Rita Hayworth's Shoes (9 page)

“I'm sorry? You
know
her?”

“Such a delight she is. It takes a mighty magnificent kind of beast to be able to assault all the senses at once. Freakin' Grendel of a woman.”

Amy laughed.

“Wait, it gets better.”

“Do tell,” she urged.

“She was dumped by the very same person my wife dumped me for.”

“Come on.”

“No, really. We all worked together. Made for a gorgeous scandal.”

“I don't get it. How could anyone want to be with
that
?”

“I have no idea,” he laughed. “But that's not even the best part,” he said, a teasing glint in his eye. “After they took off, Liz kind of hit on me.”

“Oh, God! That's ridiculous,” Amy shrieked with laughter.

“Hey, that's not fair. I wasn't always ugly,” Deck deadpanned.

“Oh, no. I didn't mean… I mean, I'm sorry. You know that's not why I'm laughing.”

He smiled. “You don't think I'm ugly?”

“Oh, God no,” she said. “I mean…” She looked at him, into his eyes, a glance that lasted maybe a second too long. Self-conscious, she quickly looked away.

“It's nice, by the way,” he said. “Your new look. I thought you were pretty before, but this is very nice. I guess the date was a success?”

Amy was embarrassed and even felt a little guilty. “How did you know about that?”

A devilish grin turned up the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. “Thin walls.”

##

Hours later, Amy was wrapping up her work and trying to figure out what to do with her free evening when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. “You're looking well.”

Amy froze. She knew that voice all too well. “You don't sound very sincere,” she told David.

“Well look at you,” he said. “I can't believe you ruined yourself.”

“I
ruined
myself.”

“Do you not remember
The Beauty Myth
? I mean, my God, you're like a Barbie doll.”

Amy was incensed by the comment, especially coming from someone as attractive as David was. And she was even more incensed at herself that she still felt that way about him—that he was so good-looking. She composed herself. She played it cool. “Because to be beautiful you have to plain?”

“All I'm saying is beauty is in what's natural. It's primitive. It's
visceral
.”

“Like the smell of fried chicken and saccharine in the morning,” she mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she smiled to herself.

“Look, I'm only trying to help you.”

She looked at him. “Oh, but you already have. More than you know.”

David stormed away and Amy sat back, savoring the satisfaction of not giving a rat's ass if he ever returned.

A blip from her computer signaled an email was waiting and she rolled over to the screen:

Hi Amy,

You Want To Do Sumething Later? Ive Been Thinking, Of You All Day.

Luv,

B

While the superfluous initial caps and odd spelling made her cringe, she decided to focus instead on what was important now: More of that drug that only Brendan could give her. She typed back a quick reply and hit “send” before she could change her mind.

Sitting back, she noticed Deck had left a file on her desk and she got up to return it.

She found him perched over the Scrabble board again, which made her smile. “Do you need anything else?” she asked. “I'm heading out now.”

“Another date?” he asked.

“Uh. Well, yeah.” She was uncomfortable but she wasn't sure why. “Haven't you been out there yet?”

“Not ready,” he smiled weakly. “I know, it's weird, right. Because who
wouldn't
want me? A socially awkward aesthetic atrocity. It's a wonder I haven't been snatched up by now,” he said with a giant laugh.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, with a twinge of sadness for him.

“Just be careful,” he said, with a sincerity so unexpected, Amy had the sudden urge to cancel her plans. To stay with Deck just a little longer. But it was too late to cancel with Brendan without standing him up. She had to go.

##

It had been Brendan's idea to meet at a place called The Slot & Joystick, one of those combination video arcade, sporting arena, and restaurant establishments. The plan was to have dinner and then partake in the various amusements available—maybe even take a spin on the famed go-cart track. Amy had very little enthusiasm for the idea of any of this, and nothing but enthusiasm for the “after party.” It had not been a great day, especially considering the confrontation with David and she needed some of Brendan's magic to take the edge off.

“I didn't know what risotto was,” he said. “So I just ordered the rice.”

