by Eva Sloan
“Just take one step at a time. First into the calm, peaceful world you’ve created for yourself.” And right out the door. “Second, enjoy your new freedom. Not coming here is going to free up a lot of your time. Just think of what you can do with that!” And never come back! Live out your boring days far, far away. Dr. Garvin wanted to hear real problems. She’d never again take for granted her manic depressives or her suicidal, bulimic cheerleaders...not even her middle-aged, depressed housewives. At least they got drunk, loaded, or boffed the gardener once in a while.
Dr. Garvin smiled and nodded as she ushered Susan through her door to the reception area. “Jean,” she called to her secretary. “Ms. Rhodes won’t need a follow up appointment.” She turned to Susan. “This really is for the best. It’s a good, positive step.”
She wanted to slam the door shut. Lock it. Swallow the goddamn key!
“Goodbye, Dr. Garvin.” Susan looked lost, standing there in the reception area, clutching her portfolio case.
“If you have a problem, don’t hesitate to call,” Dr. Garvin said out of habit, biting her tongue as she swung the door shut and gave herself a head slap.
What happens when Susan Snoring calls up tomorrow begging for another appointment?
Was Dr. Garvin going to have to move to outer Mongolia? Australia? New Jersey?
No, she just wouldn’t return her calls.
Cold. But effective.
Dr. Garvin slumped against the cool wood of her office door and stifled a small yet satisfying laugh. “I never have to see that boring woman again!”
~*~
Susan stumbled out onto the street, her leather portfolio still clutched tightly to her chest, her body so tense she was sure she’d shatter if someone bumped her. The busy foot traffic and the low roar and zip of the passing cars felt like they were smothering her.
What the hell just happened?
“Susan!” Jill--her bright, capable, and underpaid assistant--called from the open back door of a yellow cab. “Susan! Over here.”
Susan adored Jill. She was always at the office before her, she was cheerful, and could get anything done for Susan that she asked. She’d even finagled the Gucci portfolio Susan had in her hands--the one with her nail marks in it--for cost. Jill had never let Susan down.
And she made the best freaking coffee in the world.
Susan walked haltingly toward Jill and the cab. It felt like everything that was making noise on the street had somehow been sucked into her head, banging around, echoing, ricocheting off the walls of her skull like an assassin’s bullet.
Susan stopped short of the cab door and looked back to the building she’d just exited, and up five floors to Dr. Garvin’s offices. Did she really just dump her? What was she supposed to do now? Had it actually been six months since she’d talked to Kevin?
Jill grabbed Susan by the wrist and hauled her into the cab, reaching over her to slam the door shut. “Lexington and twenty-third,” she told the driver. She turned back to look at Susan. “What’s wrong?”
Susan shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is you usually look great after a session with Dr. Garvin, but right now...” She paused, looking like she’d run out of words, and she sighed and shook her head, her shiny black hair tossing around in silky ribbons, looking like a shampoo commercial. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” Susan found herself slumping back against the tattered vinyl seat of the cab, too exhausted to hold her head up, leaning it back against the seat. “Anyone ever tell you, you should be a motivational speaker?”
“No,” Jill said as she plucked the Gucci portfolio out of Susan’s hands and replaced it with a Styrofoam cup. “But my guidance counselor in high school said I’d make a good drill sergeant. That, or a criminal.”
Susan looked up, shocked. “He didn’t really say that.”
“She most certainly did. Now, drink your high-sugar, high-caffeine, speed-laced beverage.”
Susan took a sip from the cup, feeling the sugar and caffeine working on her as it slid like sunshine down her throat. “Misspent youth?”
Jill was rifling through the portfolio, sliding extra pages in here and there, taking out two and setting them aside. The look on her face darkened as she began to speak. “My physics teacher, Mr. Fantome, lost my term paper on Wave Particle Duality. And instead of letting me replace it, he gave me an F.”
