Cosmo's Deli

by Sharon Kurtzman

  “It’s all right.” Renny slurps in a fork full of cold Chinese noodles. “I wasn’t alone you know.”

  “Really?”

  “Georgie came over tonight.”

  “So what do you think?”

  “I think too damn much as usual, you know?”

  Gaby nods. “You do have a propensity to overanalyze. Shit, since Mama died, I think I have the same affliction. It never used to be like that for me. I was the one who never gave a damn about the rear view.”

  Renny wants to tell Gaby about her mother’s tests, but as soon as she opens her mouth to speak, she shuts it again. She is afraid it will send Gaby over the edge. She’s also fears going off the deep end with her.

  Gaby shifts on the couch, her whole body spreading out like ooze. “These little pills are damn good. I wish I had these suckers in our college days.”

  They laugh together in a way they haven’t in months. Renny is struck by how much she has missed being able to have Gaby really hear her and takes this opportunity to shift the topic from mothers to men. “Do you think it could work out with Georgie? I know we started as a one-night stand, but that doesn’t always have to mean we’re doomed.”

  “What number is he? Seventeen, eighteen?” Gaby sips her soda.

  “No way, I haven’t slept with that many.”

  “Really, I thought you had. What number then?”

  “Thirteen,” Renny confesses.

  “Oh,” Gaby cringes.

  “What? That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “My number thirteen was hot, passionate and demolishing. Remember Noam?”

  “Not really.”

  “The Israeli arms dealer?” Gaby says.

  Renny winces. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Thirteen is unlucky. It’ll never work.”

  “Just because your thirteen crashed and burned doesn’t mean Georgie will.”

  “Do you want my opinion or not?”

  “Yes,” Renny concedes.

  “When he came over tonight, did he call first or just show up?”

  “What does it matter?”

  Like a host on a game show Gaby speaks the unspoken answer, “He just showed up. Has he asked you out on a real date yet?”

  “Saturday night. And it’s a very public first date. He’s taking me to that big station party after the auction. The one at Meltdown.”

  “That’s a good sign. What are you fixing to wear?”

  “I was thinking the dress I wore to my company Christmas party. You know, the green one with the straps in the back?”

  “No, not that one.” Gaby crinkles her nose. “I’m taking you to Mu Mu for a dress.”

  “Where?”

  “Trust me, only a select few have the privilege of shopping there.”

  Renny shakes her head. “I can’t go. I have a ton of work to do.”

  “We’ll go at lunch time and I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s the least I can do after dragging your ass out tonight. Let me at least try and be a good friend, too. Okay?”

  “Kay.” Renny nods.

  “Now, what’s up with the girlfriend?” Gaby asks.

  “He says it’ been over for a while, that they’re just friends. I think he’s being straight with me.”

  “Do you think he’s another FA?”

  “A Fuck Around?” Renny shakes her head. “I haven’t heard those words in a while. When did we come up with that? It has to be at least five years ago.”

  “More, we were still living together. And we didn’t come up with it. It was in that book Sara was editing for work.”

  “Oh yeah.” Renny nods. “That bartender I was dating had just stood me up and Sara was trying to cheer me up.”

  “I still remember her standing on the bed and clutching that thing like it was the good book” With a wobbling hand Gaby grabs the TV Guide from the coffee table and waves it in the air as Sara had done with the dating book years ago. “The typical womanizer beds and bolts, but the FA sticks around for weeks, lulling its prey into the belief that there is a future. Heartbreak is virtually guaranteed. Typically the inconsequential will trigger rejection. Talk with your hands, laugh at too high of a pitch or cut your hair too short and the FA will flush your number down the crapper.” Gaby’s eyes flame at Renny like an evangelist with a habitual sinner. “Avoid them at every turn.”

  “How do you remember that?” Renny asks.

  She lays back down, clearly exhausted from her efforts. “I bought a copy when it came out. And you didn’t answer me. Do you think Georgie is an FA?”

  “No way.” Renny shakes her head.

