Cosmo's Deli

by Sharon Kurtzman

  “I should bet my savings on that,” Renny says glumly.

  “Ah-ha, I caught you!” A voice yells from behind.

  Renny whirls around and is relieved to see Elsay. “You scared the shit out of us!”

  He walks around to face her. “What are you doing in here again?”

  Renny gestures toward Heather. “We needed an out of the way place to work.”

  Elsay’s face lights up. “Hello.”

  Heather blushes. “Hello.”

  Their instantaneous attraction is palpable. Elsay clears his throat and raises his eyebrows at Renny.

  Renny makes the introductions. “Elsay, this is Heather Donovan. She is the very gifted Art Director where I work. Heather this is Elsay, he owns the deli across from our office.”

  Elsay gazes into her eyes. “We have never officially met, but I know you. You come into my store. Large coffee, extra cream, three sugars and an egg and sausage sandwich with a raspberry cheese danish on the side. Every so often you order the muffin special. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He bows grandly.

  Heather’s eyes are glued to Elsay’s, “I better get back to the office. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Tell Lucy that if she needs me to call me on my cell. I’m going to stay here until the pitch.”

  “It was nice meeting you,” Heather tells Elsay while ignoring Renny.

  Elsay grabs Heather’s hand and brushes it with his lips. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Heather floats to the door and Elsay’s eyes track her the entire way. She turns before leaving and waves. He vigorously waves back like one cheering a favorite team at a sporting event. Renny whispers in his ear, “She’s single, go get her tiger.”

  “You are not jealous?” he asks.

  “Can I still cut the line in the morning?”

  “Always.”

  “Go get her.”

  With a cheery growl, Elsay bolts toward the door to catch up with Heather. Renny sits down with a smile and opens her PowerPoint program. Checking her watch, she sees it is just after eight. The meeting is at eleven. Renny doesn’t know whether she or Lance will pitch first, but each should run no more than thirty to forty minutes. Val had originally wanted to break for lunch between presentations, but thanks to Doris, they weren’t going to do that. Doris caught wind of Renny’s quandary over her mother’s doctor appointment. She told Val that the Walt Cedar’s secretary had called and that he needed to wrap the meeting up no later than one-thirty. Renny types a note in her on-line calendar reminding her to send Doris flowers next week. If everything goes accordingly, Renny should be buckling in to the back seat of the Lincoln Town Car just after one-thirty. Traffic should be light that time of day, getting her to the oncologist’s office in time for her mother’s two-fifteen appointment. Renny can’t wait to see Ira’s face when she walks in.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Georgie hunches over his microphone, poised to jump in as soon as Rockin’ finishes reading a commercial for Big Fred Electronics. Stressed out by his situation with the station and Tawney, Georgie knows that if Rockin’ was privy to it, he would have to take shit about it on-air. No mention so far, however, so Georgie figures if Rockin’ knew anything, he would have brought it up already. That asshole can’t even keep a fart in.

  Georgie quickly introduces a commercial and the on-air light goes dark. He stretches a hand across his forehead and massages his temples.

  Rockin’ quips, “So, did you two do it all night, or what?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Georgie growls.

  “Yeah, right,” Rockin’ says, twirling around in his chair toward the clock. “We’re back on in ten.” He turns back to Georgie, stacking his hands behind his head and a self-contented grin on his face, “Hey, look at it this way, if you have to kiss ass to keep your job, at least Tawney’s got a nice one.” Rockin’ puckers his lips and makes an elongated smooch.

  The sound stomps up Georgie’s backbone. “Shove that microphone up your ass.”

  Rockin’ points his eyes at the illuminated on-air light and then leans into the microphone. “And we’re back. Sorry about the language folks. My partner Georgie is cranky this morning. But, he had a rough night, so let’s cut him some slack. Isn’t that right, Georgie?” Rockin’ hits a button, triggering the loud wail of a baby.

  Georgie scowls at him.

  Rockin’ continues, “Let’s talk about last night. Moi? I was home all alone just waiting by the phone. Ladies, I am begging on bended knee. If you’re out there, help me! Night after night I spend alone, just me, my TV and my hand around my remote.”

