Romantically Challenged (31 page)

“Julia, darling,” Aunt Rose said. “We saw you on television. Your Uncle Ed and I just wanted you to know that we think you’re doing the right thing, regardless of what those
Hollywood Tonight
people think. You don’t need a therapist, you need a husband.”

It continued all night. I fielded calls from perverts and whackos looking for a date, and old friends and distant relatives who I hadn’t heard from in years. Apparently everyone I knew or had ever known either watched
Hollywood Tonight
or the clip of it my sister had posted on You Tube, and they all felt the need to call me and share their thoughts about my situation. It was almost worse then actually watching myself on TV.

Almost.

Celebritydom

When I arrived at work the next morning, I sprinted to my office with my head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone I passed along the way. I planned on staying holed up in my office all day. I even skipped the Friday morning bagels so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone in the lunch room.

As soon as my computer booted up, I e-mailed Greg and Simone and begged them not to say anything about my TV appearance. They both agreed, although both e-mailed back that they suspected most of the office had already seen for themselves. Unfortunately, I knew they were right. 

Before lunch, Rosenthal’s assistant Diane sent an e-mail to the entire firm reminding us that the annual Rosenthal & Leventhal holiday party would start promptly at six o’clock. Since the party was at Mr. Rosenthal’s house, the e-mail noted, which was only fifteen minutes from the office, Mr. Rosenthal was allowing us all to leave today at 5:45. Dress was Friday casual, so there was no need to go home and change.

Even the e-mail had become an annual event. Unlike every other firm in town, Rosenthal was too cheap to take all of his employees out for dinner at a nice restaurant. He wouldn’t even splurge for a lunch at a not-so-nice restaurant.

Instead, each year he invited the entire firm to his house for an evening of hors d’ oeuvres and all the wine and beer we could drink. The food wasn’t great, but it was plentiful, and so was the alcohol. Everyone partook in the festivities, which inevitably led to at least one embarrassing incident per year, and on a good year, several.

Simone called me after lunch to coordinate.

“Same plan as last year? Leave the office at five, go home and change, and show up at Rosenthal’s around seven?”

“Actually, I’m thinking of leaving at five and not showing up at all.”

“What! You have to. You know Rosenthal will hold it against you if you don’t come to his party.”

“Don’t you think, under the circumstances, he’ll understand?” Even as I said it, I knew he wouldn’t.

“No. He thinks he’s already taken care of it.”

“How?”

“He had Diane send us all an e-mail this morning telling us not to tease you about the
Hollywood Tonight
story. I’m sure the only reason he did that was so you would feel comfortable at the party tonight.”

I wasn’t so sure. “This is Rosenthal. He’s not just being nice. He’s up to something.”

“Stop being so paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid! I just know Rosenthal.”

“If you don’t come tonight he’s going to be really angry.”

“So he’s mad at me. He’ll get over it. He’s not going to fire me just because I didn’t show up to his stupid Christmas party.”

“No, but do you really want to piss him off a week before the partnership meeting?”

“Who cares? I’m not up for partner this year. I’m only a sixth-year. He’ll never even consider me until next year at the earliest. By then he’ll have forgotten.”

“Don’t be so sure. Besides, Greg’s only a sixth-year and he’s up for partnership this year.”

“I’m not a golden boy.” And I don’t kiss Rosenthal’s ass.

“As long as it’s still a possibility, don’t completely blow your chances by skipping the party.”

I knew I’d end up going, but I wasn’t ready to concede quite yet. I told Simone I’d go with her to happy hour and then decide.

* * *

After two cranberry martinis with Simone and Greg at O’Grady’s, I agreed to go to Rosenthal’s party. I was only slightly disappointed when we pulled up to the house and I saw that the catering van in the driveway wasn’t Joe’s. I hadn’t heard from him all week. Not that I was expecting to. It’s not like we were dating or anything. I just thought maybe he would’ve called to explain away his date on Saturday night. But he hadn’t.

