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

by Whitney Dineen

  Elliot whispers, “I love you more than anything, Mimi Finnegan. I’m going to find a way for us to be together, I promise.”

  But I don’t want to hear his promises. I’m afraid to believe him. So I just hold on tightly and savor the intimacy of this very fragile moment. When our ride is over, it occurs to me I should be full of shame for acting so brazenly. I’m really not that easy to get into bed as my very few lovers would attest. But it’s so different with Elliot. I feel like I belong with him. He is the other half that makes me whole.

  We walk back to the hotel hand-in-hand and while I want to invite him in to spend the night, I don’t. I merely kiss him at my door and thank him for the most wonderful night of my life. Elliot tells me once more he loves me and that I need to trust him. I whisper good night and close my door, hoping I haven’t just chosen Elliot’s happiness over my own.

  As soon as I crawl into bed, Edith Bunker starts in on me. “I like Richard better. He gave me the most wonderful massage! Why don’t you marry Richard?”

  I shoot back, “I am not taking relationship advice from my bunion. Leave me alone.”

  “But MeeeeeeMeeeeeeee, I like Richard…why not Richard?”

  So I retaliate, “Edith Bunker, Richard is always feeding me which is going to keep you around forever. I thought you wanted me to lose weight so you can go away?”

  She responds, “But did you feel the way he rubbed me? I like Richard.”

  I decide to just ignore her and try to go to sleep. I have kissed two different men today, making love to one of them in a horse-drawn carriage while riding through Central Park and I am totally and thoroughly confused about what happens next. I honestly don’t feel it would be fair to keep Richard on a string any longer. Even if Elliot refuses to leave Beatrice, I like Richard too much to toy with him. I care about him enough to have a future with him (if Elliot lets me down that is). But I also think enough of him to want him to be with somebody who considers him her first choice.

  I say my prayers and ask God to please demote Ollie and Stan and send me a nice pair of romance writers. Jude Vixen, an American like me, and Hermione Meriwether, a Brit that will help me understand Elliot. I fall asleep feeling like my head is the epicenter of the Mideast peace talks right before they declare war.

  Chapter 27

  Today is my last day in New York and I am both sad and relieved. I’m truly looking forward to going back to Pipsy and getting on with my normal routine. This trip, while totally thrilling, has also been exhausting. Elliot has a meeting this afternoon with his editor, Maynard, and I have decided to see if Richard is free for the day. I’ve invited him to the party tonight, which I’m sure I would not have done had I known I was going to make love with Elliot last night. The two men in my life are already like oil and water. Now, I imagine they’ll be more like gasoline and a flame thrower.

  I’m pretty sure I’m going to tell Richard my relationship with Elliot has progressed to the next level. I don’t want to hurt him, but I do want to play fair. My head is throbbing, and what’s more my teeth are killing me again. I really have to get a sleeping guard when I get home. I’m starting to worry I’ll wake up one morning with a mouth full of gravel-like nubs in my mouth, in place of teeth.

  Elliot knocks on our adjoining door before he leaves for his meeting. He looks very dapper in a cream colored linen suit and once again I nearly melt at his feet when I lay eyes on him, especially after last night. He kisses me good morning and asks, “How did you sleep?”

  I tell him, “I slept very well, and you?”

  He answers tenderly, “It would have been better if you were in my arms.”

  I have a vague inkling my prayers have been answered and Jude and Hermione are on the case. Elliot informs me his day is pretty much booked with appointments with his publisher. His last meeting is with their marketing department and I have been invited along although my presence isn’t mandatory as Marcus will be there with his New York contingent. I tell Elliot I’ll try to make it, but if I don’t, I’ll meet him back here by six-thirty so we can go to tonight’s event together. With a sweet kiss he’s gone and I start the process of getting ready for my day.

