The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan (The Mimi Chronicles Book 1)

by Whitney Dineen

  He answers, “I’m not sure.”

  I can’t help myself so I ask, “So, she might be joining us?”

  He declares, “She will not.” No more explanation than that and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Elliot finally breaks our staring contest and makes a move to the door. Just as he’s about to walk out, he turns around and says, “By the way, you look very nice today Mimi.” Then he’s gone.

  I collapse in my chair and take ten deep breaths to keep myself from running after him and tackling him to the ground. Elliot stays at Parliament for the rest of the afternoon and every time he passes my office he peers in. I wonder if he knows how much I want him. A little voice inside my head answers, “Of course he does. Welcome to the mating dance.”

  Chapter 16

  On this our second day of working out, Muffy calls to cancel our session. She has lessons until six-thirty, but she commands us to carry on without her. Kevin gets to my house at five-forty-five looking a bit too suave for physical activity. His sweats look brand new, as do his shoes, his hair is slicked back with some kind of gel and he appears to either be wearing a girdle or he’s just majorly sucking his gut in. I answer the door and simply burst out laughing.

  He walks in with his eyes darting around for Muffy when he loudly declares, “Hey Mimi, ready to work out? I can’t wait, I’m totally jazzed!!!”

  So I let him off the hook, “She’s not here, doofus.”

  He relaxes his posture and sighs, “Oh thank God! I didn’t know how long I could keep that up.” Then I tell him she can’t make our workout tonight and he begs, “Let’s not do it then. My body is so sore I thought I was dying when I got out of bed this morning.”

  I concur and by mutual consent we agree to skip the torture tonight. We convince ourselves if we exercise too much too soon, we might just overdo and wind up giving up on it. So for our long term fitness, we make the decision to take the night off. I ask Kevin, “How many points do you have left?” He has eight and I have nine so we can both have the extra cheese on our frozen dinners.

  While Kevin is tossing the salad I tell him about Beatrice. I accuse, “I’m pretty sure you’re the reason she’s staying in town. I can’t thank you enough.”

  But he just smiles and says, “Get her number for me. I’ll be happy to keep her busy for you.”

  “You will, why?”

  He laughs, “I know this sounds crazy but I really did have a nice time with her. In fact she’s the only other person I’ve met in a long time who’s as desperate for attention as I am.”

  I declare, “Kevin, you are not desperate for attention.”

  “Not from you or say from my mother; but from a viable member of the opposite sex? Let’s face it, I’m desperate. My wife is having another man’s baby and my self-esteem is in the toilet.”

  I know exactly how he feels. There is no sensation so addicting as appreciation from a member of the opposite sex. I, myself, have gone without it for so long that I nearly forgot how amazing it feels. After all, if you’re single for long enough, everyone around you starts to treat you like an aging relative. They’re nice to you, they smile and pat you on the hand, but they totally forget you have needs. Kevin and I are just two sorry peas in a pod.

  As we’re eating our fudge pops, Muffy walks in declaring that her last lesson canceled. She looks at Kevin and me, with our feet propped up on the coffee table, amidst remnants of our dinner and declares, “You didn’t work out!” Before either one of us can come to our senses and lie to her, she has us up and stretching. Before Kevin can even utter one unintelligible word, we are out walking. Muffy is carrying on the whole way telling us we’ll be in more pain if we don’t do some form of exercise every single day. I can’t help but wonder what Kevin sees in her. But he just stares at her adoringly and works harder than I have ever seen, in hopes of impressing the dominatrix that is my sister.

  I walk in silence tonight as I’m totally distracted by my messed up life. I am a thirty-four-year-old (yes, thirty-five is next!) single woman, with fifteen extra pounds and pathetic dating history. I have an inferiority complex where my family is concerned, I have a talking bunion named Edith Bunker, and everything coming out of my mouth is filtered through the pens of two not so funny comedy writers. I am also in heat (I would say love, but I don’t really know him yet) with a hugely successful British novelist who just so happens to be nearly engaged to another woman. It occurs to me my existence is so ridiculous that Stan and Ollie may well not be writing it on their own. There might be a whole roomful of failed comics having a whack at me.