Greg grabbed a beer, and Simone and I each poured ourselves a glass of cheap white wine. The three of us headed into the living room, then split up. The plan was that each of us would mingle separately, then reconvene in an hour for a quick getaway.

Rosenthal’s e-mail had worked. Not one person mentioned my TV appearance. It wasn’t that I wanted anyone to say anything. I didn’t. I just couldn’t believe that no one would.

At eight o’clock, Rosenthal dimmed the lights and asked us all to take seats in the den for his annual screening of
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
. This was Rosenthal’s favorite Christmas special, and each year he demanded that we all watch it together “as a family.”

I took a seat in the corner of the room and saved two more for Simone and Greg, but they never showed. I couldn’t believe those two had ditched me, especially after they’d talked me into coming. The only thing worse than listening to Rosenthal’s annual holiday party speech was listening to it alone.

Rosenthal stood in front of his blank television screen until we all quieted down, then said, “I just want to say a few words before we get started. First, I want to thank all of you for your hard work this year. But I also want to remind you that collections are down. So I’m asking all of you whose clients have outstanding bills to call them and ask them to please pay up before Christmas. Otherwise, bonuses will reflect the amount we actually collected, instead of the amount we billed.”

There was an audible groan in the room. This speech was another annual event. Rosenthal gave it every year no matter how well the firm had done or how hard we’d all worked.

“But tonight is for celebration,” he continued. “Before we start
Rudolph
, I have a surprise for everyone. As most of you may already know, we have a celebrity in our midst. Julia, will you come up here.”

“Me?” I mouthed.

“Yes, you,” Rosenthal said. “You’re the only Julia in the room.”

Everyone laughed and I stood up. As I passed Rosenthal’s assistant, Diane, on my way to the front of the room, I could see her shaking her head at him. That couldn’t be good.

Rosenthal put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me to him. “I always knew you had potential,” he said and gave me another squeeze. I could smell the scotch on his breath.

Rosenthal shut the lights and pushed PLAY on the remote. It was my face on his sixty-two-inch television screen. The zit on my chin that I hadn’t quite covered up with makeup was now two inches wide. I watched myself try to ignore Molly Truitt and then have my words twisted and used against me. When the camera cut back to the
Hollywood Tonight
anchors, Rosenthal paused the recording, turned on the lights, and led the room in an enthusiastic round of applause. I wanted to run, but I stood next to him and vainly attempted to smile.

“We’re glad to have you at Rosenthal & Leventhal, Julia, even if you are romantically challenged. But next time, will you please mention the name of the firm? I want us all to get some business out of this, not just you.”

Everyone laughed again. Even me. It was either that or cry. I returned to my seat while Rosenthal switched DVDs. I waited until Rudolph and the elf who wanted to be a dentist left Christmas Town, before I escaped to the bathroom.

I let myself wallow in self-pity for a full thirty seconds, then I wiped my eyes, fixed my make-up, and tried to look on the bright side. It could’ve been worse. A lot worse. Rosenthal actually did me a favor. This way I got all of my humiliation over with in one shot instead of having to have individual conversations with each of my coworkers. Even the timing was perfect. Surely someone would do something tonight that would trump me on the rumor mill Monday morning. Then that would become the story of the week and all this would be forgotten.

I left the bathroom and went upstairs to find my coat. Mrs. Rosenthal told me she had put them all in the guest bedroom. “Third door on the left at the top of the stairs,” she’d said with a slight slur. Either I’d misunderstood her or she’d miscounted. When I opened the third door on the left I didn’t find any coats, but I did find Greg lying on top of Simone in a four-poster bed.

A New Day

Greg and Simone were both still fully clothed, but he had his hand up her shirt and she was fumbling with his zipper.

I was too startled to say anything, so I just stared.

Simone was the first to react. “It’s not what it looks like,” she said as she sat up and pushed Greg’s hand out from under her blouse.

When Greg turned around and saw me, he practically leapt off the bed. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said while simultaneously tucking his shirt back into his pants and sprinting for the door.

I shut it behind him and turned to Simone. “What the hell are you doing! You’re getting married in three weeks.”

