by Risa Peris
“Women perform better when men aren’t around.”
“Yeah, but what do you do with your libido?”
Stella had sighed. “Wellesley isn’t on the moon. Men are around. Plenty of men around.”
“Did you date any of them?”
“…no…”
“Why not?”
“I’m not good with men.” Stella wanted to sound vague. Ambiguous. In actuality, Stella had to accept that men were not attracted to her. She didn’t have a single date in high school or college. There were a few men when she first moved to New York City but every attempted start at a relationship failed miserably. Stella didn’t think she was ugly but she was far from being perfect. Did only perfect people find love? She wondered.
Her book was about a spectacular looking American woman learning English in Italy and her quest for finding true love. Stella made the main character radiant. Devastatingly attractive. That’s what women wanted to read about. Pretty women and handsome, successful men. Stella understood that the main character was not her and could never be her. Women tend to be insecure. Female readers don’t want the hero to fall for a plain girl because what mysterious power would such a woman possess to get a handsome man to fall in love with her? It would have to be something so amazing that most women could not attain it. Having a beautiful heroine made things easy. It was a shortcut to emotional connection. It was also escapism. Stella thought she looked like most women. A size twelve, attractive and of average height. Stella was not a genetic freak or a fanatic about health. She had chocolate croissants for breakfast, Lean Cuisines for lunch, Chinese for dinner and wine for dessert. She walked as much as she could but did not love exercise. She snuck romance novels in bed, poured over the fashion magazines and read about celebrity news on the internet. When she wasn’t working she wrote about beautiful people in wonderful places.
Coleman, Marks, Ryder and Johnson was a medium sized law firm in the financial district. Most of their work centered on securities. Stella’s job was to transcribe board meeting minutes and other high level meetings for the law firm’s clients. The work was boring, the pay was mediocre but Stella got to see Ben. Ben was a junior attorney with an Oxford education who did a lot of pro bono work for Amnesty International and the ACLU. He was also handsome. Like Jon Hamm in Mad Men handsome. Stella recognized that Ben could be the hero in her book. If Ben lived in feudal Europe he would be a knight. A knight that would scoop Stella up and protect her. Stella knew there was no chance Ben would ever choose her but she liked fantasizing about him even if ultimately it became tortuous.
“Are you done with Box It?”
Stella looked up at Gwen. Gwen was the chief paralegal at the firm. She had tight skin from what looked like far too many botox injections and always wore stiletto heels. She was married to one of the partners and only worked because she truly enjoyed bossing people around.
“Almost.” Stella stared at her computer screen.
“Well, what’s the hold up?”
“I was having some audio problems but the transcript should be done shortly.” Stella looked at Gwen as sweetly as possible.
“Well, hurry it up.” Gwen click clacked away in her Manolo Blahnik’s.
Stella sighed. She realized she had spent too much time thinking about Ben and not enough time working. She had been doing Google searches on Ben. She had found an article written about him in an Idaho newspaper. Ben was a golden boy from Twin Falls. The entire article talked about his illustrious education and career. Local boy done good. Stella could not find a flaw with Ben.
“What ya working on?”
Stella turned and blushed. “Oh, hi Ben.”
“How are you today Stella?” His voice was warm and silky.
“Good. Real good. Thank you.”
“I saw Attila nipping at your heels. She can be frustrating.”
“Gwen is Gwen,” said Stella.
“Well, have a good day. See you tomorrow.”
Stella put the headphones on her ears and closed her eyes. She allowed herself a few seconds to linger over Ben’s voice before she hit play on the audio.
She left the law firm at 4:00 PM and called Jane. Jane picked up the phone on the third ring.
“Allo.”
“Jane, it’s me.”
“Who’s me?”
“Jane, it’s Stella.”
“Oh, hello Stella.” Jane was feigning both amnesia and an English accent.
"I'm done for the day. Want to meet up?"
"Oh, I get the privilege of your presence?"
"Come on, Jane." Stella exhaled a long breath.
"Meet me at Franco's for dinner. I'm lusting for some manicotti."
"Alright see you at 7:00 PM. I have a few errands to run and I have to pick up my check from Lola's."
"Tata."
"Hugs."
Stella arrived at Lola's twenty minutes later. Some of the waiters were folding napkins into swans and a few were lining up silverware on the table. Stella walked through the kitchen to the back office. Kelly was sitting at the small desk sorting through receipts.
"Hey, came to pick up my check."
"Oh, well it's the popular girl."
"Huh?"
"Here's your paycheck and a little note from an admirer."