  Georgie knows he has to talk. “If you were alone, I’m sure it wasn’t the remote you had your hand around.”

  Rockin’ feigns hurt, “Ouch! Were you peeping in my windows? And what about you, Georgie? What did you do last night?”

  “Not much,” seeps from his tight lips.

  “That’s not what we heard.”

  “You heard wrong.” Georgie scribbles a note to Rockin’. Don’t do this now.

  Rockin’ slaps the note away and checks his computer monitor. “We have a caller.” He hits a button. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

  Tawney’s sultry voice fills the booth. “Hey guys. Georgie, you forgot to wake me before you left this morning.”

  Her words ring in his ears and Georgie realizes they’ve all played him—Ben, Tawney, Rockin’ and the station management. Only there’s nothing he can do because they’ve got him by the short curlies.

  Rockin’ ruffles through the newspaper. “So Tawney. I’ve missed you, sweetie. Kiss kiss, welcome back.”

  “Thanks, Rockin’.”

  “You know I slipped you the tongue with those kisses.”

  “You’re as bad as ever,” Tawney giggles.

  Rockin’ shakes the newspaper, so the crinkling can be heard on air. “Tawney tell us, according to the gossip columns this morning, a certain supermodel and a certain New York deejay were spotted at the restaurant Holy having a drink with a third party.” He feigns indignation, “Okay! I’m mad at you two. You promised me that if you ever went ménage, I was the number one choice. Are you two cheating on me?”

  Tawney laughs. “Rockin’ you know we wouldn’t look elsewhere. Right, Georgie?”

  Georgie chokes with anger.

  Rockin’ chuckles, “So we can assume that you two have patched things up?”

  “That’s right,” she gushes. “Everyone knows Georgie and I have had our ups and downs. But when you truly love someone, you find a way to get through it. Just like we have. Right, honey?”

  Rockin’ kicks Georgie.

  Georgie flinches, “Ahh! I guess.”

  Rockin’ sniffles fake tears. “That’s so beautiful. I need a tissue.” He pushes a button and an earsplitting honk trumpets out. “Tawney, I missed my chance with you again.”

  She laughs, “Sorry, but my heart is promised elsewhere. Georgie, I’ll see you tonight.”

  Georgie feels like his head is going to pop off his body if he doesn’t take control. He shoves Rockin’ away from the microphone. “Don’t forget, Saturday at noon we sell off my slab of a partner at the Bachelor Auction for Charity followed by tomorrow night’s Q92.7 party at the Meltdown. You want to join us? Call right now, we’ll take the tenth caller at (800) 555-Q927, and if it’s you, you and a friend are going to party with us at Q92.7.” Georgie pushes the song button and swivels so the back of his chair is toward Rockin.’

  Rockin’ waves toward the phones. “Look at the call board. It’s lit up like a Christmas tree. Our listeners love a love story, even a sadistic one.” He pokes a finger in Georgie’s chest. “You’re lucky she took you back. And I presume you cut the chick from last week loose. I’m sure Tawney wouldn’t put up with someone in the wings.”

  Georgie turns away, in an effort to keep his anger in check.

  “Give me her number. If she’s as hot as you say, I’ll make sure she’s not lonely
.”

  Georgie breaks, grabbing Rockin’ by the collar and throwing him to the ground like a rag doll. Crouching over him with their noses barely a centimeter apart, Georgie’s voice is eerily calm, “You stay away from her. And if you ever, ever pull this kind of shit with me again, I’ll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass. Then you’ll see what it’s like to be fucked by yourself.”

  Georgie storms out, leaving Rockin’ on the floor like a deflating balloon.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sara wakes to the music that plays softly from her alarm clock. Casting an arm over to turn it off, she glances at Megan, who is curled up fast asleep. Sara touches Megan’s forehead. Cool. Her fever has broken, Sara thinks with relief.

