Moore to Lose (20 page)

“My team’s working and I’ll check on everything earlier in the evening — but for the changing of a century, I’m enjoying this one.”

“Excellent. Let’s do it.” Mia’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t we let Seth pull this together for us. You know he will create something magical.”

Charles laughed. “I was hoping you’d offer him up.”

“Set up like a bowling pin, wasn’t I?”

“Absolutely, Meezie, and you just walked right into it.”

Seth Shapiro, a millennium party and a large budget. Combinations like that only come along on rare occasions.

“What time do you want me over at Charles’ to help you?” Walking around Jefferson Market, Mia continued to pick out an assortment of gourmet cheeses, pates, prosciutto, soppressata, olives, roasted peppers and other cold antipasti.

“If you’re here by six to help, it’ll be fine.”

“Ok, just call me if you need me to pick up anything else on my way.”

Mia emerged onto Sixth Avenue. The sky was overcast and it felt like snow. Everyone was buzzing with Y2K fever and that shift in energy was palpable. It was tangible. Everything about the day felt different. The air was crackling with all the energy people were giving off. The end of a century. The start of a new millennia.

Mia could feel the sense of melancholy as if it were seeping into her bones. Intellectually she knew there was so much to be thankful for — her business was successful, she was surrounded by friends and family who loved her, and with the help of her therapist who specialized in PTSD related to rape and sexual assaults, Mia was making healthier choices and finally understanding what were her behavioral triggers. But on this day, December 31, 1999, Mia found herself talking aloud to the universe as she walked up Sixth Avenue toward her apartment.

“Where are you? Am I supposed to go through this lifetime without you? Were we just not meant to be together in this lifetime? Would I even recognize you if we were to meet?”
As tears streamed down her cheeks,
“Or did I already lose you?”
You’re my go-to, Schooner, she thought.

Wiping her tears, Mia decided it was just all the heightened energy around her that she was picking up on and that was what had brought on the melancholia. She ached for something. Someone. And it just seemed ever so slightly out of her reach. And that beautiful blonde boy was hanging around on the edge of her consciousness today and she couldn’t shake him. There was a tugging at her heart and she had the sneaking suspicion it was him.

“You do show up at the oddest times, Mr. Moore.”
And another gush of unexpected tears stormed down her cheeks.
“My therapist tells me I should forgive. I should forgive the creeps who attacked me. I should forgive you. I should forgive Tom and most of all, I should forgive myself. But I don’t know how good I am at forgiveness. I don’t think it’s my strong suit. I don’t hate you though. It’s been so long that I just remember the fun times.”
Mia continued up Sixth Avenue, talking to herself aloud with tears streaming down her face, but now she was smiling.
“I remember the campus cops taking you away in cuffs when you tried to protect me during the mini-riot I started in the cafeteria, I remember dying for you to kiss me on a mountain top and laughing, I remember my face hurting from laughing so much with you. And now, you’re probably some successful businessman or a tennis pro at some chic club in Palm Springs, with two perfect blonde children. And I don’t hate you. I just want to find that person for me, that soul mate, that connection that I thought I had found with you. And I just fear that I am going to go through this lifetime and not find it.”

Mia’s phone was ringing as she entered her apartment. Putting the bags from Jefferson Market down on her dining room table, she grabbed the phone on its last ring before the answering machine picked up.

“Hello.”

“Happy almost New Year, Gorgeous,” said a voice she had not heard in a very long time and she was actually surprised at not only the smile on her face, but the good feelings in her heart.

“Well, Happy almost New Year to you, too.” Mia started to pull out the items that needed refrigeration and brought them into the kitchen.

“So, how have you been? I’ve seen you on Page Six at some of the events for your clients.”

“I cannot complain about the business, it has been doing well. How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Happy to be on break.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I miss you, Mia. I miss what we had.”

“Am I correct in assuming there is no one in your life?” What did he want, she wondered. A New Year’s Eve date? Or had he too tapped into the odd melancholia that was buzzing on a new found clear channel frequency.

“No one important,” he laughed.

“I wasn’t important.” The melancholia was starting to seep back in.

“You were very important. I’m just an ass.”

“So, did you call just to wish me a Happy New Year?” Mia sat down at the dining room table. She sat down in his chair.

“I did.”

“I miss you too, Tom.” Mia could picture his smile on the other end of the phone and she continued, “You were a really big part of my life and it’s hard when a door shuts.”

“More like slammed, Mia.”

She laughed, “Well yeah and I was actually hoping it hit you on the way out.”

It was good to hear his laugh, “Well at least I had clothes on when you threw my ass out.”

“Consider yourself one lucky motherfucker.”

“Oh I do, trust me, I do. So, can we be friends again?”

Mia sighed. The tears were starting to burn and she did not want to cry. “I think that would be really healthy.”

“Me too. We’re good as friends, you and I.”

“Yeah, we are.”

Hanging up the phone on the last day of the century, Mia wondered, maybe, just maybe she hadn’t given herself enough credit for her capacity to forgive. Maybe therapy was actually working. It was a lot of work and maybe, just maybe, it really was paying off — and it would be very nice to have an old friend back in her world without any feelings of malice.

Wow, when did I become this mature, Mia wondered as the twentieth century rapidly drew to a close.

Mia gazed around Charles’ brownstone in awe. Seth Shapiro had set a scene for the evening that was both magical and ethereal. Charles was still out, checking on his guys all over town and Mia thought, “He is going to flip when he sees this.”

