by Karen Quinn
Later, their driver took them down the hill on winding roads into the town, which at eleven P.M. was just heating up. They stopped at a small club Michael had heard about, Cinq a Cinq. It was filled with tanned couples and sophisticated European beauties with big breasts and tiny miniskirts who were hoping to catch wealthy beaux, just as Christy had done without really trying.
The music beckoned them to the floor. They began with a slow dance. She felt his heat as she moved to the music and then to him. She didn’t want to give in. But her body wanted Michael’s, and she languidly ground into him. She was afraid to put herself back in a position to be hurt again, and yet she was starting to feel swept away. It was as though she was with a stranger, a hot, disheveled, sexy stranger, far from home, and she wanted him until she forgot everything.
She was breathing harder and harder. “Michael, let’s go,” she whispered. He grabbed her hand, and they pushed through the growing crowd. He led Christy around a corner into a narrow dark street, with only a stray dog about, and pushed her up against the warm Provençal stone wall. He kissed her deeply and she met him full-on. Christy was almost dizzy with desire, needing him. He slid her silk dress up her smooth thighs, and lifted her up until she could wrap her legs around him. She savored every sensation, the brush of the hairs on his arm against her leg, the sweat running down his face, his smell. He seemed to have more power over her than ever before, and she welcomed him into her body. “Michael, I love you,” she said afterward. He gently lowered her and then held her like he never wanted to lose her again.
That night she slept twined around his warmth, trying to burrow deeper and closer. She couldn’t believe how much she had missed this.
The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur of sensual gifts. It felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Swimming naked in the cool water, lying on the velvet warmth of the stone, making love over and over. What was this? she wondered—something she hadn’t really felt the first time around with him. Surrender. Knowing she belonged to him, no matter what. Christy realized she could not leave this man. She would just have to learn to live with the fact that he could hurt her again.
And then they were on the tarmac. They slept the whole way over the Atlantic. Christy woke up once and just watched him, his crazy hair and his smile lines, looking like a trusting child in sleep.
Steven met them at Teterboro with the Mercedes, and soon they were driving home in the hour before dawn. Christy lay across the seat as Michael stroked her hair. “I can’t wait to get back to life as it was,” he said.
“Me, too,” Christy said, and she meant it.
“So, you’ll help me raise Ali?” Michael asked.
“I will,” Christy said.
“Good. Do you think your midwestern values can possibly trump the sense of entitlement Suzanna instilled in her?”
“I think so,” Christy said dreamily.
“God, I hope,” Michael said. “I need you for that. I want to do the right thing by Ali, but I’m not sure how.”
Christy smiled. “Will you be a father to Renata?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Just as long as her family vamooses back to Mexico.”
Christy sat up. “No, Michael. They have to stay.”
“Would it be so bad, Christy, you and me and two daughters? Isn’t that enough?”
“Don’t you realize if they go they’ll take Renata with them and turn her into a goatherd? And even if they were somehow willing to let her stay with us, she needs to be around her own family. Can’t you see how fast she’ll lose her Mexican identity living on Fifth Avenue?”
“She can visit them in the summer.”
“Yes, but what about me? I don’t want them to go. Michael, I never had a big family. I love having Jorge and the Marias around. Just give them a chance. Please?”
“Christy, we can’t have the entire Ruiz family and their goat living with us. Get real. They go, and we’ll do everything to get custody of Renata.”
“No, Michael.” She had let her guard down, and now he was going to impose his will when it came to Renata and her family. I never should have let him near me again, she thought. A man like this, a Master of the Universe, can never be trusted to take my needs into account. What was I thinking? She asked Steven to pull over.
“No, Steven, don’t pull over. Christy, you can’t get out here, it’s five in the morning. We’re in Harlem.”
“Steven, pull over now,” Christy said. She didn’t give a damn where they were. She was angrier than she could remember being, angry at herself for thinking things could be different. Steven wasn’t sure which boss to obey, but Christy must have been more convincing because he pulled over and let her out. Michael was pissed off now, too. He slammed the door after her and drove off.