  She stares at her daughter’s profile, struck by how much she resembles Bart. As an infant, everyone thought she looked more like Sara. However, in recent months friends often commented on how Megan’s looks have changed and as she sheds some of her babyface she looks more and more like Bart. Until this morning, Sara didn’t see what they were talking about, but overnight, Megan’s features seem to have morphed into child sized versions of Bart’s. Sara traces a finger over Megan’s tiny up turned nose and then rides over the round curve of her cheek, lightly skipping over the small band of dancing freckles. Bart is a part of this face, Sara thinks, so no matter what he’ll be a part of their lives. Her thoughts are like that of one in mourning.

  Sara rolls onto her back, holding at bay a more disturbing thought, one which barrels forward no matter how much she tries to fight it. Bart’s not dead. She wants him back. How could I, she thinks? He abandoned her, cheated on her, humiliated her and yet, she still loves him. Sara wishes that her heart would allow her to fall out of love as effortlessly as he has fallen out of their lives? Only her heart has plans of its own. Fight for him, it beats. Make him fall in love all over again, it pulses. Her mind considers this. She wouldn’t be the first woman to fight for her wayward man’s affection. Marriages come back from the brink all the time. Anger wells up shoving aside the wishes of her heart. Why should she have to fight for his love, when it was something he’d promised to her? Something that should have been constant like the air she breathed. What kind of monster withdraws that without warning and leaves his wife and child gasping and flopping like fish thrown on dry land?

  She slips out of bed and goes downstairs. Walking from the stairs toward the kitchen, Sara’s socks grow damp against her feet.

  “Why is it wet here,” she wonders aloud as her feet ‘thwock-thwock’ with each step? Entering the kitchen her mouth falls open.

  Water gushes everywhere, from the ceiling to the counters, and like a waterfall it flows from the counters to the floor. Vertical rows of waves ripple down the walls like wallpaper brought to life. Chunks of plaster lay scattered on the floor and counters, having fallen from the ceiling and exposing gaping holes of wood framing.

  “Oh no,” Sara gasps. Her body tingles as she runs up stairs ignoring a cramp in her lower abdomen. She reaches the laundry room and finds over an inch of water on the floor and the overflowing sink continually dumping more, sending it rushing in little waves across her feet like she were Gulliver moored on the Lilliputian’s island.

  After turning the water off and pulling the plug out of the sink, Sara hurries back to the kitchen clinging to the thought that, maybe, it’s not that bad.

  Then a thought socks her like a fist to the jaw. This is her fault.

  “How could I have been so stupid?” she groans. “How could I fall asleep and leave the water running?” In the kitchen, the water drips from the ceiling and counters. Through the walls comes the sound of rushing water, as though the house has been transformed into a raft, swimming down an angry-white river. The submerged hardwoods moan under her feet as she moves around.

  THUNK!

  A clump of ceiling plaster lands on the floor by her feet.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The phone rings shattering the silence in Gaby’s apartment.

  “Hello.” Gaby’s croaks.

  Annette shouts into the phone. “Wake up, it’s almost eleven.”

  “What? What day is it?”

  “It’s Friday. You missed a great time last night, girlfriend. Do you remember those two cousins who write for No Frills magazine? I ran into them after you left Bloomies and we ended up bar hopping until three. Why’d you leave like that?”

  Gaby holds the phone a few inches from her ear. “Where are you?”

  “Trying to catch a cab in Times Square. I’m just making sure you’re not gonna bail on me again tonight. We’re meeting some people at Live Bait at eight. You’re coming, right?”

  “Sure.” Gaby rolls over.

  “That asshole just stole my cab. All right, I’ll see you later. Ciao.”

  Gaby knocks over her bottle of Valium as she puts the phone back. Hanging over the side of the bed, she retrieves the bottle but the cap pops off and a dozen pills scatter across the floor. She leaves them there, too tired to get out of bed and gather them up. Her eyes fall on the mosaic grandfather clock towering nearby. Gaby bought it last week at ABC Carpet and Home, even though it came with a $7,000 price tag.

  Gaby first saw that clock during her parents’ last visit. Her father was attending some medical convention and mother tagged along so she and Gaby could spend some time together. In Mama-speak that meant shopping.