  I decide to go casual and slip on jeans and a pink T-shirt. I pull my hair back in a pony tail and apply the sheerest layer of war paint my thirty-four year old face will allow. Then I pick up the phone and call Richard. His secretary answers his cell and explains he is in meetings all day, but she was supposed to tell me he’ll meet me at my hotel at six-thirty, to escort me to tonight’s party. In a full tilt boogie panic, I demand, “Please tell Richard not to pick me up at my hotel! Tell him to meet me at the restaurant.” Then with more force than necessary, I ask, “Okay?!”

  She assures me she’ll pass on my message and I take a moment to imagine what would have happened if Richard and Elliot both showed up to accompany me to Daniel. Especially now that I won’t be able to warn Richard about what happened last night. There’s no telling what kind of scene might have ensued. Again, I realize how strange it is that something like this could be happening to me, Miriam May Finnegan.

  The last time I incited a near riot between two members of the opposite sex was in the second grade when I promised both Ricky James and Tommy Stark the extra Twinkie in my lunch box. Now, almost twenty-five years later, I’ve graduated and have become the Twinkie myself. I wish there was some way I could tell all the single women out there to never give up hope. I mean heck, if something this ridiculous can happen to the ugly duckling sister of four, with a bunion, and fifteen pounds to lose, I’m pretty sure it can happen to anyone.

  I decide to spend the morning simply walking the streets of New York. Marcus’s job offer has intrigued me and I plan on trying to get a feel for the city to see if I might actually be able to call it home. I start by going to the zoo in the park where I pick up a couple more little trinkets for Finn and Camille. I spend the most time with the monkeys, laughing at their antics, until one fresh fellow starts to get a little familiar with himself. So I leave to give him some privacy.

  My next stop is Sheep’s Meadow. I know from Sex and the City this place is packed on the weekends but it turns out to be pretty deserted on a Tuesday morning. In the center of the field, I decide to lie down in the grass. I close my eyes and concentrate on shutting up all the yammering voices in my head. I think I may have actually dozed off when something wet and slimy drips onto my face. I’m afraid to open my eyes to see what it is when I hear a man’s voice admonish, “Titan, that’s no way to treat a lady.”

  Opening one eye at a time, I see a man that must have walked out of the pages of GQ. He is positively stunning! I wipe what turns out to be dog drool off my mouth and say, “That’s telling him.”

  He laughs, “Actually, I purposefully send him off to track beautiful ladies for me.”

  That’s when I realize this Adonis, who I’m sure is no older than twenty-six or twenty-seven, is flirting with me! I welcome Jude and Hermione to the team. Then suggest, “You should walk around with handy wipes to offer Titan’s victims.”

  He sits down next to me and pulls a paper napkin out of his pocket, “How’s this?”

  As I clean the offending slime off my face, I answer, “Not as good as a wet wipe but better than dog spit.”

  My new friend introduces himself as Jeremy Sterns. I learn he’s a stockbroker, twenty-eight, single, born and raised in New York, and he apparently has a thing for older redheads on the curvy side of the spectrum. I assure him that while I am flattered to the ends of the earth by his interest, I am in the midst of a relationship conundrum that has taken me right out of the dating scene.

  He asks if he can help me figure out my dilemma and I promise him that a group of tactical warfare specialists at the NSA couldn’t help. We spend the next few minutes chatting before I decide I should bid my new friend adieu. No sense in adding another man to the stew that has become my life.

  I spend the next three hours walking around the upper West Side. If
I moved to New York, this is where I would want to live. It’s funkier and livelier than the East Side and about a million times more conservative than downtown. Plus Jerry Seinfeld lives on the Upper West Side, so I feel like I already know it. I eat lunch at Ray’s and am now officially terrified to go back to Weight Watchers on Saturday. I’m just hoping that I’m balancing out all the cheating with the copious amounts of walking I’ve been doing.

  By four o’clock, I stroll back to The Plaza and try to take a little nap before I get ready for the night ahead. “Try” is the optimal word here as there seems to be no way to calm myself enough to actually sleep. I’m very worried about tonight and while I’m pretty sure I can keep Richard and Elliot apart, I still have to tell Richard his competition is more than inching ahead. By four-thirty, I know I am not going to get any rest so I begin the two hour process of transforming myself from mild-mannered PR person into a sex-pot super hero.

