“Certainly,” he said, maintaining eye contact.
After he left, she said, “He had to be gay! There isn’t a straight man alive that can resist this dress.” Clearly Marian knew what her best assets were.
“Well, then, tell us all about him. Get it out of your system! Bring it on,” Kathleen demanded.
Since I’d barely spoken with her since the trip to France, she knew the least about Liam. I rambled on and on about how wonderful he was, how kind and handsome. After a few return trips from the waiter, I segued into how sexy he was, how perfect his bum fit into my hand, how gorgeous he was. At some point we sat hunched over my cell phone so the girls could see pictures of Liam.
After passing the phone between themselves, Marian lamented, “How the feck is it that she met him here, this fine Irish boy? God’s truth, there aren’t any like this left in Ireland. I’d know. I’ve been actively searching for years!” She returned the wine glass to her lips.
Hillary, having just drained her own glass, suggested, “Have her take you out. Clearly she knows where to look. Did you see those arms? That chest?” Hillary was referring to a picture I had taken of Liam while he was rowing us around the lake in Central Park. I felt quite smug.
“Okay, Kathleen, spill it. Rumor has it that you’re trying to woo a certain Danish prince or something,” I said as I returned my cell phone to my purse.
“Well, he’s only a distant relation to the Danish royal family. He’s 278th in line for the throne, or something like that. While he may not have the same raw manliness that Liam has, he has his own appeal. He’s elegant and refined!” And with that, Kathleen whipped out her phone and proceeded to show us pictures of Frederick.
“Frederick? What kind of name is that? There isn’t anything masculine about that. Wasn’t that the name of the fat one on The Flintstones?” Marian teased.
“Are you saying Liam isn’t elegant and refined?” I challenged Kathleen. I felt very Tammy Wynette-ish (Stand by Your Man and all that).
I looked to Taylor to defend Liam’s refinement. She gave me a look that clearly stated she wanted to be left out of this competition. As Kathleen and I were comparing our men digitally, I heard Taylor shout to the passing waiter, “Two more bottles, please!” I looked at her with a grin. This was far better than sitting at home, crying my eyes out.
At some waning hour, closer to morning than night and more than a little tipsy, we stumbled to the curb to hail cabs. While we stood there, I had the sudden realization that I had never asked how they came to be in New York or where they were staying. I was surprised to find out they were staying at the very hotel Liam had just vacated.
“How amazing is that?” I said when I found out, swaying with the summer breeze.
“Well, not really at all, considering Liam arranged all this!” Hillary said.
“He did? When?” I asked in wonderment, still swaying. “Isn’t he wonderful?”
“While I hate to break up this party, I’m going to get her home and into bed so she’s at least somewhat sober when she goes to work in the morning,” Taylor issued, taking command. “We’ll see you all at 6:30 tomorrow night or in fifteen hours, at our apartment, for drinks? We can sort out where we’d like to go then, okay?” We managed to get everyone into their respective cabs and tell the drivers where we were going.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” I asked Taylor, my head resting on her shoulder.
“Yes, he really is,” she answered.
“I’m so lucky!”
“Yes, you are.”
“I don’t feel very well!” I yelped.
“Stop the cab!” Taylor shouted. We stopped, barely in time.
I returned to the car after having left an indelicate deposit of wine and appetizers in the gutter. “I’m so glad Liam didn’t see that.”
“I’m sorry I did,” Taylor answered.
***
I’d no sooner closed my eyes than the voice of Anita Ward wailed out of my phone, “You can ring my be-e-ell/Ring my bell!/Ring it, ring it!” I truly struggled to sit up in bed. I hadn’t been in it long enough for the walls to stand still and the floor to quit spinning.
“Liam, how are you? You made it home all right?” I asked, knowing it was him. We secretly shared a love for all things disco. It had been a moment of pure bliss when I found that out. More than once we had danced around the apartment or hotel to blaring disco.
“I’m fine. I got in to work hours ago but thought I’d better let you sober up a bit before giving you a call,” he said very quietly, having sensed the fragility of my head.