Susan pursed her lips. She had never thought her assistant had taken physics in high school. She wondered what else she didn’t know about her. “So you...”
Jill smiled as she closed the portfolio and twisted the latch. “I dumped a truck full of manure into his shiny red convertible.”
“Oh!” Susan made a mental note never to piss her off.
“My parents were appalled. Would’ve made me get a job to pay to get the car refurbished, but I was fighting for my academic life thanks to Mr. Fantome’s little paper management problem.” Jill sighed, a far-off look on her pretty face. “My guidance counselor thought it was a scream. Wanted me to go into the FBI, or maybe the Marines. But I was valedictorian of my class, so I was going to college.”
Susan didn’t remember seeing a college degree listed on Jill’s résumé. Just a secretarial diploma and a load of Microsoft training certificates. If it was on a computer, Jill could make it sing and dance and tell dirty jokes.
“What happened?” And just as those words passed Susan’s lips she cringed. Sure, just slap your perfect assistant in the face while you’re at it.
The cab got rear ended by another taxi, making them all jerk forward, and Susan almost slide right off the vinyl seat.
Jill elbowed the Plexiglass partition hard and gave the cabby a scalding glare. “If you even think about stopping I’ll rip your nuts out through your throat!” Jill reminded Susan of someone. Liz.
Liz would love her.
Of course, with the frequency of Liz’s phone calls, she probably had already interrogated Jill and knew all this. Everything she should’ve already known about someone who not only balanced her checkbook and had a key to her apartment, but also scheduled her days and micromanaged her career.
The driver’s eyes bugged out and he dumbly shook his head, but he kept the cab moving along.
Jill handed Susan her portfolio back and smiled wearily. “The usual happened. I slept with the salutatorian one night--a pity fuck, because I’d beaten him by three hundredths of a point--and a month later I found out I was pregnant. He went to law school, graduates next year--and I got a quickie secretarial diploma and computer certification.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know you have a kid.” Susan slumped even further into her seat.
Jill stuck her lip out thoughtfully. “You’ve been busy--at least since I met you--and with the whole Mark thing--” God, the Mark thing! “I can see why you wouldn’t have noticed the pictures on my desk.”
“I’m such a shitty boss.” Susan leaned forward and put her head between her knees. The cab was getting cramped and hot, and she felt like passing out. Note to self: Be a better boss. I suck.
“Hey, it’s no big deal. Buy me one of those stupid ‘Best Secretary in the World’ mugs. Or better yet, get me a pair of those new Prada sling-backs.” Jill noticed everything. “And we’ll call it even.”
Jill hit the power window button to roll it down. The breeze was welcome, but not remotely fresh--redolent with smoke and car exhaust, garbage and five million people’s perfumes, colognes and body odor.
Susan laughed, feeling her head clear, relieved that she wasn’t alone. Who needs Dr. Garvin? Susan looked down at her portfolio and remembered the presentation she was heading for. The opera house...
“Get me through this meeting and I’ll buy them for you, and lunch at Bloomy’s.”
Jill smiled, looking surprised for about the first time Susan could remember. “No problemo, boss lady. Just lean back and breathe. I’ll get us there and you in that conference room.” Jill pulle
d out her BlackBerry, checked Susan’s messages, and texted about a thousand character message with amazing speed. “Not that you need any help once you’re in there. I’ve never seen anyone take over a room like you.”
“Thanks.”
Jill was stowing her BlackBerry in her purse when Susan noticed something gleaming on her ring finger. A simple gold band.
“You’re married too?” Susan shook her head, slack jawed.
Jill’s eyebrows knitted, and a puzzled smirk passed over his lips. “Yeah, for almost eight years now.” She held up her hand, wriggled her fingers, and smiled, a big, wide, happy grin. “The salutatorian. Turned out he was in love with me all through high school, and after a couple months of him being there for me, and alternately romancing the hell out of me, we got hitched.”
