Josh smiled. “Yeah right.”
“So wait. How did you know I lived in Brooklyn?”
“Mom talk. What else? I think they ran into each other at Shop Rite and it came out we both were in Park Slope.”
I still couldn’t get over the eerie fact that a name had popped into my head, and thirty seconds later I was talking to the very person, let alone that this was the same Josh Vogel who was so overweight, he needed two seats in the lunchroom.
I half listened to his tale as I sized up the new and improved packaging. He wasn’t quite in the handsome, ripped, Ken Danziger category. But he was tall and husky like David, and he had that whole Clint Eastwood, I’m-not-your-victim-anymore look. The gelled hair. Sexy black glasses. The leather jacket and Rolex watch.
“…After I graduated from Colorado State, I worked for a bunch of different guys in Silicon Valley. Then I opened my own consulting firm in Seattle. But after six years I got burned out and realized I missed my family. So this January I moved back and found a place down here.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Shocking, right? That I might become a not half bad-looking, successful guy?”
“No. That you missed your family so much you came home.”
“Well, it’s not the whole story.” He laughed. “I had a pretty bad breakup too.”
“Hey. That line forms to the left…Care to order the team jacket?”
“Sure…See, I was living with this woman, Rebecca…I really thought she was it. Then this friend of hers from work turned her on to Orthodox Judaism, and all of a sudden I wasn’t kosher enough. Which really pissed me off because I had gotten so good at davening.”
“That happened to a cousin of mine,” I said. “It’s not a religion, it’s a cult.”
“Exactly. And call me a sloth, but I still like bacon cheeseburgers. And I’ll drive all day Saturday to find a good one.”
“Me too! By any chance do you gamble?”
“Gamble? Not really. I think it’s a stupid hobby. I work too hard for my money…”
“Good answer! I know the place for the perfect burger. Do you want to go have dinner?”
“Sure.”
“And then spend the rest of the night holding me naked in bed?”
His eyes popped.
Wait until I called Julia. She was not going to believe I not only slept with Josh Vogel but tried to have sex, and he turned me down!
What guy said he’d rather just talk? Although his brain might have been saying no, I could see beneath the Jockey boxers that his boys were pacing like prisoners, waiting to be released on their own recognizance.
Still, it was nice to be lying naked in a man’s arms, talking the night away as he stroked my back. Occasionally he’d kiss my forehead, but I swear, his Orthodox ex must have brainwashed him into thinking he had to save himself for marriage.
Finally, after a night of drinking and filling each other in on the past fifteen years, up to and including these past few days, I couldn’t hold out. I needed to get laid, Ken was a lost cause, and if Josh felt as sorry for me as he said, then he would do right by me.
Can you believe it? In spite of the beer buzz, he still said no. He liked me too much to do this on impulse; every time he’d given in, the girl lost interest in him; he’d had a crush on me since seventh grade and now that I had become this beautiful, funny, and interesting woman, he wasn’t going to screw up a possible relationship due to quick sex.
“I don’t want quick sex. I want the kind that takes a long time.”
“If we do this, one of us will be sorry, and it’s probably going to be me,” he said.
“Who turns down a freebie? I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Believe me, I can think of six things I’m going to do to you when the time is right.”
“Oh come on. Do them now. Please? I might get hit by the D train tomorrow and miss out…What’s so funny?”
“Who could I call who would believe me? Robyn Holtz is begging me for sex.”
“I swear I’ll let you be the one to tell Julia if you just do it already.” I stroked him.
“You’re not playing fair.”
“No, you aren’t. You can’t wave that thing at me at full staff and say, Sorry, it’s off duty…Do you have condoms?”
“Somewhere.”
“Somewhere? Do you even like sex?”
“I love sex. But I also love the idea that it’s with the right person at the right time.”
“Well could you at least do something to relieve my tension?”
“That I can help you with.” He rolled me over and kissed me.