“I see,” she remarked, with nothing else to contribute. It becoming all too apparent that there wasn't anything at all they could talk about. The empty look on his face when she gently explained to him what risotto actually was only confirmed it for her.

“So you embarrassed me into reading a book, you know.”

Maybe there was hope? “You read a whole book since I saw you last?”

“Uh, not. Not even close. But I started one!”

“Great! Fiction? Nonfiction?” he stared at her dumbly and sexily. “A true story or made up?”

“It's gotta be made up. It's too funny not to be made up. There's no way any of this could happen,” he beamed.

“I'm intrigued,” she smiled. “What is it?”

He folded his arms over his chest and smiled almost smugly. “Ever hear of a little book called
I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell
?”

Now the spell he held her under was definitely beginning to splinter away, evidenced by a headache that was taking hold of her brain. She rationalized. It could have had something to do with the constant beeping of the video games, the whir of the go-carts on the track that circled the restaurant. She didn't want to believe the truth of what it really was: Brendan. Sexy Brendan. With the body of a god. And not an interesting thought in his head.

“So that's when I told him what he could do with his tinted windows!” he exclaimed.

“How nice,” she said. Amy picked at her spicy fries as she tried to follow what he was saying. She was hoping that he would say something, anything, that would ignite the fire from the other night. But it was just one cold splash of water in the face after the other.

When they finished eating, he took her hand in his. “How about a little Primal Fear,” he asked, pulling her into the vortex of blinking and beeping and whirring that was the arcade.

“Primal what?”

He shook his head in kind of a patronizing way. “It's a
video game
where you're both dinosaurs and you tear each other to pieces. It's so cool.”

“How about we skip the games?” she said, in the most sexy tone she could deliver.

And finally, the light of understanding illuminated his face. “That sounds like a great idea to me.”

Back at Amy's apartment, she prayed the electricity of the other night would return. That when he kissed her, her body would light up like it had that weekend. That the same hunger to conquer him and to be conquered by him would return. But it didn't. Every kiss felt like a jellyfish was slapping at her face. Every time he touched her, she could actually feel her skin cells recoil. How could that mad attraction have transformed into repulsion so quickly? All she could think was that seeing David had flipped a switch in her. And now she really wanted to kill David.

“Is everything okay, baby?” said Brendan. “You don't seem that into this.”

“Actually,” she said, trying to wriggle out from under him. “I'm not. I'm sorry. I think you're really nice, but I don't think this is going to work out.”

“Kind of a strange time to tell a guy something like this.”

“I know. I'm sorry. But if you could just…”

Brendan shook his head. “I knew this was going to happen. I
knew
it!” He jumped off the bed and into his clothes. “Your friends told me you were bad news, you know. But I didn't listen. Stupid me.”

“Friends?” she wondered. “You mean Lauren and Jane?”

“I mean those guys that hang out on the front steps,” he said, pointing at the window. “They said to watch out for you because while you may seem like a big nerd, you were really pretty nuts.”

“They did, huh? Well…sorry.” She was torn between being annoyed at their interference but also moved at them looking out for her.

“Next time I'll be smarter,” he said, and he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

After Brendan left, Amy got up out of bed and headed to the kitchen, where she found another half-finished bottle of cabernet and poured herself a glass. Considering the amount for a minute, she grabbed up the bottle and headed to the living room. She curled up on a beanbag chair next to the wall where her babies lived.

She was sad. Conflicted and confused. She hadn't realized until much too late how talking to David today had made such an impact on her. And she was
so
mean to him. She was feeling terrible at the way things went down, about the way she had treated David. And she was sure now that if there was any chance they would get back together, she had totally blown it.

The more wine she drank, the more she missed David. She thought she was over him, getting over him. But clearly she had thought wrong. “I don't think Daddy's coming back, babies,” she told them, burning with regret.

Amy finished the rest of the wine and stumbled back to her bedroom. Snuggled under the blankets, she thought of David. Of the way things were. Of how much it sucked to be alone. And of how good Deck smelled, kind of like rain. She opened her eyes for a second at that, but then chalked it up to wine-confusion as she slipped back into a deep, quiet sleep.

