Annihilate Me (8 page)

“She
said that to you as a child?”

“She
did.”

“What
troubles?”

He
hesitated, but then said, “I didn’t exactly have the happiest of
childhoods.
 
Michelle was acutely
aware of that.
 
She took me under
her wing whenever she could.
 
I
suppose in many ways she protected me.”

“From
whom?
 
Your mother?
 
You mentioned her before in conjunction
with Michelle.”

“Yes,
my mother.
 
Often, my father
too.
 
But let’s not discuss that
now.
 
Another time, OK?”

“OK.”

“When
Lisa comes for dinner, we’ll have a few glasses of wine and I’ll finally get to
know your best friend.
 
That’s
important to me.
 
The people in your
life are important to me.
 
Whatever
you want, I’ll cook.”

“Lisa
is a total foodie.”

“So
this will be a test?”

“It
will be to her.”

“I’m
up for the challenge.”

“You’ll
need to be,” I said.

“What
I need to do is run.”

“Have
a good meeting.”

He
gave me a final kiss, and then he went for the elevator.
 
“You as my consultant,” he said inside
the car.
 
“I like that.
 
And I think I need that.
 
Thank you for considering it.”

The
doors swept shut, and then he was gone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I’ve
been offered a job at Wenn,” I said as I walked into our apartment.
 
Lisa was on the sofa.
 
On the table in front of her was a stack
of manuscript pages.
 
Soon, she’d
ask me to proof her book.
 
I
couldn’t wait to see what she’d created now.
 
I was excited for her, and also for me
because I loved her writing.
 
Her
stories scared the hell out me, but in a good way.

She
put down her red pen, but didn’t turn to look at me.
 
“You’ve been offered what?”

“A
job at Wenn.”

“What
time is it?”

“Just
after ten.
 
Why?”

“Mimosas,”
she said.
 
“Two.
 
And
tout suite
!
 
I need to hear it all.”

“I
know we have a bottle of champagne.
 
But do we even have orange juice?”

“I
picked up a carton yesterday.
 
I’ve
got it covered.”

“You
often do,” I said.
 
How strong?”

“Just
a taste of champagne—not too much.
 
I have a day’s worth of editing ahead of me, so my head needs to be
clear.
 
But right now, for the next
hour or so, we are going to have a little chit-chat.”

“That
we are.”

I
made the drinks and brought her one in a fluted champagne glass.
 

“What
a lovely color,” she said, admiring the liquid in the glass.

“You
and your zombies would like it more if the juice came from a blood orange.”

“Sometimes
I think you should be the writer, Jennifer.
 
I’m totally stealing that.”

“You
can take from my lips whatever you want.”

“Considering
where you’re lips are headed, that sounds dirty.”

“You’re
impossible.”

I
sat down opposite her.
 
The air
conditioner whirred behind me and even though we were in the first days of
September, it was still hot enough on the fourth floor of our prison camp of an
apartment that the cool air felt like a bit of heaven to me.
 
I remembered all those months ago, when
we first arrived in Manhattan, and the hell we’d gone through over the summer
because we couldn’t afford an air conditioner.
 
It had been awful, but we had worked
through it, just as we’d worked through so many other problems together.
 

“Spill.”

I
told her about my breakfast with Alex, the conversation that ensued, and the
job offer I now needed to weigh.
 
“So, what do you think?” I asked.

“I
saw this coming, but I sure as hell didn’t see five hundred grand coming.
 
You came up with the job and negotiated
the price?”

“I
did, but I wouldn’t call it a negotiation.
 
He just agreed to it.
 
I
probably could have asked for a million and I would have received it.
 
But I’m not worth that.
 
What I’m worth is five hundred
thousand.
 
Considering what I’ve
already done for Wenn when it comes to Stavros Shipping, and especially
considering what most consultants make in this city and in this business,
that’s a fair wage.
 
I never would
take advantage of him, and I know I can do the job.”

“There
will be a lot of expectations with that kind of money.”

“I’m
fine with that.”

She
smiled at me, and while I could tell that she was happy for me, there was
something in her smile that seemed almost sad.
 
“So, what do you think you’re going to
do?”

“I
really love my job at the restaurant.”

“I
know you do.”

“You
know how much I think of Stephen.
 
He’s been nothing but good to me.
 
But I came here for more than that.
 
I hope that doesn’t make me sound ungrateful, because I’m not.
 
He and Mr. Boulud gave me a wonderful
opportunity.
 
In fact, besides Wenn,
they’re the only ones who gave me an opportunity.
 
What they did for me means a great
deal.”

“It’s
not as if they didn’t get something out of it, regardless of how brief your
time might be with them.
 
And your
dreams never were to run a restaurant, Jennifer.”

“They
weren’t.
 
But if I leave them, I’ll
still feel guilty.”

“You
once told me that your job there is coveted.”

“It
is.”

“So,
don’t you think they’ll find a replacement sooner rather than later?”

I
hadn’t considered that.
 
I knew they
would.
 
db Bistro was among the
city’s best restaurants.
 
Of course
they’d find someone soon, probably someone in-house.
 
Or maybe someone from a competing
restaurant.
 
The pay was good and if
you wanted to be in the restaurant business, having db Bistro on your resume
would be very attractive.
 

“What
do you owe them, really?
 
You’ve
done your job.
 
You signed no
contract to stay for any length of time.
 
You’ve been professional and did everything they’ve asked of you.
 
New offers come to people every
day.
 
Can they match five hundred
grand?
 
I’m thinking they
can’t.
 
Anyone would jump at the
opportunity you’re being offered.
 
Ask yourself this.
 
Do you
think Stephen would leave the restaurant for that kind of money.”

“I
have no idea.”

“Really?
 
Even if it advanced his career.”

“He
might.”

“What
do you think he earns?”