Christy walked along Lenox Avenue, watching Harlem wake up. Then she found herself moving faster, finally starting to calm down with the decades-old comfort of running. She hit Central Park just as it was getting light, and she ran along its outer edge until she hit Seventy-eighth Street and turned toward home.
Christy had absolutely no idea what she should do. Or what she would do.
Mrs. De Mille’s Legacy
Michael was sitting in his chair in the living room when she walked in the door. He was holding a letter. “Christy,” he called to her. “Come here.”
She walked over to him, maintaining an emotional distance. “What is it?”
“Take a look at this.”
She sat on the sofa and unfolded it. It was from the law firm of Pizzarello, Knowles, and Levy.
Re: Estate of Anna De Mille
Dear Mrs. Drummond,
We have tried unsuccessfully to contact you over the last week. It is our understanding that you are the legal guardian of the minor Renata Ruiz. We represented Mrs. Anna De Mille prior to her recent passing. Please be informed that Mrs. De Mille has left the bulk of her estate to Renata Ruiz. The estimated value of the inheritance is yet to be determined. It includes Mrs. De Mille’s Manhattan apartment and an oceanfront home in Palm Beach, Florida. The remaining assets are in securities, silverware, jewelry, loose diamonds, and three Fabergé Imperial eggs. The will specifies that Ms. Ruiz not be told that she is the owner of these assets until she has reached the age of twenty-five years. I would appreciate it if you would contact me at the telephone number listed above so that we can commence the execution of Mrs. De Mille’s will.
Sincerely,
Lara Nisonoff
P.S. There is also a Testamentary Trust on behalf of Mr. Koodles, Mrs. De Mille’s cat. Renata Ruiz has been named the Executor of that Trust. I will explain more when we talk.
Christy looked at Michael. He was smiling. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No, what?”
“It means that Renata can live downstairs in Mrs. De Mille’s old apartment with her relatives and that goddamn goat. Thank you, Lord! How did you know?” Michael actually danced a jig. He was that happy. She couldn’t help but smile at him. Okay, she had to admit it. Things were looking up.
You Can’t Go Home Again
The elevator opened to Baby G’s tenth-floor offices. Christy’s feet had barely touched the hardwood floor when the receptionist jumped out of her seat and ran over to hug her old boss.
“How are you? Oh my God, it’s so great to see you. We’ve missed you so much. Are you coming back? Please say you’re coming back,” she begged.
Christy just smiled and walked toward her meeting. She looked around at the headquarters that used to be her second home. It felt like she’d never worked there.
“Christy, how are you? You look wonderful!” Lisa said, as she walked into the reception area. “Staying home really agrees with you.”
“You think?” Christy said, smiling. She had dreamed of this moment so many times, of being welcomed back by her people. She drank it in.
As she strolled through the sea of desks in the communal workspace, Christy could barely make it to
the boardroom. Almost every employee came over to greet her and give her a hug, show her wedding or baby pictures, let her know how much she was missed.
Christy reached out to open the boardroom door, but it opened on its own. Niles stood there to greet her. He started to shake her hand and then threw his arms around her instead. The one person in this room she could trust. Dick Bender was next. Had he no shame? When Karl Lehmann came at her, she held her arms out to keep him at bay. “Enough, guys.” As she took the closest empty seat at the large oval table, she remembered picking it out with Katherine at an antiques store on Twelfth Street. She looked around slowly, eye to eye with each man in the room. Katherine was not there. These were the men who had screwed her. It was clear that today, for reasons she didn’t understand, she held the cards. She was going to take her time bringing them relief of any kind.
Niles broke the quiet in the room. “Christy, I know I speak for every board member when I say that we are so glad to see you sitting here. We asked you to meet with us today because we realize we made a big mistake five months ago, and we want to make it right.” It wasn’t quite as satisfying as it would have been coming from one of the six scumbags who’d ditched her, but it was pretty damn good. As if her reaction was felt, Dick Bender took the baton.