“What the hell?” Amy walked in the following morning to the sound of loud guitar and trumpet music blaring out of Deck's office and she headed over to investigate. Was that Chicago? She hadn't heard that song since she was a kid. Yet, there was Deck, singing at the top of his lungs, and moving his body in a way that might be described as dancing, but only in the most indefinite terms.

Seeing her, Deck waved, took three walking spins to the door, grabbed her by both hands, and pulled her in as he continued to sing, “Only the beginning…”

“This is too stupid,” Amy said, yet somehow fell under his spell, as he twirled and pulled and she allowed him to twirl and pull her again and again.

“Of what I want to feel forever…” he belted as she laughed until she coughed, yet still allowed him to lead her in the dance like he was playing with a marionette. “Only the beginning!” he screeched with so much enthusiasm, Amy actually lost her footing from laughing so hard and hit the floor—still laughing.

“My, you are a clumsy little thing, aren't you?” he smiled, righting her again, and leading her into a quick spin, and then a very deep dip. He pulled her up with his left hand and he knelt down on one knee as he pulled, so that when she came up, she was sitting on the other knee, which was bent, her face inches away from his. They sat there for a long moment, looking into each other's eyes, until Amy jumped up. Deck shook his head, stood, and turned off the music.

“You get crazier by the day,” she said to him, shaking off the glee and trying to get back to serious.

“Better mad as a hatter than sly as an adder,” he said.

“Who said that?” she asked. “And what does it even mean?”

“Me,” he smiled. “But they're words to live by. What it means is that I'd rather show you up front who I really am, crazy or not, than hide in the brush and give you a little death bite when you stumble upon it for yourself.”

She thought for a moment about this, but it still didn't make any sense to her. “Huh,” she said. “Well, good morning.”

“Good morning to you,” he parroted, and went behind his desk. “Hey, I was just looking for the notes on the Flaubert lecture in the server, but I couldn't find them. Did you put those in my folder yet?”

She looked away. “Uh, no. I guess I forgot.”

“To put them in the folder?”

“Um, no. To transcribe them.”

“I see,” he said. “You know, Flaubert's been gone for more than a hundred years but I'm certain he's really anxious about me getting my thoughts about his life and work published as quickly as possible,” he said lightheartedly, but she missed the joke.

“Sorry.”

“You really are kind of a serious one, aren't you?” He squinted at her, and then tried again. “Then how about for a punishment, you go to that party Wednesday night with me?”

“Oh, I kind of already asked my friend Jane to go,” she said, edging toward the door.

“Too bad,” he said. “Well, how about you let me take you for an ice cream later then?”

“That's a punishment?”

“I guess it's all relative,” he said, leaning forward. “So what do you say? You like ice cream?”

Amy felt a little warm and whole lot awkward. “I dunno,” she said, nervously. “I don't really think we should—”

“Jesus, Amy. It's just ice cream.”

“Uh, okay,” she said, tentatively.

“So, yes?”

“Oh, no. I can't,” she said. “I have to babysit for Zoë tonight.”

“Some other time, then?”

“Maybe.”

“Well in that case, please be sure to muck things up around here as much as possible going forward so I'll have another opportunity to invite you?”

“Oh,” she said, unsure. “Okay.”

“What's the matter, Amy? I thought we were friends.”

She looked up at him. “I think… I think…”

“You sure do think a lot. Gorgeous people like you don't usually think at all, let alone as much as you do.”

She was quiet for a minute. “I usually make bad decisions.”

“Well, that's because you
think
too much,” he said, moving off his chair and sitting down on the edge of the desk in front of her. “What do you
feel
?” he asked, looking right into her eyes, looking right through her.

“I think I better get those notes typed before I get myself fired,” she said, and she ran out.

##

Later that evening, Jane, Lauren, Zoë, and Amy sat in Jane's bedroom as she got ready for her date. The women were sipping wine and Zoë was drinking chocolate milk, curled up on her mother's bed, immersed in a book.