"What are you talking about?" Stella took the check that Kelly held out with an outstretched hand. There was a note attached with a paper clip. Stella opened the note that was written on heavy stock cream paper. She opened.
Dear Stella:
Thank you for getting me home safely. That was very kind of you. Please allow me to take you to dinner as a sign of appreciation. I acted horribly the other night. I would like to demonstrate that I can be civil and gentlemanly. Please call my assistant at 866-4902.
Yours, Campbell Royce.
Stella wasn't sure Campbell could be a gentleman. She thought about him and that night. He looked arrogant, confident. Roughly handsome. Dark hair, darker eyes and a fine stubble of whiskers shadowing his lower face. There was no hint of a youthful boy in him. Not like Ben. Campbell looked strong and stormy. Heathcliff walking the moors.
"Well?" Kelly was eyeing Stella with amusement.
"Just a customer I helped."
"How exciting."
"Not exactly. I'll see you tomorrow." Stella stuffed the letter into her coat.
Franco's was in Little Italy and Thursday night was all you can eat manicotti. It was one of the best deals in town. When Stella arrived Jane was drinking red wine and looking bored.
"Hello Jane." Stella leaned over and kissed her cheek.
"So glad to see you." Jane didn’t move but kept her hand on her wine glass.
"I'm starved. Did you order for us?"
"Oh, yes. Salad, garlic bread and manicotti on the way. Anything new with you?" Jane's red hair fell diagonally across her face.
"No…well…sort of."
Jane sat up straight. "What happened?"
Stella proceeded to tell Jane about Campbell, his drunkenness, the cab ride and the note. Jane clapped her hands in delight.
"This is so wonderful," said Jane.
"Really?"
"This is excitement. Something new in your life. All you do is work and work. This is what you need. A little adventure. Let's call now."
"It's 7:00 PM. I doubt the assistant is still in the office. Plus, I don't want to call. The man was not nice."
"Oh, who cares? Go for the nice meal. He'll probably take you somewhere posh."
"I'm not calling." Stella had made up her mind.
"I will." Jane grabbed the note from Campbell that Stella had set on the table. Jane pulled out her phone and dialed. She hit the speaker button.
Campbell's assistant answered on the second ring. "Razor Edge Financial. Margaret speaking."
"Hello, I'm Stella. I was supposed…"
"Yes, Stella. Thank you for calling. Mr. Royce was wondering if you were available for dinner on Saturday at 8:00 PM at Clair De Lune.
"
"Of course."
"Wonderful. Mr. Royce will send a car to pick you up. May I have your address?"
"Certainly. 15789 Avenue A."
"Great. Please call me if you have any questions."
"Thank you." Jane clicked the phone off. "It's done," she said. "You have a date on Saturday."
"It's not a date." Stella's voice sounded harsh but she was secretly thrilled. A night on the town. She couldn't remember the last time she went to a nice restaurant with a man.
Chapter 5
Stella went shopping with Jane on Saturday. She realized she had nothing to wear to Claire De Lune. She did not consider the dinner a date but she didn't want to look shabby. Stella and Jane went to five stores in two hours. Stella was losing hope and patience. Jane dragged her to one last store – a consignment boutique. Within minutes Jane had found a classic black sheath by Marc Jacobs for an incredibly reasonable price of $40.00. Stella tried on the dress and was suddenly brimming with happiness. The dress molded her. It accentuated her waist, narrowed her plentiful hips and pushed her breasts upwards. It was the best dress she had ever worn. Far better than her turquoise, puffy taffeta confection she wore to prom. Stella had gone to the prom with a cousin and her dress, selected by her mother, was the one consolation of the whole ordeal. She felt pretty in her prom dress. But she felt sexy in the black dress.
Jane was thrilled when she saw Stella. "OMG. You are amazing. You're getting this dress."
Stella didn't argue.
"Do you have shoes?"
"Black low heeled sling backs. Do you think pearls?"
"Classic. Or maybe some large, silver statement piece?"
Stella thought about it. "Pearls, I think."
"Now your hair…" Jane picked up a strand of Stella's blonde hair.
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Nice color, but flat. No definition."
Stella bristled. "You never said anything before."
"You never had a date before."
"Ouch. And I have had dates."
"None that mattered."
"May I remind you? This isn’t a date."
"Yeah, whatever." Jane made a W sign with her fingers. "Let me take you to my stylist."
An hour later Jane was sitting in front of a long mirror while a young, hip looking black man fluffed her hair.