“Wow.” Susan couldn’t believe it. She knew nothing at all. No wonder she felt like she didn’t even know who she was anymore. Her life was a sham, and everything she’d spent that life chasing after was meaningless. Would it--could it--ever make her happy?
Or was everything in her life like Mark? Good on paper, until it was time to commit, and then poof! He was gone.
Susan needed to talk to Dr. Garvin...but she couldn’t. And she couldn’t lay all this on Liz. For one thing, she’d been keeping it a secret from Liz. And if she started talking about one thing, Liz would sniff out what she was lying about.
But she wasn’t lying. No. Just keeping things from her. Keeping the truth about Kevin from her.
“So, the salutatorian makes you happy?” she said, trying to get the hell out of her own head.
“Jason?” Jill got this wistful gleam in her eyes. “Yep. He’s so sweet and funny, and he loves me and Emily.” Her daughter’s name is Emily. Susan gave herself a mental head slap. Why hadn’t she asked that? “And though he was lousy that first time in the back seat of his mom’s Buick, turns out he’s amazing in a bed.”
Susan’s mouth dropped open, and both women broke out in raucous, full throated laughter. Susan began to relax, and she started to feel like herself again.
Whoever’s going after that o pera h ouse account better watch out , because here I come! Susan held her belly as she and Jill giggled down Lexington Avenue in the back of the taxi.
Chapter 11
THE OPERA HOUSE COMMITTEE was meeting on the top floor of One Police Plaza. The city council had long ago abandoned the ancient and decrepit building it had occupied since the eighteen hundreds, having commandeered the top floor of the new police tower. And though it was only ten stories tall, every single member of the council called it a skyscraper, even though Chicago had more than enough of those to go around.
Susan liked the cool simplicity of the tower’s design. Smooth and clean, and faceted like a jewel, it was what modern buildings should all look like. But there was a part of Susan that wouldn’t want to live somewhere like that. Sure, working in a great big, shiny steel and glass building would be wonderful, and impressive--especially if someday that building was, in fact, one of her own designs. But to live there...
Susan was wildly ambitious, but she had lived in the same brick and wood building since she’d first moved to Chicago. It was old and didn’t have a working elevator, and no central air conditioning for those scorching Chicago summers. But it did have a great view of downtown and the river, and in the winter, the steam radiator heat was enough to make you feel you were in the tropics of Borneo instead of snowed in by sub-zero blizzards. It was home now, and the only thing on earth that could get her out of it would be a house she herself designed...but maybe not even that. In her heart, she loved old houses. An old house with a big front porch, huge bay windows and hardwood floors.
Jill’s hand shook hers, gripping her by the wrist, pulling her out of the elevator.
“You okay?” Jill looked into Susan’s eyes.
Susan shook her head. “I’m fine.” Driving whatever in the hell she’d been thinking of out of her head, she focused on her game plan again.
Dazzle the board with her ultra modern, sleek, chic design. Pour on how envious other cities will be, stuck with their old, dilapidated opera houses. Then show them the plans for the rest of the allotted land. A high end mall--just like the Mall of America--wrapped around the main tower. And all glass, to match the building reminiscent to the Bio-Dome.
Susan knew that most opera houses weren’t so tall. But in her mind’s eye, she saw it as a beacon. It would shine and glint beautifully, matching the surrounding skyscrapers’ modern feel. And, after all, the board had asked for ideas for creating more room in the allotted space. The obvious answer was to build up.
The opera house part would be on the first floor, with seating enough for half a football stadium, and an elaborate, cutting edge stage to mount all those operas on. Everything would be smooth and sleek, and would put all other houses to shame.
Her design would be the toast of the opera world, the beginning of a new trend, and would secure her partnership prospect with Woods, Farrow, Blank and Stein.
At least that dream would come true. There was no way she was going to lose this project. She’d been top in her class in college. She’d won every contract she’d worked on for three years running. And it was her time to shine.