“I can't believe I haven't had a date in two years.”

“Three years,” said Zoë, not looking up.

“No, I'm pretty sure it was two.”

“Actually,” Amy began.

“Try closer to five,” said Lauren.

“That's true,” said Zoë. “I was being nice.”

“That's not possible,” said Jane, genuinely surprised. “Five years?” She counted back on her fingers. Her expression dropped. “Five years,” she said. “What am I thinking about? I can't do this,” she whined.

“You're going to be fine,” Lauren assured. “It's like riding a bike.”

“Actually, riding a bike isn't even like riding a bike,” said Amy. “I was on a bike a couple of years ago after not riding since I was a kid, and there's just no way that statement is true. It was impossible to balance and I—” Lauren and Jane glared at her. Even Zoë broke away from her book to glare. “Oh. Sorry,” Amy said, meekly.

“You're going to have a good time,” Lauren assured. “You're going to have dinner, maybe take a nice walk—”

The doorbell rang and nobody moved. It rang again, and all the women looked to Zoë. “But the holidays are over,” she whined. Seeing it was getting her nowhere, she dropped her book and jumped off the bed. “Fine,” she hissed.

Lauren walked over to the bed and picked up Zoë's book. “
The Second Sex
?”

Jane shrugged her shoulders. “She's on a sociology jag.”

“Women are so complicated,” she sighed, putting the book back down. “But men,” she continued. “Men are easy. Really all they want is a blow job now and then. Do that and you can hold on to them forever. Truly. That's the secret.”

“Huh,” said both Jane and Amy, both painfully uncomfortable.

“Which reminds me,” said Lauren. “Be sure you bring condoms.”

“Mom! Nice mothers—”

“Save the preaching for the kid, sweetie. You look gorgeous. It could happen.” She reached into her purse, and much to the girls' horror, pulled out a strip of six. “Be safe.”

“I can't believe you, Mother,” Jane huffed. “Honestly!” she huffed.

Lauren lay the condoms down on the bed and headed for the door. “I'm going out to see what's gotten you all riled up,” she said.

When her mother left, Jane snatched them up and slipped them into her purse. She stood in front of the mirror, and Amy stepped behind her. “You look beautiful,” Amy said. “Truly.”

Jane took a deep breath. “Let's go.”

They walked into the living room to find Zoë snuggled on Lauren's lap on the couch, and Detective Ollie Franks sitting opposite them, sipping at a brown beverage in a lowball glass. “The little one actually makes a pretty terrific Manhattan,” he smiled and rose. “Wow. You look terrific,” he said as he walked over to Jane and planted a small kiss on her cheek.

“Where did you learn to make that?” Jane asked Zoë. She shrugged slyly.

Jane chose to change the subject. “Are you coming from work?”

“Actually,” he looked at Amy. “I just saw Deck.”

“What's a deck?” Lauren asked. “Is that a police term?”

Ollie laughed. “No, he's a guy. A really standup guy, actually. Amy here works for him.”

“Oh,” said Lauren, a little betrayed for not already knowing this.

“I just started working for him last week or so. No big deal,” said Amy.

“Last week, eh?” said Lauren. “About the time you told poor Brendan you didn't want to see him anymore?” she pressed, and everyone turned to Amy.

“One had nothing to do with the other,” she snapped. “If you all most know, it was because I saw David that day, and it kind of turned me off things.”

“Oh?” asked Ollie.

“It was a bad relationship,” she began. “I mean, no. It was a good relationship. It just ended badly.” Lauren, Jane, and Zoë all shook their heads.

“Only a bad relationship ends badly,” said Ollie, with authority. “Like what happened with Deck and Marny.” He shook his head in disgust. “That woman was evil to him, pure evil all the way through,” he said. “But Deck never saw it.”

“What happened?” asked Amy. “In the end? I mean …”

“I hope we find her just so we can find a good way to punish her.”

“Was it so bad?” Jane asked.