  I hear Muffy encouraging, “You’re doing a great job, Kevin, keep it up!” And sure enough he picks up his pace in response. I’m really worried for my sister. She’s never been one to easily express her emotions so I don’t really know how to be there for her. I mean, I don’t want to intrude on her heartache by asking too many questions and then again, I don’t want to pretend that she isn’t going through the hardest time of her life. I vow to try to be a little less self-involved and be receptive to any signals she sends for help.

  Muffy and Kevin have started to talk about high school. He says, “I used to watch you at the tennis meets and you were always amazing.” Wow, a full sentence without even one stutter or made up word. Progress!

  Muffy answers, “That’s right, your girlfriend was on the team, wasn’t she?”

  Kevin confirms, “She sure was, but she didn’t have your natural gift.”

  In her typical self-deprecating style, Muffy responds, “I’m just lucky to have been born with ability. I see how hard some people work and I really admire their commitment.” After a couple minutes of silence, she adds flirtatiously, “I remember how cute you were in high school.”

  Kevin responds by tripping over his shoe and falling into someone’s lawn. But not before trying to right himself for an agonizing twenty steps. What could have been merely an embarrassing moment turns into an award-winning display of physical comedy. Poor Kevin. Muffy stops to help him up and he scolds her, “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?” she asks.

  “Don’t go telling me I was cute in high school. I used to have the biggest crush on you.”

  “Nuh uh,” she says. “You had a girlfriend.”

  Kevin replies, “Who was certainly very nice, but she was no you.” I’m having déjà vu.

  Muffy eyes my friend like she too is enjoying the appreciation of a member of the opposite sex. Even if it is just Kevin Beeman and not some buff, tri-athlete, thick-necked jock that has been her professed “type” since birth. But the truth is she doesn’t look at him like he’s just anything. She looks at him like he’s still the high school boy she thought was cute. I can’t help but think Muffy and Beatrice are going to do wonders for Kevin’s self-esteem. When we’re done working out and Kevin leaves, I notice that there is a spring to his step I haven’t seen before.

  A horrible noise wakes me at three o’clock in the morning. It’s as bad as nails on a chalk board or Styrofoam rubbing against itself. It’s the sound of bone grinding against bone. It’s my teeth. No wonder my mouth has been hurting so badly in the morning. I appear to be doing my best to pulverize my pearly whites whilst slumbering. I briefly think of the Asian beauty cream claiming to be made with pearl dust and wonder how a moisturizer made with my teeth dust would work. I’m guessing not real well.

  I try to remember what I was dreaming about that caused me to gnash my jaw muscles together with such relish, but can’t. My dentist can’t see me for three more weeks as he and his wife are hiking the Grand Tetons with their kids for their summer vacation. And once he gets back there’s a full week booked ahead of me. I figure I’ll just have to go to the drug-store tomorrow and see if I can find a mouth guard or something to offer some sort of protection in the meantime.

  Once I fall back to sleep, it’s like I tune into the Elliot channel. I dream of him non-stop until I open my eyes in the morning. While I’m pretty sure that I’ve worked a
molar loose, I’m also deliriously happy and can’t wait to see the object of my obsession at the office.

  Muffy is still home when I come down-stairs and she announces she’s ready to tell the family about Tom. I agree to let her use my house as long as she cleans it first and she agrees. She plans to hold the summit tomorrow night as I leave on Friday and she wants me there for support. She also wants me to call everyone so they don’t ask why she’s the one calling to invite them to my house. She emphasizes that under pain of death, I’m to make the invitation seem casual, so they don’t know something big is coming. At the same time, I’m to insure they all know that they have to show up, no weaseling out. I envision it going something like this, “Mom? Dad? I’m having a little supper buffet at my house Thursday. What? No reason. Yes, Dad I know all your favorite programs are on Thursdays. Hmm, yes, well I can see how Friday would be better for you but I’m going to be out of town. Next Friday? No, I absolutely have to see you before then. Why? No reason.”

  But the bottom line is this is a small enough thing to do for my sister whose marriage is falling apart. After all, didn’t I just yesterday say I would try to be the tiniest little bit less self-involved so I could help her through this time?