“Lower,” I whispered. “The tension is much lower.”
“Sorry. Can’t order me around like in chem lab anymore.” He laughed. “Besides, I’ve discovered the secret formula that turns air into fire…”
The secret formula that turned air into fire? Time to go back to the drawing board, my friend, ’cause all it did was make me fall asleep. I hope…
Thankfully, I awoke before Josh and tiptoed to the bathroom, praying my beating heart didn’t rouse him. Not that it was beating from being turned on. It was from waking in a panic that I’d overslept for work…until I remembered, among other things, that I had the next few days off.
That was the good news. The bad news? When I looked in the vanity mirror, I saw a selfish girl who had forced herself on a vulnerable guy who had begged not to be that night’s boy toy for fear he would be summarily dismissed in the morning.
As for how far we’d actually gone? It remained a mystery. What I did remember wasn’t pretty. Josh’s idea of heavy breathing was less porn than pig in heat. And his secret formula for making women crazy had nothing to do with being turned on. More like being turned over, like a roast that needed basting.
What to do now? Grab my clothes and go? Take him to breakfast and hope he had a good enough sense of humor? Check my cell and discover they did need me in Rome! Ciao baby…
I wandered through his apartment, realizing that in my haste to get the party started, I hadn’t taken the grand tour. Only to feel worse. Josh had created a safe space of warm touches with plants, pillows, and seating, all blended to match the rich moldings and grand arches…Damn! He was a nice guy, with a nice home. So why couldn’t I wait to leave?
“You are so beautiful.” He kissed my neck.
“Thanks.” I shivered. Naked girl. Naked guy. No screaming kids. Not good.
“Are you okay? Do you want a robe?”
“Um, no. I’m good. I really should be getting home…”
“I knew it.” He stepped back. “Here comes the brushoff. Thanks for the burgers and sex, Josh, but I have to get back to my real life now.”
“No. It’s nothing like that…It’s just that I’m sure my mom is wondering what happened to me and then…I’m sorry I have to ask…Did we do it?”
“Must have been memorable…No, we didn’t. But not because you didn’t finally wear me down…I went to get condoms and when I came back, you were lights out…”
Thank you God. “I am so sorry for throwing myself at you…Remember Mrs. Heilman’s health class? All those warnings about drinking and sex being a dangerous combination and—”
“Told you,” he moped. “It always ends like this for me…I’m the fool who never learns…”
“I like you.” I touched his face. “I do. You’re very sweet…”
“So do you want to go out again?”
“Definitely”
“You’re full of it. You’ll never take my call, so just answer this. Why were you thinking about me?”
“What?”
“When we first ran into each other in your building. You said you had just been thinking of me even though you had no idea I called…Why was I on your mind?”
“Oh. That.” I cleared my throat. “Actually I was thinking about Julia Volkman and how I really needed to give her a call. And then it was the strangest thing. I was thinking about high
school and lockers and—”
“—whatever happened to that fat, ugly kid she was stuck next to?”
“Not at all. I was thinking, whatever happened to all those nice guys like Josh Vogel?”
“That’s what you were thinking.”
“Yes.”
“I happen to have a portable polygraph machine. Mind if I get it?”
“I’m telling the truth.” I kissed his cheek and went to fetch my clothes.
“You really have a great ass.” He sighed. “Which I’ll probably never see again.”
“That is not true. We’re going to have dinner again very soon.”
“Really?” His face lit up.
“Absolutely.” With a friend from work who would love you.
Chapter 16
MY MOTHER WAS a big fan of letting her badly behaved children choose their own punishments, thinking guilt would force them to be harsher on themselves than she would ever have the heart to be.
Phillip would opt for a television ban, then cry about his great sacrifice. Meanwhile, he’d be up in his room jerking off while listening to the Mets on the radio. And me? I’d go the food deprivation route. No candy for a week unless I had a party, a craving, or a sudden memory lapse.