“Christy, we’ve learned that the sex scandal attributed to you was in fact true”—she started in her chair—“but it was true about someone other than you.” Christy nodded her head, as if to say, Yeah, I told you.
Karl looked at Christy sheepishly. He had been completely seduced by Katherine. “The company is in a bind. There’s a scandal brewing with our new operations in India. We don’t know if the news will be leaked or not, but we’re sitting on a time bomb. We know that if we fire Katherine without bringing you back, it will signal big trouble at the company. Two CEOs gone in six months—not a good story. The stock will tank. The company may not recover.”
Rami Shah seconded the plea. This seemed well choreographed to Christy. The worst offenders were each personally making the case to her. Eating their percentage of the humble pie chart.
“If I were to come back, what would happen to Katherine?” Christy was playing her poker face, not letting them read anything into her question.
Warren Heider spoke. “We’ll put her on special projects, until this blows over, and then fire her quietly a year from now. We would have had to let her go anyway. You were right about her all along.” Christy heard nothing after special projects. She was busy doing little victory dances in her head. Now that she had partaken of the sweet nectar of revenge, she had to figure out what to do. Her baby was in jeopardy, all the people she cared about, present company excluded.
“Gentlemen, I’m sorry to hear that the company we all worked so hard to build is in trouble, and I’m gratified that your confidence in me has been restored. I’ll get back to you very soon with my decision.” Short and sweet felt like her best bet. She needed to get out of this room and think things through. She rose, and they all rose with her. She cracked up at that, and so did they. It was hard to miss the ludicrousness that is the daily fare of capitalism. General Hospital had nothing on Baby G. Christy slipped out the door, catching a last glance at seven faces trying to look dignified in their moment of need.
Christy walked down the broad, open hallway toward her old office. The door was open, and she peeked inside. It had been completely redecorated. Everything was upgraded. The wool carpet had been replaced with silk Persian rugs. Instead of Christy’s Office Depot furniture, the room was filled with marvelous antiques that must have cost Baby G a fortune.
Behind a sleek Art Deco maplewood writing desk, Katherine stood to greet her. “What do you think of the new furniture?” she asked.
Christy kept her reservations to herself. “Impressive.”
“We got it at Sotheby’s. It’s from David Rockefeller’s estate. He died, you know.”
“So I heard.”
“Well,” Katherine said, looking into Christy’s eyes, “have you thought about the board’s offer? Are you and I going to have a second act?” Her expression was conspiratorial. The Christy she knew would never be able to resist saving her labor of love. Katherine seemed oblivious to the fact that her own neck was on the chopping block.
Christy walked over to the antique desk. “No, I don’t think so. I appreciate the gesture. I do. But it’s funny. I love my new life. I don’t care about being famous anymore. I don’t need to conquer the world.”
“Christy, please, take more time to think about this. Reconsider. For me.” Katherine bit her lip, and her face took on a nervous blotchy glow.
“What is it? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can,” Christy said in that sister-voice she used to use with Katherine. “You’ve always been able to tell me anything.”
Katherine took a deep breath. She gazed out the window for a moment before speaking. Turning back to Christy, she said, “Well, I did something. Something I shouldn’t have, something that, when it comes out, could get me fired, or sued, or, I don’t know, maybe sent to jail.”
Christy bit her cheek to keep from screaming, YES! There is a God. Instead, she kept her face sober and said, “Katherine, tell me everything.”
Katherine began to pace. “We moved our operations to India to cut costs. You don’t have to pay people shit there. That’s what makes it so attractive. Anyway, there was this fire at the factory a couple of weeks ago. An exit door had been blocked by machinery we had just brought in. There was only one other way out, and eight workers were killed trying to escape.”
“Katherine, that’s terrible. Those poor people.”