  Normally Gaby and her mother got along best when they were out shopping, as if the act itself diluted their differences. But after two days of togetherness, every word from her mother’s mouth had become kindling for a flaming argument. When they saw the clock at ABC Carpet and Home her mother immediately pounced on a sales person to finagle a bargain.

  Gaby was mortified. “Mama you can’t do that here. The price is the price! You know what I am saying.”

  “Gaby, if there’s one thing I know, the price is never the price. There’s nothing wrong with trying to negotiate a little.”

  “You don’t do that here Mama. This is ABC Carpet, not some backwater flea market. Besides, that thing is hideous!”

  “Why I think it’s precious!”

  “It looks like shit with numbers.” Gaby stormed out of the store.

  Her mother followed. “Gabrielle Bowers. How dare you talk to me that way?”

  “Someone has to tell you that you have bad taste.”

  “From my daughter, the underwear queen? Please, you call that good taste? Listen up, just because a cat’s got kittens in the oven doesn’t make ’em biscuits.”

  “What the hell does that mean? I don’t even know what that means.”

  Her mother buttoned her coat. “Forget it. Let’s just get something to eat. My blood sugar is dropping and I am starting to feel ill.”

  “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you, Mama.”

  They walked down the street in silence. As they entered the coffee shop, Charlotte told her, “Honestly Gabrielle, sometimes I don’t know what gets into you. You make it so that I’m afraid to talk to you.”

  Gaby glimpsed a tear in the corner of her mother’s eye, which made her feel even worse. The only time she ever saw the woman cry was when her own mother died. The odd thing was that Gaby liked the clock. She just couldn’t admit it.

  That night her parents flew back to North Carolina. Saying good-bye at the airport her mother teared up. “There’s never enough time.” She touched Gaby’s face gently. “I love you, Gabrielle. You’ll always be my baby.” Gaby didn’t know it was the last time that she’d see her alive.

  Gaby loved her too, wondering if she ever let her mother know how much. She buries her tear stained face in a pillow. “It’s not fair! Why’d you die on me, Mama?”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Renny’s insides feel like they’re being pureed into a smoothie as she surveys the conference room and maps out the main players.

  To her left three men chat near a buffet of coffee, bottled water and muffins. Each one is wearing
a taupe suit accessorized with the same shade shirt and tie. The Cedar Foods advertising guys, Renny realizes—these days the monochromatic look is ad-world standard issue.

  Moving toward the conference table puts her in proximity to Val and Lance, who are talking to a man in his early seventies. From the corporate bios she studied, Renny knows that this is Walt Cedar, the owner and President of Cedar Foods. With his inch-long gray hair and weathered complexion, he resembles an aging Marlboro man more then a desk-saddled corporate president, she thinks. A younger man stands at his side, but Renny doesn’t recognize him from any of her reading. Probably an assistant, she assumes.

  Walt Cedar’s words boom across the room. “This is the fourth presentation so far this week and I haven’t heard anything worth using at any of them.”

  Val and Lance exchange smiles as if they’ve just been told the secret formula for Coca-Cola.

  “I can assure you sir, you’ll be quite pleased after today,” Lance says.

  Walt turns toward Val, ignoring Lance as if he were a flittering bug. “So where’s the other sharp shooter you’re bringing in for today.”

  That’s me, Renny realizes, and with a deep breath she strides over.

  “Well, here she is, gentlemen.” Val waves, seeing Renny approach. “Renny Shuler, I’d like you to meet Walter Cedar, President of Cedar Foods Corporation.”

  She shakes his hand. “It’s a pleasure, sir.”

  Val gestures to the younger man at his side. “And this is Trey Cedar. Trey will be overseeing the new snack chip division.”

  Walt proudly smacks the younger man on the back. “My grandson is a genius! He joined the company earlier this year and he’s breathed new life into us. Graduated top of his class at Wharton. He’s got a B.S., an MBA—hell, he’s got the whole damn alphabet.”

  Trey shakes Renny’s hand and jokes, “My grandfather tends to exaggerate a bit, but I do love him for it.”