  I’m going to wear the turquoise dress that I wore to La Petite Maison and I’m going to blow my hair straight and then put it in Velcro curlers for an hour for extra volume. Big hair makes me feel fierce and gives me courage. I briefly toy with the idea of a six-inch beehive.

  I’m ready by six-fifteen and decide to kill the next few minutes drinking a glass of wine from the mini bar. I’m pretty sure the Merlot will cost Parliament around fifty bucks, but I’m using it for medicinal purposes so that shouldn’t be a problem. Elliot knocks on our connecting door at sixty-thirty sharp. As I let him in, there’s another knock, but this time at the front door. The Brit looks at me raising that irritating eyebrow of his and opens the other door, only to have Richard walk in. Oh shit! What’s he doing here? I told his secretary I would meet him at the restaurant.

  In his most self-righteous Lord of the Manor, condescending way, Elliot demands, “What are you doing here?”

  Confused, Richard answers, “I’m here to take Mimi to the party.”

  Realizing this is in fact happening and not a vividly realistic nightmare, I ask, “Richard, didn’t you get my message?”

  He answers, “No.”

  “I told your secretary I would meet you at the party.”

  He responds, “I haven’t checked in with her today.”

  Like a spoiled brat, Elliot declares, “This is my party and I didn’t invite you.”

  I turn on Elliot and retaliate, “Don’t be a baby. Richard is my guest and you have nothing to say about it.”

  Elliot demands, “How can you still want to see him after what happened last night?”

  Richard, not being a complete moron, easily guesses what happened last night and asks his rival, “Have you broken up with your girlfriend, Elliot?”

  Elliot retaliates, “That is none of your business!”

  Richard inquires, “Really? It would seem to be very much my business. I don’t think Mimi is the type to play second fiddle. So if you still plan on seeing this other woman, I still plan on seeing Mimi.”

  I want to throw my arms around Richard in gratitude for being so loyal to me, while I have certainly not returned the favor. I mean, here he is being treated to more information than I’m sure he wants, but he’s standing his ground in his desire for me. I don’t deserve this kind of devotion. I turn to Elliot and declare, “He’s right. As long as Beatrice is in the picture, Richard will be as well. And I won’t wait forever Elliot. Because I really like Richard and I’m not going to string him along for much longer.”

  Elliot looks torn between punching the wall and Richard, before declaring, “I told you to trust me, Mimi. I told you it would all work out.”

  Dripping sarcasm, Richard contributes, “That’s original, Elliot. No man has ever told a woman to trust him before and then went right on to screw her over. You’re a real prince, aren’t you?”

  I want to do something to stop this scene, but I also want to hear what Elliot has to say. While I do love him and want to trust him, Richard makes a very good point. Stan and Ollie must be back because Richard then asks me, “What does Edith Bunker have to say about this situation?”

  Shocked, Elliot asks, “He knows about Edith Bunker?”

  Richard retaliates, “Know about her? We’ve met and she loves me.”

  Elliot turns to me and demands, “He’s met Edith Bunker?”

  Richard intervenes, “Met her? I’ve rubbed her.”

  My head feels like it’s about to blow apart into a million pieces and I scream, “Both of you, shut up! Just. Stop. Talking. None of this is going to get settled tonight and we have to get to the party.” Then I ask, “How pray tell, do you both propose we do that?”

  Elliot suggests that Richard go by himself and that he and I go together. Interestingly enough, Richard has the same idea about Elliot. So I intervene, “I am going by myself and I don’t give a fig how the two of you get there.” Then I grab my purse and storm out the door on my own. Lest you think I’m allowed a beautiful exit scene, both men are beside me in seconds and we all wind up going to Daniel together.