“I
did some research on that before I went to them.
 
For very good restaurants like db, a
general manager can make as much as two hundred thousand.”

“And
Stephen wouldn’t leave if he was offered an additional three hundred thousand
to go somewhere else?
 
Come on,
Jennifer.
 
Get real.
 
This is business we’re talking
about.
 
It’s not personal.”

“It
feels personal.”

“Well
it shouldn’t.
 
But that’s just
you.
 
Let me ask you the real
question here.
 
Is this something
you’d like to explore with Wenn?”

I
shrugged.
 
“Working at Wenn would
allow me two things.
 
First, it’s a
dream job.
 
I’ll be able to become
the true business junky that I am and assist the corporation with any number of
ideas and strategies.
 
That excites
me.
 
Alex will make that happen for
me—and he’ll listen to me.
 
He
takes me seriously.
 
Second, I’ll be
able to be with Alex, which also is important to me.
 
If we’re going to make a go of this
budding relationship, Lisa, I need to be able to spend time with him.”

“I
understand that.
 
It’s not going to
work otherwise.”
 

This
time I saw a fleeting look of concern cross her face, and then it
disappeared.
 

“What
are you thinking about?” I asked.

“Nothing,”
she said.

“Come
on, Lisa.
 
Be honest with me.
 
We know each other better than we know
ourselves.”

She
looked up at me and her eyes filled with tears.
 
“I think I’m going to lose you,” she
said.

“What
are you talking about?”

“Jennifer,
if you take this job—and I think you should—you’ll be making half a
million a year.
 
I can’t compete
with that.
 
You’re not going to want
to live here.
 
You’ll be out of here
ASAP.
 
I’m sorry if this sounds
selfish, but I am going to miss you terribly when you go.”

“Who
says you’re not coming with me?”

“Oh,
Jennifer.
 
Come on.
 
You’re on the verge of having a
boyfriend now.
 
You’ve gotten what
you’ve fought for—a high-paying job doing exactly what you want.
 
If
you want it, and I know you do.
 
I write about zombies, for Christ’s
sake.
 
I’m getting by, but I am so
far from your level now, it’s not even funny.”

“And
when I was almost on my last dime, who was there for me?
 
You were, time and again.
 
During that period, I had the same
concerns.
 
I thought that if your
new book hit, which I pray to God it does, you might leave me because I
wouldn’t be able to afford the lifestyle you’d want.
 
And who could blame me?
 
Who in their right mind would want to stay
in this shithole any longer than they had to?
 
I was worried sick that you’d hit the
list again and want a better place.
 
Maybe one of your own.”

“You
know I’d never do that to you.”

“And
you think I would do it to you?
 
Seriously?
 
What’s the
difference?”

That
shut her up.

“We’re
a team,” I said.
 
“We’ve been one
since we were kids.
 
Do you really
think I’d leave you behind because of any of this?
 
I want you to
enjoy
this with me.
 
I’m
going to take the job, we are going to get out of this dump, and we are going
to find a killer apartment where we can live together.
 
Two sweet bedrooms.
 
Two beautiful bathrooms.
 
We can afford that now.”

“I
think you’re being naïve.”

“How?”

“Because
he’s going to want to be with you in your apartment.
 
It’s just natural.
 
He’s going to want to come over and
spend time with you in
your
space, not
ours
.
 
And when you fully give yourself to him,
which will happen, he will want to spend the night with you
alone
, not with me there.
 
Don’t you see that?”

“You
are my family,” I said.
 
“You have
been since the fifth grade.
 
Alex
has a lovely space.
 
When we want to
be alone, we’ll just go there.
 
Occasionally, we’ll all meet at our place and have dinner together.
 
Oh, and by the way, he wants to cook for
you.”

She
wrinkled her nose at me.

“That’s
what he said about an hour ago,” I continued.
 
“He wants to get to know you.
 
He wants to cook dinner for both of
us.
 
He knows how important you are
to me, and I think he instinctively knows that no one ever will come between
us.
 
If Alex and I want to be alone,
big deal.
 
He has a home for
that.
 
It’s not rocket science.
 
This is nothing for you to worry about,
so please don’t.
 
In a hot second, I
would give up him and this job before I ever gave you up.
 
And don’t think I’m joking.
 
You mean everything to me.
 
You know that.”

“I
don’t want me and my zombies to hold you back.”

“Your
zombies are going to change your life after this next book.
 
And the next book.
 
And the next.
 
Who are you kidding?
 
You’re already on your way.”

“Jennifer,
I might have hit the list once, but nothing is certain.
 
I could fail the next time.
 
It happens.
 
In fact, it’s been over four months
since the last book came out, so it’s unlikely that it
will
happen.
 
Readers of ebooks want one book per
month from writers, and that is nearly impossible for anyone to do, unless
you’re just writing shit or a novella.
 
I’m an independent author.
 
Yes, readers liked the first book a lot.
 
Yes, the book was a best seller.
 
But fans want the next book now, not
next week.
 
On my Facebook fan page,
they’re already grousing about when they can expect the next novel.
 
And I mean
novel
.
 
Not novella.
 
Who can do that
in a few months?
 
I can’t.
 
That timeframe is unreasonable if they
want the book to be good, which of course they do.
 
I appreciate their enthusiasm, but let’s
get real.
 
Writing a book takes
time.
 
But still they want it
yesterday.
 
And if they don’t get it
yesterday?
 
It’s on to the next
author, who might be more prolific than me.
 
I’ve seen it too many times.
 
I’ve watched too many careers tank.
 
Maybe I should cut this book into a
series of shorts.
 
Maybe that would
appease them.
 
Hell, I don’t
know.
  
But I think that would
be cheating them, so I won’t.
 
I
also refuse to get in your way because of my own dilemma.”