No answer.
Helaine had gone to bed early “to masturbate” so don’t even “dream” of disturbing her, the note warned. A hot summer night, the flannel pajamas she had left on the couch was a perfect fuck you.
Lydia rapped on the door. “Helaine? This is a big misunderstanding, I can assure you.” She listened for a response but none came. “Lana…please.”
_____
Friday morning. Helaine emerged from the bedroom dressed for work and strutted by the couch where Lydia had spent her restless night.
“Good morning, darling,” she said in passing. “How was dinner?”
Civility was a good development, Lydia thought. She rolled off the couch and stood naked and bemused in the living room.
Helaine sat at the breakfast table and admired her over the edge of a coffee cup and the paper. “How was dinner, I asked?”
“Dinn–fine.” She shook apart the pajamas that had served as a pillow and put them on. “Excellent.” They were scratchy and hot. “Thank you.” She left them unbuttoned and came to the table. “And how was…uh…well…never mind.” She sat down opposite Helaine and grabbed the financial section.
“Excellent,” Helaine replied. “Thank you.”
Lydia glanced at her. Take away the hostile glint in her eye and she was looking rather demure this morning. Smiling. Lydia gave a hopeful look in return and Helaine rose to leave.
“It was a misunderstanding, Dr. Kristenson. A bizarre and stupid misunderstanding.”
Helaine dumped her coffee down the drain, carefully rinsed the cup in the sink and placed it on the rack to dry. “Good,” she said, wiping her hands and grabbing her briefcase. “Then it’s not likely to ever happen again.”
_____
Friday morning. Paula had meetings scheduled till one and Dickie wasn’t himself. Vomiting all night. He appeared for breakfast pale and sweating, holding a comb full of his wavy, silver hair. He tried to joke about his condition, but his faded blue eyes were welling with tears. Paula gazed at him, terrified. The chemo. She called the office and canceled everything.
_____
Friday afternoon. Lydia took the elevator down to the fifteenth floor and followed the sound of blaring hip-hop till she found herself in the open doorway of her former office. She had expected to find its occupant too busy for a social call, instead Venus and a few of her associates were conducting what appeared to be an impromptu sendoff. There were tall drinks with paper umbrellas scattered everywhere. Blue, red, green, pink. A few corporate clad youths were dancing, working up a sweat, their coats strewn across the cabinets.
Coats and arms. VP Beaumont smiled, thinking of what Paula’s reaction to the scene might have been. She scanned the room for Venus and saw her engaged in a suggestive dance in the corner. She must have been at the gym this morning, Lydia observed, taking stock of the tight sweats, the sleeveless half top. Very sporty and, save for the heels, not her typical work uniform.
It was pointless to knock. No one could hear above this din. Lydia hovered unnoticed in the doorway and watched Venus dance. The girl didn’t seem in a slump, as Paula had claimed. Seemed pretty jubilant, in fact. She saw her arm draped around her partner’s shoulder, directing him with her free hand on his hip, a shower of braids cascading onto her muscular shoulders.
She eyed those shoulders, those familiar arms and legs, and took a quick breath. Another time, she said to herself, scrapping the mission.
“Uh-oh!” someone exclaimed as she left. “That was VP Beaumont!”
Venus glanced over. “Where?” she asked, leaving her partner in the corner.
“Just now. Think this’ll end up in our personnel folders?”
Venus ran out into the hall.
“Nah, she’s cool,” someone else said.
“Pump it up, pump it up!” Venus heard from the hallway. The volume rose. She glimpsed Lydia in the elevator, the doors closing.
“Ms. Beaumont!”
Lydia punched the open button and the door gaped wide again.
“Ms.–” Venus was out of breath. “Lydia.”
Lydia kept her hand on the button. “I’m–I have to go right now. I’m taking over Paula’s appointments today.”
Venus held the door. “I’ll be here late…or tomorrow morning?”
Saturday morning. Lydia nodded and checked her watch.