I managed to recline on the pillows, my elbow thrown across my eyes to shield them from the sun’s piercing rays. I didn’t think I had ever noticed how bright the sun truly was. Well, that was what a couple of bottles of wine would do for you: rearrange your views of the universe.
“Oh, Liam! Thank you so much for suggesting to the girls they come over. I was moping around when Taylor forced me to go to some new bar and was about to call it a night when all of a sudden Hillary, Marian, and Kathleen showed up. I couldn’t believe it. But god, Liam, we got so drunk. Marian was ordering two bottles of wine at a time.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed the night out. It was actually Taylor who did all the work. I hadn’t any idea how to get ahold of them. Thank her. So, how’s your head?”
“Well, my head is pounding, the room is spinning, and I honestly don’t remember getting into bed. That was only about three hours ago. Oh, Liam, I think I might have compared the size of your manly parts to Kathleen’s boyfriend’s!”
“Well, did you have pictures to compare these parts or was it just guesstimating?” he laughed softly.
“Thank god, no pictures were involved, of that particular part at least. I did show them loads of pictures of you, though. They all agreed that you were the most gorgeous man in the world,” I said quietly, to prevent my head from exploding.
After a prolonged lapse in conversation, Liam quietly said, “Listen, love, I’m going to ring off now and let you have a little bit of a doze before you need to get up and go to work. When should I call you?”
“I feel so dreadful. My head is spinning. I could sleep all day. I’m so glad you got home safely. I really do miss you, despite what it sounds like. Oh shit, I’m supposed to be in a meeting all afternoon. Can you give me a call at lunchtime? 1:00?” I wondered how in the world I could go to work in this state.
“I’ll call you then. I love you. Feel well!” Liam wished me warmly.
“I love you, too. I will survive!” I declared in my best Gloria Gaynor impression.
***
At exactly 1:00, Liam called to say hello. Still in the state between hangover and recovery, I picked the phone up mid-way through the first ring. “I don’t know what possessed me to think I could consume that much alcohol. I should know better than to try to keep up with Marian!” I whispered.
“I thought, after we hung up this morning, I might need to call in the local priest to give you last rites! You sound less drunk and well into your hangover. Don’t worry, soon you’ll feel much better.” Liam laughed quietly.
“Trust me, I’ve had moments of doubt all day. Even now, I can’t stomach the thought of anything more than a cracker and ginger ale.” Changing the subject, I asked, “Anyway, enough of my stupidity, how are you? How’s work? Have you seen your family, friends? Did your plants die in your absence?”
“Work is work, although it’s nice to see the lads. I had lunch with my parents today. I didn’t have any plants, so I don’t have their deaths on my hands. I’m going out with a few people tomorrow night.” Liam answered all my questions. What he didn’t do was tell me whether he had mentioned me to parents, friends, workmates, or the milkman, for that matter. I stewed on it for just a moment and then shook it off, realizing I was borrowing complication and trouble, of which I needed no more.
“How was lunch?” I inquired, trying to imagine what it would be like to sit around the table with
Liam and his parents.
After talking for a few minutes about this and that, he exclaimed, “Oh, I forgot! My dad loved his shirt. I haven’t seen him laugh that hard in years. My mam said there was no way she’d go anywhere with him wearing it. I told her that’s why I bought it, so he could go down to the pub with me more often. She said she was glad it was me he’d be going out with, as she didn’t want anyone to think she’d be yanking his doodle, whether it was dandy or not.” That made it harder for me to imagine dining with the Molloys.
“Did your mother like her book?” I asked. Liam had bought her a book on the original design and history of Central Park. She, apparently, was an avid gardener.
“She did. Give her a few days to look at it, and she’ll have my dad outside with the spade, digging up the garden!” Liam replied, lightness in his voice.
After talking quite a bit longer, it was time to go to my afternoon meeting. “Listen, Liam, I have to go. I need a few minutes to get myself ready for my meeting. All the different divisions are getting together to make sure the transition team is ready to head to London. Now that you’re there, I’m ready to get this show on the road.”