But how to atone for having taken advantage of the still vulnerable Josh Vogel? A written apology? Watch Mean Girls for the next month? Maybe write a hundred times on the blackboard I WILL NOT SEDUCE FORMER FAT BOYS?
He deserved better. I would invite him for an evening of dinner and mah-jongg, then explain why he’d be a fool to get involved with me. Maybe ask if he was willing to be fixed up. Anything but date him, for as was common to my species, I had a natural predilection for guys with a basic understanding of the female anatomy. Or at least the parts that liked attention.
Exactly. Irrational fool that I was, I was wondering about Ken. As I trudged the few blocks from Josh’s place to mine, I checked for missed calls, and although there were several Manhattan Man was not among them. But no surprise. I got the karma thing. This was payback time. I was being blown off because I’d done the same thing to Josh.
Uh. I hated turnabout, I thought, as I sidestepped two jogger-mommies pushing their Rolls Royce stroller babies down Seventh Avenue. But having to jump the curb did make me realize that it was the first time since moving to Brooklyn that I was getting a look at my neighborhood in all its early weekday glory.
Power walkers, commuters, young moms, and retirees were out enjoying the best of both worlds. An urban dwelling in close proximity to Manhattan, but suburban in the vast choices for shopping without ever having to beat someone to a spot in the parking lot.
Park Slope was especially desirous, with its stately brownstones, trendy restaurants, and a lush, safe park at your doorstep. “But it’s not Central Park,” I had cried to Rachel on moving day. “There’s no zoo, no ice rink, no directors rushing over here to shoot scenes for their films.”
I guess until now I hadn’t realized that I was still in mourning for my short-lived marriage and the luxury life that came with it. Still in shock how quickly I’d had to unload our beautiful co-op, only to discover David had already borrowed against the equity, and what little profits were left were needed to cover legal fees and credit card debts.
So it was hardly a celebration when I arrived in this borough. No fun when I installed my new phone line, and the first people to greet me were the courtesy callers from Visa with a reminder that I was late on my payments. “No!” I said. “Are you sure you have the right number?”
Seriously, what did the back office folks living in North Dakota know from Manhattan? Had they ever resided within minutes of the five Bs: Bloomie’s, Bendel’s, Bergdorf’s, Barney’s and Broadway? Or catered small dinner parties that cost more than a flight to London? Or watched a football game knowing income was riding on the outcome, then heard their husband confide that the thrill of gambling was still better than the best sex he’d ever had?
But now in this moment of clarity, I had to admit how nice a community this was. And a hell of a lot less pretentious, even with five-dollar lattes, Gucci-clad nannies, and million-dollar co-ops selling like Nathan’s hot dogs.
Nobody ogled my pocketbook to see if it was, sniff, last season’s (though they did eye the stitching to see if it was a fake). Nobody tried sizing up my net worth in an elevator, wondering if I was just another a Wall Street bonus baby, or a descendant from a venerable New York family.
This was my home now. Time to embrace my surroundings. May it be ever so humble…
Have you ever noticed confidence is that feeling you have right before you understand the problem?
“That musta been a helluva long line for pizza.” My mother stood outside my back door, one hand in her seersucker pocket, the other clutching a cigarette. “Where were you all night?”
“At a friend’s…I can’t believe you’re not even trying to quit.”
“Says who? I’m already down to a pack a day…”
“You shouldn’t be smoking at all. You have cancer.”
“You say potato, I say potato…I’m doing fine.” She took a last puff and came inside.
“You know this may come as a shock to you, but I don’t want you to die.”
“Good to know…let’s go shopping. I heard you got some time off.”
“I don’t want to go shopping. I want to talk to you about what the hell you’re doing.” I poured water into the coffeemaker.
“What’s to discuss? However much time I have, I don’t want to spend it with a husband who grunts in the morning, farts in the afternoon, and snores at night.”