“Three and a half,” she said as she got off the bed and straightened her suede mini-skirt.

“And you think that extra half week somehow makes it all right?

“We didn’t do anything. We were just kissing.”

“Only because I walked in.”

“I really don’t need a morals lecture from Ms. Romantically Challenged.”

And I realized that I didn’t need to be giving one. “You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

I found my coat in the bedroom behind the third door on the right and slipped out. It was only eight-thirty and I didn’t want to go home, so I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Kaitlyn’s number. When I heard her answering machine, I hung up. While the rational side of my brain mentally skimmed my phone book trying to decide who to call next, the irrational side dialed Joe’s number.

When he answered, the rational side was too startled to hang up. “Hi. It’s me, Julie.”

“Hi,” he said sounding surprised. “I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again. Especially not now that you’re a celebrity.”

“Please don’t.”

His tone softened. “Actually, I was going to call you. I just figured I’d give you a few days to recover first.”

Then I heard a woman’s voice in the background complaining that they were going to be late and Joe telling her to give him a minute.

The exchange lasted long enough for my rational side to recover. “The really funny part is that I dialed your number by accident. I thought I was dialing Steve. His number’s only two digits away from yours.” I knew it was lame, but my rational side was still dazed.

“Well, I’m glad you got me instead. I’m on my way out the door, but I’ll call you tomorrow. I want the full story on the life of a romantically challenged serial dater.”

We hung up and I drove home. My humiliation was complete. At least until I listened to the fourteen messages on my answering machine. Six were from strange men who wanted to get to know me, four were from former classmates, two were from relatives, one was for a woman who told me my problem was that I was dating the wrong sex, and one was from Marty. They had all seen my story on
Hollywood Tonight
, but Marty was the only one that hadn’t asked me to call him back.

He apologized for having to cancel our date on such short notice, but said it couldn’t be helped. He neither gave an excuse, nor suggested we reschedule. I could only deduce that he didn’t want to be seen in public with a self-proclaimed romantically challenged serial dater. After all, what would that make him?

* * *

As I’d hoped, by Monday morning my foray into celebritydom was forgotten for more juicy gossip. My TV appearance was replaced as the topic du jour by Parker’s assistant, who had gotten so drunk at the holiday party that she’d decided to go for a swim in Rosenthal’s pool wearing only her underwear. I’d also heard some rumors about Greg and Simone, but no one could substantiate them.

Simone didn’t wait for Rosenthal to leave for his therapy session before she snuck into my office and gave me a hug.

“I’m so sorry about the other night,” she said.

“No, you were right. It was none of my business. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“Are you kidding? I should be thanking you for interrupting.”

Now that we were friends again, I could ask. “So? What happened?”

Simone told me that she and Greg had gone upstairs to look for the coats and found the four-poster bed instead. “Greg suggested we try out the down comforter and before I knew it, you were standing there looking horrified. It was just curiosity mixed with alcohol.”

I suspected there was a dash of pre-wedding jitters too. “So is he any good?”

“I don’t know! All we did was kiss.” Then she smiled and added, “But he’s definitely good at that.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss him. Then again, it wasn’t too late. “Maybe I’ll get to judge for myself. Greg’s my date for your wedding.”

Simone’s eyes widened.

“Not a real date, a pseudo-date. Just someone to sit next to at dinner and dance with a few times. You know how awful it is to go to a wedding alone, and yours is on New Year’s Eve”

“Sorry, Julie, but I sort of uninvited Greg. We both agreed that under the circumstances it would be better for everyone if he wasn’t there.”

Everyone but me! “Don’t you think it’ll look a little suspicious if Greg doesn’t show?”

“To who? Besides you and Greg, the only other person from the office I invited to the wedding was Rosenthal, and he’s not coming. Todd thought it was weird when I invited Greg in the first place. He won’t think it’s weird when I tell him Greg can’t make it. He’ll probably be glad. He never really liked Greg.”

Great. Another dateless wedding. And the last one worked out so well.