“All right then, I’ll let you go. Be a good girl tonight! Maybe only a bottle of gin and tonic?” he suggested.
“Oh Lord! I’d forgotten all about that. Well, it won’t be like last night. My body would shut down if I were to do that two nights in a row,” I replied, wincing at the thought.
“Reminds me of Saturday night. Best to take a day off between intense rounds of self-indulgence. Don’t do your body any harm. I have plans for it!”
Blushing to the roots of my hair at the mention of our last night together, I was glad he couldn’t see me. “I’ll call you tomorrow, 6:00 your time. Maybe I’ll have an arrival date to report,” I said hopefully.
“Oh, and Charlotte, my parents can’t wait to meet you.”
I beamed throughout the entire afternoon meeting.
***
Later, once we had all met up at our apartment, the consensus was to see if there were any tickets to be had for a Broadway show on Tuesday. Wednesday would be for a shopping extravaganza, leaving that night for more drinking and eating debauchery. Kathleen and Marian were leaving New York on Thursday morning, Hillary on Saturday.
Set in motion, the week went off without a hitch. A constant headache from all the frivolity was the chief complaint. Taylor joined us for the Wednesday night outing. When we arrived at the Hotel Chelsea bar Serena, upon seeing Kathleen, Marian, and Hillary’s outfits for the evening, Taylor remarked, “How do you keep up with them?”
Though tasteful, their dresses were quite revealing. “This is one of the things I love about them. They revel in being women! They dress up for themselves and truly don’t care if anyone looks, but they like to look good if someone does,” I answered.
Kathleen sat there in a plunging, form-fitting halter dress the color of a tangerine with strategic beading. It looked quite nice with her golden tan, long highlighted blonde tresses, and strappy summer sandals. Marian had on a purchase from Barney’s. She wore a black knee-length dress that appeared to be held closed by a single crystal button between her breasts. Every time she moved, she bared a different patch of almost translucent flesh. Hillary was wearing a sleeveless white silk collared dress that was paired with silver sandals and jewelry. Her style was cool, elegant, and fuss-free.
“Don’t worry, we look gorgeous, too,” I said, sensing Taylor having a moment of self-doubt.
“I do not! I feel overdressed, literally. Compared to them, I might as well be dressed like a nun. I have an urge to go in the bathroom and hack off parts of my dress.”
“Well, I think you look stunning. Just don’t sit next to Marian! Next to her, you will look like a nun,” I added, seeing the long length of Marian’s exposed leg.
Seated at a corner table, the banquette was a plush, black velvet affair with colorful throw cushions. The dangling ceiling lights glowed in warm hues. We were gingerly sipping our cocktails when Hillary asked in her drawn-out, nasally way, “Charlotte, when are you going to tell Liam all about Des Bannerman and this dreadful situation?” The side conversation between Kathleen, Marian, and Taylor came to a halt. Marian fixed her remarkably green eyes on the situation.
“I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! I told him. The whole sordid story! He thought it was all hilarious, at first. Once I told him all about the restraining order and how it was affecting my spending time with Tiziana and Ted, he was supportive and really kind.”
“Well, shite! There goes my hope of him leaving you for me. I thought once he found out you were stalking Des Bannerman, he’d be done with you!” Marian interjected.
“He’s perfect for you. He knows you had a crush on Des Bannerman, and he’s still willing to take you seriously,” Kathleen chimed in.
Once the gory details of the conversation had been covered, it was unanimously decided that: 1) Des Bannerman was a prick of gigantic proportion; 2) the girls needed another round of drinks; 3) Liam was a god personified, because who else could be that good looking and kind at once?; and 4) to hell with the gigantic prick, I should go to Saint-Tropez!
“Well, fortunately for me and Tiziana, that’s out of the question. I’ll have just arrived in the U.K., and I’ll have too much to do. I have a gorgeous boyfriend waiting to take me out on the town, I have my new work group to sort out, and, most importantly, Tiziana’s nuptials should be devoid of negative drama. I’m not going!”
