Cosmo's Deli

by Sharon Kurtzman

  “Oops, almost forgot the laptop!” Renny dashes to the kitchen, shuts it down, and stuffs it in her bag.

  The phone rings.

  She debates answering, but instead lets her machine to pick up. Anyone calling during the morning rush deserves to be screened. The familiar voice of an elderly man emanates from her machine, his consonants blending to sound as if he’s clearing his throat, giving hint to his Eastern European heritage. “Khello. Khello…Cosmo’s Deli? It’s Mendelbaum, vere the hell is my tea and pineapple danish? You’re late and I’m vaiting!”

  Renny glances at her watch.

  “Auch, damned machines!” he yells. A banging noise and the obvious fumbling of a phone reverberates through her apartment, followed by a loud click and a dial tone.

  Renny lets the apartment door close behind her and heads off to take her place among the masses.

  ***

  Bobbing and weaving through the morning crowds like a punch-drunk prizefighter, Renny ducks into the deli across the street from her office. There is no way she can face a meeting with Val without an extra jolt of caffeine.

  As she reaches the counter, Elsay, the owner of the deli, greets her. “Renny, what can I get for you on this beautiful morning?” Elsay is a Middle Eastern man in his early forties, a thin black mustache stretched above his mouth. As usual, he wears a powder blue button-down shirt, black slacks and a white apron.

  “Just black coffee and a buttered roll,” Renny answers.

  “I have fresh oat bran poppy brioche,” he offers. “Or how about a slice of double blueberry loaf?”

  How can someone get so excited over bread, she wonders? “No thanks, Elsay. Just black coffee and a buttered roll. I have to be in a meeting in a few minutes.”

  Grabbing the items from the stacks on the counter he “tsk, tsks” under his breath while putting them in a bag. “Always black coffee and a buttered roll. Is so boring. Today is your birthday. You should live a little.”

  “How did you know it was my birthday?”

  “A good business man knows everything about his customers.” He winks.

  Renny’s banter with Elsay has become a staple in her morning diet over these last few months. The fact that he has a crush on her, however unrequited, doesn’t bother her at all, especially since it always ensures her a better place in line.

  Renny reaches for her wallet and her stomach sinks. She doesn’t have enough cash. Luckily, Elsay waves her off, giving her the bag. “No, no, this morning is on the house. Happy birthday.”

  A heavyset man in line behind her yells, “Hey, Elsay, how come I didn’t get nothing free on my birthday?”

  Elsay snaps, “Be quiet! Or I spit in your decaf.” He gives the fellow an evil glare and the man is silent.

  All smiles again, Elsay leans over the counter toward Renny. “So how about I take you away this weekend for a romantic rendezvous?”

  “And ruin the professional relationship we have? No way.” She winks and heads toward the door.

  Elsay yells after her, “Professional relationship is boring too, goes good with black coffee and buttered roll.”

  ***

  The offices of Heffner, Wilde and Cooke occupy three floors in one of the many high-rise buildings in midtown Manhattan. The twelfth floor is for the executives, the eleventh floor is where the art department and creatives do their thing, and the tenth floor is for the rest of the staff.

  Renny works on the tenth floor and this morning she navigates the maze of cubicles like a well trained lab rat, her face set in a Lomanesque expression of one continuing to work long after the job has lost its excitement. Internally the tenth floor is known as the “pee-on” floor. That’s because the tenth floor is always the target when something goes wrong and the executives need someone to piss on because they’re pissed off. Renny has been splattered on several occasions.

  Just outside of Renny’s small windowless office sits Lucy, the unpolished twenty-three-year-old assistant she shares with five other marketing analysts—the vague title Renny holds and detests.

  Lucy hangs up the phone as Renny approaches. “You’re late.”

  “Good morning to you, too.” Renny grabs a stack of folders from the out box on top of Lucy’s file cabinet.