Venus let go of the door. “Tomorrow?”
The door began to close. Lydia waved. “I will try,” she promised through the slit.
Venus heard, “I will,” and a ding.
_____
Saturday morning. Venus was standing at the large window, lost in thought, her back toward Lydia, staring out in the direction of the waterfront, just as Lydia used to do when the office was hers. She seemed unaware that she had her visitor.
Tank top and sweats again. Much quieter this morning, though there were signs of recent revelry. Plastic cups on the floor, an abandoned suit coat. The office was in a state of organized chaos, paperwork stacked in kinetic piles on the floor and desktops, preparations for a long departure. And there was that farewell atmosphere to contend with, an awkward goodbye hanging noxious in the air. She shouldn’t have come today. She leaned gently against the door and debated whether to knock and announce herself or just run.
“Good morning, Ms. Beaumont.”
“I’m…I came back.”
“I’m glad you did.” VP Beaumont was anxious, Venus noticed. Flushed and hesitating in the doorway, like she wanted to run.
“I–may I?”
“Yes, yes, come in. Close the door.”
Lydia hesitated. She probably shouldn’t close the door. “I can’t stay,” she said, walking in and closing the door behind her. “Long, I mean.”
Venus perched on the edge of the cluttered desk. “I’ll be gone awhile. You know that?”
“I–yes. Paula told me.”
Paula. Venus smiled knowingly and sat down.
“Venus, I wanted to tell you that I–”
“Can’t remember my cell phone.”
“Your cell phone? Oh, your number. No, I do still have that. I’ve been, um…”
“Pandering?”
That was a word they both liked. Venus used it accusingly this time.
Lydia blushed and eyed the door.
It was true. She had been pandering. Months of it. And right now, being where she knew she shouldn’t be, she was feeling downright cheap. Always on some kind of a mission for Paula Treadwell and she didn’t even want to be “king of the shitheap” as she and Venus preferred to call it. She wasn’t even supposed to still be in this shitheap. She was supposed to have retired at forty. And what was she doing at Soloman-Schmitt on the weekend anyway, stimulating Venus Angelo’s crush? She couldn’t defend a single bit of it. She should go.
“You can stay a few minutes?” Venus asked.
“Yes.” Lydia said, sitting down. “A few minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” Venus said.
“About?”
“Pandering.”
“Oh.” Lydia forced a laugh. “Me, too. You’re off to Japan, I hear.”
“Japan. And then I suppose the moon.”
Lydia smiled at that. Did seem likely.
“Can Lydia find me on the moon?”
“On the moon? Well…on the moon…you know, I’m not sure. I don’t know.”
“You think she could call me in Japan?”
“I–” Venus was wearing that appealing grin. Her “bad ass” grin. Lydia pictured her dancing with her hand on someone’s hip, leading him to anywhere. To the moon. To Japan. “I guess so.”
“Which? Find me on the moon? Or call me in Japan?”
She shot Venus a shy look. The knee was acting up today. She put her hand over it protectively. It was hot.
“How is it?” Venus asked.
“Still giving me some trouble.”
“Heels, girlfriend.”
“Yeah. They don’t help.”
&nb
sp; “Will you call me in Japan?”
There was little chance of that. “I, um, don’t–”
“Or do you want me to apologize first? Because I will if you need me to.”
“Angelo? Apologize? For what?”
Venus leaned forward. “The locker room?”
“The lock–the–you mean the–?”
Venus nodded and flashed her grin.
It had been too much to hope that Venus would never mention it. “No…of course not.”
“I’m sorry.”
On the other hand, she didn’t want to hear her apologize for it, either. “No, don’t–you don’t owe me a–”
“That I lost my nerve.”
“Ah,” Lydia murmured. She had indeed lost her nerve. Lydia respected her for saying so. She lifted her hand from her knee to signify she was leaving. “I think I’d better go. Let you get back to your work. You must have an awful lot to do before you leave.”