  “You don’t think so or you don’t want to think so? Because you always seem to wind up with them.” Gaby yawns, “It’s not like it was a few years ago. Back then if you got involved with a FA it lasted a few weeks and you could get away with calling it a relationship. Now they operate on Internet time like everything else. The whole thing is done in a week instead of a month. You’re better off with a one-nighter, at least then you don’t get emotionally attached.”

  Renny’s mind chews on this.

  A tear slides down Gaby’s cheek. “But I guess you’re better off with a FA then a pure mind fuck like Stan was to me. I dumped him, and then he comes back. I take him back and for what? The whole thing, all that sympathy after Mama died, just so in the end he could call me crazy.” She shuts her eyes.

  Renny tries to ward off another of Gaby’s crying jags. “Hey, remember Jude Parker? Sometimes FA’s can change?”

  Gaby opens her eyes.

  The tale of Jude Parker is every New York City single woman’s inspirational bedtime story. The classic FA, Jude was known all over Manhattan and on any given Saturday night he could be found knee deep in women at whatever bar was the place to see and be seen. Everyone loved Jude and wanted to be loved by him, even after the three to four weeks when they left his favor for the inevitable dump.

  Then four years ago Jude met Marisa, who relocated to New York from Argentina. An exotic beauty with raven hair and flawless olive skin, she made men drunk listening to the rolling inflections of her words. Marisa wore white in winter and red all summer long, which made her pop against the black background that clothed the rest of Manhattan women. She was working in the men’s department at Barney’s when Jude came in to do some shopping. She helped him pick out a shirt and shazam, no more FA. They’ve been married three years, have two kids, a duplex on the Upper East Side and Jude is the happiest MMG—Monogamous Married Guy—anyone ever saw.

  “You think Georgie is gonna to turn out to be your Jude?”

  “It’s possible.” Renny says.

  Gaby shifts to her side and pulls a crotchet blanket up to her chin. “So tell me what’s going on with Sara? She left me a message the other night, but I didn’t get to call her. She didn’t sound too good.”

  “You sure you want to hear it?”

  She closes her eyes. “Yeah, I may doze off though.”

  Renny yawns and stretches out on the other half of the couch. “Do you mind if I stick my feet in your blanket, I’m cold?”

  “Mmm-mmm.”

  Renny slides her legs under the blanket and lies back, by which time Gaby is asleep. Renny closes her eyes, just to rest for a few minutes. Then she’ll go home. But her own exhaustion dictates and Renny slips into a dreamless sleep where she is consistently aware of the couch and Gaby’s light snoring beside her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morning, the commuting gods smile on Renny, allowing her to step out of her building and nab a cab in under a minute. Speeding down West End Avenue, her cell phone rings and she pulls it out of her bag. “Hello,” Renny stifles a yawn.

  “It’s me,” Lucy says. “Are you on your way? It’s almost ten and Val’s been down here looking for you twice. I told her you were hung up in the art department.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes. My cab just hit eight green lights in a row.”

  “Did you know that the
city record for green lights is 27, held by a UPS truck in 1997?” Lucy asks.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I had a friend who worked for UPS. It’s common knowledge there.”

  Renny rolls her eyes. “Did you pick up the stuff from the Art Department?”

  “Yeah, but Heather said your opening board won’t be done till noon. What happened to you this morning? Another late night with the song picker?”

  “It started that way, but ended, well, it’s a long story. But, he did ask me out for Saturday night.”

  “Get out! To that thing at Meltdown? Damn, you are so lucky!”

  “Skill baby, all skill,” Renny jokes, before turning sincere. “Lucy, thanks for taking care of that stuff for me this morning. I would have been screwed otherwise.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Your friend Jeff called and said he’ll swing by the office tonight at six.” Her voice turns melodic, “And, ‘someone else’ is trying to reach you. Man, does he give good phone. I had to go have a smoke after I hung up.”

  Renny giggles. “Georgie called me already?”

  “I told him to call you on your cell. And I wasn’t kidding about Val,” Lucy warns, “you better get in here. Ciao.”