  “What’s so good about it? Did you know that if you travel the subway every day for a year it takes two weeks off your life expectancy? Twenty-six years and you’ve lost a whole year just because you rode the subway. The only thing I don’t know is whether they were talking about one way or round trip.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Renny asks.

  “I read it.”

  Lucy is convinced she knows everything, which is amazing considering she’s never ventured out of New York’s five boroughs. Instead, she credits her tidbits of knowledge to something she’s read; even more incredible since Renny’s never seen Lucy read anything other than the Post and the National Enquirer.

  “What are you looking for?” Lucy asks, as Renny rummages through the folders.

  “My copies.”

  Lucy grabs the stack from her. “It’s not in there. The copy machine’s broke.”

  “So use the one on the executive floor.”

  “I’d have to go upstairs for that,” Lucy whines.

  “Did you do the Fenway letter for me?”

  Lucy shakes her head and starts to type.

  “Lucy, I need that this morning.”

  She keeps typing as if Renny weren’t there.

  “Lucy!”

  Stopping, Lucy looks up at her and blows out a petulant puff of air.

  “I told you I need that this morning,” Renny says. “Look outside, the sun’s up, the subways are packed and everyone is drinking coffee from little cardboard cups. What does that tell you?”

  Lucy rolls her eyes.

  “It’s morning and I need that letter!”

  Sighing, Lucy reaches for papers in her box. One by one, she holds up various items, each with a different denomination of money clipped to the front. The smallest amount is a ten-dollar bill. “Let’s see, I have letters for Mark, Mr. Wilde’s football pool, and a product analysis for the accountants to go over. Everybody gives me stuff today that they needed yesterday.”

  Then Lucy holds up a sheet with no money clipped to it as if it were the tail of a dead skunk. “This must be it. I think you forgot something.”

  “This is nuts,” Renny grumbles, pulling out her last crumpled dollar bill. “I thought we were friends.”

  “This isn’t personal, it’s business.” Lucy quickly snaps the bill from Renny and clips it to the paper, sniffing, “A buck. Are you shitting me?”

  “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “I’ll take it, but I usually get at least ten.”

  “You should get fired,” Renny warns.

  Lucy shrugs, because that possibility is out of the question. In the land of pee-ons, Lucy is the only one with an umbrella. She has worked at Heffner, Wilde and Cook for five years and has dirt on everyone, twelfth floor included. Renny wonders what it is that Lucy knows that allows her to keep her job and her attitude.

  “Get it to me soon, please,” Renny says heading towards her office and plunking her stuff down on her desk.

  Lucy calls out. “I’m so glad you used the magic word. Oh, by the way, Val was looking for you.”

  Renny nods. “I have a meeting with her at ten.”

  “They moved it up to nine. She said to send you in there if you ever came in.”

  Renny looks at her watch. Nine twenty-five.

  “Shit!” Renny charges back into the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

  Lucy shrugs and types, the only sound coming from her the cracking of gum and the jingle of bracelets.

  She grabs a stack of folders from her office and races out past Lucy.

  “You might want to rethink the shoes,” Lucy calls.

  Renny looks at the commuting sneakers still on her feet and debates whether she should chang
e shoes and be even later or just go as is.

  As is wins. Renny charges toward the elevators.

  ***

  In the elevator Renny tries to shake off the feeling of doom that has taken hold of her bowels. “It’s just another meeting,” she whispers. A meeting she is twenty-five minutes late to.

  And Val despises tardiness.

  Doris, Val’s assistant, smiles at Renny as she rushes down the hall. “They’re expecting you, Renny. Go right in.”

  Renny manages a smile, wondering how Doris, one of the nicest people ever, has endured working for Val for the last ten years. A slightly graying woman in her late fifties, her tall frame is stylishly dressed and her desk is always immaculate.

  She hesitates at the closed wooden doors leading into Val’s office, suddenly realizing what Doris said. “They? Who else is in there?”

  “Lance.”

  “Lance,” Renny says with distaste. The name itself slithers across her tongue. One of the doors snaps open, making Renny jump.