Venus was poised to beat her to the door. “Five more minutes. Just five. It can wait.”
Lydia rose from the chair. Five more minutes when she could think of nothing coherent to say was too long. She walked quietly to the door, placed her hand on it and then, feeling Venus behind her, dropped her arms to her sides. “Goodbye, Venus. I wish you a very safe and very prosperous voyage.”
“Turn around,” Venus whispered. “Please.”
Lydia felt her breath warm on the back of her neck. The knee was shot now, her body heavy on it. “No,” she said without turning.
“C’mon, Lydia. Hit the ball.”
“Angelo, I can’t. It’s not–”
Venus kissed the nape of her neck. “You can. You know you can. Turn around, Lydia. Kiss me goodbye. One kiss is all I’m–”
One kiss leads to another and another. Anyone would know that much. She took hold of the doorknob. It was cool in her palm. “I–”
“Won’t,” Venus finished, folding Lydia’s arms in front of her and holding her close. “One goodbye then.”
“Venus.” She threw her head backward. “Venus.”
“Lydia.”
“Goodbye.”
Lydia was tilting. Venus balanced her with her body. “Three goodbyes, then.”
“I have to go now. Helaine’s–”
“Not yet.”
Lydia covered her breasts. “Yes yet.”
They rocked together.
“Yes yet?”
“No, no.”
“Will you miss me? Say yes, Lydia.”
Venus had her by her belt buckle. “Venus…don’t.”
“Lydia…do. Turn around.” The lights were too bright. Venus flicked the switch.
Lydia turned them back on again. “Goodbye, Venus. That’s three. Now I have to go.”
“Lydia Beaumont.”
Her belt was loose.
“Turn around,” Venus pleaded. “Kiss me. Just once.”
Saturday and Helaine would be home for lunch. “I just…I can’t.”
“Can.”
The knee felt weaker and weaker.
“At least tell me that you want to.”
“I–” the belt came undone.
“Want to.”
“I want to go. This minute.”
“I don’t think so.”
Lydia reached for Venus and the belt. She reached for the door.
“Turn around, Lydia.”
It was a Saturday. Helaine was home for lunch on Saturdays. She had to go home for lunch. “We can’t do this,” Lydia said, grabbing the doorknob. “This feels…very wrong.”
Venus took her hand. “Lydia, I lo–”
“Don’t do that to me. Don’t do that.” She pushed at the door with both hands.
“Okay,” Venus said, stroking her back. “Okay.” Those shoulders were hard and tense–“It’s okay, Lydia.”–her stomach warm through the skirt.
The skirt zipped in the back. Venus undid the button.
“Honey,” Lydia whispered. “I really, really have to go.”
The ring on Lydia’s finger shone brilliant in the fluorescent lights. Venus shielded it with her hand and hit the light switch again. “I can deal with this, Mrs. Kristenson.”
Lydia pulled her hand away. “I can’t.”
“It’s not a big–”
“I CAN’T.”
She was glued to the door. Venus held her against it. “Okay then. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. It’s not. I have to go.”
“Why isn’t it? Tell me.”
Lydia grabbed the knob again and jiggled it. “Because I love her.” The door cracked open. “I love her,” she said, grasping Venus by the hand.
Venus pushed against her and the door shut again. “You love her and there’s nothing here for me? What’s this?” She brought her hand to her lips. “Tell me, Lydia. What’s this?”
What, what. Lydia laid her head against the door. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
Venus kissed her cheek. It was hot. “Lydia…Lydia Beaumont.”
She heard her name and her pulse, the labored hum of the clock stubbornly keeping time on the wall.
“Lydia…?”
“Venus Angelo.”
“I’m in love with you. You know that?”
She shouldn’t answer her.
“Is that all right?”
“I can’t…I can’t answer that.”
“Can I see you again?”
No. She was hot. She should tell her no. “I’m not sure.”
Venus kissed her neck. “When?”