  “Bye.” Renny folds her cell and a moment later it rings. “Good morning,” she says tittering in anticipation of Georgie’s husky voice.

  “May I speak to Renny please?”

  Only it’s not Georgie. “This is Renny.”

  “Hi, this is Marty Toezoff. Your mother gave my aunt your number. I tried you at your office, but your assistant said I should try you on your cell. I hope I’m not being a pest.”

  Renny cringes, damn Lucy, why didn’t she say it wasn’t Georgie that called? “Listen, Marty, I’m going to get to the point here. I know my mother gave out my number but she shouldn’t have. Blind dates are as close to hell as you can get without dying. So let’s not even go there.”

  Undaunted, he tells her, “I have a feeling we should meet. Don’t ask me why, but I just think we should.”

  Maybe I should hang up on him, Renny thinks.

  “Lucy thinks so, too. We had a nice chat this morning.”

  “You and Lucy?” Renny can imagine what that conversation was like.

  “Did you get my message about Saturday night? My friends are having a party at Bear Grunt.”

  “I read about that place in It’s New York magazine, but I thought it wasn’t opening until next month.”

  “My friend is one of the partners, so a few of us are getting together to christen it. It should be a good time.”

  Renny does a ‘let’s make a deal’ review of her choices. Behind curtain number one is the Holy Grail of dates, accompanying Georgie to Meltdown, capped with S-E-X into the wee hours. Behind curtain two is an evening with the foot doctor and his ‘good time’ friends. “I already have plans Saturday night.”

  “How about brunch on Sunday? Around eleven?”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able too.” Because Georgie and I will be having even more sex, she thinks, feeling a stirring in her southern fjord.

  Marty teases, “Come on, Mr. Saturday Night shouldn’t get too bent out of shape over brunch. It’s just two friends talking about our weekends while breaking bread.”

  “Mr. Saturday night? You did have a nice chat with Lucy, didn’t you?”

  “Please don’t hold that against me,” he laughs.

  His warmth resonates through the phone. She expected his voice to be nasal and annoying, but instead it vibrates through her like a drum being rapped under her skin. “What exactly did Lucy tell you?”

  “Let’s just say she was very informative. But, most assistants are. Just tell Mr. Saturday night that you’re meeting a friend for brunch. After all brunch is officially the most harmless of all get-togethers. If nothing else, I’m helping you play hard to get. Trust me. Most guys like that.”

  Renny wonders if Lucy told him who Mr. Saturday night is? “Just brunch?”

  He leaves her no time to back out. “Do you know Barney Greengrass?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a place on the Upper East Side that’s better, Milton’s. It’s on Second between 84th and 85th. I’ll pick you up at eleven?”

  “Not so fast, I’ll meet you there at eleven. Two friends just meeting each other for brunch, don’t forget that.” A nervous thrill sneaks through her, making her wonder if she’s turning into a nympho. Soon even Mendelbaum’s messages will turn her on.

  “I’m just glad you agreed,” he says.

  “Yeah, why’s that?”

  “Because if you didn’t, Lucy told me she’d have to go out with me instead. She made it sound like a threat.”

  Renny laughs. “It is!” After promising to see him Sunday, she tucks her phone in her backpack and is suddenly struck with a pinch of guilt. Is this cheating on Georgie?

  How can it be cheating if we haven’t had a real date, she asks herself? But Saturday night is a date, so technically brunch with Marty could be considered cheating. Renny taps on the cab’s partition.

  “Yeah?” the driver questions.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.” He turns off his radio.

  “There are these two guys.”

  “I figured from that phone call.”

  “Okay, well, good. You see I’m hanging out with one guy, who I haven’t had an actual date with yet and then a second guy asked me out.

  “The guy on the phone is the second guy?”

  “Yeah. But, you see, the date with him is set for after the first guy plans to take me out on our first date. Do you think that I’m cheating on the first guy with the second guy?”

  “What night is the first guy taking you out?”