  Chapter 17

  That fucking Edith Bunker is on my very last nerve today! “MeeeeeeMeeeeeeee, what about meeeeeeee? Did you forget that you’re supposed to wear the wedge? What about the loafers? MeeeeeeeeeMeeeeeeeeee…”

  So I gagged her. That’s right, I take my right shoe off and tie a sock around her mouth to shut her up. The added bonus is that I’ve cut off the circulation in the top of my foot so I don’t feel any pain at all. You could run over my toes with a truck and I wouldn’t be any the wiser.

  I start to think about tomorrow night and the Finnegan family council. Then I start to think about Friday when Elliot and I fly off to New York together. What will I serve (at the council), what will I wear (in New York)? What tortures are Stan and Ollie planning for me? Out of nowhere I get so hungry I have the urge to crawl under my desk to see if there are any spare nuts littering the vicinity from my South Beach days. Common sense tells me the janitor must have vacuumed in the last three weeks, so I opt to find a healthy snack for myself in the vending area.

  Completely unconcerned that I may run into Elliot, I limp through the office, dragging Edith Bunker along to the break room where I purchase cheese and crackers. Then I put a few more coins in the slot and get some Fig Newtons. And as long as I’m in here alone, I decide to feed the machine once more and add a 3 Musketeer’s bar to the party. I rationalize my binge, by concluding cheese is good protein, figs are high in fiber and 3 Musketeer’s bars are so light they actually float in commercials.

  Instead of hiding in my office to stuff my face, I sit right down at one of the little tables in the break room and start to munch my way into a less panicked state. Everyone in the family has promised to be at my house tomorrow night at seven. Ginger says she can’t wait. Renée says she’ll get a baby sitter for the kids so they can stay longer than an hour, and Dad never even mentions the Thursday line up. It’s like they know something big is up because someone always has to reschedule something when we get together. Tomorrow night has to be the first time ever there’s no conflict.

  I have eaten all my snacks and if I don’t go back to my office, I’m going to buy the peanut butter crackers next. I’m beginning to feel the need to unbutton my skirt and imagine what Marge would have to say if she saw me right now. As I go to walk out the door, Bob mysteriously shows up and blocks my path. I politely say, “Bob, will you excuse me? I’d like to leave.”

  He frantically declares, “Mimi, I’ll leave my wife if that’s what it’ll take to have you! What do you think? Should I tell her about us so we’re free to express our love?”

  I answer, “Bob, what are you talking about? There is no us.”

  “There could be, if you’d only give me a chance. I could make you happy, Mimi. I know I could. I’ve been reading the Kama Sutra and I’ve gotten really good in bed. I know I could fulfill you if you’d just let me try.”

  I’m starting to really freak out here. I demand, “Bob, get out of my way before I scream!”

  That’s when he decides to try to physically persuade me of his prowess. Just as he is about to throw his arms around me, I hear, “Mimi, is there a problem here?”

  I look up into the chilly eyes of Elliot Fielding. Elliot appears to be on the verge of beating Bob senseless and while I would very much like to see that happen, I answer, “I don’t know, Elliot, let me find out.” Then to my attacker, I ask, “Bob, is there a problem here?”

  He mutters, “No.”

  Then I say, “Just to be clear, I am in no way interested in you. Do you understand?” He nods his head. “Nor will I become interested in you. Is this clear?” He nods again. To Elliot, I add, “I guess there’s no problem then. But would you be so kind as to escort me back to my office? I would like to discuss some of the details of our trip with you.”

  Elliot leads the way and I’m seething as I follow behind. How dare Bob assault me like that? In all my years in the professional world I have never been treated in such an offensive manner. Ever. I’m still stomping my way behind Elliot when we get to my office. As soon as I follow him through the door, he shuts it behind me and then somehow manages to maneuver me up against it. Before I can say long live the queen, he leans in and clamps his mouth onto mine. Oh my sweet ever loving Lord! Wow!!! His kiss is urgent and hot and all together, oh my! Where did this come from? But I can’t think about that right now, I simply wrap my arms around his neck and reel him in like trophy fish. Elliot continues his passionate assault and I’m so dazed by it that I’m ready to peel his clothes off right there in my office. Apparently he has the same thought in mind, because the next thing I know my sweater has been lifted up over my head and I’m standing before him in my bra.

