Shy Town Girls (3 page)

As usual, when Charlie appeared, the setting
suddenly took on the glamorous aura of a Vogue photo shoot. With
his slouchy, elegant sexiness, Charlie’s manner seemed off-hand,
almost sleepy, while at the same time dangerous and ready to
pounce. All the women present, from the oldest to the youngest,
responded--arching, lifting, purring. Even Meryl, who didn’t like
Charlie, was not unmoved.

The spell was shattered when Due emerged from the
corner at full speed, barking ferociously. “Oh Due, be quiet!”
Barbara attempted to hush the little puppy who skidded to a stop
and stood valiantly, and very vocally, between Barbara and Charlie.
“He’s my champion,” she said. “As I just told Bobbie, he barks when
he first meets someone to make sure they are friendly. With that
statement she looked sternly at him and said, “Due! He’s Bobbie’s
friend.” With that, the little dog stopped barking and came forward
to sniff Charlie’s ankles.

Charlie looked down at Due but made no move toward
the pup. I pulled back my shoulders and forced a smile. I felt
tired and stiff, but the little dog’s marked difference in attitude
towards me as opposed to Charlie made me feel a bit more cheerful.
I hoped my low energy didn’t show. I wanted the girls to know how
much I appreciated the warm welcome, and I wanted Charlie to think
I was nothing but excited and thrilled to be starting my new life.
Without him.

“Everyone,” I said, “This is my boyfriend, Charlie.
He’s helping me move in.” The word boyfriend rolled almost
unnaturally off my tongue. Ex-boyfriend is what I should have said.
But the moment had passed.

“Well, hello handsome,” Ivy twirled over to him,
offering him a girlish handshake and a blazing smile. I had a hunch
she wasn’t on her first mimosa.

“Hi Charlie,” Ella said with a little wave.

Barbara and Meryl uncovered the trays. “Eat, honey!”
Barbara commanded me. “You too, Charlie.” I was too overwhelmed to
eat anything, but didn’t want to be rude, so I got up and made
myself a plate. I caught myself as I was about to ask Charlie if he
wanted me to fix him one, too.

Even though I appreciated the gesture of the party, I
felt uneasy with all the attention focused on me, the questions
hanging over me and Charlie. But everyone seemed so gracious and
kind. Then it hit me: these women and this place were now my
life.

“So, Bobbie, how long have you two been dating?” Ivy
asked with a cheek full of food.

I glanced at Charlie. “Two years,” he said before I
could answer.

“That’s cool. You guys are such a hot couple.”

“Thanks Ivy,” I said. “But officially, you know,
Charlie is the pretty one. He’s the model. I’m just his agent.”

“So that’s like—your girlfriend is your boss!” Ivy
slurred.

“No. The client is the boss, not the agent,” Meryl
said.

“Are you sure? Then how come the agent can fire the
client?”

“The client can fire the agent too. Right, Bobbie?”
asked Ivy. “It works both ways. Doesn’t it?” You would think
so.

“It’s been great meeting you all,” Charlie said.
“But I think I’ll go carry the rest of those boxes in and leave you
girls to it.” He gave a nod to the girls and without looking at me
turned for the stairs.

I was tempted to reach for him, not wanting him to
leave me yet. I sat down with my plate and proceeded to swig back
my first mimosa. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but the drink
went down fast and easy.

“Ok girls, another roast—I mean, toast—to the newest
member of our family.” Meryl held her glass high. “The beautiful
Bobbie Bertucci, long-time friend of mine, and one of the greatest
girls I know. You’re going to fit right in here, Bobbie, and we’re
happy we can be a part of this new chapter in your life!”

The ladies whooped and hollered, clearly eager to
embrace any excuse to celebrate, all except Ella, who stood there
quietly, lowering her long dark eyelashes over her smooth cheeks,
studying her drink. Meryl had warned me that she would be more
reserved than the others.

“And now, it’s time for the cake!” Barbara
announced.

“There’s cake, too?” I held the back of my hand to
my forehead and pretended to swoon. The mimosa had loosened me up a
little. “You’re right, Meryl,” I said. “I won’t be able to fit into
my skinny jeans, but I’ll fit in here!”

Ivy put her hands on her hips and pouted. “Are you
sayin’ we’re fat?”

