“I can definitely try.”
Lynette flagged down a passing waiter and grabbed a glass of wine for herself and a glass of beer for Jamie.
She handed Jamie the beer. “Really? You never drink wine?”
“How long have you known me?”
“Like seven excruciating years.”
“Do I drink wine?”
“You would if you were classy. Okay, James, go mingle.”
Jamie felt her face flush with the heat. “Oof. I need some air - I’m going outside.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.”
“If you leave, I’ll punch you.”
“Noted.”
Jamie pushed through the glass door and stepped out onto the sidewalk on West Broadway. She felt the thick, humid night air surround her.
Outside, there were almost as many people as in the party. Art people, artists, rich people slumming it in Soho. All smoking cigarettes, drinking wine, clumped up in subsets in bright, loud conversations.
Jamie slid her cigarettes out of her purse and lit one up. She could overhear a conversation through the crowd. A drunk woman with an English accent and a gay guy with a booming voice.
The British lady was talking. “Okay, then listen closely and I’ll illuminate you again. Franz Kline is not a Rorschach inkblot. Cy Twombley is not children’s pencil drawings and Barnett Newman’s zip is not just a stripe. You, sir, are a pretentious twat.”
Jamie laughed. This was a conversation she needed to observe. She made her way through the crowd towards the voices.
The woman continued. “And it’s exactly this kind of art criticism and curatorial tripe that creates entitled fucking untalented artists who sell kitty litter in a pan to the fucking Guggenheim. And whose entire oeuvres are based on cynicism and deception.”
She heard the man’s booming voice offer testy counterpoint. “You are an awful woman. How can you say that?”
Jamie stepped through the crowd, amused. She took a puff on her cigarette. Then as she spotted the people having the conversation, she exhaled the smoke and almost sputtered.
The man’s voice belonged to a heavy set gay guy with a brush cut and James Dean glasses. He was smoking a pretentious hand rolled cigarette and glowering.
And the woman’s voice - there in a black dress, looking stunning, and more than a little tipsy - was Penny Langston.
“I see,” Penny was saying to the guy. “And you probably don’t have a single female artist on your roster do you?”
The guy rolled his eyes. “Oh, not this again… Fucking Women’s Lib claptrap.”
“Women’s lib clap - Listen, you ignorant arse - ”
“I beg your - do you know who I am?!”
Penny tossed her head back in a laugh. “Oh my Christ, who fucking cares? A chauvinist ignoramus? Is that what it says on your business card?”
Penny could feel the wine hitting her. The fight with this guy was burning off some of the pain and rage from her humiliation outside One Fifth.
It wasn’t therapy. But it would have to do.
She had a few gulps of her wine and glanced towards the gallery. Her eyes focused on someone familiar looking standing in the crowd. Smiling at her.
Penny’s stomach dropped like she was on a rollercoaster.
“Oh, Jesus….” she whispered.
Standing there, watching them - probably this whole embarrassing time - was Jamie Brennan.
Looking adorable. Her blue eyes shining with a smirk and wearing a peasant top and faded designer jeans. Her blond hair up. A glass of beer in her hand and a smoking a cigarette. She waved.
Penny blinked a couple of times in case this was a heat-induced mirage. Jamie Brennan. The one she thought about. The one who’d made her world fucking topsy-turvy. The last person she would expect or hope to see right now.
“Oh my god…” Penny whispered.
The guy with the brush cut piped in. “‘Oh my god, what?”
She shot him a dismissive glare. “Not you, you bloody idiot.”
Penny walked over and took Jamie’s elbow, leading her away.
“Ms. Brennan, please save me from myself.”
Jamie laughed. “I don’t know, you were doing pretty well.”
Penny glanced back at the guy. “Women’s lib, clap trap - Maybe I’m not finished with him…”
Jamie spotted a photographer from the Post making his way out of the gallery.
“Um… Y’know what?” she said, taking Penny’s wine and placing it down on a mailbox. “Why don’t we just go for a little walk and breathe some nice fresh air.”
Penny glanced over Jamie’s head.
“Oh, hey, is that Liz Smith?”
“Mmmmmm....” .
“I should say hello.”
“Um. Maybe not right now. Let’s take a little walk.”
Jamie arm and guided her down West Broadway away from the gallery. And towards the quiet.
Penny teetered slightly as they walked. “Okay, now I’m grumpy, where are we bloody going?”
“Away from the gossip columnist.”
“Am I drunker than I think?”
Jamie smiled. “Maybe.”
The sound of the gallery opening got fainter and more distant. A block down they stopped outside the Du Bouy gallery, with its long slate steps.
“Here,” Jamie said. “Why don’t we sit for a little bit?”
“Spectacular.”
They sat down on the steps.
Jamie glanced down deserted West Broadway. A few cabs going by. The swoosh sound of wheels in the empty nighttime.
She felt a bead of sweat fall down the back of her neck. Another sweltering night.
Penny finally spoke. She businesslike. “Okay. So…” she said. “I may have to puke, where would that happen?”
