Annihilate Me

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Annihilate Me Page 6

by Christina Ross


  I made the drinks and brought her one in a fluted champagne glass.

  “What a lovely color,” she said, admiring the liquid in the glass.

  “You and your zombies would like it more if the juice came from a blood orange.”

  “Sometimes I think you should be the writer, Jennifer. I’m totally stealing that.”

  “You can take from my lips whatever you want.”

  “Considering where you’re lips are headed, that sounds dirty.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  I sat down opposite her. The air conditioner whirred behind me and even though we were in the first days of September, it was still hot enough on the fourth floor of our prison camp of an apartment that the cool air felt like a bit of heaven to me. I remembered all those months ago, when we first arrived in Manhattan, and the hell we’d gone through over the summer because we couldn’t afford an air conditioner. It had been awful, but we had worked through it, just as we’d worked through so many other problems together.

  “Spill.”

  I told her about my breakfast with Alex, the conversation that ensued, and the job offer I now needed to weigh. “So, what do you think?” I asked.

  “I saw this coming, but I sure as hell didn’t see five hundred grand coming. You came up with the job and negotiated the price?”

  “I did, but I wouldn’t call it a negotiation. He just agreed to it. I probably could have asked for a million and I would have received it. But I’m not worth that. What I’m worth is five hundred thousand. Considering what I’ve already done for Wenn when it comes to Stavros Shipping, and especially considering what most consultants make in this city and in this business, that’s a fair wage. I never would take advantage of him, and I know I can do the job.”

  “There will be a lot of expectations with that kind of money.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  She smiled at me, and while I could tell that she was happy for me, there was something in her smile that seemed almost sad. “So, what do you think you’re going to do?”

  “I really love my job at the restaurant.”

  “I know you do.”

  “You know how much I think of Stephen. He’s been nothing but good to me. But I came here for more than that. I hope that doesn’t make me sound ungrateful, because I’m not. He and Mr. Boulud gave me a wonderful opportunity. In fact, besides Wenn, they’re the only ones who gave me an opportunity. What they did for me means a great deal.”

  “It’s not as if they didn’t get something out of it, regardless of how brief your time might be with them. And your dreams never were to run a restaurant, Jennifer.”

  “They weren’t. But if I leave them, I’ll still feel guilty.”

  “You once told me that your job there is coveted.”

  “It is.”

  “So, don’t you think they’ll find a replacement sooner rather than later?”

  I hadn’t considered that. I knew they would. db Bistro was among the city’s best restaurants. Of course they’d find someone soon, probably someone in-house. Or maybe someone from a competing restaurant. The pay was good and if you wanted to be in the restaurant business, having db Bistro on your resume would be very attractive.

  “What do you owe them, really? You’ve done your job. You signed no contract to stay for any length of time. You’ve been professional and did everything they’ve asked of you. New offers come to people every day. Can they match five hundred grand? I’m thinking they can’t. Anyone would jump at the opportunity you’re being offered. Ask yourself this. Do you think Stephen would leave the restaurant for that kind of money.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Really? Even if it advanced his career.”

  “He might.”

  “What do you think he earns?”

  “I did some research on that before I went to them. For very good restaurants like db, a general manager can make as much as two hundred thousand.”

  “And Stephen wouldn’t leave if he was offered an additional three hundred thousand to go somewhere else? Come on, Jennifer. Get real. This is business we’re talking about. It’s not personal.”

  “It feels personal.”

  “Well it shouldn’t. But that’s just you. Let me ask you the real question here. Is this something you’d like to explore with Wenn?”

  I shrugged. “Working at Wenn would allow me two things. First, it’s a dream job. I’ll be able to become the true business junky that I am and assist the corporation with any number of ideas and strategies. That excites me. Alex will make that happen for me—and he’ll listen to me. He takes me seriously. Second, I’ll be able to be with Alex, which also is important to me. If we’re going to make a go of this budding relationship, Lisa, I need to be able to spend time with him.”

  “I understand that. It’s not going to work otherwise.”

  This time I saw a fleeting look of concern cross her face, and then it disappeared.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “Come on, Lisa. Be honest with me. We know each other better than we know ourselves.”

  She looked up at me and her eyes filled with tears. “I think I’m going to lose you,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Jennifer, if you take this job—and I think you should—you’ll be making half a million a year. I can’t compete with that. You’re not going to want to live here. You’ll be out of here ASAP. I’m sorry if this sounds selfish, but I am going to miss you terribly when you go.”

  “Who says you’re not coming with me?”

  “Oh, Jennifer. Come on. You’re on the verge of having a boyfriend now. You’ve gotten what you’ve fought for—a high-paying job doing exactly what you want. If you want it, and I know you do. I write about zombies, for Christ’s sake. I’m getting by, but I am so far from your level now, it’s not even funny.”

