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“Yeah, all right.”
He couldn't close the door behind her fast enough.
She had totally humiliated him. She should feel good about that-revenge was supposed to be sweet, wasn't it?
But it was Friday night and she had no plans. She'd end up knitting row after row of that stupid baby blanket while she watched crappy TV and sipped at a glass of cheap wine. All by herself.
That really sucked.
II
Kathleen wasn't spending much time in her apartment. After work, she was either out with Kevin or at his house. She stayed over a lot of nights, and even when she bothered to come home, it was only to sleep.
It wasn't until she ran into Sam Thursday morning in the parking garage of their building that it occurred to her it had been a couple of weeks since she'd last seen him. He was dressed in a suit and tie and looked tired and grim as he walked toward his car.
Kathleen was heading into the building from the opposite direction, wearing the same tight electric-blue dress she had worn the night before to a club-when it had made sense to be wearing a low-cut dress that showed an almost indecent amount of her long lean thighs. She ran to catch up with Sam.
“Hey,” she said from behind as she reached him.
Sam turned around. “Kathleen,” he said. “Now I understand why I haven't seen you in a while.” He nodded toward the dress as if it explained everything.
Kathleen put her chin up and said, “I’ve been busy.”
“I can see that. Are you going into the office later? Or have you stopped doing that?”
“Of course I’m going in,” she said. “I’m still working.”
“Oh, I didn't say you weren't working,” he said. “You're clearly working hard.” He inclined his head politely and walked off.
That night, she and Kevin had a quiet tête-à-tête at a small, extremely expensive Italian restaurant in West L.A. where everyone who worked or ate there seemed to know him by name, and then they went back to his house, where they soaked in the hot tub for a while, which of course ended with them wrestling under the sheets together, and then Kathleen told him she had to go back to her apartment. “I need a good night's sleep,” she said, sliding off the bed and on to her feet. “And some clean clothes.”
“You should leave stuff at my place,” Kevin said. He was sprawled on the bed, where the rumpled Frette sheets bore witness to their recent activity. “I’ve got a whole second closet I only use for tuxedos and ski clothes. It's mostly empty.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Kathleen pulled her dress over her head.
“Want me to come with you?”
“You don't want to. The place is just a big empty mess.”
“How can it be empty and a mess?” he asked.
“I don't know,” she said. “It just is.”
When she got home, it was even worse than she had remembered. Since she'd mostly been using the apartment as a big walk-in closet, clothes were tossed all over the place. A lot of them were dirty-after years of living with a housekeeper, she was having trouble getting used to doing her own laundry.
She pushed enough stuff off of her “bed” to clear some space for herself and went to sleep.
She woke up early the next morning, hurled herself into the shower, threw on a pair of decent black pants and a sweater (worn once or twice since the last dry cleaning, but not noticeably dirty), and raced up the back stairs. Sam's kitchen door was locked. She pounded on it. He might have already gone to work, she thought, and pounded harder.
Suddenly, it opened.
“What do you want?” He was wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. “It's eight o'clock in the morning.”
“I thought you left for work early,” she said. “You were already heading out this time yesterday.”
He ran his fingers through his rumpled gray and black hair. “I had an early meeting yesterday. And it almost killed me. I’m not a morning person.”
“I’m getting that sense,” she said. “Anyway, you're up now. I’ll run out and grab us some bagels and coffee.”
“Are you treating?” he said.
“Sure.”
He yawned. “Be careful, Kathleen. Don't go spending money you don't yet have. The prenup alone could cost you all sorts of setbacks and legal fees.”
“You know what?” Kathleen said. “I’m sorry I asked. Forget it.” She turned around and headed back down the stairwell.
“Sesame bagel and black coffee,” he called after her. “Very hot.”
By the time she returned, he had showered and put on his suit pants, socks and shoes, and a crisp white shirt.
He seated himself at the marble half-circle table and Kathleen thunked down the cardboard cups of coffee and two paper-wrapped bagels in front of him. She sat down. Sam immediately got up again with a sigh of disgust. He went to the cupboard and took out two plates, then made a big show of unwrapping each bagel and arranging it on a plate. He frowned when he unwrapped his. “Jesus, Kathleen, what the hell's on this?”
“It's lox spread,” she said. “I thought you'd like it. I do.”
“Disgusting,” he said. “Nitrates mixed with fat.”
“It tastes good. But if you don't like it, scrape it off.”
“Not worth it. I’ll eat something at work.” He dropped the bagel on the plate and left it on the counter, picked up his coffee, removed the plastic top, and threw it out in the wastebasket under the sink, then poured the coffee into a mug. He threw out the paper cup, returned to the table, sat down, and finally took a sip of coffee. “You're quiet,” he said.
“I’m waiting for you to drink your coffee. There doesn't seem to be much point in trying to make conversation until then.”
“True.” He took a few more sips, then looked at her over the top of his mug. “So,” he said. “Everything going well?”
“Fine.”
“I’m assuming that your continual absence in your own apartment reflects well on the success of your current pursuit?”
She shrugged. “I go out with Kevin a lot, if that's what you mean. In fact, tonight we're supposed to go to some big fundraiser. His dad's being honored.”
“What's the charity?”
“I don't know.”
“Good for you,” he said. “Girls shouldn't worry their pretty little heads with boring details like that.”
“Oh, who cares?” Kathleen said. “One charity is pretty much the same as another.”
“Your embrace of your own ignorance never ceases to impress me,” Sam said and took another sip of coffee.
“Don't be such a dick,” she said. “I need your help. You're a bigwig type-”
“Says who?”
“Kevin. He says you're a shark.”
“Really?” He looked pleased.
“I bet you go to things like this all the time. Tell me what I should wear-I’m going to be sitting with the Porters and I don't want to make a fool of myself.”
“Now that's what your pretty little head should be worrying about. What to wear.”
“It said ‘black tie’ on the invitation. Does that mean I have to wear like a ballgown? Or just a really nice dress?”
He flung out his hand. “How the hell would I know what a girl your age should wear when she goes out at night? Go pick up a copy of Cosmopolitan.”
“You could be a little more helpful,” Kathleen said.
“No, I don't think I can.” He took another sip of coffee. “Anyway, why worry? Your fairy godmother will take care of the dress for you.”
“Actually,” Kathleen said. “When you think about it, you're my fairy godmother. I mean, you gave me the apartment and the job. And that's how I met Kevin-”
“Your Prince Charming.”
“The shoe fits,” she said. “No, wait, it's Cinderella's shoe that fits.” She shrugged. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”
Sam shook his head. “I can't wait for your happily-ever-after,” he said. “It's going to be so fucking miserable.” He raised his coffee cup and smiled. “Cheers.”