“It was terrible,” Ollie said. “Crippled him. I mean, who loses their hair like that?” he shook his head. “Through it all, all he wanted to do was find her and that's all he devoted himself to for months and months. Despite the problems they were having, he really believed something had happened to her.”

“Sounds like a prince,” said Lauren.

“Just a very romantic soul,” said Ollie. “A shitty Scrabble player, though. You really don't know any of this?” he asked Amy.

“No,” she said. “I mean yes about the Scrabble. But all he told me was that she left.”

He shook his head. “The day she left,” he paused. “That morning they were having coffee, talking about taking a vacation, maybe even starting a family. When he got home from work later that afternoon, she was gone. Vanished into thin air without even leaving a note.”

“Oh, my,” said Jane.

“It wasn't until months later that we found the photo albums.”

“Albums?” Zoë asked, and snuggled up to her grandmother.

“Apparently, this sick bitch—” Jane cleared her throat; Zoë rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” he coughed. “She took all his photo albums—his childhood, their wedding, everything…”

“And?” Lauren asked.

“And she burned them in a ditch in the backyard.”

“I had no idea it was so bad,” Amy gasped, feeling a stab in her heart. “I had no idea she was so cruel.”

Ollie finished his drink. “Some people are just plain evil,” he said. “Beautiful, but evil all the same.” He downed the rest of his drink. “And some people can't see crazy when it's wrapped up so pretty,” he sighed and then looked at Amy up and down for a moment. “He thinks the world of you, as you know.”

“I didn't know that, no,” she blushed.

“Seriously?” he asked.

“Why?”

Ollie gave Amy a doubting glance and walked over to Jane, extending his arm. “Well, it was very nice meeting you all, but we better get going if we're going to make that reservation.”

“I'll walk you out,” said Lauren, and she kissed Amy and Zoë good-bye. “I haven't been home in two whole hours and I'm sure Joshua's bouncing off the walls with boredom,” she said. “Has no idea what to do with himself when I'm not around.”

##

“Bullshit,” Zoë squealed.

Amy rolled her eyes at her young friend and took up the stack of cards Zoe had just called her bluff on. “I don't know how you talked me into playing this game with you.” She shook her head as she appraised the contents of her hand. “Your mother would kill me if she knew.”

“Just turn over that next card and let's keep it going,” said Zoë. Amy sat across from Zoë at the dining room table, a bowl of chips between them.

“Anyway,” Amy spoke from where she left off, “he thinks I should defend my dissertation already. He tells me every day.”

“
Everyone
thinks you should you should finish, Auntie Amy,” said Zoë, clicking her tongue on the back of her top front teeth. “Two sevens.”

“Everyone who
loves
me, sure.”

Zoë shot her a coy glance. “Are you saying he doesn't?”

“That would be a little ridiculous. Don't you think?”

“You heard what Ollie said. Why would it be ridiculous?” she asked.

“Because I've only just met him. I've really only been working closely with him a couple of weeks. “Two kings. He doesn't
know
me.”

“Does it matter?” Zoë asked, clicking her tongue on her teeth again, and threw down more cards. “Three nines. You know the story of Paris and Helen of Troy.”

“Of course.”

“He didn't know her at all but he loved her so much and had to have her so badly, it started a war.”

“And you know how that turned out. Besides, it was Aphrodite who—” Zoë shook her head. “I'm doing it again?” Zoë nodded. “Sorry.”

“You don't fall in love with a body,” Zoë said.

“I think you say that to me a lot. Two fours,” she said, and placed down her cards unchallenged.

“You need to hear it a lot. And you also think a lot. Two sevens. Maybe too much,” she said, studying the cards remaining in her hands. “Except not about things that matter.”

“Bullshit!” Amy screamed out, and Zoë took up the cards. Now calmer, she asked, “What does that mean?”

“Starts with a D.”

“Deck?”

“No,
d
ummy,” she said, emphasizing the D. “
D
issertation.
D
efense. Two sixes.” Zoë shook her head. “It could have been anything and you went right for Deck,” she said, and shook her little blonde head. “And you say you don't like him,” she rolled her eyes.