"Hmmm. I'm thinking something sleek. Some structure, some romance and you will be gorgeous."
"Hardly." Stella dipped her head so she couldn't look in the mirror.
"Hey, baby. Don't say that. You are beautiful. You just have to believe."
"Not without a lot of work."
The hairdresser laughed. "We all need help. You think movie stars look like that all the time? The right clothes, the right makeup, the right hair and you are as stunning as them. Believe me. Now let's get to work."
The hairdresser clipped, combed and sprayed while Jane flipped through magazines. Occasionally she would eye Stella and give a thumbs up. Stella smiled tightly at her. She didn't like change. She didn't like fuss. The whole makeover experience was change and fuss. Stella thought, for the hundredth time, that Campbell won't notice a thing. He will buy her dinner, talk about work, she will thank him for the meal and then they will part ways. Good. Stella let her thoughts wander to Ben. Ben is who she wanted to impress. Not the mean, drunk Mr. Royce. Stella wanted Ben to notice her. To desire her. Ben was who she longed for.
"Done."
Stella looked up. "Can I see?"
"Of course." The hairdresser swung the chair around.
Stella stared at her image. Her hair bounced around her shoulders. There was a slight curl on the ends and her new bangs were wispy and girlish. Her hair feathered out fanning her face. Her hair was also blonder. Not a trace of beige. Golden and fair.
"Do you like?" The hairdresser looked at her expectantly.
"Yes." Stella was happy. Her hair had never looked quite as shiny, healthy or full of springiness. "You did wonderful."
Jane squealed. She hugged the hairdresser. "You are a magician."
"You know it." The hairdresser had a huge smile on his face.
Early Saturday evening Jane called shortly after her and Stella had parted ways from the hair stylist. She did not sound well.
"What's wrong?" asked Stella.
"Kyle just broke up with me. I’m devastated."
"Didn't you only go on one date? I didn't know you two were together."
"We had a connection." Jane started crying.
"I'm sorry. Do you want me to come over?"
"No! I look awful. My eyes are puffy and you have a date."
"Not a date."
"Stop. Tell me about it when you get home. I'll be here. Drowning in wine. Don't forget to wear makeup. You look smashing in makeup. Bye bye."
Stella stared in the mirror. She opened her dresser drawer and pulled out a small velvet bag. Inside was pots of color. Makeup from Mac, Bobbi Brown, Lancome and Chanel. Stella had been buying it over the past year, waiting for an opportunity to use it. Daily work grind did not seem like an opportunity. Even on the days she saw Ben, it didn't seem worth it. Stella sighed.
"Now or never," she said aloud.
Stella busied herself with shadowing, brushing, glossing and highlighting her face. She struggled to line her eyes evenly and spent close to ten minutes trying to apply the kohl black liner. But it was worth it. Her eyes, light gray, looked larger and mysterious. Stella was pleased. She thought she looked pretty. She was hesitant to say beautiful. She put on the dress, hanging in plastic on her bathroom door, slid on her heels and secured the pearl necklace her deceased grandmother had left her. Stella looked in the mirror.
"Wow," she said. She was suitably impressed and felt a sudden rush of confidence.
Her phone rang. "Hello?"
"This is your driver. I'm down stairs. Would you like me to come up and escort you down?"
"No. I'll be right down."
Stella grabbed her coat, her silver clutch, turned off her apartment lights and hurried down the stairs. She was in a fourth floor walkup and hated the climb up and down, but consoled herself that at least she was getting exercise.
The black Lincoln was parked on the street with its blinkers on. There was a tall man in a black suit standing by the back passenger door.
"Good evening," he said and opened the door.
Stella smiled and got in. The driver closed the door and then got into the front seat and gently pulled away from the curb. Stella normally used the subway and the bus. Occasionally she got a taxi if she was too tired to deal with public transportation. She had never had a chauffeured ride in New York City. Leaning back against the leather seat, she watched as the city glided past. Stella lived in the lower east side and Clair De Lune was in Chelsea. It would take some time to reach the restaurant, but she was in no hurry. She wanted to enjoy the city from inside a nice smelling car with a courteous driver.
Clair de Lune was a pan-European restaurant with a modern infusion. It was, currently, one of the hottest restaurants in town. There was a long bar with a piano player, gilded tables, ornate sconces and an expensive menu. Stella entered the crowded restaurant.
"How can I help you?" the Maître D asked.
"I'm meeting someone."
"Of course, who are meeting?"
"Um," Stella momentarily blanked. "Campbell. Campbell Royce."