  By all reports, the party looks like it’s going to be a major success. The marketing department at Dell has encouraged a good number of journalists to show. Everyone from the New York Times to People magazine is here and Parliament has enticed most of the stars from Elliot’s books-turned-movies, who are based in New York, to appear. Although, getting stars to come out isn’t that difficult as they are in constant pursuit of the next opportunity to stay in the public eye. Not to mention all of them would give their eyeteeth to be in another one of the films based on Elliot’s work.

  Elliot is immediately engulfed by the crowd of his admirers, so Richard and I slip away to the bar together. Once we’re granted a moment of privacy, I apologize, “Richard, I’m very sorry about what Elliot told you at the hotel.” As though he needs clarity, I add, “You know, about last night.”

  Richard takes my arm and replies, “You’re a grown woman, Mimi, and you’re allowed to sleep with whomever you wish. I knew from the start you and Elliot have something going on, although for the life of me I can’t figure out why you’re interested in him.” Then he adds, “I really like you. So as long as you’re willing to keep me in the picture, I’m willing to be there.”

  Clearly Jude and Hermione are back in charge. I kiss Richard on the cheek and say, “You know you’re too good for me, don’t you?”

  “Never,” he responds. Then he pulls me into his arms for a tender embrace.

  The rest of the night is a whirlwind of introductions and schmoozing. I don’t spend very much time with either Elliot or Richard. But I’m relieved to see that they seem to be keeping as far away from each other as humanly possible, keeping the Bridget Jones scene at bay for awhile longer.

  Marcus and Miriam are both here tonight and Miriam spends a good amount of time introducing me to people from the New York social scene. She asserts, “If you’re going to live here, you’ll need to make conquests of all of these people.” She adds helpful information, like, “Don’t worry about Fern Childers, she’s the biggest hanger-on in the whole room. She’ll try to make you think she’s a mover and shaker, but the truth is my cat has more power in this town.” I tease Miriam and suggest a meeting with Fluffy as soon as he has an opening in his schedule.

  Marcus introduces me to the likes of Barbara Walters and Kathy Lee Gifford and I’m hard-pressed to believe I’m actually at a party with people like this. I meet more movie stars than I ever imagined existed, and the good news is, the party is so loud that I can’t even hear Edith Bunker giving me shit over the shoes I’m wearing.

  Chapter 28

  I feel like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, as her signature line loops through my head, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” Pipsy may be small and boring, but after five fun-filled days in the Big Apple, I’m looking forward to a little of the same old, same old. When Richard and I say goodnight after the party he promises to call me twice a week to continue our courtship over the phone. I assure him I’ll be back
in New York within a month or two for the next wave of Elliot’s book promotion. While he’s delighted I am coming back, he rolls his eyes at the news Elliot will be there as well.

  He cajoles, “Let’s make a deal. If Elliot still hasn’t lost the girlfriend by your next trip, how about you bump me up to first string and let him warm the proverbial bench for a while.” I agree to consider his proposal as it has a lot of merit. Then I wonder how much I’m really going to see of Elliot, in the social sense, now that we are back home where we are obliged to be on our best behavior.

  The first thing I notice after walking through my front door is the odor. It smells like something has died in my house and I gag at the noxious stench. After dropping my bags in the entry, I follow my nose into the kitchen where I discover the plug for the refrigerator has been pulled out of the socket. Although the Mr. Coffee machine is still plugged in and turned on. Muffy must have pulled the cord on the fridge accidentally. By the aroma in the house, it’s my guess that was days ago. I say a silent prayer of thanks the house didn’t burn down and wonder where she’s been staying.

  I open all the windows and turn on the fans. I feel like a stranger in my own home. While everything looks just like it did when I left it, I know I am not the same person I was before New York. Five days ago, I had a school girl crush on Elliot Fielding. But now, I’m full blown in love with him. Not to mention, my interest in Richard and the job offer I’ve received. Marcus informed me again last night he was serious about me coming to work for him. These are the things I always dreamed would happen to me, but I’m afraid they’ve caught me completely by surprise. I don’t feel at all prepared. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Mimi Finnegan, you’re thirty-four years old. How much time do you need to prepare for life? And while I would agree with you, I’m still freaking out.