“Not us. Just you,” Ella smiled like a pirate.

“Who wants coffee?” Barbara asked.

“I do,” Ella said.

“Only if you’ve got Bailey’s,” Ivy replied.

“Down girl,” Ella said, lightly slapping Ivy’s
arm.

“What? It’s Sunday.”

“Barbara,” I said, “can I help you in any way?”

“You just keep your cute butt in that seat,” Barbara
hollered. We could hear her singing all the way to the door of her
apartment.

I was on my second mimosa when Barbara came back
with a giant cake, homemade whipped cream, and a bowl of mixed
berries. “My famous pound cake!” she announced with a flourish.
“Bon appetite, doll faces! The coffee will be ready in a sec.”

“I hate to be rude,” I said, “but will you all
excuse me for a minute so I can say goodbye to Charlie?”

“Go, go!” Meryl waved at me, nodding.

“Do your thing!” Ivy said.

I sprinted down the steps. All my boxes were inside
the apartment, and I found Charlie outside. He slammed the tailgate
of his Land Rover and turned to me.

“That’s the last of it,” he said, all business, as
he wiped his hands on his dark grey jeans. “You going to be
okay?”

I nodded. Something seemed to have taken hold of my
throat.

“Don’t cry, Bobbie.” Charlie took my shoulders in
his hands and leaned forward to press his forehead into mine. God,
he could be so sweet sometimes. I couldn’t remember the last time
I’d felt so connected to him, but I knew it was an illusion. I knew
his sweetness was an act, and I knew better than to let my emotions
get the best of me. I was making a bold move here. This was the
right decision. The only decision. I pulled my shoulders back and
sucked up the tears. My heart was sinking again, and I found it
hard to swallow.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, not for the
first time.

But I do, I thought. I do need to do this. Doesn’t
he get that? His selfishness angered me.

Charlie wrapped his hands around the back of my neck
and gazed into my eyes. He poured out all the power of that
expensive, soulful expression, as if a photographer was aiming a
camera on him. Give it all you got, Chance. That was his
professional name. Chance. Oh, yes, just to look at him, no one
could deny he was intensely gorgeous. He was a sadly stunning
character, irresistible and vulnerable beneath his gaze. Smoldering
even. But his fingers felt ice cold to the touch against the warmth
of my neck. I shivered.

“Thank you for helping me move,” I said, pulling
away. “I’ll see you at the office.”

“Is that how it’s going to be now, Bobbie? You
treating me like a client?”

“That’s what you are, right?” I murmured. “A
client.”

His eyes grew cold and he set his mouth in the hard
expression I had come to know so well. It was the same expression
he’d worn in the French cigarette advertisement, the same one he
always turned on me when he was frustrated or angry. “Figure out
what you really want, Bobbie,” he said. “Because otherwise you’ll
never be satisfied. I’m not going to hang around and be some knight
in shining armor for you every time you create a crisis for
yourself.”

“I think you should go now,” I said, feeling my face
grow hot. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my cheek.

He threw up his hands. “Fine—have it your way,
babe,” he said. “See you around.”

The last thing I would remember in this moment were
my own words stuck in my head like a bad song playing over and over
again--you asked for this. Now go find something better.

Chapter 3

After being wined and dined in celebration of my
moving in, it was time to start unpacking my colossal stack of
boxes. I walked around the quiet apartment, my hands in my pockets,
taking it in. The tall windows, the wide, intricate woodwork, high
ceilings, the elegant vintage light fixtures. Our apartment was a
small part of the converted Victorian, and there was no lack of
charm or sophistication. Bold, modern colors brought the old-style
features into the modern era, and the small kitchen was just the
right size for three single gals. It was wonderful. My new
roommates, Ivy and Ella, were still upstairs chatting with Barbara
and Meryl. I was grateful for the moment alone, a moment to
breathe.

The living room was large, with a gorgeous old
fireplace, a fantastic bay window, a big L-shaped couch, a papasan
chair, and a big screen TV. I saw a few movie cases lying on the
floor. A boxed set of Friends that was clearly bootlegged from
China. How I Met Your Mother, Modern Family, Entourage, Mad Men. .
. I was liking what I saw. There was a rack of Happy Madison
movies, Saturday Night Live starring Will Ferrell, Chris Farley,
Adam Sandler, David Spade. Wow, Meryl was right! After browsing
their entertainment collection, Ivy and Ella seemed like long lost
friends.

