Fun.’
‘It wasn’t.’
‘That explains why you look soft, out of focus. Very beddable. Someone’s finally gotten to you. I think that’s great. Just what you need.’
‘He hasn’t and it isn’t. Thorne has nothing to do with anything.’ I was trying to convince myself. ‘The interview brought up some bad stuff. I wish I could shake my parents’ story for good.’
‘Bad stuff makes us fighters. Don’t knock it. Give Thorne a chance. You might discover love is what’s been missing.’
‘Thorne would sink me.’
‘You’re so frigging obstinate! You think you know it all.’
‘You don’t?’
‘But I do know it all.’ She rummaged through her backpack. ‘At least about Mr Archer Thorne.’ She extracted a small stack of papers stapled together and slapped them on my desk. ‘The Internet is full of him. Articles in Business Week, Time, The New York Times. From what I read he’s a great guy. And –’
‘Not interested!’ I shoved the papers aside. ‘Tonight Geoffrey and Giles are showing off that Central Park West apartment they decorated. What are you wearing?’
‘I’m not going.’
‘But you accepted the invitation.’
‘I know I did, but something’s come up. I’ve already called Geoffrey to apologise. The place is going to be jam-packed. They’re not going to miss me.’
‘I’ll miss you. I can’t stand those parties. Please come. I don’t want to be alone.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Leila didn’t look in the least bit sorry. It had been a while since I’d seen that sparkle in her eyes.
‘OK, what’s up?’
Leila beamed a smile. ‘Remember Melissa? I met her at last year’s AIDS Walk.’
‘Sure. You didn’t stop talking about her for weeks. She’s changed her mind about going out with you?’
‘I ran into her at Whole Foods two days ago. I decided I had nothing to lose and called her last night. We’re meeting in the West Village for a drink. I’m going to convince her to have dinner with me, too.’ Her face was glowing with hope.
‘That’s great, but be careful.’ Leila had a habit of falling in love with women who didn’t reciprocate.
‘I will not be careful!’ She slammed her hand on the desk. ‘You walk around like a turtle with its head tucked in its shell. That’s not me. I want to love, be alive. It might end up hurting. It might not. If I don’t try I’ll never know. Worry about yourself, not me. Stick your head out, open up. Fall in love. Give it a try at least.’ She picked up the phone and held it out to me. ‘Call him. His office number is on the top page. Invite him to Geoffrey’s open house.’
Why not? I owed him a thank-you. Oh, to hell with being polite, I wanted to see him again. We’d end up in bed. It’s what we both wanted. I knew that from this morning. I’d never shied away from having sex with a handsome man before. No reason to do so now. I took the phone and with my stomach doing somersaults started to punch in the cellphone number he’d written on his note. It was already imprinted in my brain. Halfway through the number I switched to the office number for The Thorne Company. The idea that I was making a business call gave me a kick.
A dark, low voice answered. ‘Thorne speaking.’
My breath caught. Why was he answering the phone? Where was his receptionist? His secretary?
‘Who is it?’ he asked.
My heart pounded wildly.
‘Are we playing games?’ he asked, his voice now a cashmere-soft caress.
I pushed the off button.
‘I’d like to think that was a wrong number,’ Leila said, ‘but your face is as red as a cooked lobster so I guess you got the man himself.’
I felt dumb and ashamed. I had acted like a twelve-year-old. ‘I’m not ready for him. I’m sorry.’
‘So am I, but it’s your life.’
She dropped the subject. So did I. We spent the rest of the day working. Leila stayed in the East Village office to sort out orders and make calls to prospective buyers. I took the subway up to the Bronx work place I rented to oversee the women who sewed and assembled my bags. Most had lost jobs in the shrinking New York City garment industry. They knew how to work fabric. I taught them what I had learned about leather in Florence, and they paid me back with hard work, precision and loyalty. Whatever bad mood I brought to the workshop usually faded away while I was with these women. I was hoping they would work their magic again.
By six o’clock I was back in the East Village. Leila was gone, but she had left me a note. The Bergdorf Goodman buyer wanted to see some bags next week. Did I want her to bring them over to Bergdorf’s or did I want to do it?
Having Bergdorf’s willing to take a look was great. The news should have nudged me out of my bad mood, but didn’t. I was tired and still upset with myself. The last thing I wanted to do was to traipse uptown to a seven-million-dollar apartment and gawk at Geoffrey and Giles’s million-dollar interior design. They weren’t going to have any time for me, and I would end up making inane chitchat with people I wasn’t interested in.
Get over it, I told myself. That decorating job had just propelled Geoffrey and Giles into the big time. I couldn’t let them down.
The place was packed by the time I got there. In the foyer I swept a glass of wine off a tray and tried to make inroads into what I assumed was the living room. The crowd made it hard to tell which room was what or how Geoffrey and Giles had decorated the place. As I elbowed my way in search of my friends I spotted a suede banana-yellow sofa corner, under my feet a shiny strip of a deep-blue rug that looked Chinese. In the opening between two grey heads Andy Warhol’s Liz stared back at me. That same opening allowed me to spot Geoffrey’s ponytail. I was so happy to see him I waved at his back.
As soon as I reached him, he hugged me. ‘You look stunning, baby.’
‘Thanks.’ I’d dressed to get attention. Tight black satin pants tucked into stiletto-heeled suede boots and topped with a loose silk jersey top that draped in just the right places. In my hand I held a Desire velvet clutch with eye-catching green, purple and fuchsia stripes. Before walking in I had hopes of flashing the clutch and chatting up Desire, Inc. And maybe getting lucky. I was down on myself. I was horny. I needed a plaything. Anyone but Thorne.
‘Anyone interesting here?’ I asked after congratulating him.
He shrugged, blew a kiss at someone behind me. ‘I don’t know half these people. Sorry. Mrs Hendricks is waving at me. Have to talk to her. She just bought a duplex at 740 Park. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ He aimed a kiss somewhere near my ear and pushed off.
I picked up a baked prune wrapped in bacon and weaved in and out of rooms. I noticed more decorating details, but still didn’t get a sense of the whole. Also noticed