Lydia sighed. Tell her never. “I–I don’t know.”
“When I return? Can I see you then?”
Venus was holding her up with her hips. “From–from Tokyo?”
“Yes.”
“In a month, you mean?”
Venus held her by the waist, caressed her through her blouse. “I’ll call you in between.”
In between. Oh, god, in between. She couldn’t think.
“You’ll take my call?”
Helaine would be home for lunch soon.
“Can I give you a ring?”
She was wet–she had to go.
“Can I, Lydia?”
Can Venus Angelo give her a ring? Christ, she already had a ring! She let go of her hand.
“I’ll call you, Lydia…in between.”
“No, Venus,” she choked. “NO, NO, NO.”
And with that Venus released her.
VP Beaumont leaned on the wall with one hand and with the other she fastened herself and adjusted her hair. She did not look at Venus while she did this nor when she was done, but waited in silence for her to open the door.
Once in the hallway, she took a very deep breath and made herself walk.
Venus watched her take a few shaky steps and then stop again. Standing still with her back to her, she thought that Lydia seemed very much like the kind of woman who would want to apologize for an incident like this, who might be forming a perfectly respectable apology in her mind.
She couldn’t stand the thought of it. “Keep going, Ms. Beaumont,” she told her. “Tell Paula I said thanks.”
_____
Only two sessions this Saturday morning and Helaine was ready to leave her office by eleven-thirty. She marveled at the briefcase again, smiling in a satisfied way before closing it. No time to walk home. She called a cab.
She had in her haste this morning grabbed Lydia’s instead of her own, never having noticed before how similar they were. Inside Lydia’s briefcase she had discovered the Abstract of Title for the Beaumont’s summer place, the old Queen Anne that she had heard so much about, as well as the new deed conveying it from Edward and Marilyn to their daughter and herself.
That was supposed to be a present, Helaine figured. So it was her duty to preserve Lydia’s surprise.
Lydia didn’t work Saturdays so it was entirely possible she hadn’t discovered the mistake. Sneaking her briefcase in without her knowing shouldn’t be that big a problem,
Helaine thought, as long as she wasn’t acting dopey about it. Of course, there was the chance that Lydia had wanted to put the paperwork in the safe this morning. Then she would have seen right away that there had been a mix-up. She worried on that likelihood before finally dismissing it. Lydia would certainly have called.
Who knows, maybe she won’t even be home, considering the ill treatment she had received over the matter. One night on the couch, the next equal to sleeping in the doghouse. Goodness, Helaine thought, urging the cabby to drive faster. She had to make that up to her somehow.
This would put the kibosh on the meaningful discussions she had planned for the weekend. But the truth was that no matter when she broke the news of her upcoming world tour, Lydia would still act blind-sided when departure day arrived. She might as well put it off until her suitcases were in the hall if she wished to avoid that.
She was relieved when she returned to the penthouse to find that Lydia was out. She checked on the last known location of her own briefcase and felt lucky there, too. It was exactly where she had left it. She placed Lydia’s by the front door where she remembered picking it up.
_____
She placed her briefcase on the bar and popped it open. There was nothing left for her to do now. Everything was in order. She would be flying all Monday, in Tokyo by Tuesday, lose a day or two in the process. Tickets, cell phone, passport, plastic (never too much plastic), hotel reservations, laptop.
She chose to add to her carry-on weight only two books. The first was her already worn copy of The Prince. That was just in case Paula Treadwell could beam herself down. The latter was a fairly recent purchase and it still looked mint. This was Dr. Kristenson’s best-selling magnum opus, which although not her usual fare, Venus felt obliged these days to study. She flipped to the inside of the dust jacket, to the black and white photo of Dr. Kristenson. Venus frowned at herself in the mirror over the bar. The doctor was undeniably wonderful. Likable, talented, beautiful, sexy. She closed the book and laid it on top of the other.
The stakes were high and the competition was very, very hot.
Fortune Is a Woman Page 6