Still reading titles, I almost tripped on a pair of
shoes. Jeffrey Campbell, I noted. Great choice. Photos of Ivy and
Ella, along with their friends and family, covered the mantel. Some
of them had engraved frames with cheesy sayings like No Road Is
Long With Good Company. If this worked out, maybe my photo would be
in one of these frames soon, but that was hard to envision.

There were two bathrooms in the apartment, one
updated double-vanity bathroom and a smaller one that Meryl had
said would be mine. The little bathroom was cold and sterile, but
when I flicked on the light and saw the ancient claw-foot tub, the
painted vanilla woodwork and cream tile, I could see it had
potential. Hopefully with some TLC I could make it work. I figured
Meryl would support me in financing some redecorating since she was
the trust fund baby swimming in more money than she knew what to do
with. Most of the work she had done so far had been to make sure
the place was safe for Barbara, while creating a space that was
fabulously chic and classic.

My new room was smaller than the one I was used to,
and I had downgraded from a king bed to a double. I looked at the
mattress, fighting the urge to feel sorry for myself. I hadn’t
slept alone in a year. The bed looked cold and lonely, and the room
just seemed empty and devoid of life. It was like I was Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz, except I was stepping out of the brightly colored
world and into the dull, drab one, rather than the other way
around. Well, at least I had a view. I walked over to the window,
parted the sheers, and looked out. Beyond a profusion of overgrown
rose bushes, a couple was walking down the street, hand in
hand.

“I bought you a body pillow to spoon at night,”
Meryl said from behind me.

I jumped. “Jesus, you scared me! Did you
seriously?”

“No,” she chuckled, sitting down on the bed.

“Bobbie, I’m going to be honest with you. I love
you, but you’ve been in and out of relationships since college and
even before that. You are so ambitious, beautiful, brilliant—for
God’s sake, you speak three languages! But you don’t know how to
say no to a relationship, especially a new one that appears right.
You don’t see all the red flags, even when they are right in front
of you. You get too caught up in the guy to see him for what he
really is. This is your chance to be single and be on your own. You
need this.”

I said ruefully, “I think I’m crazy sometimes. When
I was saying goodbye to Charlie, I wanted to slap him across the
face, but then again, I wanted to hold him and never let go.”

“It’s not Charlie you want to hold on to. It’s the
idea of him. Bobbie, this is your chance to be independent. From
everything you’ve told me, Charlie is a jackass. You don’t want to
hang onto that, do you?”

“Only sometimes, but hey—I’m making progress,” I
said in my own defense.

“Yes, you are definitely making progress. You’re
here, aren’t you? You’re going to love living with Ivy and Ella.
I’m only two flights up, and Barbara is like the mother I never
had,” she added with a smile.

“Barbara is amazing, and she’s so beautiful!” I
remarked. I was already feeling better just switching the subject
and picturing Barbara’s whimsical presence. “Actually, so are Ivy
and Ella. It’s refreshing to be around people who don’t know how
beautiful they are and who leave room for sincerity. It’s foreign
to me. Jesus, how pathetic is that?” I hadn’t had the chance to
vent in a while. It felt good to verbalize that I hated the
superficiality that pervaded my life. At last, I was surrounded by
real people.

“Barbara was a legs model back in the day,” Meryl
said, “which was basically the equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret
model today.”

“I knew it!” I exclaimed, asserting my professional
expertise.

“So, anything else I can do to help you settle in?”
she asked, generous as always. “I’m at your disposal. I can even
run out and pick up anything you might have forgotten.”

“No, I just need some time to adjust. Hey, Ivy and
Ella, they’re okay with this? Me moving in? The two of them seem so
close. I feel a little--intrusive.”

Meryl gave me one of her big motherly hugs, winked
at me and said, “Stop worrying, Bobbie. Everything will be okay if
you want it to be. Don’t forget, you live in the city now!” Meryl
glided into the living room and started taking hats off the coat
rack and trying them on. She was an old soul and something like the
big sister I never had. “The big nights of watching TV with your
boyfriend and going to bed early are over! Especially with these
girls,” she laughed. “You have no idea who you’ve got yourself
into.”