  “And when I was almost on my last dime, who was there for me? You were, time and again. During that period, I had the same concerns. I thought that if your new book hit, which I pray to God it does, you might leave me because I wouldn’t be able to afford the lifestyle you’d want. And who could blame me? Who in their right mind would want to stay in this shithole any longer than they had to? I was worried sick that you’d hit the list again and want a better place. Maybe one of your own.”

  “You know I’d never do that to you.”

  “And you think I would do it to you? Seriously? What’s the difference?”

  That shut her up.

  “We’re a team,” I said. “We’ve been one since we were kids. Do you really think I’d leave you behind because of any of this? I want you to enjoy this with me. I’m going to take the job, we are going to get out of this dump, and we are going to find a killer apartment where we can live together. Two sweet bedrooms. Two beautiful bathrooms. We can afford that now.”

  “I think you’re being naïve.”

  “How?”

  “Because he’s going to want to be with you in your apartment. It’s just natural. He’s going to want to come over and spend time with you in your space, not ours. And when you fully give yourself to him, which will happen, he will want to spend the night with you alone, not with me there. Don’t you see that?”

  “You are my family,” I said. “You have been since the fifth grade. Alex has a lovely space. When we want to be alone, we’ll just go there. Occasionally, we’ll all meet at our place and have dinner together. Oh, and by the way, he wants to cook for you.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me.

  “That’s what he said about an hour ago,” I continued. “He wants to get to know you. He wants to cook dinner for both of us. He knows how important you are to me, and I think he instinctively knows that no one ever will come between us. If Alex and I want to be alone, big deal. He has a home for that. It’s not rocket science. This is nothing for you to worry about, so please don’t. In a hot second, I w
ould give up him and this job before I ever gave you up. And don’t think I’m joking. You mean everything to me. You know that.”

  “I don’t want me and my zombies to hold you back.”

  “Your zombies are going to change your life after this next book. And the next book. And the next. Who are you kidding? You’re already on your way.”

  “Jennifer, I might have hit the list once, but nothing is certain. I could fail the next time. It happens. In fact, it’s been over four months since the last book came out, so it’s unlikely that it will happen. Readers of ebooks want one book per month from writers, and that is nearly impossible for anyone to do, unless you’re just writing shit or a novella. I’m an independent author. Yes, readers liked the first book a lot. Yes, the book was a best seller. But fans want the next book now, not next week. On my Facebook fan page, they’re already grousing about when they can expect the next novel. And I mean novel. Not novella. Who can do that in a few months? I can’t. That timeframe is unreasonable if they want the book to be good, which of course they do. I appreciate their enthusiasm, but let’s get real. Writing a book takes time. But still they want it yesterday. And if they don’t get it yesterday? It’s on to the next author, who might be more prolific than me. I’ve seen it too many times. I’ve watched too many careers tank. Maybe I should cut this book into a series of shorts. Maybe that would appease them. Hell, I don’t know. But I think that would be cheating them, so I won’t. I also refuse to get in your way because of my own dilemma.”

  “You’re not. Tomorrow, I’ll agree to the job. I’ll give db Bistro two weeks’ notice. Then, we’ll find a new apartment together. You and me. Something better than this joint. We deserve it. We deserve a real prize of an apartment, and we’ll find it. But I won’t do any of this without you. Do you hear me? None of this happens without you. I will refuse it all if you’re not with me. You mean that much to me. OK?”

  She leaned her head back against the sofa and sighed. “Jennifer—”

  “OK?”

  “I just don’t think—”

  “OK?”

  “Fine,” she said. “OK.”

  “You mean the world to me.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to mean the world to Alex. I think I’ll be in the way.”

  “He’s not like that. He’ll understand the situation.”

  “I love you, Jennifer. And I’m beyond happy for you. But I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll see. And I sure as hell hope that I’m wrong.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next night, when I gave my notice at db Bistro, Stephen hugged me and wished me well. “I knew we wouldn’t be able to keep you long,” he said. “Not someone like you. I just wish it had been longer, because I will miss you. But go out and live your dreams, Jennifer. We’ll be fine, so stop looking so guilty. OK?”

  I couldn’t have asked for a better exit. The next morning, I told Alex that I would accept the job.

  “Please tell me you’re not joking.”

  “I’m not. But Lisa and I have to find a new place to live. It’s not safe here. You know that. We each feel threatened by being here. I need you to be patient with me until we find a place. That’s going to take a lot of work.”

  “It doesn’t have to.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Wenn has properties all over the city. If you’d like, I’ll ask Blackwell to assist you. She knows them all, and she knows them well. She herself lives in one of our buildings. You could be neighbors.”

  “Very funny.”

  “She not that bad.”

  “I know she’s not. Actually, she’s grown on me. But I think another building might be best.”

  “Give it a shot—it’s not like you’re going to get a discount on rent, because I know you’d never have that. This is just an easy way to cut through the clutter. I’ll have her call you and we’ll nail this down fast so you and Lisa can get settled. Wenn provides moving assistance for all new employees, so you will be moved at no cost.”