  Elliot stops to look at what he’s uncovered and gasps, “You’re beautiful!” Then he’s all over me again. Just as he gets my bra unclasped my intercom buzzes and I hear Jonathan say, “Meems, I’m on my way in. We need to discuss your itinerary for the trip.” Then he adds, “I’ll be in as soon as I find Elliot.”

  The intercom doesn’t have any effect on us for several moments. Elliot comes to his senses before I do and slowly pulls himself together. As soon as we are no longer attached at the mouth, I also snap to and immediately lock the door so that my boss doesn’t walk in on me half naked with our client, again. This saucy behavior seems to be becoming a habit with me.

  As I struggle to redress before Jonathan arrives, Elliot regains his iron-clad British control and I don’t like it one bit. The cold English prick is back, I can feel it. He clears his throat, and says, “Mimi, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t intend for anything like that to happen.” As though he just stepped on my foot instead of ravishing me.

  Well, now I’m just insulted. What? Did he slip on a banana peel and accidentally land on my face? Was I on fire and he had to whip off my top to keep the flames from consuming me? So I just stare daggers at him and ask, “What was it that you intended then, Elliot?”

  He hems and haws and finally decides on, “I’m just so infuriated that Bob would dare to treat you so callously, as though your feelings weren’t at all important.”

  “Yes, I see how what you did was so much more considerate. Thanks a bunch.” The truth is I loved Elliot’s kiss and if that damn intercom hadn’t buzzed, I have no doubt I would currently be enjoying a lot more. But what really chaps my ass is he can act like it’s all a mistake, like he didn’t mean to do it. I want to shout, “Be accountable for your actions, you frosty dandy! Don’t apologize you kissed me, apologize you didn’t have time to finish it properly.” Of course I don’t say this to him, I merely finish tidying myself up and unlock the door so that Jonathan can get in. Then I plop down in my chair in a huff.

  Elliot sits across from me and stares daggers right back at me. “Don’t you g
et sarcastic with me. You liked what happened between us, in fact you loved it!”

  I retort, “So did you and don’t you forget it!”

  Before either one of us can say anything else Jonathan walks in and declares, “I can’t find him anywhere…” then he notices Elliot and says, “Mimi, why didn’t you tell me he was already here?”

  Elliot saves the day by announcing, “I was just walking by and Mimi called me in. She was just about to buzz you.”

  Jonathan says, “Well, then, let’s get this meeting started, shall we?”

  We spend the next fifteen minutes going over a list of our itinerary for our five days in New York. The trip will be full of parties, meetings, and book signings, but Jonathan declares that Monday night will be a free night so he has taken the liberty of securing us theater tickets so we can have a fun night out with no business obligations.

  Elliot is the first to speak, “Thank you, Jonathan, but I might just need an evening alone after all the hob-nobbing.”

  As though I don’t even hear him, I say, “That is so sweet, Jonathan. Elliot and I will be delighted to use the tickets.”

  Jonathan looks between us, finally catching on there are flaming spears flying across the room and stands up to excuse himself. As soon as he’s gone I say, “Afraid to be alone with me, Elliot? Afraid you might not be able to keep your hands off of me?”

  He glares back and replies, “Don’t you worry. I can keep my hands to myself. The question is, can you?”

  Chapter 18

  The family arrives in fifteen minutes and I swear I’m more nervous than Muffy, who isn’t even here. It doesn’t help that I hardly slept a wink last night. All I could think about were ways to execute revenge on Elliot. After all, how dare he regret our kiss? There is no way the frigid Beatrice ever kissed him with the wild abandon we shared and what does he do? He regrets it! I considered various forms of archaic torture, like tarring and feathering, before finally settling on old-fashioned death by seduction. Elliot is in for the time of his life in New York. I’d almost feel sorry for him if I weren’t so furious at his stuck up English self.