Jamie looked around. “The alley next to the gallery here?”
“Terrific. Good to know.”
“Or that garbage can.”
“Got it. Think I’m okay for now.”
Penny crossed her legs casually. Jamie noticed she made even sitting on a stoop look elegant.
She watched as Penny glanced down the street towards Canal and watched cabs go by.
“I think I made a bit of a scene back there.”
“Not at all.”
“Somewhat.”
“…Maybe somewhat.” Jamie smiled. “That’s a great word.”
“So many are.”
“Obfuscate.”
“Vociferous.”
“Solipsistic,” Jamie said. Leaning back on her hands.
Penny laughed. It was the real laugh that Jamie saw a glimpse of in her office that time.
“Flummox,” Penny said. “Eyot.”
“What’s that?”
“A small island.”
“Man, I’d love to go live on an Eyot.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Jamie turned to look at Penny. She wasn’t the Penny Langston from the office. Or the New York Times magazine. She was funny and sweet and sort of broken in places Jamie hadn’t noticed before.
“Alright, Ms. Brennan,” Penny smiled, “Please tell me something embarrassing about yourself. To even the score. Because I know tomorrow I am going to be mortified.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“ – Spit it out. Embarrassing please”
Jamie laughed. She thought it for a second.
“Here’s one. When I was a kid I used to dream I lived in California with that family from The Beverly Hillbillies. In their mansion.”
Penny turned to Jamie, a smile curling on her lips, her eyes sparkling. “You didn’t do that, you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Oh, but I did.”
Penny tossed her head back in a laugh. Then glanced at Jamie again.
“That is bloody brilliant.”
“Did you get that show in England?”
“I was in Boston at school then. The girls would watch it in the common
room,” she said. “Why did you do that?”
“Because my parents fought all the time and I wanted to belong somewhere else.”
“Fair enough.”
Penny glanced up at the sky. Her eyes stayed there a long time. Finally she spoke. Almost like it was to herself.
“My husband is sleeping with someone else.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
“Wow… It’s embarrassing to tell you that,” Penny said. “I don’t know why I did.”
She glanced up at the sky again then back to Jamie. “I was just sitting here, thinking it would maybe make me feel better to say it out loud. Tell someone.”
“Did it?” Jamie said. “Make you feel better?”
“It did not.”
“Sorry about that.”
“And worse, now you know.”
“Pretend I don’t.”
Penny stared up at the sky.
“He should just fucking love me.”
“Yeah,” Jamie whispered. “He should.”
“Right?”
“Absolutely… How could he not?”
Penny glanced at Jamie quickly, catching her eye. Trying to figure her out.
“That sounded like a nice thing to say...”
“It may have been.”
Penny sighed. “I’m so sorry to burden you with my drunken self, Jamie… Anyway... I’ve said too much. I’ll just shut up...”
“No need, Jamie said. “I like it.” She shrugged. “You can tell me anything…”
Penny raised an eyebrow, a smirk crossing her lips. “Oh. I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Why do I doubt it?”
Jamie nodded.
“Because that’s something people say. Most people can’t hold everything without letting it seep out somewhere.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I’m not sure. Give me a second to be clever again.’
“You think it’s hyperbole?”
“I just think it’s unlikely.”
“Well,” Jamie shrugged looking across at the dry cleaners. She smiled. “Maybe your friends are just idiots.”
“I don’t really have friends.”
“Ah.”
“Does that sound bad?”
“It sounds true.”
“I mean - Connie. She’s it.”
“I love Connie.”
“Me too.”
Penny nodded. She looked up to the sky.
They sat in silence for a minute.
She glanced over at Penny, whose eyes held a kind of sorrow she hadn’t noticed before.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “You want something else on me?”
“Something like?”
“Something embarrassing?”
Penny turned to her. And the way she unexpectedly looked deep into her eyes took Jamie’s breath away. Not like she meant to, just like that’s how she took people in.
“How about something true, Ms. Brennan? In this world of bullshit…” she said. “Reassure me with something true.”
Jamie searched her mind. The only thing that came up was the worst thing.
“Here’s something. It’s heavy.”
“Perfect.”
Jamie paused.
“I tell people I got mugged a couple of years ago. On Christopher Street. But I got gay bashed.”
Penny’s jaw actually dropped. “Oh my lord.”
“I haven’t told a single soul that one.”
“I’m drunk enough to not remember.”
“That’s what I figure.”
“Jamie,” Penny said. “I’m so sorry.”
Jamie shrugged. “Life… huh?”
Penny looked out at the street. “It’s a cruel fucker,” Penny said. “Or hilarious. I’m not sure which.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “That might have been too heavy.”
Penny turned, a quick glance. Her eyes searching Jamie’s. Finally, she smiled. Then she looked back out to the street.
“I like heavy.”
“Yeah?”
Penny nodded. “I like real. Makes me feel less alone.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
Penny spoke again. “I think secrets fucking kill you.”
“Probably.”
“Here’s one,” Penny said. “Did I tell you when I was 18, my mother drove my father off the road? And killed him?”