  “Saturday night.”

  “How long have you been seeing the first one?”

  “A week.”

  “Are you screwing either of them?” The driver asks.

  “Why do you need to know that?” Renny counters.

  “You want advice?”

  “Just the first guy,” she reluctantly confesses.

  “Where’s the second guy taking you?”

  “Brunch, Sunday morning.”

  “Naaah! Brunch is harmless! Go for it.” The driver gives her a thumbs up as if her life were a movie he’d just reviewed.

  “That’s what he said!”

  “Which one, the first or the second?”

  “The second.”

  “I like him already.”

  “Brunch is harmless.” Renny smiles. “God, I sound just like him.”

  ***

  Renny looks up skeptically at the nondescript brick office building on Sixth between 36th and 37th. “This is the hot place you’re taking me for a dress?”

  Gaby heads into the building. “Only those in the know come to Mu Mu.”

  They walk single file down a narrow gray corridor where patches of peeling paint have fallen onto the black vinyl flooring like dandruff on a dark shirt. They wind their way to the back where a door is propped open by a brick, leading to a staircase. A sheet of paper with “Mu Mu” scribbled in red marker and an arrow pointing up is taped to the door.

  Renny checks her watch. “I snuck out of the office, but I have to be back for a meeting in the art department by two-thirty. That gives us just over an hour.”

  “You’ll be out of here in thirty minutes with a dress. Trust me honey.”

  Renny reluctantly trudges up three flights behind Gaby. Stepping out of the stairwell, they pass through a futuristic corridor with shiny steel pipes climbing the walls and ceiling like ivy on an old Tudor house. The reception area greets them with an assault of rich colors and a wall of fuchsia lights that flashes “MU MU” at its center. Gaby strides up to the enormous glass desk in the center of the room.

  “Can I help you?” the Asian beauty behind the desk asks.

  “Gaby Bowers is here for Francine.”

  The receptionist quickly picks up
the phone and relays the message. “Gaby Bowers for Francine.” She hangs up and flashes a high-wattage smile at Gaby. “Francine will be right out. I don’t mean to gush, but I’m a huge fan of yours. I have twenty pairs of Unmentionables. They changed my life. You must hear that all the time.”

  “Yeah, but I love hearing more,” she drawls.

  “I wish I had a pair that was still in their packaging. My girlfriend told me she saw a pair listed on eBay. It was still sealed in its original packaging and sold for two hundred dollars.”

  “Really?” Gaby says shocked.

  “Swear.” She turns away to answer the phone. “Bonjour, Mu Mu.”

  “Gaby Bowers, there you are!” Francine Gish, the queen bee of Mu Mu, rushes up with her arms fluttering.

  After air kisses and greetings, Gaby introduces her guest. “This is my friend Renny. She needs something very special and very sexy for Saturday night.”

  “You’ve come to the right place.” Francine crooks her finger at them. “This way.” Frosted glass walls part like the Red Sea as Francine approaches them. Behind the walls is a room of eye candy for the fashionista, where each garment displayed is more beautiful than the next one. “Do you like?”

  “I, I…” Renny stutters, uncertain where to look first.

  Francine pats her arm. “Let’s start with these.” From the displays she pulls out a red mini dress with large diamond shaped cut-outs on the sides, a cream halter dress and an aqua pair of pants with a matching midriff baring top.

  Gaby and Renny follow Francine through a mirrored room into an adjoining fitting room. A large circular ottoman dominates half the space and Gaby stretches out across it in viewing position.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes to see how they look,” Francine announces, pulling purple velvet drapes across the door.

  Renny waves her arms around. “This fitting room is bigger than my apartment.”

  “I told you this place was somethin’,” Gaby says.

  Renny pulls her shirt halfway off and stops, leaving her looking as though she’s coiled in a straightjacket. “I didn’t tell her what size I am. They probably won’t even fit my leg.”

  “They will fit like a glove. Francine knows your size better than you do. She had eight dresses at the Oscars last month. Just try them on.”