  “There you are,” Val says dryly. “Well, come in. It’s about time you joined us.” As always, Val’s short jet black hair is neatly slicked into place. Muscled legs peek out from under a dark pinstriped skirt that falls just above her knees. Her white blouse is crisp and smooth as though even wrinkles know not to mess with Val.

  Renny walks in and finds Lance sitting next to Val’s desk. They exchange polite nods and Renny takes the other seat by the desk. The furniture in the room is sharp and angular, giving the office a cold edgy feel.

  Renny looks at Lance. He joined the company a few months before her. At first they were friendly, even flirtatious. Renny had to admit that for a brief time she actually considered him as a romantic possibility.

  That is until they worked together on the Magic Razor account. He screwed her by deliberately making a last-minute change in the date of their meeting with Val and not telling her. Lance presented their ideas as his own. He got all the credit and Renny got a lesson in watching her back.

  “Now that we’re all here, let’s get to it.” Val takes her place behind the large steel desk that dominates the room. The sunlight glares through the window behind her hitting Lance and Renny in the eyes. Renny struggles not to look away.

  “As you both know, we’ve lost several accounts over the last six months, leaving our bottom line in the crapper. The partners are looking to me to turn things around and I am looking to the two of you.”

  Renny’s innards twist as she silently prays that this doesn’t mean she’ll have to work on another project with Lance.

  “There are two ways we can beef up the bottom line, bring in new business and layoffs,” Val pauses. “I plan on both.” She gets up and paces around the room. “A few weeks ago, Mr. Heffner had dinner with Walt Cedar, the CEO of Cedar Foods. It appears that they’re in the process of starting a new snack chip division. Their first product will be potato chips slated to come to market early next year. They want something fresh, but according to Heffner, the old man hates change. They’re making the round of presentations next week. And so one week from Friday, at eleven, they’ll be here with their ad agency reps in tow. That doesn’t give us much time, but we are going to take this potato chip from conception to birth. They need a product name, a campaign plan, and a long-term marketing strategy. That’s where you two come in.”

  Lance starts, “You want us to work on this…”

  “…together?” Renny finishes.

  “Not exactly. I’m quite aware that there’s no love lost between the two of you, but now we’re all going to benefit from your shared contempt. I’m going to loosen the leash on this one, giving you autonomy. Let’s hope I don’t regret it. Each of you will devise a different strategy and all the elements that go with it, with my input of course. As long as the idea is up to snuff, you’ll each have the chance to pitch it to the client yourself.”

  Renny is stunned. She’s never been given the opportunity to present by herself. This could be her big break.

  “The person whose campaign they choose gets a promotion to account manager, my job. I in turn get bumped up to partner. Win-win.” Val pauses. “Oh, I almost forgot the last detail. The loser gets terminated.”

  The room is silent.

  Renny tries to keep her voice from faltering, “But what if neither of us wins the account?”

  “Then you can keep each other company on the unemployment line. This may seem harsh, but I believe that the best work comes under pressure. Besides, there’s no room here for dead weight. If either of you have a problem with this, the door hasn’t moved since you came in, you’re free to use it. You have autonomy in that, too. Security will be happy to escort you out.”

  Renny holds her face steady under Val’s scrutinizing stare.

  “Good.” Val picks up her phone, letting them know they are dismissed. “Doris has files for each of you on the project.”

  Renny follows Lance toward the door.

  Val calls after her. “And Renny.”

  She turns, “Yes?”

  Val’s voice is caustic. “Next time, save the tennis shoes for the weekend. We dress for work here.”

  Chapter Two

  “Renny, open the door. It’s Jeff.”

  “Shit, not now,” Renny whispers, hopping as she pulls on black knee-high boots. Jeff is her friend and neighbor across the hall. She ignores him, hoping he’ll go away.

  He taps at the door like a woodpecker. “Come on, open up, I want to show you something. I know you’re home. I heard you come in.”

  She wonders if she can telepathically send him a message to leave.