“Well, yes, that, too. But the real victim here is Baby G. So far, we’ve been able to keep our involvement under wraps in America. But that meddling reporter, Galit Portal, got wind of it. She wrote an article. Then she held us up for a million dollars to kill the story. I thought that was the end of it. But now she’s in some kind of trouble over taking bribes. The Financial Journal’s about to run a big exposé on its own reporter. They’re disclosing everything about the accident in India and how I paid to keep it out of the paper. Our stock price will tank.”
Christy’s jaw just about hit the floor. “What? You actually paid Galit to hush up the story?”
“Yes.”
“Does the board know?” Christy asked. She couldn’t believe they would agree to anything that sordid.
“No, and I was hoping you could talk to them for me. Apparently Galit got caught blackmailing someone else. They arrested her. The news is going to hit the paper any day.”
Oh my God, Christy thought. Wait’ll Katherine finds out she was hoist by her own nanny-cam. She shook her head in wonder. The universe works in such strange and perfect ways. “Gosh, that’s a shame, Katherine. But you know what? This isn’t my problem to solve. It’s yours.” Christy felt a surreal sense of indifference to a place she had given twelve years of her life. She turned and walked out of her old office, down the hall, toward the front door.
Katherine ran out and cut her off. “What? You’re choosing to be a housewife?” She said it as though no lower form of life existed on Earth. “You’d abandon the company you started, the company that needs you, to be a housewife?”
Young men and women in their twenties, dressed in stylish black and bold colors, stopped in their coffee treks, their errands, their trips to the restroom. Suddenly the room was still. The employees, who seconds ago had been buzzing with activity, grew silent. All eyes were on Katherine and Christy.
“Better a housewife than a sl—”
“Christy, please,” Katherine interrupted. “I’m begging you. Baby G is your baby. You don’t want to see it in trouble.” Katherine was unsure of the outcome now, less strident, realizing that this conversation shouldn’t be happening here, in front of everyone.
“Katherine, didn’t you tell me once that you’re as
tough as they come? That no matter how bad the news, you could turn it around and come out smelling like a rose? Well, now’s your chance.”
“I don’t remember,” Katherine said. “But if I said that, I was wrong. I can’t turn this around. I don’t know how. I need your help. You always know how to make things right. Please.”
Christy saw two futures open up before her. Since the day she left, she had fantasized about coming back to Baby G. She imagined a hero’s welcome, the restoration of her good name as she carried her company into the next phase of unimaginable greatness. And here it was, being laid in her lap. Not only was it being offered, they actually needed her to save the day.
Or, a whole different future awaited her at home—being Michael’s wife, Renata and Ali’s mother.
Christy noticed Allison, one of her protégés, about ten feet away. Christy had taught her how to do killer presentations. The day before Christy left, Allison had landed an important new retailing partnership. Dan, next to her, had come from an old media company, and he’d flourished in the go-getter atmosphere of Baby G. Chloe, the redhead behind Dan, was a refugee from Morgan Stanley. Christy remembered Chloe’s first day. She had shown Christy her blue toenail polish and said, “I couldn’t have worn this there. Thank you so much.” Then she had gone on to create several successful relationships with key analysts. There was Lizzy, the girl Christy had found making out with the Ivy League summer intern and forgiven with some motherly advice. Her eyes traveled from face to face in the dead silence. A shared ten P.M. pizza here, a companion on the endless road show there. Christy looked at the stunned employees, all witnesses to Katherine’s meltdown. She hoped they wouldn’t lose their jobs over her screwup. But it was too late to save the day, much as she would like to be Xena one more time. She had made new commitments now. They were waiting for her at home. This time, she realized, she really was leaving to spend more time with her family.
Christy faced the impromptu gathering. Everyone was crowding in to hear the decision that could shape their futures. “It is because of all of you that Baby G is what it is. You’ve given so much to this dream of mine, and I know you’ll carry it forward. I know you’ll find your way. It’s up to all of you now.”