassuring, Lena. We girls have to stick together, right.” She gave me a quick hug and made haste to the arms of her Jake.
“And Lena.” It was Jake again. “Could you be a doll and come freshen my drink when you have a moment? Thanks, love.”
A few hours later, less familiar friends and acquaintances had headed out, leaving just the usual group of Caleb, Gavin, Grace, Vanessa, Christopher, Cecily, and of course, Jake—all of whom were splayed out lethargically throughout the room, each enjoying varying degrees of fatigue and drunkenness. The conversation had turned into an intense debate between Gavin and Christopher over the tax benefits of art collecting.
“That shouldn’t be why you collect art,” Gavin said idealistically.
“I’m just saying that sometimes there’s an added incentive,” Christopher added, practically.
“Art should be pure,” Vanessa announced authoritatively, and took a long drag off of her Dunhill.
Oh get over yourself, I thought to myself as I cleared empty glasses away from the coffee table.
“Lena!” Vanessa erupted suddenly.
Oh my God, I panicked, had I said that out loud? I looked over at Vanessa, who now had her head slung back on the couch, her elegant fingers massaging her elegant temples. Maybe I had violently struck her in a blind rage?
“Would you please stop circling the room like that…you’re making me nauseous,” she said.
I paused, unsure of my next move. I didn’t exactly want to take orders from Vanessa.
“She’s a regular Cinderella, Colin,” Vanessa said with a laugh.
“You’re my little Cinderella, right, Lena?” Colin laughed. He was a little tipsy by this point.
“Are you that condescending to everyone, Colin, or just the women you date?” Jake said, shooting him a look.
The room was immediately silent.
“Ah, Jake.” Colin broke the deadlock. “Lena didn’t warn me about your sense of humor.”
“Did she warn you about my volatile temper?” Jake asked, holding his gaze.
For a moment, the air felt thick with dueling testosterone. It seemed as if a fistfight might be the only way to break the tension. And then Jake’s threatening scowl broke into a slow smile. “Just messing with you, man,” he said. And Colin, at first confused, finally smiled, incredulously. He seemed embarrassed.
Slowly the room simmered back to its previous chatter level, but the party, for me, was long since over. I could see Jake eyeing me nervously. I knew he wanted to talk, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I whispered to Colin that I was going to bed, and I slipped up the backstairs through the kitchen.
Upstairs, I stood in the bathroom trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why was Jake here? I considered the idea that I might never speak to him again. I stared at my reflection under the fluorescent lights for a moment. I noticed a new tiny line extending out from the corner of my eye. A laugh line, I thought. What cruel irony. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t even summon tears.
I shut off the light and quickly got into bed. The sheets were tight and heavy, like a hotel. Everything in Colin’s life felt like a hotel. After a while, I heard the door creak and
then a gentle knock. Why would Colin knock?
“Lena?”
“Jake?” I bolted upright and turned to see Jake’s silhouette coming toward me. Like in a horror movie.
“What are you doing? Get out of here!” A flash of terror shot through me as I imagined what would happen if anyone downstairs were to walk in and see Jake and me here in the dark, alone.
“Get out of here!” I was hysterical.
“Relax. They all went down to the beach for a walk,” Jake said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
I calmed down a little—a little—as I remembered hearing the back door clatter shut.
“Everyone?” I asked suspiciously.
“Everyone, except Caleb. He’s passed out drunk.”
That sounded plausible.
“Jake, I really don’t have anything to say to you right now,” I said bitterly, but of course, I had so much to say to him. “What was that earlier? What are you even doing here?”
“The question should be, What are you doing here, Lena?”
“I’m dating Colin. Remember? He’s my boyfriend.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Jake, of all the things you’ve done over the years—”
“Lena, did you hear the way he was talking to you? She’s my Cinderella?” He looked like he wanted to spit.
“He didn’t mean it like that, Jake. I think I know him pretty well at this point.”
“God, can’t you see it when someone’s using you?”
“Do I need to remind you that you’re in his house right now, Jake. You’re a guest.”
“I could give a shit about his house. Lena, you are better than this.”
“And what are you doing here? Don’t get self-righteous with me. You’re just using Cecily to be here in the first place. It’s horrible, Jake. She really likes you.”
“Suddenly Cecily’s your best friend?”
Live from New York, It's Lena Sharpe Page 11