  “That’s it! I’m going to sing until you open the door.” He bursts into a hearty rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

  So much for telepathy, Renny thinks, opening the door. “What?”

  Jeff walks in, holding out a cupcake with a burning candle as if it were a twelve-tier confectionary masterpiece.

  Renny breezes past him toward the bathroom and extinguishes the flame. “I’m meeting Sara and Gaby in less than twenty minutes for dinner across town. I don’t have time right now.”

  “What restaurant?” Jeff asks.

  “Volume,” Renny calls back, fluffing the brown hair curling at her shoulders, which despite a drizzly commute home has remained frizz free—a birthday token from the hair gods. To refurbish for her evening, she has washed away the day’s grime, applied fresh make-up and donned her favorite black pants with a new white shirt that ties at the waist.

  “I love that place. How about I drive you?”

  Heading to the kitchen, she shoots him an irritated look. “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, it’ll save you time.”

  “No way.” Even though he is one of the few people she knows with a car in the city, Renny also knows that letting him drive her is not a good idea.

  “You hate when I hang out with you and your friends. You’re ashamed of me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Renny searches the counter for her keys.

  “I know that’s it.”

  “Jeff, I am not ashamed of you. You’re a great guy and a great friend. And that’s it!”

  “Not because I haven’t tried.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” Renny ignores the sad puppy eyes he casts at her. “There you are.” Her hand closes around the keys, which somehow wound up between the answering machine and microwave.

  Jeff moved in across the hall a year ago. They met in the laundry room and he was immediately smitten. Renny wishes that she felt the same way because what could be better than falling in love with your best friend? On paper he adds up. He’s cute and has a great sense of humor. Two years ago he left his job as a web page designer for a technology company, cashed in his stock options and started his own Web design company, NewApproach. A few months ago they added two search engines to their client roster. And though he’s balding, Jeff is one of the few men who carry it off with aplomb. He’s actually a cool bald guy
, which—much like a rainbow—you can’t believe until it’s really there in front of you. Unfortunately for Jeff, what looks good on paper doesn’t translate chemically. After they’d known each other for a few months, Jeff got up the nerve to kiss her. He may as well have been a dentist darting a probe around her mouth. Instead of being filled with desire, Renny felt an urgent need to spit.

  The phone rings and Renny dives for it. “Hello,” she says, relieved to have a diversion from their conversation.

  “Are you sure you can’t come for dinner tonight?” Renny’s mother asks in lieu of hello.

  “Ma, I’m meeting Sara and Gaby in…” she checks her watch, “…sixteen minutes.”

  “Tell Shirley hello,” Jeff says.

  “Who’s there?” her mother asks.

  “Jeff, he says hello.” Renny wedges the phone between her head and shoulder while wiggling into her jacket.

  “He’s a nice boy,” her mother says, which Renny knows that innocent statement is actually code for, “Why can’t you marry him?”

  Call waiting beeps in. “Hang on, the other phone.” Renny clicks off with her mother. “Hello.”

  “Finally, Cosmo’s Deli! Vhat’s vit the machine?”

  “Mendelbaum,” she sighs. “When are you going to realize this is not Cosmo’s Deli?”

  He ignores the question. “I’ll have a tuna on rye mit a side of cole slaw. And a tea, hot tea, not cold. The name is Mendelbaum. With a capital…”

  “M,” she cuts in mimicking his ritual spelling of his name, “e-n-d, like dog, e-l-b, as in boy, a-u-m, like Myrna.” Renny has been fielding calls from Mendelbaum for four months. “It’ll be right over. That is over to wherever it is you call me from. Who are you Mendelbaum?”

  As always, he hangs up when she questions his identity. Renny clicks the phone back to her mother. “Ma, I really have to go.”

  “Fine. Don’t forget to bring your laundry when you come.”

  Renny smiles. She loves that her mother is still willing to do laundry for her. “You’re the best, Ma.” She hangs up and finds Jeff’s face set with a smug glow of satisfaction. “What’s with you?” she asks.