“Uh…”
She turned to Jamie. Her eyebrows went up like, ‘how about that?’
“Wow…”
“Sometimes you just have to say it out loud.”
Jamie hoped that her face wasn’t registering the shock she felt. “Was this -?”
Penny waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Who cares. Long time ago.”
Jamie somehow just knew to let it lie.
They sat there quietly for a few minutes. Jamie kept expecting it to feel uncomfortable but it didn’t. She leaned back on the stair on her elbows.
Penny turned and looked at her.
“You’re easy breezy aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You are. You’re easy breezy like some girl from a jeans commercial. Take life in, let it go…”
“That,” Jamie said, holding a stare, “…is hilarious.”
Penny scanned Jamie’s body with her eyes, taking her in. “Look at you, all lovely. You at that party alone? Where’s your girlfriend?”
Jamie loved the sound of her English accent.
“I’m not really into relationships anymore.”
Penny laughed. “Oh my lord, who can blame you?”
Penny rifled through her purse and pulled a clip out, then flipped her hair up into a bun. “I apologize I’ve been doing all the talking. You’re very kind. You apparently saved me from social ruin back there…” Penny chuckled. “Tell me something else about you.”
Even drunk Penny was polite, Jamie thought.
“Where are you from, Jamie?”
“Westchester,” Jamie said. “Rye. Where are you from?”
“I know Rye - my husband and I live in Scarsdale. I’m from North London.”
Husband, Jamie suddenly felt like a complete idiot. If there was any part of her that was attracted to Penny Langston, it needed to die a horrible death right now. Like in one of those Japanese Monster Movies. She needed Gargantua to pick up that part of her heart, crush it and throw it into the sea.
“Ever been to Montauk? That’s not Westchester, that’s Long Island,” Penny chuckled. “I love it there.”
“I know Montauk. I love that place..”
“Me too. That restaurant by the pier with the amazing fresh fish?”
“Pierce’s?”
“That’s it. Bloody brilliant place.”
Penny stopped herself - she realized she had opened her mouth to say, “We should go sometime.”
“Anyway…” Penny said instead.
“The tartar sauce is amazing.”
“We were at Dick Cavett’s house for a few days.”
Jamie laughed. “I was at a motel on the Old Montauk Highway.”
Penny smiled.
“Right.” Penny said. “Well. I’m one nineteenth less drunk and I have to get home.”
“Of course.”
“Call my office on Monday and we’ll meet for lunch or something,” she said. “To talk about your book.”
As they stood up, Penny glanced at Jamie Brennan. Maybe she wasn’t attracted to her. Maybe Jamie just was attractive.
She was very pretty. She was sexy and intelligent. Had a fit body. Maybe Penny just appreciated beauty. That’s all.
Penny heard the next words spill out of her mouth almost like someone else had said them.
“Are you attracted to me?”
Jamie appeared taken aback. She smiled nervously. “What?”
Penny felt her face flush. “Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry. Forget I - ”
“Wait, what’s happening?” Jamie laughed.
“Well, you’re gay - and I was just wondering if I’m someone you’d be attracted to.”
She half expected Jamie to laugh. At the idea. At her.
Standing up she realized she was drunker than she thought.
“Oh, God. Don’t listen to me.”
Jamie paused. “Do you want me to be?”
Penny suddenly heard the conversation. And it was mortifying.
She looked at Jamie’s soft lips. She wanted to kiss her. Which was ridiculous.
Actually, no. She wanted to be kissed by her. All she wanted in this blind stupid moment was to be desired by someone beautiful and smart who wasn’t her husband.
She wanted to be kissed into life. And she wanted something wrong and something she couldn’t have. Like that might fix everything else. Like she was the bad girl at boarding school all over again. Cutting class and smoking behind the dining hall.
“Um…” Penny said. Not sure where the rest of her sentence would take her.
Jamie’s eyes sparkled.
“Garbage can?”
This broke Penny out of her ridiculous and turned-on thoughts. Of course not that. Of course not. Penny couldn’t just have whatever she wanted. Of course she couldn’t.
“I wondered for a sec. But I’m okay. Think I’ll get a cab.”
Jamie picked up her purse and slipped it onto her shoulder. She walked over to the curb. Tossed her hand up for a taxi and let out a cab whistle using two fingers from her other hand.
Penny laughed quietly. “Hahaha that is spectacular.”
A taxi barreling up West Broadway from Broome Street swerved over to the curb and lurched to a stop.
“Thanks for saving me from myself back there,” Penny smiled.
“Anytime.”
“At the very least, you made the terrible evening I’d been having a great deal nicer. Thanks.”
“I’ll see you soon, Penny.”
“Yes,” Penny said.
Jamie noticed she was kind of stiff and formal now. Different. Office her. Polite, friendly. Distant.
Penny opened the cab door and slipped inside the back seat.
“Grand Central, Please.”
She closed the taxi door and spoke through the open back window.
“Looking forward to the next chapter, Jamie.”
“Me too,” Jamie said.
Well aware they were talking about different things.
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