But as Susan strode into the conference room, nodding and smiling at the assembled council members, she didn’t feel shiny. She didn’t feel strong or confident. What she did feel, acutely, was alone. Absently she checked her cellphone for messages. Just a text from him would make her feel so damn wonderful right then.
But no one had left a message. Susan dropped the phone in her jacket pocket and took a deep breath, trying to keep her attention locked on what she was about to say, and failing, and finally just trying to keep her mind on her breathing. Dr. Garvin had been big on breathing exercises when Susan had first started therapy.
Take deep, slow breaths, focus on the bad feeling, the one that made her tense. And as she breathed out, she was to let her exhalation blow that feeling away from her. Let it float away. Did she feel more relaxed?
Yes, she did.
Good. Now replace that bad thought, that bad feeling, with another, better thought, a good, excited feeling.
“I’m going to win this project!”
An elbow jostled Susan out of her reverie, Jill’s voice coming in a hissing whisper. “A little louder. I don’t think the entire committee heard you.”
Susan’s eyes snapped open, and she felt her face turn beet red. At least three of the dozen board members were openly staring at her, two with disdain etched in their expressions.
“Cripes!” Susan turned around and started pulling her papers out of her portfolio.
Jill connected a thumb drive to the computer system and began to download the audio visuals for Susan’s presentation. She started to pass Susan a hand-held control, but seeing how Susan had already dropped and shuffled the papers of her portfolio case, she kept the control, saying, “Just nod your head when you’re ready to go to the next image.” She plucked the jumbled pages from Susan’s hands and riffled through them, putting them in order again.
Susan needed to get a grip, to steady herself.
She felt a familiar vibration in her jacket pocket, indicating she’d just gotten a text message. Though she would usually never check for a text while in a meeting, she was desperate for a distraction, something, anything, to keep her from throwing herself out of the council’s tenth-story window.
And it could’ve been Kevin...
But it wouldn’t be.
But when Susan turned around and wandered over to the windows, she pulled out her cellphone and there it was. A text message from Kevin.
Susan’s hand jerked and she dropped her phone, sending it clattering onto the tile floor. She dropped to one knee, scooped the cellular device from the floor and scrambled back to her feet. The screen was black. She clicked a few buttons and shook it.
Damn piece of crap . She slapped it against her palm, then tapped
it hard against the faux marble window frame.
Jill’s heels clicked across the tile floor, before she leaned in, grabbing the cellphone from Susan’s hand just as she was about to really pound the sucker into the wall.
“What’s going on?” Her brows were knitted, and she looked both pissy and frightened.
“Damn thing won’t turn back on.” Susan ran a hand over the tight bun she’d pulled her hair into that morning. “There’s a text on there. It’s important.”
“Okay,” Jill said, her thumbs clicking on the phone’s keys, and it lit up, coming back to life. “You just have to finesse these things sometimes.” She clicked on text messages, scrolled to the most recent and handed it back to Susan.
It was still there. Text message from Kevin Jacobs. Sent two minutes ago.
Susan opened it and read the four word message.
IN TOWN. DINNER TONIGHT?
Susan exhaled the breath she’d been absently holding, a warmth spreading from her chest out into her limbs, making her tense body relax and her headache melt away. She couldn’t restrain the big goofy grin that spread across her face.
Kevin was in town, and he wanted to see her.
Jill nudged Susan and hummed. “Looks like it was a good message?”
Susan closed her eyes and felt that warmth flow into her head, making every thought glow, and when she opened her eyes again the world was glowing too. The sunshine pouring through the windows was golden, and the sky had never seemed so blue.
She needed to get a grip before she had a beautific orgasm right there in front of the board.
Susan rolled her eyes, keyed Yes into her phone and hit send. She clicked the phone closed and adrenaline surged through her veins. Kevin wanted to see her, and the opera house account would be hers.
She turned on her heel, strode toward the confused looking committee members, and beamed a dazzling smile their way, making them sit up and pay attention, all smiling unabashedly back at her.