  “Alex—”

  “That’s a fact, Jennifer. I’m not doing you a favor. Certainly you’ve heard of other corporations providing moving assistance. That’s all this is.”

  Of course, I had. “All right.”

  “By going through us and because you now work for Wenn, this will be an easy transition by New York standards. No boards. No bullshit. And you know why?”

  “Because you own Wenn?”

  “Exactly. Expect a call from Blackwell. She’ll find you a great place. And soon. Because I want to see you soon.”

  “Same here.”

  “I already miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “I’ll have her set up appointments now. You’ll hear from her within the hour. I’ll give you all the space you need, because I know you’ll find something quickly. Can I call you, at least?”

  “I hope you do,” I replied. “And text me whenever you want. I’m going to need that to get through these next two weeks.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear. Talk soon. Text sooner. And have fun with Blackwell. She’ll turn everything into a Broadway show.”

  When Blackwell called an hour later, just as Alex promised, she was her typical high-strung self. “So, now it’s an apartment,” she said.

  “I guess it is.”

  “There are two of you?”

  “There are?”

  “What do you require?”

  “A large space. Two bedrooms. Two baths. A terrace. A nice view. And a great kitchen. Anything else is a bonus.”

  “I can do all of that. What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Lisa Ward.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She writes about zombies.”

  “She writes about what?”

  “The undead.”

  “Who does that?”

  “Lisa.”

  “Well at last the undead are thin. Mostly skeletal, which is good. I could probably dress them for her.”

  “I’ll let her know that.”

  “Please do. I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Get ready, because it’s going to be a whirlwind.”

  I decided to tease her. “Before you go, I have a confession.”

  “You have a what?”

  “A confession.”

  “Save it for a priest.”

  “In this case, you are my priest.”

  “I’m plugging my ears.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “Yesterday, I had a Big Mac. Large fries and a shake. At the end of the night, I had an entire bag of chips. It was fantastic.”

  “Don’t you ever talk to me like that.”

  “I loved it. I thought of you the entire time I was gorging myself. I also think you would have loved it.”

  “Absolutely not. Salad, Jennifer. I told you. Salad. Roughage!”

  “I might have gained a pound.”

  “You’re going to be the end of me, Maine.”

  * * *

  As usual, Blackwell got it right, and on the first try, which was no surprise to me at this point in our relationship because she always seemed to nail it on the first try. I think doing so was a source of pride for her—it’s what drove her. But who knew—maybe she just got lucky, though I was beginning to seriously doubt that. She had skills I had yet to tap into. What mattered is that she always came through, even though she chastised me again for my “binging behavior” when she arrived by limousine to pick us up.

  “I didn’t binge,” I told her when Lisa and I stepped into the car. “I gorged.”

  “On crap that will make you fat. How am I supposed to dress you for the next event? Tell me. How? I can barely fit that ass of yours into couture as it is.”

  “It hasn’t been a problem so far.”

  “It will be if you keep that up.”

  She looked at Lisa and s
urmised her with a careful eye. “You’re the one who writes about the undead?”

  “I am,” Lisa said.

  “And you make a living doing so?”

  “I do.”

  “The irony!”

  Lisa laughed.

  “What’s wrong with writing about the living?” Blackwell asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Everything?”

  Lisa leaned toward her. “Don’t you think the living disappoint?”

  “Well,” Blackwell said, straightening. “I can’t exactly argue with that. Especially after recent divorce proceedings in my life. And I have to say, you are very pretty, Ward. Beautiful. And thin. Tiny. Probably a coveted size zero. Are you hearing me, Maine? Look at how tiny she is.”

  “I’m not listening to this.”

  “Ward, why would you let Jennifer go on a binge like that?”

  “I don’t control her, Ms. Blackwell.”

  “Who can? She’s headstrong to the tenth degree. I can’t keep her in a bottle to save my life—she always bursts out of it. I’m surprised she doesn’t swing from vines.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  Blackwell ignored me and gave Lisa a questioning look. “Are you naturally blonde?”

  “I am.”

  “Dip your head.”

  Lisa shot me an amused glance, and dipped her head.

  “So you are. So rare. So Scandinavian. Are you Scandinavian? No? Just from Maine? I see. Well, regardless, I do have to admit that I admire your chic ensemble.”

  “I got it at Macys.”

  “You got it at what?”

  “Macys. From the bargain bin. I think it was something like ninety percent off, with another five percent off if you had a coupon, which I did.”

  “Coupon?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why am I suddenly faint? Can you see the gray edges closing in like I can? Do you see the demons? They’re encroaching.” She snapped her head at us. “Don’t you ever say Macys, coupon or bargain in my presence again. Understood? Good. God! Do I need to teach you girls everything? Apparently. There are some things you just don’t say around me or anyone else in this town. You’ll send everyone whirling. Already I need something for my acid reflux. This is going to be a hellish day—I just know it.”

 

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