“Fine. But that doesn’t give you carte blanche to walk all over us…”
“Who’s walking over anyone?…You gotta use more coffee than that or it’ll taste like water…Other than stay here for a few nights, what have I asked you for? And how am I supposed to feel knowing my own daughter doesn’t give one hootenanny that her mother is lonely?”
“I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be happy. I’m saying, can you at least think logically about this before you destroy a good thing?”
“I’ve done nothing but think, and believe me, it’s time to bail…Here. Let me show you how to do that.” She took the coffee scoop.
“Would you stop?” I pushed her away. “I can’t stand the fact that you think you’re always right about everything.”
“Because I am.”
“Not about love. You’re acting like a fool.”
“So buttons? Now tell me what you were so worked up about last night. We were all having fun until little Merry Sunshine walked in.”
“Well excuse me, but I didn’t appreciate strangers dropping cake crumbs on my floor.”
“Are you kiddin’ me? Thanks to me, this joint is cleaner than ever.”
“Thanks to you, my life is crazy again.”
“If you don’t want to see the negative, stay out of the darkroom.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. It sounded good in a fortune cookie…Sierra left a little while ago.”
“Good.”
“But Friday we’re flying to Phoenix.”
“Fine.”
“All of a sudden, fine?”
“Yeah. I don’t care anymore. You want to chase some crazy pipe dream and turn into an assassin, be my guest.”
“An assassin?” She sat down. “You honestly think I’m going there to kill Marv?”
“No. Sierra.”
“Sierra? Why would I do that? She’s a sweet kid. Just needs a little attention.”
“Then how come I heard Simon’s paying your way to make sure she doesn’t come back?”
“And you call that place a newsroom!” she snorted. “Get the facts straight, Toots…Sierra told me she was thinking about seeing Arizona State. Maybe transfer and start over…Then that Simon fellow said if I chaperoned her, we could use his condo in Scottsdale.”
“Oh. That does sound good. Except the part where you
try to find the man who got away…Have you even spoken to Daddy?”
“Did you call your idiot husband every day after you left him?”
“That was different. He was in trouble with the law.”
“Well your father’s in trouble with me! Why don’t you call him?”
“I did a few minutes ago. He’s fine.”
“See? He’s fine, I’m fine. No hits, no runs, no errors…oh…before I forget. You got an interesting call yesterday, but you ran out of here before I could tell you.”
Here it comes. “From who?”
“Remember that Joshua Vogel from high school? I used to bowl with his mother?”
“Oooh gross. Why would he be calling me?”
“What? You never heard of a frog turning into a prince?”
“Oh, so suddenly he’s royalty?”
“Just about! He dropped over a hundred pounds, sold his business, and now he’s this big-deal millionaire…bought a whole building right around the corner from here.”
“A whole building?” I stared at the coffee dripping into the pot.
“Yes ma’am. Plus he’s still got a big house in Seattle, horses in Florida, and…he’s single!”
And will be for the foreseeable future unless he buys a farm and marries a pig.
“It’s up to you of course.” She coughed. “But what would it hurt to see him?”
“You know you’re right? Then maybe we’ll start going out, we’ll get engaged, I’ll become the wife of a rich tycoon, we’ll have a bunch of kids, you’ll complain that they’re too spoiled and fat and they’re not reading enough books, and I don’t know the first thing about raising children, and you can’t stand his mother and why do you have to share the holidays with her…”
“She is a yenta, that’s for sure. Has her nose in everyone’s business…telephone, telegraph and tell Helene Vogel…Come to think of it, don’t call him back…Oy. The coffee looks so weak.”
Josh Vogel was rich enough to buy a building in Park Slope? I lay in bed pondering if that changed my feelings about him. Not if he was the next Donald Trump. He was a sweet guy, but I was hornier than I was broke, and a man who slobbered and slithered and thought Shake N Bake was an erotic sex act would need more than a huge portfolio to keep me happy.
Fate and Ms. Fortune Page 15