Volleys of cowardice and booing were directed at me.
Fortunately, the waiter arrived just in time to take the drink orders, and conversation returned to the subject of finding a man for Marian. “How about your Marcus, Taylor? Call him up and have him join us!” Kathleen suggested.
Before answering, Taylor candidly glanced at Marian’s dress and then her own. “Oh, no! Marcus couldn’t handle all of you. He’s a gentle soul and would be horribly scarred for the rest of his life.” She laughed.
A few cocktails later, we ventured forth and arrived at the Bryant Park Hotel to have dinner at Koi. While most of us had looked forward to sushi, Marian was not having any part of it. “How can a restaurant that’s so elegantly appointed, so serene, so refined, serve raw, cold fish?” Marian complained.
“Elegantly appointed?” Hillary scoffed. “I didn’t even know you knew those words could be combined!”
“Yikes,” Taylor whispered under her breath to me. “Is this okay, or has all the imbibing turned them nasty?”
Waving off Taylor’s concern, I said, “Oh, they’re fine. This is normal for them.”
Sure enough, the evening passed without a hitch, and Hillary even managed to convince Marian to try a bite of fresh water eel by telling her it was egg. I hastily handed over the bottle of sake once Marian found out the truth.
Chapter Twelve
TWO WEEKS LATER, I was settling into a business class seat aboard a British Airways flight when a long sigh escaped from me. The months of meetings, planning, and interviewing were finally at an end. In six short hours, I’d be stepping onto British soil, and the second half of the project would begin. Another sigh followed.
In between having spent the last weekend with my family and then packing, there hadn’t been any real time to chat with Liam.
“Are you okay?” Taylor asked. Faith Clarkson had decided to send Taylor to London for a few months to help out with the settling in. I was glad there would be a friendly face at work.
“I’m fine. Just looking forward to all this being over. It’s been constant stress for the last seven months, and I could do with a little bit of normal,” was my exhausted answer.
Chewing on ice, Taylor commiserated, “You and me both. My mother has been driving me crazy. A little time away from her doesn’t hurt my feelings. You have no idea what it’s like to be her daughter.” She took a deep gulp from the cocktail glass that the flight attendant had placed in her hand.
I drank d
own the Crown Royal and ginger ale I had requested upon boarding the plane. Before meeting Liam I had never had it, but it provided the double benefit of relieving stress and reminding me of the taste of him. “No, that’s not something that I could imagine! If I were you, I would have taken a position at the London branch. I know you love New York, and Marcus is there, but I just think it would be really good for you to do your own thing and not worry about the specter of your mother.”
“Well, it isn’t too late. My plan is to discreetly see where the holes are in the plan and see if anything interests me. Marcus and I talked about it, and he knows it would be better for me to get out from under my mother’s thumb.”
I felt my jaw drop. “You never mentioned any of this. I would love it! Don’t worry, if you want to stay, we’ll find a way to make it happen. Someone will know of a job Marcus can’t refuse.”
The flight attendant had returned to take the empty glasses along with our dinner orders. For the next few hours, conversation turned to less pressing matters. Stabbing a fork into her salad, Taylor said, “It’s really nice of Hillary to let me stay with her as well. Are you sure she has enough room?”
In between bites of slightly rubbery chicken cordon bleu, I explained, “She comes off a bit stuffy, but she’s great fun. You just have to get used to her dry sense of humor. She has enough room for you, me, herself, and a couple dozen other people, which will come in handy when Marcus and Liam come to visit.”
Our conversation strayed through myriad topics, and, after a massive yawn, I settled down for a couple hours of sleep.
“Great idea. We don’t want you looking too worn out when you step off the plane,” Taylor teased.
In what seemed like a moment, the flight attendant was gently waking us from our nap. We peeled the eye masks back, sat up, and used the warm face cloths offered to us. As soon as it was possible, I dashed to the tiny bathroom facility to reapply my makeup, brush my teeth, and regain control of my hair. After a few attempts to confine the copious tresses in a professional-looking chignon, I slid the final hair clip into place.
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