Long strips of sheer white fabric billowed from the ceiling in arcs and then draped majestically to the floor. Small tables covered in white starched linens dotted the rooms. Each table sported a brass candlestick lamp with a colorful beaded and silk rope shade. Potted palms and white pillar candles filled out the ambience.

Mia stood there speechless. “Casablanca,” was all she could say.

“You are correct, BBC.” Seth appeared out of nowhere. He was wearing a white dinner jacket with black tuxedo pants and a black silk bowtie.

“Hello, Rick.”

“Ilsa,” he returned, “Of all the New Year’s Eve parties, in all the brownstones, in all of New York and she walks into mine.”

Mia laughed, “I am impressed. You have created a magical place. It really feels like Rick’s Café Americain.” It was then that Mia noticed the 1940’s Big Band music playing in the background. “This is really romantic, Seth.”

The guests were a combination of Mia and Seth’s friends and business associates and Charles’ friends and associates. Charles too was dressed in a dinner jacket as if he’d just stepped out of the Silver Screen.

“You look debonair,” she greeted him.

“And you look gorgeous.”

“It’s just the atmosphere.” Mia laughed, though she walked around greeting people and feeling like she was Ingrid Bergman playing Ilsa Lund for the night.

The crowds meshed beautifully and it was hard to tell whose friends were whose.

Working the room was exhausting as Mia spent time catching up with friends and colleagues and meeting Charles’ friends. Stepping out into the small yard to get some fresh air and take a break from hostessing, Mia breathed in the cold winter air and took a sip from the old fashioned Champagne Coupes that Seth had procured for the evening. The Coupes were broad bowled crystal glasses straight out of the thirties and forties and Mia wondered where Seth had found them. As she stepped further into the small, walled yard, her thought was that it still felt like it was going to snow.

Mia closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Standing there with her eyes closed, she reveled in the relative silence and solitude. The day had been emotional, laden with ghosts, both real and perceived.

She didn’t see him sitting on the bench against the concrete wall until she was just a few steps away. He was so still and quiet as he watched her.

Mia jumped, spilling her champagne.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I get you a napkin or a towel?”

“No. No. Stay there, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to intrude on you. I didn’t see you there.”

“No intrusion. Would you like to sit?” And he moved down on the bench to make room for her.

Mia sat down next to the man, “I just needed some fresh air to re-energize.”

“You were really working the room,” he observed. He had a pleasant face. Nice looking actually, Mia thought. His light brown hair receding a little at the hairline. Even in the dark, Mia thought his light eyes looked kind.

“Don’t kid yourself. Being a hostess is a tough job.”

His smile was his best feature, Mia thought. It was genuine and sweet. “Sometimes being a guest is tough, too.”

“I’m Mia Silver.”

“Yes, I figured.”

“You did?” Mia’s nose scrunched up with surprise.

“Yes, Charles had mentioned he was co-hosting the party with his friend, Mia.”

“And you are?” Mia was starting to get cold in the yard. The bench was freezing and it was going through the sheer fabric of her dress.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. I’m Michael Portman.” He extended a hand to Mia and offered a solid handshake.

“How do you know Charles?” Mia wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

Michael removed his jacket and gently draped it over Mia’s small shoulders. Wow, a gentleman, Mia thought. Now
this
truly was a mythical beast.

“We were roommates in college and fraternity brothers.”

Mia nodded. “You haven’t been at any of the events.”

“I just moved back to the states three months ago. I was overseas for the last three years.”

“Really? How interesting. Where were you?”

“I was based in London.”

Mia smiled at him. “I love London. It reminds me of Manhattan in the sense that it is like small villages strung together.”

Michael regarded Mia for a moment and smiled, “Spot on observation. That is exactly how I would describe it.”

“Let’s go in. It’s freezing out here.” Mia stood and extended a hand to Michael. He took her hand and stood. Mia thought he must be close to six feet tall.

Before they reached the back door, Mia released his hand.

“BBC, it’s almost midnight.” Seth was on the other side of the door with Rory, Kami and her date.

“Hey guys, this is Michael. He’s an old friend of Charles’.”

“I see you’ve met.” Charles had an uncanny ability to silently appear out of nowhere.

“Yeah, we were both ducking out of the party.” Mia laughed.

“You two have a lot in common. You should talk,” and he quickly moved away.

“Are we getting set up?” Michael had an amused look on his face. In the room’s light, Mia could see that Michael did have nice eyes. Very nice eyes. They were grey-blue and large, rimmed with dark lashes. Mia could picture her mom saying, “He’s got a sweet face, that one.”

“I think we are.” Mia concurred. “Charles Sloan, Matchmaker, whoever would have thought.”

Mia and Michael were still talking as the new millennium approached. At the stroke of midnight, Mia felt awkward as everyone began to kiss. As if sensing her extreme discomfort, Michael smiled at her, a smile that reached his kind eyes. He gently took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up. His kiss was just a soft brush of his lips on hers. Looking into his big eyes she could feel his need to connect as strongly as hers. As if he too had been adrift and in search of an elusive anchor for a very long time. Mia reached up and gently laid her hand on Michael’s cheek. She smiled up at him. This was a nice guy. She could feel it. Michael Portman was a man worth knowing.

“Happy New Year, Mia.”

She could hear the noisemakers and the fireworks but it all seemed far off in the distance. Michael and Mia were having a moment and as the new century began, so did the dream of hope. The music segued from “
Auld Lang Syne
” into “
As Time Goes By
”, keeping with the party’s Casablanca theme.

“Happy New Year, Michael,” her hand was still on his cheek.

“Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

It had been a long time since Mia Silver had felt so special.